Rob's Teddy Bear

Day 260: My guests had a busy day yesterday and today (their last full day) promises to be even more active, so I thought I'd show you Rob's "teddy bear." This is the slime mold he found at Longmire. Of course if you've been following along, you'll recognize it as Fuligo septica which bears the unpleasant common name of "Dog-vomit." It was inside a rotting stump, too high for me to have observed from the ground, so when Rob found it and called me over, he hoisted me up so I could see it. I climbed up the opposite side of the stump to take the photo. His view of it looked even more like a teddy bear than mine! Then I proceeded to explain slime molds to Mike (Rob's dad), who was intrigued by the fact that they can move. I was so tickled that Rob had spotted it that all through the remainder of the day, I kept inserting, "You found a sime mold!" into our coversations.

In other news, I am happy to report that the top of the Mountain came out yesterday evening, so they were able to see it, albeit not in total. We'll remedy that today. My botany partners dropped by in the evening to meet them, and to show them pictures of the bear they'd spotted at Paradise. Rob and his dad were also able to get a glimpse of the northern hemisphere's night sky, although dawn was already beginning to dim the stars when we went outside. Tonight's viewing should be much better. Tomorrow they begin the journey home, and one thing is certain: Merry is going to miss terribly the wonderful new friends who came here just especially to meet him.

Vertical Vomit

Day 333: Myxomycetologists disdain the use of common names for slime molds since they are not standardized as they are for many vascular plants. If you will forgive a momentary sidebar, a similar attitude is prevalent in the field of lichenology and although I find some lichen common names to be amusing, they create confusion between eastern and western species. In the matter of slime molds, however, one has to wonder exactly who was given the privilege of assigning certain epithets. Some of us are inclined to believe that the job may have been given to the researcher's pre-pubescent son in the case of "Dog-vomit." Fuligo septica deserves better. It is a very common slime mold, particularly here in our Pacific Northwest forests, and is usually first observed as a yellowish-white or yellow mass which looks...well, if not perhaps like dog-vomit, but something pretty nasty. In point of fact, Fuligo is exercising its role in the cycle of life as a decomposer. It feeds on the bacteria present in rotting wood. "Fuligo" derives from a Latin word meaning "soot," and refers to a later stage in its development when the mass turns black. It is not toxic, although its spores can cause allergic reactions in those susceptibe to them. It can achieve impressive size, purportedly capable of covering several square yards although this specimen of "vertical vomit" is the largest I've personally observed.

Fuligo Septica

Day 236: Not far from home but in a trailless wooded area, there is a short stump of small diameter which bears three...count them, three...species of slime mold. The first two have been featured in other posts this last week; the third erupted in full-blown glory in the space of two days, and I discovered it yesterday. It is Fuligo septica, commonly called "Dog-Vomit" which, however apt, does not do its intricate structure justice. Admittedly, I have never seen one quite as lacy as this specimen, a factor which caused me to seek expert help to confirm my identification. The mass is the size of a large grapefruit, and exists side by side with Ceratiomyxa and Lycogala, making me wonder just what is so attractive about that particular stump that three slime molds have chosen it as the center for their conventions. Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time clambering over fallen logs, pushing my way through tangled branches, choosing the placement of my feet carefully so that I didn't land on my back, and in several acres of forest, I found only a few other examples of slime molds, all within 200' of Ground Zero. Nothing unusual about the micro-ecology called out to my human perceptions, no plant associations registered with me although the area is rich in Oxalis, no dominance of evergreen or softwood, no nuance of ambient light. I found each of the three species separately, Ceratiomyxa over here, Lycogala over there and a small Fuligo in another spot, but not with one another except at this stump where all three flourish. We know that slime molds are capable of communication among their individual cells, but are the members of one species able to read the signals broadcast by those of another breed? Our knowledge of slimes is fairly limited, but with advances in science, we may eventually find answers to questions we didn't even know to ask, and that's a thought which makes me wish I was fifty years younger.

