Should you send that wild ivy to obedience school, or scold the unpleasant weeds growing in your lawn? It probably won’t do much good. Still, although plants often seem passive and uninvolved, there may be more to their humble lives than we first think.

We all know that plants are living organisms. We learned this early in school. Still, sometimes we think of them in the same camp as rocks, streams, and clouds. We can see them grow over time, and mark their changes with the seasons. But they don’t run, fly, swim, or dig — at least not in the conventional sense. They don’t purr, tweet, croak, or whinny. They’re just silently there — seemingly detached from the behaviors we mentally associate with living.

Yet they are alive, and part of the great ecological web that connects all living things. In my adult life, I’ve somehow had a mysterious affinity for plants. Something about huge, beautiful trees stirs something inside me. I love flowers and other interesting plants. If I forget to water my houseplants, I feel a twinge of guilt. And I hate plastic imitation plants.

Even as a child, certain plants appealed to me. I was fascinated by unusual trees. I liked cacti. And I was especially intrigued by some of the more bizarre plants, the carnivorous ones: the venus flytrap, the sundew, the bladderwort, and others. Part of the intrigue was that some of these plants could move and respond to triggers. It seemed they were a step closer to animals.

It may be that all plants are a step closer to animals than we tend to assume. When you really break it down, to the level of single-celled creatures, there isn’t much difference between microscopic fauna and flora. Neither kind has a brain. One may skitter around a bit more on a glass slide than the other, but once we realize that some plants are fully capable of motion, even that difference evaporates.

Even at a slightly higher level — for example, sea anemones, sea cucumbers, sea squirts (which oddly start out more like an animal and end up more like a plant), barnacles, jellyfish, corals — there isn’t that much difference between animal and plant. In fact, many of these types of creatures are often misidentified as plants by amateurs. Sometimes the scientific criteria separating plants and animals seems a bit arbitrary. We might say a plant doesn’t have a brain or a central nervous system — but some of these creatures don’t have those things either.

While it seems clear that plants lack a brain structure, and thus the qualities of learning and personality that we associate with higher forms of life, some evidence suggests they are not totally “dumb” either. A tree may not frown when you kick it, but research indicates it is not a completely passive victim.

Plants have immune systems that seem to be every bit as biochemically complex as those in vertebrates. Botantists have discovered that a plant can distinguish a nematode (tiny parasitic roundworm) from a virus, actively resist  a penetrating mold, and produce odors to defend itself against a feeding caterpillar. Indeed, the Creator has designed plants with chemical detectors that are precise enough to discern between a beetle and a caterpillar….

Far from being inert entities that merely provide us with food and aesthetic value, plants can actively respond to their environments by adjusting their looks and growth — and even their behavior, from defensive to aggressive. For instance, plants can wage chemical warfare against other plants. In 2003, researchers from Colorado State University found that the roots of the spotted knapweed produce a natural herbicide called catechin that causes nearby plants to self-destruct. When these plants die due to a specific series of biochemical reactions caused by the catechin, the spotted knapweed takes over their territory.

In fact, plants even seem to have a sophisticated social life! One study showed that a wildflower called a sea rocket was less competitive with those of the same species, but more aggressive with others. The authors state, “Our results demonstrate that plants can discriminate kin in competitive interactions and indicate that the root interactions may provide the cue for kin recognition.”

Frank Sherwin: Acts & Facts, November 2008.

Here’s another interesting article:

They can’t quite Twitter, but plants have sophisticated means of communication nonetheless, reports the Telegraph. A new study suggests they use complex chemical signals to discuss both predators and pollinators. In one test, sagebrush shrubs whose neighbors had their leaves clipped, as if by grasshoppers, appeared to grow more resilient, suggesting they’d been warned.

“Plants not only respond to reliable cues in their environments but also produce cues that communicate with other plants and with other organisms,” said the study’s co-author. Another recent study indicated that tomato plants respond to the human voice, vindicating a beleaguered Prince Charles — who was widely mocked for decades after advising that gardeners should talk to their plants.

Jess Kilby: Plants Warn Each Other: Study

I believe these findings should give us a healthy respect for plants. While I might be quite merciless with common weeds, as with pests, even plant life is important. After all:

Life is mysterious and sacred. It is the manifestation of God Himself, the source of all life.

Ellen White, The Ministry of Healing, 397.

I’m not a tree hugger yet, but killing a hundred-year-old (or thousand-year-old) life is not something to be taken lightly in my book. Perhaps a moment of silence before starting the chainsaw would not be inappropriate. Only in the last century or so have humans begun to seriously consider the cost of the widespread destruction of these living things. And perhaps, in the final analysis when all the data is in, the cost will prove to be far more than we supposed.

The next time you see a beautiful plant — and most are beautiful when you begin to understand them — give it a little extra thought. There’s more happening there than meets the eye.