No Foolin'!

Day 169: It is not April Fools' Day. It is March 31, and this is no prank. My peonies are in bud, a full month or more ahead of their normal blooming period. I don't think I've ever seen them so early. On the heels of this comes a news report that Antarctica has reported a record-breaking temperature of 63.5 degrees yesterday. You'd have to be a pretty big fool to turn a blind eye to the significance of these portents, but there are still those who deny the growing mountain of evidence that our climate is warming. However, some will cite the East Coast's hard winter as a contradiction. It is not. In fact, it is a symptom. As the temperatures rise, so does atmospheric moisture, and this leads to heavier snowfalls when the right conditions are met. It seems odd to say that heavy snows and global warming go hand in hand, but those are the facts, no foolin'.

Postcard Skunk Cabbage

Day 168: Every year, I have to get one "postcard" shot of Skunk Cabbage. This year's specimen comes from Eatonville, found alongside the Pack Forest extension of the Bud Blancher Trail. Surprisingly, the site isn't particularly boggy, but rather is in the gravelly bed of an intermittent stream. The plants aren't as large as those found in swampier areas, but nevertheless seem quite healthy.

My fondness for this showy Arum was certainly instilled at an early age. It was my mother's favourite flower. Every spring, she would pick one early blossom, setting it in a vase to infuse the air with its unmistakable odor, a scent many people find too "skunky" to bear. I do not find it offensive, although I will admit it is a learned tolerance. In fact, when I walk through a bog filled with Skunk Cabbages, the air I breathe seems clean above the musky note; purer, if odiferous. Nor is there any mistaking the visual freshness of a sea of chartreuse-green leaves and yellow spathes. For all of its scent, Skunk Cabbage is a merry plant, massed in shadowy forest bogs.

Trillium Cluster

Day 167: Spring is coming on in a rush! I spotted my first Trillium of the season just a few days ago, quite near this site along the Bud Blancher Trail where today they were out in dozens. Following close on the heels of Skunk Cabbage, Trillium boasts a common name reflecting its early emergence: Wake-robin. A charming term, it is sadly falling into disuse for the white-flowered variety, more often to be heard in the eastern portion of the United States where a red-blooming species carries the name. Like so many common names, it may also refer to other unrelated plants, a confusion which less romantic Latin resolves. As much as I prefer using scientific nomenclature for clarity's sake, the phrase "Wake-robin" conjures up a delightful vision of fantasy forests too enchanting to resist.

Advanced Frog-Stalking

Day 166: "Practice makes perfect." I'm getting better at this. Of eight or nine froggies visible from a distance of fifteen feet, I only spooked two as I clambered over the boulders surrounding their pool in the hopes of getting a "field guide" photo showing the full morphology. My success solidified what I had suspected: these are Cascades Frogs, Rana cascadae, as evidenced by the yellow belly and distinct black spots.

The Cascades Frog ordinarily breeds from April to June. However, I observed a large mass of eggs in which the tadpoles were already clearly visible. According to the Washington Herp Atlas, breeding begins when water temperatures reach 46° F. This species breeds in still or slow-moving water. The larval period lasts two months. Adults may measure as much as three inches in length from snout to vent. Cascades Frogs can be found at altitudes of 2000' and higher, above the upper limit for the Red-Legged Frog. There have been no reports to indicate that this species is in decline, and from what I observed on this occasion, there are likely to be many more generations of Rana cascadae to come.

Lunch, By George

Day 165: Today's hike was the one I intended to take a week ago, a plan which was derailed by an unexpectedly closed gate on the Westside Road. The road's opening a few days later was accompanied by inclement weather, again deterring me from reaching my proposed destination. However, today offered a fresh opportunity, so off I went from Dry Creek, aimed at Lake George. At Fish Creek half a mile beyond, I realized I'd left the camera in the car.