Fuligo Septica

Day 360: Despite a rather abrupt passage from warm summer to chilly autumn, the slime molds were out in force this last week. Maybe the change in the weather caught them with their plasmodial pants down, or maybe they've altered their plans for world domination to include winter assaults, but in any event, I was thoroughly surprised to find not one but three different species out and about in the woods. They're normally at their most active during warm weather. Although they can be difficult to tell apart when in the early stages of development, I feel I can identify this one as Fuligo septica with some assurance because I've seen it at this location before (several times, as a matter of fact). I hope it doesn't feel overly proprietary toward the Chanterelles in the area because I would not wish to get on its bad side.

Should I Be Nervous?

Day 252: You're going to have to work really hard to convince me that Fuligo septica didn't follow me home from work on my boots. For several years now, I've been watching it come and go to the base of a tree outside Tobin Resource Center, taking pictures of it when it was in its reproductive stage as it is here, walking through its line of travel. When I threw back my curtains this morning and looked out across the yard, the first words I spoke on seeing a yellow patch covering the decaying stump of the Whatzit Tree were, "Is that a slime mold?" It was not there yesterday. Slime molds, as my regular readers should know by now, are neither plant nor animal but exhibit characteristics of both. They are capable of locomotion, communication and cooperation, living most of their lives as single, disparate organisms but coming together when a food source is located, there to reproduce. Size-wise, this is an impressive specimen. Now I'm wondering: should I be nervous?

Eye Of The Beholder

Day 329: After winding up a discussion with Arnie, I was on my way back to my desk and had just exited Tobin Center when something lime-yellow caught my eye at the base of a tree. "Well, hello!" I said. "Where'd you come from, beautiful?" Immediately, I regretted not having hung the camera around my neck when I'd left the office. It never fails. The one time you don't have the camera is when you'll find something interesting you want to photograph. Fortunately, our offices are only separated by a parking lot, so this wasn't a huge issue. However, I was so excited by the discovery that I wanted to share it. I pelted back into Tobin at full speed and came to a stop in Arnie's doorway with the enthusiastic announcement, "You have got an absolutely gorgeous Dog-Vomit slime mold just outside your door! C'mere! You gotta see this!" Dutifully, Arnie joined me with a question on his lips: "Dog vomit?" Apologetically, I replied, "Don't blame me. That's the thing's common name." Together, we bent over to examine the specimen. For just a second, I imagined that I could see it pulsing plasmodially. Exultantly, I said, "Isn't it beautiful?" Arnie is used to me. He replied tactfully, "It looks like scrambled eggs."

"Scrambled Eggs" is indeed an alternate common name for Fuligo septica, although with humans being the strange creatures that they are, "Dog-Vomit" has taken the popular lead. The term covers a number of different Fuligos which are similar in appearance, but the four usual contenders can be distinguished from each other by the thickness and colour of the cortex and the size of the spores of each species. What invariably surprises me when I find one in the late summer is that they often occur in the hot, dry season rather than in cooler weather which one might imagine they'd prefer. Whatever food source drew these protists together, it was entirely concealed by their active consumption of it. At this site, they will eat and reproduce, and then go their separate ways until another food source is identified. As a scientist, it would be difficult for me not to admire the cooperation and communication which the slime molds display, better at social skills than many humans. Yes, I admire these handsome little critters despite the uncomplimentary terms others have laid upon them. "Dog-Vomit" indeed! Fuligo septica, your beauty is in the eye of this beholder.

Fuligo Septica, Scrambled-Egg Slime Mold

Day 283: Fuligo septica has an alternate and more widely used common name, but thank you all the same, I prefer "Scrambled-egg" to "Dog-vomit." The latter seems too harsh for one of the most unusual life-forms on the planet. Once lumped with fungi in the botanical hierarchy, the behaviour and life cycle of this organism justified creating a new Kingdom in which to contain it: the Protists. Individual amoeba-like cells have a life independent of others, moving about until they encounter a partner cell with which to fuse and breed. This motion can actually be observed in the space of a minute or two in some slime molds such as Fuligo septica. Slime molds may also respond to stimuli such as a change in light or proximity to a food source. That thought should make you watch where you step in the forest!