Even Eatonville

Day 245: For as red as rural Pierce County is known to be, it was surprising to see roughly 50 people turn out for the "No Kings" protest in Eatonville WA (population 2845 per the 2020 census). We gathered at the main intersection (the one and only stoplight), and while most people stood on the corner in front of Plaza Market where travellers to the Mountain would best see them, we occupied all four corners. Some folks came for a while and then departed. Dozens of drivers honked and waved support. A few flagged us the finger or shouted profanities, and most of those responses came predictably from the demographic of jeepers, farmers and horsemen, motorcyclists, people in run-down cars and similar ilk. I stayed for the scheduled hour,, and was further surprised by seeing a solitary brave woman with a "No Kings" sign at the public rest area in Elbe, a place redder even than E'ville. If our turnout was this large, I can hardly wait to hear the national figures.

The Hunt For Neowise

Day 276: I'm down in a valley, a narrow valley. To the northeast of me, I have a window of horizon perhaps 15 degrees in width, and most of that dominated by a 14,410' Mountain. To the north, a 2500-3000' ridge of "hills" begins its immediate and abrupt rise from the valley floor less than a quarter mile from my living room window. To the west, my window of sky is even narrower, blocked by trees but for a notch where a two-lane road cuts through. To put it another way, if an astronomical event occurs, if it's not almost directly overhead, I have very little hope of seeing it. Enter Comet Neowise.

Now I have to say that I've seen one spectacular comet in my lifetime and a few minor ones. Comet West hung directly over Mount Rainier in February 1976. From my southwest Washington home where no light pollution interfered, its tail spanned more than a hand's-width of the pre-dawn sky. After I moved here, Hale-Bopp and Lovejoy made their appearances in 1997 and 2011 respectively, Hale-Bopp presenting directly above those aforementioned "hills" and showing a nice tail. I was able to view it from the comfort of my living room either with my naked eye or through binoculars, although I could easily have covered it with a thumb held at arm's length. Lovejoy was a disappointment, a mere blurry green dot even through my telescope. My sighting of Neowise last night falls somewhere between those of Hale-Bopp and Lovejoy.

After consulting multiple websites, star charts and conferring with astronomer friends who have their own observatory, I thought I might have a decent window for evening viewing if I drove out to Eatonville to a point overlooking the city toward the north. It was 10:15 before the first stars began to appear, and by then, a thin layer of cloud had formed along the horizon, dense enough that aircraft lights winked in and out of existence as they passed through the thicker portions. Was I going to miss Neowise because of it? Wait...as I turned my head, scanning the sky where I thought it was supposed to be, my eyes registered a smudge of light slightly higher in the sky than I had expected. By averting my eyes slightly in the manner one does if one is trying to count the number of stars visible in the Perseids, I could see a tiny bright dot trailing a smear. If I tried to look directly at it, it disappeared. I had not brought binoculars and don't think they would have been much help. I know I could never have found it without a better aiming device on my telescope. As for the camera, forget it. My camera doesn't like night photography even at the best of times, and it would have taken much longer than the 15 seconds it allows me for an extended exposure to have recorded the faint, nearly invisible flyspeck of Neowise. But I saw it, and that's what counts. Hopefully, there will be better viewing later in the month.

Lecanora Pacifica, Multicolored Rim Lichen

Day 40: If you are in the slightest way trypophobic, I apologize for today's post. My mother was one of those people who got the heebie-jeebies if she saw pinholes in paper or little bumps on the surface of something, so I'm sure she would have run screaming from Lecanora pacifica, one of the most common Lecanoras to be found in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps fortunately for her, the disks of this species are quite small, i.e., 0.7-1.2 mm, demonstrated here with my handy-dandy measurin' stick for reference. Multicolored Rim Lichen prefers smooth deciduous bark as its substrate, notably that of Red Alder and some willows. In my area, it's most commonly seen on alder. The centers of the disks give it its common name; in any given patch, they may range from yellowish through black. Each apothecial disk is emphasized by a prominent rim of light grey-green. I think they're quite attractive, but obviously, I did not inherit the gene for trypophobia.

