Minnesota's State Flower Is at Risk
How You Can Help Save It
Each June, Minnesota’s most iconic orchid returns: the Showy Lady’s Slipper.
Until just two summers ago, I’d only seen one on a license plate. And I’ve lived here for a long time. That changed when I learned the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum had them in bloom. I grabbed my camera and went straight there. The photo above captures that long-awaited moment.
Cypripedium reginae, known as the Showy Lady’s Slipper, has been Minnesota’s official state flower since 1902.
While not listed as endangered or threatened, it is considered rare—mainly because it requires very specific habitats and has an extraordinarily slow life cycle.
From seed to first bloom, the process can take up to 16 years.
That fragility makes it illegal to pick or uproot one in the wild—though that hasn’t stopped people from trying.
“It’s a problem,” says Dr. David Remucal, Curator of Endangered Plants at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. “People really like showy lady’s slippers, and people will take them.”
Sometimes, gardeners hope to transplant a piece of this beauty into their yards. Other times, it’s poachers.
He’s even seen them stolen from the Arboretum’s own collections.
“They think, ‘It didn’t survive—maybe I did something wrong,’” he explains. “So they dig up another one.”
But the act of digging is often a fatal mistake.
Unlike most plants, Lady’s Slippers don’t send roots straight down. Their root systems spread outward—sometimes up to four feet in diameter. Scooping up a small area near the bloom or attempting to transplant them often means chopping away vital lifelines underground.
At the Arboretum’s conservation lab, Dr. Remucal showed me tiny seedlings in Petri dishes filled with nutrient-rich agar. Each dish holds the fragile beginning of a future orchid—some grown from seed, others nurtured alongside rare adults whose origins are still being studied.
“We call them orchid babies,” Dr. Remucal says with a grin. “At this stage, they’re little more than white specks.”
But under careful observation and the right conditions, they’ll form roots and shoots. Later, they will be moved to larger containers. Some end up in outdoor beds for education.
Others? They’re reintroduced to the wild, often in states where these orchids are endangered, like Illinois where it’s disappearing. “So our work has a regional impact,” Remucal says.
His team, just four people strong, isn’t trying to grow every Minnesota orchid species. Instead, they’re focused on conservation: banking seeds, preserving genetic diversity, and developing partnerships that protect native flora.
Minnesota is home to 48 native orchid species. Nearly a quarter of them are listed as rare, threatened, or of special concern.
One that’s listed as a special concern is the Small White Lady’s Slipper—also under the care of the Arboretum Conservation Lab. Since scientists began tracking it, its population has declined by more than 95%.
Orchids, Remucal notes, are unusually complicated plants. Some can only be pollinated by one or two insect species. Others require specific fungi to germinate. Many are sensitive to changes in hydrology, temperature, or timing.
“It’s like a thousand little rules that all have to line up,” he says.
But there are simple ways Minnesotans can help:
Plant native species – especially overlooked grasses that create shelter for pollinators.
Reduce pesticides – which can harm the delicate fungal networks underground.
Leave wild orchids undisturbed – admire them, photograph them, but never pick or transplant them.
“These plants can’t run from harm,” Remucal reminds us. “If we’re going to protect them, it has to be intentional.”
For now, Minnesota’s state flower remains a rare treasure and that’s the beauty of this bloom.
Fragile. Persistent. And perfectly at home when left where it belongs.
Have you seen a Showy Lady’s Slipper? If so, I’d love to hear your story and where you saw it.
Diana Pierce