Life-List Plant - Barbarea Orthoceras

Day 218: Being in voluntary lockdown has provided me with a good reason to explore the area around my home more thoroughly than ever before. Even so, the last thing I expected was to find a "new" plant in my own extended "back yard." This morning, I went for a somewhat longer ramble to follow a little-known and little-used social trail down to the river. As I turned to come back up the hill, a little yellow flower caught my eye. "And who are you, little guy?" I said. "You have funny long siliques and an odd little flower, and those leaves...you're not a mustard and you're not a Rorippa. Who the heck are you, anyway?" I suspected the poor thing of being a weed, if the truth be told, but after referring to several different sources, I confirmed its identity as a native species, Barbarea orthoceras, aka American wintercress rocket. It's remotely related to the mustards, being a member of the Brassicaceae which also includes such things as turnips, collards and kale as well as Cardamine, Alyssum and the drabas. Collectively known as crucifers, all Brassicas exhibit four-petalled flowers. That was the main clue which put me on the path toward identification of the plant as Barbarea. As a sidebar, Washington has been having a flurry of small earthquakes this last week, but the last one you felt might have been me jumping up and down shouting, "I got a new plant! I got a new plant!"

Killdeer, Charadrius Vociferus

Day 157: A short local walk yesterday brought me to the cobbled shingle of the Nisqually River where a spurt of motion among the rocks caught my eye as it wandered in search of natural-history tidbits. But where exactly had it occurred? For a minute or more, I scanned the scene for any sign of life until at long last, one of the "rocks" scurried amid the others, followed by a second "rock" a few yards behind it. They were too far away for a naked-eye identification although I was fairly certain what they were. My educated guess was confirmed neatly when I zoomed in with the camera: Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus), and presumably a mated pair by their behaviour. I watched them for some time, hoping theyd' come closer, but typical of the species, they seemed intent on drawing my attention away from a presumed nesting location. I kept my distance, not wishing to disturb them, listening with great enjoyment to the plaintive call which is the root of their common name: "Kil-deeeer! Kil-deeeer!" Its whistled tones rose above the gabbling of the Nisqually, fading as the birds moved downstream and out of my sight.

Guest Of Dishonor

Day 254: The Guest of Dishonor at today's All-Park Safety Meeting and Employee Orientation was Monochamus scutellatus, the White-Spotted Sawyer, a notorious predator of spruce and pine forests. I knew it only as a long-horned beetle of some type, so requested expert help in making an identification. I don't "do" insects. It's hard enough to manage wildflowers and specific families of lichen, so when something like this chap shows up, I turn to someone with the proper skill set, someone who is as passionate about their field as I am about mine. Knowledge is the common currency among naturalists, and for the most part, it passes freely between disciplines to contribute to a greater comprehension of the whole. The search for knowledge drives us; the sharing of that knowledge is equally compulsive. Feed us, and we will grow. Turn us on, and you may find that we don't have an "off" switch, but it is all a part of our enthusiasm for the natural world.

Bridges And Beavers

Day 120: Going 'round and 'round on the Tahoma Woods boundary trail is rather monotonous, but it is preferable to walking on the road. However, it's possible to change up the route a bit by taking another short path to the river. This trail is maintained by the students and staff of Columbia Crest School for the most part, although occasional anonymous Parkies will help out by clearing away easily moveable storm debris. It is one of a very few access points to the Nisqually along SR 706 and is not widely known. This bridge crosses a small boggy area fairly close to the end of the trail. Frogs can be found here occasionally, and today marked my first sighting of larger wildlife.

I'd gone to the river and was just climbing back up a staircase of roots when I heard something crashing through the brush. I checked up short, and a good thing I did, or an enormous beaver would have run me down. I am tempted to say that it was the largest beaver I've seen, but my estimate of its size might have been affected by proximity. We stood for a few seconds no more than six feet apart, equally surprised and making eye contact. I fumbled for the camera but was not quick enough on the draw. Beaver slid down a six-foot bank and with a few noisy slaps of its broad tail, submerged in a cloudy pool and was lost to sight.