I can read Spanish (somewhat). It's interesting that the common name they use for the Tillandsia is "air carnation", perhaps a reference to the fragrance? What species is that, can anyone tell?

Basically, it says:

"Our product is totally ecological, it doesn't contain copper or herbicides, and causes necrosis of the air carnation by a process that is physical, not chemical.

This necrosis takes place immediately (15 days), and has no effect whatsoever on the host plant, animal or insect life (bees, etc.). The air carnation dies in 30 days without producing seed (reinfestation). With this product you can also kill the tiny young seedlings, which were very difficult to detect using previous methods."

Thanks Treehaus, very interesting! - and yes, pretty clear message without knowing Spanish. Do you know which South American country this advert is from?
My theory is that the locals are lead to believe that bromeliads, especially tillandsias, are a noxious weed, parasitic, and disease-spreading from mosquitoes - to justify the merciless logging which puts food on the table for so many locals.
Yes, the advert promotes an environmentally-friendly message, but I suspect some governmental propaganda.

Any other theories on this issue? I hope I'm wrong.

Sceptically yours,
Kerry

It says Argentina, Kerry, and the list of businesses that have used it seem to be mostly parks, golf courses, hotels, municipal public works depts. etc. Don't know why they feel that is necessary.

Here is a link that might be useful: Trabajos

I think it's an aesthetic thing, and that European-American ideals tend to predominate in these kind of professional settings (golf courses, hotels, etc) - probably every where in the world. Tillandsias darken up the treetops with their density once they accumulate, and they are not put there, they just crop up, weed-like. I like the part - "kill the tiny young seedlings"! Sounds so awful! I think the impulse to remove the Tillandsias is probably part of an effort to make everything appear under control - clean, neat, and tidy.

I wish Tillandsias would cover every tree where I live, but that's not going to happen.

I seem to recall from the Werner Rauh book that the locals to whom he refers in one part (I don't know what region he was in), called the Tillandsias 'Los parasitos'.

Thank you for the translation Lisa!

Mike

I took a look at one of the other pages, Mike, and it does clear it up somewhat, although it still sounds a bit alarmist to me.

"The development of this plague started to manifest itself more than 30 years ago as something almost imperceptible, but it has advanced steadily without encountering predators or concerning residents or authorities.

In recent years the growth of these colonies has been so great as to cause concern at all levels, including the govenment.

This epiphyte causes a slow but uninterupted die-back of the branches and trunks of its host plants, from two main factors: A) the colonies of Tillandsia do not allow the host to form new leaves on its branches, and B) the anchoring mechanism of the Tillandsia to a greater or lesser degree strangles the bark of the host, impeding the flow of sap.

In the first case, the inability to produce leaves creates a difficulty in carrying out vital processes such as photosynthesis, respiration, transpiration, etc. As these processes are diminished, trees stop growing normally and are unable to accumulate sufficient reserves to get them through times of stress (drought, heat, excessive water, etc.), leaving them vulnerable to disease, breakage, and even complete die-back in weaker specimens.

In addition, the air carnation is able to absorb up to three times its own weight in water, so that when it rains, the branches invaded by colonies become overloaded with a weight greater than the species was designed to support, causing breakage or irreparable deformities, populating our parks with ghosts!"

Fact or fiction? You be the judge. I don't get why this is suddenly a problem now if it wasn't one 30 years ago. At any rate here are a few pictures to illustrate:

Here is a link that might be useful: Before and after photos

Wow, you translated a lot of text - thanks Lisa! That is all very, very interesting! I think you pose a good question - how can this be a problem now if it wasn't before? Are there places in Argentina where Tillandsias do not normally grow that they have recently managed to "invade"?

This is total speculation, but perhaps non-native trees were planted on the grounds of these kind of facilities and they do not take to epiphytes so well?

Mike

lisa, believe T. aeranthos is "clavel del aire" to many latinamericans and spanish people, and indeed, they´re pegged as weeds (guess because they grow almost anywhere, i.e. power lines, etc.).

T. recurvata is the one usually associated with growing on power lines. T. aeranthos does that too? Do you know why it is called "clavel del aire", Patusho? T. cyanea does smell very much like a carnation, but T. aeranthos isn't fragrant, is it? Pretty little flowers when it's all in bloom, maybe that's why.

I looked it up in Paul Isley's book and came across this:

"The colorful bloom of Tillandsia aeranthos, as well as those of other species, has won admiration among the Argentines, who refer to them as claveles del aire, or "carnations of the sky". In addition, T. aeranthos is probably the only species to be immortalized in song. The tango "Clavel del Aire" was scored and lyricized by Juan de Dios Filberto and F. Silva Valdez in 1935."

LOL... Not so much admiration these days, apparently. It doesn't say anything about it choking trees to death!

Large clumps of T. recurvata do not have the weight that even a small clump of aeranthos would have. Coupled with the added weight of moisture and I can see where a problems might arise.

I found these lyrics for "Clavel del Aire" by Fernán Silva Valdes:

Como el clavel del aire,
así era ella,
igual que la flor,
prendida en mi corazón.
¡Oh, cuanto lloré
porque me dejó!
Como el clavel del aire,
así era ella,
igual que la flor.

En esta región,
igual que un ombú
solito y sin flor,
así era yo,
y presa del dolor
los años viví,
igual que un ombú
en esta región.

Y mi ramazón
secándose iba,
cuando ella una tarde
mi sombra buscó.
Un ave cantó
en mi ramazón,
y el árbol sin flores,
tuvo su flor.

Mas un feliz viajero
¡viajero maldito!
el pago cruzó...
En brazos de él se me fue
y yo me quedé
de nuevo sin flor.
¡El que cruzó fue el viento,
el viento Pampero
que se la llevó!

Here is a link that might be useful: Lyrics