Since I'm still working on mileage for the Park's winter fitness challenge, backtracking meant an extra mile for the day's total. Two hours from the time I left the car for the second time, I arrived at Lake George to find scattered snow patches on the ground and the lake still for the most part slushily iced over. A nippy breeze drifted off the shoulder of Mount Wow, inspiring me to head back after a brief lunch of cookies and dried mangoes. When I hike, I am very goal-oriented. It doesn't matter if I stay an hour at my destination or simply tag a signpost or favourite tree before turning around. After all, most hikes go both directions, and in reality, your ultimate goal is your starting point. Often when someone asks me how far I plan to go, I reply in the only reasonable manner, "Halfway."

Rana Catesbeiana, Bullfrog

Day 164: As much as I love the froggy folk, I find it difficult to say anything nice about Rana catesbeiana, the Bullfrog which is outcompeting native frogs in a rapidly growing number of ponds and wetlands in the Pacific Northwest. This exotic ("non-native") species is easily identified by its large tympanum (eardrum), as large or larger than the eye. Color can be quite variable, brown to brownish-green, green, or in some cases, even blue. In size, Bullfrogs can measure up to 150 mm. from snout to vent. The female is capable of laying up to 6000 eggs in a single season. Native to the eastern portion of the US, Rana catesbeiana is considered a problematic invasive in Washington.

Lunchin' With Lichens

Day 163: Vile weather didn't prevent me from lunchin' with a couple of my favourite lichens today. I found another nice colony of Pilophorus acicularis (top) near the Longmire bridge, higher up on the rocks than I'd previously explored. A bonus was the discovery of a three-foot section of log thickly populated with Icmadophila ericetorum (bottom), a common "dot lichen" here in the Pacific Northwe't. The rain? The lichens love it, even if I don't.

Pecker Corner

Day 162: Just before you reach the second bridge on the Bud Blancher trail, the path takes a couple of dips and rises before sharply rounding a rusty-yellow rock outcropping devoid of any vegetation. This distinctive bend is rapidly achieving some notoriety in my mental notebook as "Pecker Corner." On my way west, a family of three Red-Breasted Sapsuckers were at work in the adjacent alders; on my way east half an hour later, two female Hairy Woodpeckers were drilling high in a tree just to the south. I'm not sure what the draw is here for 'peckers (some bug in the alders, I presume), but this is not the first time I've seen them at the same location.

Cladina Rangiferina

Day 161: When is a moss not a moss? Why, when it's a lichen, or course! You will often hear members of the Cladina family of lichens referred to as "reindeer moss," but in fact they are not mosses at all despite their habit of growing on trees and rocks alongside true bryophytes. Fourteen species are known to grow in North America, and one of the most common in Mount Rainier National Park is Cladonia rangiferina (shown here). Note how the tips of this lichen appear "combed" to one side, one of the distinctions which allow it to be identified fairly reliably in the field.

Coltsfoot, Petasites Palmatus

Day 160: Coltsfoot doesn't exactly fall into the category of "pretty little wildflowers," but it is one of the first to emerge from wetlands in the spring, often even preceding Skunk Cabbage. Male and female blossoms are borne on different heads and, like our yellow Skunk Cabbage, the flower stalk emerges before the leaves. In my personal observations, I have noticed that the mildly stinky flowers attract both flies and a particular tiny black-and-white moth (species unknown, note to self - poss. Rheumaptera hastata), suggesting that these insects are the plant's chief pollinators.

Cladonia Grayi

Day 159: In my numerous walks on the Westside Road, I've noticed a paucity of lichen diversity and lichens in general. However, a few days ago, I came across a most luxurious colony of Cladonia grayi, one of the "mealy" pixie-cup species. It is not an uncommon lichen, but here was confined to one shelf of a rock outcropping about 8 inches wide and 18 inches long. Its occurrence in such a limited area made me wonder what conditions allowed it to establish there and not elsewhere on the same exposure. Is it some subtle difference in the substrate, a vein of some mineral in the rock? It was certainly nothing I could detect with the naked eye. Oh, for access to a laboratory and a tame lichen expert! There is so much I'd like to know about these fascinating life forms.