Mobile Home

Day 222: Look into the clear waters of the Mashel River at Eatonville, and you may see evidence of the good work being done by the Nisqually Land Trust upstream. Caddisflies and their larvae are sensitive to pollutants. Their presence is an indicator of water quality.

We called them "periwinkles" when we were kids, not knowing that the term actually applies to a small snail. Possibly someone's parent was misinformed and thus the error was spread to my generation of friends as one of those things learned from peers. In any event, the correction to my lexicon didn't come until I was an adult, and I still use the word in the full knowledge that it's being misapplied. Thus it was that yesterday morning, I went "periwinkle hunting" in Smallwood Park.

Caddisflies are members of the order Trichoptera. There are many species, but all their larvae build cases from small stones and bits of vegetative matter such as this one. Some anchor themselves on rocks and twigs; others are unattached and do their hunting from their "mobile homes." They eat algae, rotting vegetation and even smaller insects. In turn, they are eaten by fish, both as larvae and as adults. The fish are then eaten by fly-fishermen, who know that a well-tied caddis will sucker even the most wary trout. The occasional fly-fisherman may be eaten by a bear, but not sufficiently often to include them in a description of the food chain.

Please Don't Tread On Me

Day 221: I had some free time this morning while waiting for the library to open, so I took a walk through Eatonville's Smallwood Park. The park is boxed in between the Bud Blancher Trail and the Mashel River and the habitat it provides is fairly generic, i.e., salmonberry bushes, ferns, Douglas-fir and Western Hemlock canopy, Indian Plum and Snowberry understory, not the kind of place one expects to discover anything out of the ordinary. That's not to say it doesn't afford some surprises, such as this little garter snake. I think it's Northwestern (Thamnophis ordinoides), but I reserve the right to be wrong. In any event, he/she very nearly became a snake pancake by virtue of blending in so well with the leaf litter. In fact, when I first noticed it, it had its head buried under a leaf, making it look even more like a twig. Last night had been fairly cool, so my little reptilian friend was rather torpid. Even when I carefully teased away its blanket of leaves, it barely budged. I hope no one else follows that side trail until it manages to warm up enough to move out of the path.

Update: confirmed that this is Thamnophis ordinoides. Only Northwestern Garter Snake will show a red vertebral stripe like this one does, although it is a less common colour variation. Thank you, little snake, for being distinctive!

Plectritis Congesta

Day 210: From its common name Shortspur Seablush, you would expect that Plectritis congesta would grow close to the coast. I didn't know what it was when I found it in Rimrock County Park near Eatonville a few days ago, so because I was very excited about discovering Erythronium oreganum in the same general area, it went in my files under "Identify." Things in "Identify" tend to get nudged off the board when I transfer files to secondary storage, but I happened to be looking back over the last week's photos and noticed that I hadn't dealt with it yet. I was prepared to accept that it was an escapee from someone's garden, and will admit that I was somewhat surprised to learn that it's native with a range from Vancouver Island to California. It is not found outside the western states, and makes a second "Life List" plant I've discovered in Rimrock Park.

Erythronium Oregonum, Giant White Fawn-Lily

Day 202: Well, I did a double-take. "That's not an Avalanche Lily! What the hell...? Is that a Trout?" In the end, it proved to be Erythronium oreganum, commonly known as Giant White Fawn-Lily, but closely akin to both Avalanche and Trout Lilies and something I had never before seen. I was out on an invasive-plant patrol in the undeveloped Rimrock County Park. It's a lovely place for hiking in solitude, although the peace is frequently broken by the sounds of rifle fire from the local gun club, but I am willing to endure that in order to have the woods to myself. Besides, they're over a hill from the trail system and pose no danger to someone walking on the back side. So, like I said, I did a double-take. The mottled leaves told me it was no Avalanche Lily, nor would I have been likely to find them at such a low elevation. "Trout" and "Fawn" tend to follow some pretty indistinct rules in the application of common names to the Erythroniums, so being a fisherman, those speckly leaves led me to spend the rest of the day saying, "Trouts! I found Trouts!" Well, in between bending over to pull Digitalis and Tansy Ragwort, anyway. A "life list" plant is a pretty good reward for pulling weeds.

