We Have An Accord

Day 279: I've been waiting for Arnie's assessment for several days now, and it would seem we are in agreement regarding a species of Orchid not previously recorded in Mount Rainier National Park: Platanthera ephemerantha. That's harder to say than "Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae." We were put onto this lovely and tiny creature by another botanist who had seen it before it was in bloom. He thought it might be P. unalascensis, and asked me if I could check on it when it was flowering. We visited it on our way home from the abortive aurora mission, and as it turns out, it was the crown jewel of the day. I sent pictures to Arnie, but forgot to include the pertinent details as to how I keyed it out with Hitchcock. Here's our exchange so you can see what goes into determining the identity of a plant. There are a few missing pieces to the puzzle, but enough of them have come together to confirm Platanthera ephemerantha.

*****

From Arnie:
Okay, well, here we go.  To start off, I don't have experience with Platanthera ephemerantha, so here is my full reading of the Plantanthera key in Hitchcock.  Your photos are very good... but, this is a genus where you need to carefully measure flower parts, so need a ruler, or that penny you sometimes have in photos for scale.

Couplet

Leaves all on the lower 1/3 of the stem, often strictly basal, OR, leaves all cauline.

---Should have photo of entire plant to show entire stem.

---The leaves in photo all on lower 1/3 of stem, and my guess is that there are no more leaves higher on stem.

Couplet

Spur 0.7-1.3 mm, OR, spur 2-27 mm.

---This can be difficult to measure by looking at a photo with no ruler or scale bar.

---But 2 mm is just a little nub of a spur and these spurs are well developed, so I assume >2 mm

Then we come to this monster couplet:

a) sepals 3-several nerved, OR, b) sepals 1-nerved.  I can’t determine from photo. Sometimes if I can’t find the veins I guess at there only being 1, so slight possibility of b)

a) leaves 1-2, OR, b) leaves 2-5.  Well, in photo leaves are 2.  So not helpful.

a) leaves less than 5 times as long as broad, OR, b) leaves at least 5 times as long as broad.  It is awkward to measure leaves at an angle in photo, but I estimate leaves are about 6 times as long as broad, so b)

a) leaves basal, OR, b) leaves borne close together on lower 1/3 of stem but not all basal.  You know, the leaves attach above ground level (higher on stem than as seen in dandelion leaves) yet I usually think of cauline leaves as going higher on stem.  I can imagine different “experts” going either way and I don’t know Hitchcock’s criterium.  But since I see leaves on a stem, I lean towards b)

a) leaves not withering by anthesis (flowering), OR, b) leaves tending to wither by anthesis.  Clearly these leaves are not withered, but that “tending” to wither is ambiguous.  Note couplet b) takes you to P. ephemerantha which has leaves while in flower.

a) lip 5-20 mm, OR, b) lip 2-7 mm.  I estimate the lip (lowest petal) as around 5-7 mm, so this is not clear.

a) plants of mesic to wet areas, OR, b) plants mostly of dry areas.  Hmmm. Not a wet area, could be dry-ish.  I lean towards b)

Summary, I lean towards b)

Couplet

Spur 1.5-5.5 mm and less than or equal to lip, OR, spur 7-15 mm and much greater than lip.

---Spur is less than or equal to lip, which takes us to P. ephemerantha.  Can’t measure length better than to estimate it is within the range of 5 to 7 mm.

Platanthera ephemerantha

Sepals and petals bright white—yes.

Upper 2 petals +/- falcate (curved like a hawk’s beak), often converging—yes.

Lip becoming recurved towards spur by late anthesis (full flowering)—yes.

Inflorescence +/- loosely-flowered—well, yeah.

So this species is possible.

Platanthera elegans

Sepals and petals bright white—yes.

Upper 2 petals +/- straight and the tips generally diverging—no.

Inflorescence generally densely-flowered—no.

Not as good a fit.

 

I have never seen P. ephemerantha.  Congratulations!!!  Add another gold star after your name.

