Erigeron Acris

Day 322: Yeah, I know...it's another DPD (Damn Purple Daisy), but in defence of Erigeron acris, I will say that its scarcity and size make it special. The flowers are thumbnail-sized, pale lavender, borne singly on branching stems. The mature seed head is a ball of fluff destined for distribution by autumn winds, although the seeds must not travel very far from this site. When I first discovered the plant several years ago, there were only a few in evidence. Now there is a thriving population which covers at least 500 square feet, wiry stems rising above thin, dry soil in a rocky draw. That said, it is not a rare plant in the Pacific Northwest by any means, just unusual for this particular location. Although it may not be as showy as other larger composites, Erigeron acris is one of my favourite native "asters."

Rorippa Curvisiliqua

Day 321: Be reasonable here. If you had a fun-to-say name like Rorippa curvisiliqua, wouldn't you consider it an insult to be called something as uninspired as "Western Yellowcress?" The Latin binomial breaks the standard rule of emphasis. Rather than weighting the antepenultimate syllable (the third one back from the end) as one would do in a single word, it should be understood that "curvisiliqua" is a compound word, "curvi-" for the shape and "-siliqua" for the type of pod. In other words, Ro-RIP-pa cur-vi-si-LI-qua bears a curved silique when it is in fruit. I may occasionally mangle the Latin, but in this instance, I'll argue my point with any taxonomist you care to bring forward.

Known for living in wet, sandy soils, at Ghost Lake, Rorippa takes habitat to a whole new extreme. Sometimes it leafs out while still under water! By the time the lake has dropped to summertime levels, it's ready to bloom. Specimens here are somewhat smaller than those found elsewhere in the Park, justifying subspecies nomenclature of R. curvisiliqua var. curvisiliqua. Rorippa may not be much to look at, but you have to admire it for the way it has adapted.

The Other Bare

Day 320: There's more than one kind of "bear" in them thar woods! Even though it isn't quite September yet, when the occasion afforded itself, I decided it was time for my annual bath. After hiking around Naches Loop (a popular and therefore populated trail), I clambered down into Ghost Lake just off Cayuse Pass for a quick skinny-dip dunk. The lake is set in a bowl, and the angle of slope deters most casual visitors from making the descent. Nor is there an established trail, so the route tends to be a little brushy. It seemed to me that there were more downed trees to navigate over, under, around or through than the last time I paid a visit, and the lake was a little low and the water was cold. I stood waist-deep for some time, gathering the courage for the final plunge, but once I was committed, I paddled out from my "marker" rock and back a dozen or so times before I was satisfactorily "cleansed of the dross of humanity," as I like to say of this ritual. Good for another year, I then faced the unavoidable consequence: what goes down must come up...back to the car and Longmire, where I spent the remainder of the day in the office.

Those Damn Daisies!

Day 311: The botanical equivalent of the birder's "LBJ" (Little Brown Job) or "LBG" (Little Grey Bird) is expressed somewhat more emotionally. We deal with "Damn Daisies." The Asteraceae (formerly Compositae) is the largest family of plants in the world with a membership numbering close to 24,000. Of course this includes a diversity of appearances, but if you see something which looks daisy-like...well, it's a Damn Daisy.

I have used the popular terminology many times over the last week as I tried to sort out just which Damn Daisy this mini-model was. I sent it off to Arnie, who by way of response sent me a photo of chicken-of-the-woods fungus and a note, "Mine are easier to identify than yours." It was back to the drawing board for me, and late Friday evening, I sent Arnie an exultant email: "Erigeron acris, suspect it's var. debilis!" I'm sure he'll be glad the mystery was laid to rest when he sees it Monday morning.

The ray flowers of this species are noted for being very narrow, and the plant is quite small, standing no more than 8" in height. The flower is approximately 1/2" in width, and may be white or pale lavender. The pappus (modified calyx) extends beyond ("surpasses") the central disk flowers. The common name reflects a term applied to a number of different Asteraceae: Bitter Fleabane, but its folkloric reputation for repelling fleas is a myth.

Rorippa Curvisiliqua

Day 309: "Curvepod Yellowcress." That's the common name given to this enchanting little plant, awkward to enunciate and although descriptive, not particularly inspired. The Latin (Rorippa curvisiliqua) is much more euphonic: ro-RIP-uh cur-vy sil-EE-qua. Now that's loads of fun to say! As far as description goes, it's on a par with the English. The term "silique" (sil-EEK) tells us how the pods behave when they are fully ripe, i.e., typically at least twice as long as they are wide, they split longitudinally to release the seeds inside. This action can be quite dramatic, launching the seeds with force and an audible "pop."