Frog Stalking 101

Day 158: Not far above the point where the Westside Road crosses Fish Creek, the road takes a sudden dip where an old culvert collapsed during one of Tahoma Creek's many flooding tantrums. A trickle of the creek still flows there in the early season, its progress slowed by accumulated rock and sand. At present on the high side of the slump, there is a small pool, not much bigger than a bathtub (if not as deep), and as I approached it on my walk, I noticed ripples on the surface. As I got closer, I saw what I took to be a fish tail disappearing into a hollow beneath some rocks. "Sculpins," I remarked aloud as I walked past. "It's gotta be sculpins."

On the way back down the hill an hour or so later, I thought I'd try to sneak up on them, camera at the ready. Well back of the site, I slowed my pace and started inching forward with a soft and irregular gait. If you've read Frank Herbert's "Dune," my technique could be likened to that used by the Fremen in crossing the spice desert without awakening the sand-worms...step, drag, drag, step, step, wait, drag, step. At ten paces, a splash informed me that my stealth skills needed additional work. And then I spotted something which was not a rock. Neither was it a sculpin, as I'd supposed. I snapped a few long zoom shots for documentation purposes and then, risking all, began edging toward my quarry for a closer portrait.

I won't claim this as a testament to my frog-stalking ability, but rather will attribute it to the braveness of my little friend. I could not capture enough field characteristics to identify Froggus cutus due to the light on the water surface, but if you look carefully, you can see his little feet and hands.

Footnote: I referred Froggus cutus to an expert for identification: Rana cascadae, Cascades Frog.

Up Tahoma Creek

Day 157: "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft a-gley." I was not aware of any plan for the Park to delay the March 16 early opening of the Westside Road gate when I left home this morning with a goal of Lake George and possibly Gobbler's Knob in mind, but upon arriving, I found said gate closed and locked. A quick review of my options and driving times convinced me to make the best of the situation by walking the road regardless. Thus it was that I found myself taking lunch on the rocky floodplain of Tahoma Creek, roughly five miles from my starting point.

It's not pretty here, but it's interesting. There has been very little regrowth since the floods of 2006, a few alders and other scrub-brush along the channel margins, a pioneer wildflower here and there, some thin moss. There are no lichens to speak of, and few fungi on the abundant, sand-scoured wood debris. In a perfunctory census, I turned up one bird's-nest fungus, a sparse and tiny colony of Tremella (jelly fungus), and a few shelf "conks" which were probably already established on trees uprooted during the flooding. Still, it's fascinating to see what returns most quickly, what tries to take hold and fails. To the average visitor, this area is a wasteland; to a naturalist, it's a golden opportunity to learn from the greatest teacher of all, Nature itself.

Viola Glabella, Stream Violet

Day 156: There I was, down on my hands and knees in the wet moss and mud, magnifier in hand, imagining Pack Forest ticks marching up my pantlegs, and my hike had just begun. Violas are tricky little buggers when it comes to their identities, and I still get them wrong more often than I care to admit. Leaf shape is helpful, although there is a lot of variation. Veining is great if they show it, but if it is absent in a young specimen, you have to consider that it may develop later. Likewise, the presence of a spur on the back of the flower can be conclusive, but its absence leaves room for doubt. In my experience (such as it is), the most reliable field characteristic is bearding. Like irises, some violets have beards (tiny ones) on their petals. That's why I was carrying the magnifier. That's why I was down on my knees, getting soppy wet and paranoid about ticks. When I found little fuzzy-wuzzy beards on the two side petals (barely visible in this photo), I said to myself, "Glabella. I'm 90% sure it's glabella." But I reserve the right to be wrong.