My reply:

Okay, I should have included some details which helped me key it out.

Leaves all on lower 1/3 of stem.

Spur roughly 7 mm.

Leaves at least 5 times as long as broad, closer to 6 as you surmised.

I'd have described the leaves as basal, having two plants in observation. I think the lower portion in the one photo had been disturbed and was therefore showing when it wouldn't have been otherwise.

Second specimen had leaves and was in full flower.

Lip equal to spur, i.e., 7 mm.

BONE-DRY area!

Proudly Representing...

Day 255: I am proud to be one of six uniformed personnel representing Mount Rainier National Park in Seattle's Pride Parade today, joined by another half dozen employees and their family members who will be on personal time. While the theme of Pride is specifically LGBTQIA+ rights, in my heart and soul, I am walking for everyone who is in any way marginalized. We should celebrate our differences, for only by examining them and exploring them can we progress toward global unity. It probably won't happen in my lifetime, but at least I'll have put my best foot forward.

Hypericum Anagalloides, Tinker's-penny

Day 244: The genus Hypericum contains almost 500 species, all of which..."ALL," I said...can be referred to by the common name "St. John's wort," and if that doesn't convince you of the value of specific taxonomic epithets, nothing will. Hypericum anagalloides is one of the smallest, and is native to western North America where it is commonly called "Tinker's-penny" or "Creeping St. John's wort" (a term which may also apply to another Hypericum species). It can be found in bogs and mountain meadows as a dense mat no more than two inches high, its bright yellow flowers hidden among chartreuse-green foliage. Ironically, the second half of its Latin binomial has its roots in Greek: "ana" meaning "again" and "-agallein," "to delight in," referring to the fact that the flowers close at night and re-open the following day.

Rhododendron Groenlandicum, Labrador-tea

Day 240: When people hear the name "Rhododendron," most likely an image of the shrubby ornamental varieties commonly used in landscaping will come to mind. However, there are over 1000 species of Rhododendron worldwide, and some may grow to heights of 100 feet or more. Washington's State Flower is the native pink Rhododendron (R. macrophyllum), similar in size and flower structure to the garden cultivars. It does not occur in Mount Rainier National Park, but at least three other native Rhododendrons grace our slopes: R. albiflorum, R. menziesii and R. groenlandicum. The latter (above) is also known as Labrador-tea or Bog Labrador-tea, and can be found in bogs and swamps at low to mid-elevations in western Washington. Its star-shaped white flowers are carried in terminal racemes, and it is not uncommon to find last year's spent seed capsules dangling beneath them. As the name suggests, it was widely used by Native peoples and early settlers in the northern regions as a tea, but the leaves contain alkaloids which may be toxic if ingested.

Liverworts

Day 362: Scientists are driven to name things (via those pesky taxonomists, of course): to categorize, to distinguish, the better to understand where any given species fits into the grander scheme. To know that This and That are related gives us perspective from two angles, and so much the better if we also know they are related to Those. The morphological commonality here is obvious: This, That and Those all belong to the family "Th-," further divided into genus and species by "-is," "-at" and "-ose," and that method (superficial as it was) served us well for many years. Then came DNA analysis, and now our preconceptions are flying out the window at an astonishing rate. Observation of macroscopic and microscopic characteristics is proving to be insufficient. The liverwort shown above demonstrates my point.

There are two schools of thought regarding this Marchantia. Some will argue that it is M. polymorpha, a common pest in greenhouses and nurseries. Others will claim that it is M. alpestris, and may even cite as proof the fact that it lacks the black median line seen in its cousin. Yet another branch will defend it as a different variety (M. polymorpha var. alpestris) or subspecies (M. polymorpha ssp. montivagans). It's enough to drive you mad! To date, Santa Claus has declined my requests for a DNA sequencer and someone with the knowledge to run it, so given that my observations of this liverwort have both occurred in alpine locations where it is unlikely to have been imported from a lowland greenhouse, I'm calling it Marchantia alpestris, and I reserve the right to be wrong.