Harmful And Invasive Species

Day 140: Today, I have a little quiz for you. The first question is easy: What species has done more to harm its native habitat than any other? Yep, you got it: Homo sap, for whom I would like to propose new nomenclature, i.e. Homo insapiens, the "unwise man."

I'll need to give you a little background before posing the second question. An invasive species is one which creates negative impacts on the environment into which it has been introduced. This can take a number of forms. It may establish a monoculture, snuffing out native species, sometimes to the extent of extinction. Invasives may reduce biodiversity by out-competing native organisms for limited resources. Invasives may permanently alter habitats and ecosystems by disrupting the natural controls which previously maintained a balance between endemic populations. Invasives are usually fast breeders with strong adaptive characteristics. Invasives are frequently biogenic vectors for disease.

Now for Part Two of the quiz: Name a non-native species common to North America, South America and Australia which has proven destructive to endemic populations on all the points listed above. Did I hear anybody suggest those horribly harmful Western Europeans? Go to the head of the class.

Exploring For Usneas

Day 104: I set out on the Bud Blancher Trail with no particular purpose in mind other than clearing my lungs of the last vestiges of a cold, but of course no walk or hike is ever taken without some tidbit of nature drawing my interest. I'd just crossed the first bridge when a small clump of pendulous lichen caught my eye. I don't know why I took a closer look, because I had already given it an initial dismissal as an Alectoria, but as I lifted it, I noticed fibrils perpendicular to the main branch. "Waitaminit," I said aloud to no one in particular, "that's an Usnea!" Sure enough, when I stretched it lightly, the cortex split, revealing the axial "spinal column" typical of the genus (inset). This unexpected discovery set the tone for the rest of the hike. How many Usneas could I find?

Not having an authoritative guide to Usneas on hand, I am reluctant to make any firm identifications here. According to lichenologist Bruce McCune, the group collectively called "Usnea filipendula" has not been strictly divided taxonomically. He goes on to state, "...local material also seems to intergrade with U. scabrata and U. scabiosa. Until the taxonomy of this group is worked out more clearly, it seems futile to try to apply these names." Suffice to say that the five specimens I collected were sufficiently different morphologically that I knew them to be separate from each other. Other specimens found during my hike showed a confusing admixture of characteristics, "a little o' dis, a little o' dat."

Bud Blancher Boogers

Day 103: Several years back, I discovered a rather...um...snotty-looking fungus growing on a dead tree near the Community Building at Longmire. Observing it through the seasons, I noticed changes in its structure which eventually allowed me to identify it as Exidia candida, but my original designation was simply too appropriate to let slide, and the "Booger Tree" established itself in my lexicon. A couple of years ago, the Booger Tree sloughed its bark and the boogers disappeared. They have since re-established themselves, if not perhaps in their original abundance, but at least they've reappeared. That said, this image shows an entirely different nose-oyster. I found these along the Bud Blancher Trail in Eatonville, and I'm just thankful no one else was out walking this morning to hear me exult, "Boogers! I found a new Booger Tree!" We must take our little joys wherever we may find them, and the boogers made my day.

Tentative ID: Physcia Phaea

Day 101: Sometimes you go in pursuit of one thing, only to return with something different. Desperate for blog material, I'd pulled into Smallwood Park to see if there were any "garbage pigeons" (Bald Eagles) in the trees. Personal opinion of the species aside, Baldies are usually a hit with my readers, particularly those on the east coast where the obnoxious things aren't as common as sparrows. Yeah, there was one sitting in a customary spot, so I hopped out of the car and wove my way through the brush to a spot where I could get a clear view, but Eagle had other ideas. As soon as I stepped into the open, he flew off upstream. Still not feeling exactly well, I wasn't inclined toward even a short hike, so I headed back to the car. As I went past one of the boulders lining the driveway, a tight cluster of little black spots tugged at the tail of my eye. "Oh, some of that stuff," I said to myself, referring to something I haven't been able to identify, and was about to walk on, but for some reason, I did an about-face and took a closer look. Definitely not what I'd thought, and definitely not something I was going to dismiss without further analysis. I figured a few minutes in drizzle wouldn't kill me, so I snapped some photos and lifted a small specimen to bring home. I checked the other rocks on the way out. Nope, only on the one. Best guess? Physcia phaea. And now I know where it lives.