Cardamine Nuttallii, Bittercress

Day 155: Poor little Cardamine nuttallii! You would think I could remember its name when you consider the fact that it grows under the big Doug fir in my yard, but every year, I have to look it up again. "Cardamine, cardamine," I say to myself, "bittercress. What's so hard about that? You can remember things like 'Icmadophila ericetorum' and 'Stereocaulon paschale.' Why not 'Cardamine nuttallii?'" I don't rely on mnemonics with one exception: "Houses have shingles." That's how I remember the field characteristic which most easily differentiates a House Finch from a Purple Finch. House Finch has streaks ("shingles") on its breast. Cardamine doesn't give me any clues. "Cardio?" There's nothing heart-shaped about it. Nuttall was a naturalist who lent his name to numerous species. Bittercress? I've never chewed on its leaves. I'm just a little embarrassed to admit that this unassuming little flower simply will not register in my mental database no matter how many times I make the entry. Cardamine! Maybe by admitting my failing publicly, I can force its name to stick.

Does Your Chewing Gum...?

Day 154: While I'm participating in the Park's winter fitness challenge, walking the same roads and trails repeatedly, I find my iPod helps relieve the monotony. It must be said that my tastes in music are eclectic for one thing, unusual for another. Much of what my iPod contains is either sea shanties or what I refer to as "silly songs." Among the latter, "Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavour On The Bedpost Overnight?" sung by Lonnie Donegan is a favourite.

I don't recall exactly when it was released, but it was some time during the same era as "Purple People Eater" and "Witch Doctor" when most of my peers were swooning over Elvis Presley, a singer I detested. Even then, my sense of nonsense was strongly developed. Today, it manifests not only in my musical preferences, but also in my photography and in fact, in my attitude toward life. If I may quote myself here, "The world needs more silly."

Does your chewing gum lose its flavour on the bedpost overnight?
If your mother says don't chew it, do you swallow it in spite?
Can you catch it on your tonsils and heave it left and right?
Does your chewing gum lose its flavour on the bedpost overnight?

Spring Colors

Day 153: Today has been stormy, wet and windy at the same time. It's the first truly nasty day we've had in March, the famed lion arriving well after a whole flock of soft little lambs. Needless to say, the change in weather put me off my pace mentally, and I found myself wanting something cheerful and bright, so in between downpours, I raced out to the garden and snipped a sampling of spring flowers from where they were nodding dangerously close to the mud. We all knew summer couldn't last forever, not in March!

Find The Froggie

Day 151: I present this for any among my readers who think that being a naturalist is all wildflowers, birds and blue skies. I decided to hone up my frog-stalking skills during a soggy six-mile walk on the Bud Blancher Trail today. After all, the froggy folk like rain, and it's much more likely that you'll encounter them if you attempt to arrange a meeting on days they consider favourable. I did quite well, actually, sneaking up on several Cascades frogs in a ditch beside the trail, but the real surprise was when the grass at my feet seemed to leap out of the way. It took me a while to spot this Pacific Chorus Frog, even longer to edge close enough to get a zoomed photo. Can you find the froggie?

Cool Clear Water

Day 151: At first glance, you might be fooled into believing that this image shows a dry creek bed, but you would be wrong. If you look in the center of the photo, you can see a small cascade tumbling over larger rocks. The foreground stones are covered by at least six inches of cool, clear spring water. Mount Rainier National Park has many spring-fed streams. Many flow year-'round, not dependent on snow melt. Others are classified as "intermittent," nourished by a water table which goes dry in summer to be rejuvenated during the fall and winter months.

Stalking The Wild Pilophorus

Day 150: Rather than taking a longer walk, I spent a large portion of my lunch break scrutinizing every square inch of exposed rock alongside the road between the Longmire housing area and the Community Building today and discovered to my great delight many more well-established colonies of Pilophorus acicularis. This uncommon species has taken over as my new favourite lichen. Oddly, I found none at all on the north side of the bridge; apparently the substrate there is already sufficiently developed for second-growth species like Cladonia and Stereocaulon to take hold.