Golden Gate Grouse

Day 361: At the top of the Golden Gate Trail, my botany partners and I were met by a companion who was busily searching for late-season insects among the dry foliage. Now whether this is a Sooty or a Dusky Grouse is up for debate. "Blue Grouse" was split into two separate species in 2006 in an astonishing reversion to the classification used in the early 1900s. "In general," says the Washington Dept. of Fish and Wildlife, "the coastal birds are Sooty Grouse and the interior birds are Dusky Grouse," and to further complicate matters, the two species intergrade. The air sacs visible on courting males are red in Dusky, more orange or yellow in Sooty. Females do not share this characteristic, so you must look at the tail. Sooty has a grey band across the tip and generally two fewer feathers in the fan, although these marks are difficult to see unless the bird is displaying. Habitat is another clue to distinguishing one species from another. Sooty prefers forest, Dusky prefers open areas. Range is another hint. If your observation is substantially on one side or the other of a dividing line, you're in luck. However, if you happen to be right at the convergence of the zones, have a female bird whose tail is hidden by the foliage in an alpine meadow not far from timberline, you are pretty much up the infamous creek without your proverbial paddle. This, therefore, is a Golden Gate Grouse. That's my assessment, and I'm sticking with it.

Goat Rocks Fire

Day 359: Per this morning's update, the Goat Rocks Fire now stands at 4552 acres, small as wildfires go, but filling the air in the surrounding communities with smoke. It was projected to grow somewhat today, based on wind and humidity forecasts and indeed, from the top of the Golden Gate Trail, my botany partners and I could see it progressing slowly down the ridge. Per the incident report, a direct approach to suppressing this fire (i.e., sending in ground crews) would have little chance of success due to steep terrain and a massive quantity of dry fuel and would pose extreme safety hazards for firefighters. An indirect solution is being implemented instead, with containment lines being cut in to the west and north, the most likely direction for spread. Higher humidity early next week should further limit the spread.

Saussurea Americana, American Sawwort

Day 318: By now, I am sure most of my long-term readership will have figured out that words are my favourite toys. I enjoy finding out where they came from, what they're connected to, how their meanings have changed over time. To look at American Sawwort (a plant endemic to the northwestern states including Alaska and Montana), one might think that its common name was a logical extension from the toothy margins of its leaves ("-wort" means "plant"). Whether that is the case, I can't honestly say, but what fascinated me about its etymology is that its botanical name is Saussurea americana which, to my ear, is far too "saw-ish" a term to be coincidental. In trying to track down its taxonomic roots, I discovered that the Saussures (father Horace and son Nicolas) were both scientists of some renown in the late 1700s and early 1800s respectively, and that Nicholas in particular had a penchant for botany. In fact, he laid the groundwork for our modern understanding of photosynthesis. Is there a linguistic connection between "sawwort" and "Saussure?" Inquiring minds are itching to know.

Pin It!

Day 316: My botany partners joke that they can track where I've been by looking for "Crow Rocks," i.e., the various things I use as field tripods. Sometimes it's a rock, yes, but sticks and bits of shed bark are also frequently brought into service for the same purpose. As it happened, I was down on my knees at the camera with a chunk of long-dead, dry wood propping up the lens, and my attention was fully on the unique plant I was photographing. Then, as I started to raise up, the light hit the surface of the wood at a different angle, and there they were, hundreds of little black pins no more than one scant millimeter in height. Joe and Sharon were already back at the car, so I carried my treasure out to them and as I walked up, I said, "Here's something I bet you've never seen before!" A photo session ensued, drivers of passing cars no doubt wondering what was so fascinating about a chunk of old wood.

These are a species of "stickpin" or "pin lichen." Without laboratory facilities, I can't positively determine which one, but Mycocalicium subtile is my best guess, based on characteristics I could observe with a hand lens and habitat/substrate. This is only the second pin lichen I have ever found. As you might guess, they are extremely difficult to spot due to their size. Closer observation would reveal that the capitula (pinheads) are goblet-shaped or, as Sharon observed, "Like little tiny Myrios," referring to our historic fungal find from several years ago. You never know what you're going to find in the woods if you just keep your eyes open.