I observed this plant in the Park for the first time last year, and to date have not seen it in any other location within our boundaries. In other environments, it grows taller and bushier, factors which make me wonder if the specimens in this particular area are stunted by late-lying snow, limited light and cold temperatures, or if they might be an undocumented subspecies. The presence of an unidentified "mini-aster" in the same location inclines me to think that the "habitat" theory is most likely the case (Occam's Razor: the simplest solution is most often correct). I love a good botanical puzzle, and this site presents two, the solutions for which may or may not be linked.

Syl-LAB-ic Em-PHA-sis

Day 311: Pronunciation of scientific names is widely varied among amateurs and professionals alike, but some leave very little wiggle room if you analyze the sections of the Latin. A prime example is presented in Rorippa curvisiliqua, "Yellowcress" in boring and uninspired English. "Rorippa" can't be fumbled so badly that it's rendered unrecognizable, but "curvisiliqua" might tangle the most adept tongue unless you understand what it means.

At the altitude where I observed it, this member of the Mustard family grows in a dwarfed state. I might have recognized it immediately if it had been full height (up to 40 cm), but at Ghost Lake, plants seldom exceed 10 cm. Upon seeing a "little yellow flower," I bent over for a closer look. That was when I noticed the "curvisiliquas." When dry, the curved seed pods of Yellowcress (visible in the bottom image) split in two lengthwise to release the seeds (technically, they become dehiscent). The curved, ripe pod is referred to as a "silique," a word which implies a specific botanical morphology and explains what action to expect. In its own way, you could say that the Latin term dehisces verbally. When it breaks in two along its length, it gives us the seed words "curvi" and "siliqua," i.e., a curved silique. Thus the pronunciation is obvious: curvi-si-LEE-qua. Wasn't that easy?

Where Ranges Overlap

Day 306: Where the ranges of two similar species overlap, it is always advisable to take photos from multiple angles in order to capture as many field characteristics as possible. This philosophy holds true for plants as well, but it is particularly important when trying to make the distinction between frogs. Two species occur between 2500' and 6000' with Cascades Frog (Rana cascadae) having a range of 2500' to 6000' and Spotted Frog (Rana pretiosa) from near sea level to 8000'. Red-Legged Frog (Rana aurora) also occurs up to 4700', but only rarely is found above 3000'. R. aurora was not a consideration in the case of this specimen from Ghost Lake at 4400' near Cayuse Pass, but the identification points discussed here will also help separate it.

It's often impossible to capture a froggie for examination and certainly not the method the frog would prefer. A few simple observations will allow the amphibian to retain its dignity while assuring the observer of a good possibility of a correct ID. First, does the subject have strong dorsolateral folds extending from immediately behind the eye and continuing to the hip? If distinct, you can rule out Spotted Frog. But suppose the object of your attention is almost entirely submerged in water? Note the orientation of the eye. Does it look out toward the side, or does it seem to have an upward tilt? Best determined by looking directly down on the frog in question, an upward angle denotes Spotted Frog and rules out the other two options. Likewise, presence of full toe webbing indicates R. pretiosa; partial webbing is present in both R. cascadae and R. aurora, but of course this requires a view of the toes.

Now it gets a little more technical. Often, Cascades and Red-Legged Frogs can be distinguished by the presence or absence of reddish pigment on the legs. D'uh! But since the skin of frogs contains photoreceptor cells which respond to light levels by changing colour over a protracted period of time, this is not always obvious. If observable, dark spots on the back will be distinct in Cascade Frog, somewhat blurry in Red-Legged, but these can be difficult to distinguish when your froggie friend is in "mud camo" mode. The colour of the tummy and throat can be helpful, but not alway. Absence of mottling distinguished Cascades Frog, but either species may exhibit varying degrees of mottling. Likewise, presence of a facial mask may or may not be easy to determine, but if it is distinct behind the eye and not speckled with light patches, your frog is R. cascadae. The light yellow, unmarked belly and chest on this specimen add to the evidence that it is a Cascades Frog.

There are other points to consider as well, and while it's always best to note each one, three should suffice in all but the most difficult situations. Happy frogging!