I'm certain that if anyone had driven by, they might have wondered what I was so intent on photographing. I think I need a bumper sticker for my car: "Easily distracted by lichens."

Moveable Feast

Day 149: I did not know today was a holiday until I went for a walk on Eatonville's Bud Blancher Trail. You see, the First Day of Skunk Cabbage falls under the category of "moveable feasts," annual events which do not occur on the same day every year. It follows no preordained cycle; it simply happens when it happens, and may occur on a different date for you than it does for me. In any case, it is one of the major festivals of my personal calendar, even when it takes me by surprise.

With the Pacific Northwest's exceptionally warm winter, I've been watching for Skunks since late February even though I've never seen them earlier than the second week of March. Usually, they show up between the 14th and 21st in their customary locations. In fact, I haven't seen any in the usual spots yet, only two tucked away beside the trail where a small and rapidly diminishing stream trickles down from Pack Forest. It doesn't matter. Even one is enough to declare the official First Day of Skunk Cabbage can be celebrated!

Standing On The Corner

Day 148: The Lady in Red stood on the corner, her fine figure the only advertisement she needed to announce her availability. Well-appointed despite her age, she had served the boys of Timbertown for more than half a century, ready to answer to their needs at any hour of the day or night. They gave her respect, those stalwart lads who paid her court, because she never failed to respond to their demands, at her best when under pressure. Yes, when the boys of Timbertown got all hot and bothered, they always turned to the Lady in Red, knowing they could find her standing casually on her corner, blushing with the anticipation of fresh excitement.

Faerie Folk

Day 147: In 1917, two young cousins Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths created a series of glass-plate photographs depicting what they claimed were faeries. Today, we would not be fooled by the cardboard cutouts they used as models, but at the time, the experts at Kodak could find no evidence that the images had been faked. This, of course, was quite true in the strictest sense; they showed exactly what the girls had set up to be photographed. Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries and an ardent spiritualist, accepted them with little reservation. Oddly, belief in the Cottingley Faeries persisted until the late 20th century when the cousins finally admitted to their ruse.

Today, it is much easier to find real faerie folk dancing in wooded glens and among the mosses. Simply go walking in the forest on a sunny day and watch for the flash of their tiny wings. But be cautious! They do not like being photographed and will dart away before you can click the shutter. 

Froggy Business

Day 146: It pains me to think that this amphibian abundance is in truth the newest generation of Rana catesbeiana, the Bullfrog which is invading so many of our water resources, but such is my suspicion. As hard as I tried to get closer, they were alert for even the smallest vibration or sign of movement and quickly disappeared beneath the thick slime which choked the ditch. I've seen adult Bullfrogs here before (Pack Forest), but never in such numbers.

Stereocaulon Paschale, Easter Lichen

Day 145: Before you ask, I do not know why Stereocaulon paschale is called "Easter Lichen." It is one of approximately half a dozen "foam" lichens which can be found in the Pacific Northwest, and most of the others have the word "foam" in their common names: Woolly Foam, Rock Foam, Snow Foam. Easter Lichen isn't quite as "foamy" as the others, so perhaps that's why the word was omitted from its nomenclature. The woody, tough stalks of Stereocaulon paschale are often only sparsely covered by the fuzzy tomentum which is a primary characteristic of the family of Stereocaulons, and when this lichen colonizes on soil or mossy rocks, it does so abundantly. This specimen was found on the Kautz Creek trail.

Longmire Pioneers

Day 144: Humans can't claim to be the only pioneers to have occupied Longmire. Pilophorus acicularis ("Devil's Matchstick") is a "pioneer" lichen, one of the first to colonize freshly exposed rock surfaces. Chemicals within the structure of many lichens contribute to soil formation by causing certain minerals in rock to become more soluble. Subsequently when the lichen dies, its decaying organic matter accumulates in the pits and cracks it has helped to create, forming a substrate for the next species to colonize. An uncommon lichen, Pilophorus acicularis is also a nitrogen-fixer, much like the legumes of agricultural fame (peas, alfalfa, etc.). This factor is what gives it an advantage over other lichens which cannot establish on bare rock.