Mill Pond Hand-Tint

Day 77: My maternal grandfather was a photographer in the days of glass plates and hand-tints, and sometimes I find a scene which begs to be treated in the same way. Eatonville's Mill Pond is one of those locations, although I would have liked to include the old sawdust burner which once stood just north of the pond. It blew over in a windstorm a decade or so ago, and while most of the newer residents of the area thought of it as an eyesore and bade good riddance to it, there were a few of us who mourned it as the passing of an old friend. I can recall when, as a child travelling with my parents from the east side of the mountains, its deliciously scary bulk would dominate the night, glowing red with internal fire and spitting sparks through its mesh canopy. It was one of three we passed on our way from Yakima, and if I was asleep, my father would wake me to see each one. Unfortunately, I lost the opportunity to photograph it before it collapsed. The best I can do now is imagine how my grandfather might have portrayed it in a hand-tint.

Leaf Litter, A Monochrome Study

Day 56: One definition of "hoarfrost" is "a crystalline deposit of frozen water vapor formed on vegetation and other objects at temperatures below the freezing point." It has been particularly lush during our recent cold snap here in the damp Pacific Northwest. It can take a number of different forms from fine needles to crystals resembling those of sugar "rock candy." It differs from "frost" only semantically; the term "hoar-" is appended when the crystals become more distinct than a thin film of ice. On the other hand, "depth hoar" occurs at the base of snowpack, building on existing snow crystals and frequently attaining much larger dimensions than "surface hoar." The word "hoar" derives from an Old English term meaning gray or old.

Bud Blancher Knapweed

Day 292: If you're out walking and happen to see pretty little purple flowers which don't exactly fit the description of "thistle" because they're not thorny, or that remind you of Ragged Robin (if you have those in your area) or Bachelor's Buttons, step up and take a closer look. Chances are, it will be one of several species or hybrids in the Knapweed family, and a rapidly spreading invasive in many parts of North America. Even as a private citizen (as opposed to someone affiliated with an organization like the Invasive Plant Council), you can report your sighting on-line through EDDMapS at https://www.eddmaps.org/ and for those of you who have smarter phones than mine, there are apps to make the process easier. EDDMapS stands for "Early Detection and Distribution Mapping System." It is part of the University of Georgia's Center for Invasive Species and Ecosystem Health. Per their web page, "Early detection of new invasive species infestations and rapid, coordinated responses are needed to eradicate or contain invasions before they become too widespread and control becomes technically and financially impossible."

Knapweed is a growing concern here in the Pacific Northwest (unintended but appropriate pun, there). It can establish a monoculture in a very short period of time, and is sufficiently virulent to even give Scotch Broom a run for the money. Although many city, county and state agencies try to stay on top of it in their parks and on their trails, it goes without treatment on adjacent private properties. If you find it in a location where you can legally remove it, bag the heads before cutting, being careful not to shake loose any developing seed. Dislodged seed may continue to develop if it drops to the ground. Dispose of the bagged seed heads by placing them in your household garbage. Do not attempt to compost them; the temperature in a compost heap is not sufficient to destroy them. In worst-case scenarios, chemical treatment is recommended. Check with your local weed board to find out which chemicals can be used in your area.

Invasive Bullfrog

Day 278: I would not have thought I had it in me to dislike a frog, but Rana catesbeiana (American Bullfrog) has given me reason to re-evaluate my position. No doubt about it, this invasive species is impacting our native frog population as well as populations of other amphibians. In fact, they have even been reported to eat birds. They are wary and fast, active and predacious both day and night, sometimes coming onto shore to hunt. Aside from out-competing native species, this exotic may also be a vector (host) for diseases which affect native amphibs. The good news is that they are primarily a lowland species. This large specimen was observed outside Eatonville. To the best of my knowledge, they have not been reported inside the Park.

