Day 241: Forgive my enthusiasm, please, but after discovering a fungus which is rare world-wide not only as a species but as a genus, Team Biota has hit the fuddy-blucking mother lode of Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae at Mount Rainier National Park. Because neither of us thought to bring gumboots, we spent close to two hours wading barefoot in icy, shin-deep snowmelt (well, Joe stepped in a hole about two feet deep, so he gets bonus points) simply because we couldn't believe the abundance of cups. The largest we measured was a whopping 29 mm in diameter, surpassing the largest of our initial finds in 2016, but the most exciting discovery of the day was neither size nor number. We found numerous specimens which had detached from decaying sedge, leaving the stipe's end "curlicue" and sclerotium exposed, suggesting that the fungi are transported by the lightly flowing water in which they grow. This may also offer a clue as to why the cups disappear within a matter of days from their time of emergence. They may be being washed into deeper water or becoming buried beneath floating sedge, or both. In any event, the more information we can gather on this little critter, the better. I wish I had more years left to me in which to study them.
This is the 15th year of continuous daily publication for 365Caws. All things considered, it's likely it will be the last year as it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find interesting material. However, I hope that I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world with my natural history posts, or encouraged a novice weaver or needleworker. If so, I've done what I set out to do.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Where Rarity Is Abundant
Day 241: Forgive my enthusiasm, please, but after discovering a fungus which is rare world-wide not only as a species but as a genus, Team Biota has hit the fuddy-blucking mother lode of Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae at Mount Rainier National Park. Because neither of us thought to bring gumboots, we spent close to two hours wading barefoot in icy, shin-deep snowmelt (well, Joe stepped in a hole about two feet deep, so he gets bonus points) simply because we couldn't believe the abundance of cups. The largest we measured was a whopping 29 mm in diameter, surpassing the largest of our initial finds in 2016, but the most exciting discovery of the day was neither size nor number. We found numerous specimens which had detached from decaying sedge, leaving the stipe's end "curlicue" and sclerotium exposed, suggesting that the fungi are transported by the lightly flowing water in which they grow. This may also offer a clue as to why the cups disappear within a matter of days from their time of emergence. They may be being washed into deeper water or becoming buried beneath floating sedge, or both. In any event, the more information we can gather on this little critter, the better. I wish I had more years left to me in which to study them.
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