Spring Song

Day 143: Melospiza melodia...Song Sparrow...he wears a tie tack in the center of his breast, but if you hear him sing, you won't need to note any other identifying feature. His clear, liquid notes come like a chorus of bells from thickets of willow and wild roses. You may not see this little singer, but there is no mistaking his voice. Plain though his colors may be, his song is one of the loveliest sounds of spring.

A Credit To The Builder

Day 142: I first noticed this cozy nest late last autumn after the leaves had begun to wither. Of course by then, its summer occupants had moved away, but even given the untidy look of the neighborhood, it was plain that the structure had been well-kept during their tenancy. What had attracted them to this particular spot? Was it the protection the blackberry and salmonberry vines afforded, so close to the edge of the Foothills Trail? Certainly, grocery shopping would have been convenient whether the residents preferred berries or bugs; both were available in the bog just beyond the door.

It surprised me to find this nest still intact yesterday. Although the mild winter might have been a factor, I am more inclined to believe that it was the care and exactitude of the builders which were responsible for its longevity. A single-use residence, this painstakingly constructed and lovely home will be allowed to fall into ruin, I could not pass it by without some acknowledgement of its beauty.

Black-Capped Chickadee, Poecile Atricapillus

Day 141: I do envy the people who say, "Oh, the Chickadees are so tame here! They'll come right down and sit on your hand." Any Chickadee I've met during my ramblings in field and forest has been flighty, jumpy, and impossible to photograph, and I've spent hours trying to get a decent shot of one. Today, I had three in a group at Warbler Bridge (Foothills Trail). As soon as my eye fell on this elusive avian quarry among the tangle of limbs, the birds would leap to another branch or disappear into a thicket altogether. They also seem to know how to use the sun to good advantage. As I would maneuver myself into position so that they weren't in silhouette, they'd hop ahead of me again, always keeping the sun in my eyes as I searched for them. I did finally manage a few shots, although they're certainly not field-guide quality. One of these days, you little stinkers...one of these days, I'll catch you when you're not looking!

Teal Telltales

Day 140: Let's play "Spot the Differences!" There are some telltale signs you should be able to pick out if you are a keen observer. They will help you tell one male teal from another.

The top photo is of a Common (Eurasian) Teal. The lower image shows a Green-Winged Teal. Right off the bat, I know you're going to say, "But there's no green on the wings of either of these birds!" You're right. Only the females exhibit a flash of green on the wing, and are indistinguishable by eye. Now that we have that out of the way, let's move to identifying the males.

The first feature you will notice is that these birds have a green marking on the head, broken by a light-colored streak on the crown. The Green-Winged Teal (bottom) has darker cheeks, but this may be difficult to see, depending on lighting. Now look at the lower edge of the wing. Do you see the horizontal white bar on the Common Teal's wing? The Green-Winged Teal has a vertical white bar just in front of the shoulder.

Although these two specimens exhibit different body colors, color is not a reliable field marking, nor is the black band near the bird's rump. The wing bar is the most reliable field characteristic, your best "teal telltale," but be warned: the two species interbreed! You'll be lucky to find two birds as clearly identifiable as these.

Really Big Snakes

Day 139: Serving as a Site Steward for a property accessed via an out-of-the-way rural road is always an adventure. In the years I've been patrolling Ohop Valley, I've come up with a number of unusual finds: a hardhat, two pickup loads of hydroton pellets (used in hydroponic agriculture), rolls of carpet padding, a sodden blanket, several elk carcases, an entire car bumper, and of course a selection of the more commonly dumped items like old lumber, television sets, a child's car seat, clothing and the ever-popular assortment of dead tires. Today's score included two short lengths of plastic pipe and two which were about twenty feet long...a pair of really big "snakes" I had a hard time wrestling into the little building where we store trash for later pickup.