Make No Assumptions

Day 195: Make no assumptions. Just because its cap has ridges and pits and it fruits in the spring, it may not be a Morel. In fact, this look-alike Verpa will probably give you gastric distress in a variety of flavours if you eat it, and although some people can tolerate the alkaloids, it's not an experiment I'd care to make. Mushroom poisoning is no fun! Nevertheless, Verpas and Morels are fairly easy to distinguish from one another by careful observation of a few features. The pattern of Verpa's pits and ridges is less regular than that of a true Morel and its cap is only attached at the very top of the stipe (like a lampshade). The true Morel's cap is attached to the stipe at the bottom. The flesh of Verpa tends to be rather brittle as well, and may shatter into small pieces if squeezed. Remember, when messin' with mushrooms, sometimes you don't get a second chance to identify a species correctly.

Waiting For Dead Salmon

Day 97: On my way out of Eatonville yesterday, I noticed four Bald Eagles perched in the customary trees alongside the Mashell River, two adults and two juveniles. "Yeah," I said to myself, "they've dumped another load of salmon carcases." Noble bird, my eye! These iconic birds are nothing more than glorified pigeons, scavenging whatever scraps they can get: dead salmon after spawning season, elk remains, garbage from the local landfill. I see them perched by the dozen in the trees alongside the dump almost every time I go to town. The clever crows or ravens can easily get the better of members of this rather dull species, one bird distracting the eagle while another steals its prize. The eagles don't seem to understand the concept of teamwork and cooperation, and if the metaphor of their gullibility and affinity for garbage was ever more fitting than now, I couldn't say when.

A Cone-vention

Day 96: There's a cone-vention going on at one corner of the intersection of Center Street and Washington Avenue! Although I don't have the data to support this assertion, I would bet good money that per capita, Eatonville has more road cones than any other city in the Pacific Northwest, maybe even the world. Except for a very few who are standing duty elsewhere, they've all gathered at this one location to prevent passersby from stumbling into a narrow gravelled area between the grocery store parking lot and the newly-laid sidewalk. Exactly why the intersection needed to be reconstructed is anyone's guess, this from the city which a few years ago, installed four-inch wide water barriers between their sidewalks and the roadways, barriers over which I've tripped far too many times; this from the city which diverts cars pulling away from the parking strips into traffic by means of similar barriers placed at the ends of each city block. Someone in Eatonville has a lot of spare concrete on their hands, and must have failed to attend the "safety" session of Roadway Design 101. Keep that in mind as you're driving through. Not all hazards are as clearly marked as this one!

Trypophobia

Day 30: This will sort out which of my readers are trypophobic! The term describes an irrational dread/fear of small holes or bumps, and Lecanora pacifica's apothecia certainly qualify as the latter. Tiny, they rarely exceed 1.2mm, so it takes a good eye to find them even though they are common on alders in the Pacific Northwest. The lichen thallus (body) is white or yellowish, and the apothecia may appear in a range of shades from pale pinkish-yellow to almost black. Some disks may exhibit more than one colour. I never walk the Bud Blancher trail without checking this tree. I guess I must not be trypophobic.

A Not-So-Favourite Invasive

Day 314: There are half a dozen different Knapweeds (pure strains and crosses), all of which are considered Class B noxious weeds in Washington. They are prolific seed-producers and can crowd out native vegetation in a very short time, reducing the amount of forage for livestock and other animals where the plants occur. There are various controls which can be used for small infestations. Pulling or digging is effective, but mowing is not, due to the fact that the roots are long-lived and will re-sprout even in the same season. Biocontrols are an option when applying chemicals is undesirable. Methods include the introduction of Knapweed beetles or shading the plants out with more vigorous native species. That said, if Knapweed appears on your property, your first priority is to prevent it from going to seed.