Rainiera - Monotypic Genus

Day 301: The genus Rainiera has but one species in it, i.e., it is a monotypic genus, Rainiera stricta its solitary member. As one might guess from the name, it is particularly associated with Mount Rainier, but does occur as far north as Stevens Pass and south into Oregon. For as common as it is in the Sunrise area, one might find it hard to believe that it falls among plants whose conservation is a matter of concern globally. Indeed, in autumn it seems to dominate the slopes along the upper Sunrise Road. Within Washington or Oregon, it is designated "SNR" or "no status rank," indicating that here we have a healthy population. Formerly known as Luina stricta, Rainiera is distinct from Luina (Silverback). It bears the common names of "False Silverback."

Erigeron Acris

Day 297: As a general rule, I dismiss DPDs ("damn purple daisies") from my personal list of Wildflowers of Interest. I can look across a field of lavender-hued asters without seeing them as anything but background noise. However, this miniature version won a special place in my heart when I discovered it several years ago. As opposed to most other DPDs, this one is quite small, standing no more than six inches tall (and that would be a stretch). It's easy to overlook, and perhaps that's what caught my eye originally: I don't look for something. I look at the whole scene and my eye is automatically drawn to what is unusual in it. This is Erigeron acris, "acris" meaning "sour, bitter," thus leading to the plant's common name of "Bitter Fleabane." The flowers are very pale lavender, almost white, and the greyish-green leaves camouflage it quite effectively in the dry, rocky areas in which it is frequently found. When mature, the plant's fuzzy seed heads look like miniature dandelion puffs, each seed (achene) attached to its own parachute of fluff (pappus), ready to be carried away on the winds of autumn.

Anticlea Occidentalis, Mountainbells

Day 293: Okay, bear with me here. This is not going to be another rant about taxonomy, I promise. That said, when this plant was moved from Stenanthium to Anticlea, my curiosity about the etymology was aroused because it didn't seem to be sourced in Latin. As it turns out, the name was drawn directly from Greek mythology. Anticlea was the mother of Odysseus (the identity of his father is subject to debate). Her name means "without fame," appropriately perhaps, because she seems to have no particular function in the legend beyond being noted as part of Odysseus' genealogy when he meets her spirit in Hades. Ask three people how to pronounce "Anticlea," and you'll likely receive three different answers. I've heard "An-TICK-lee-uh," "ANTIE-klee" (totally ignoring the final "a") and something close to my own pronunciation of "Anty-CLEE-uh." Perhaps the most surprising thing about the taxonomic shift is that it denotes a phylogenetic link with three species of deathcamas, one of which (Glaucous Death Camas) also experienced a reclassification (from Zigadenus to Anticlea). In any event, Mountainbells are lovely and relatively scarce in our forests. They prefer a moist, shady habitat. Their delicate purple bells sway on slender stems to a height of roughly 12 inches, responding to the slightest breath of wind.

Luetkea Pectinata, Partridgefoot

Day 290: Partridgefoot (Luetkea pectinata) is commonly found in the alpine/subalpine zones of Mount Rainier National Park. It stands roughly six inches high when in bloom, the flowering stalks rising above a basal rosette of foliage. Both the basal and cauline leaves (those appearing on the stems) are divided into three linear leaflets, in shape rather like a bird's foot (hence the common name). The tough, woody (ligneous) stems remove Partridgefoot from the category of herbaceous plants, but it is too short to be called a shrub. Instead, botanists call it a semi-shrub or subshrub based on this characteristic. The plant often forms dense mats, connected beneath the soil by rhizomes or sending out runners (stolons) along the surface. It is evergreen, and the tufted basal rosettes may be seen in the early season as the snow begins its retreat from the meadows.

Rare And Endangered Pea

Day 284: This vetch-like legume is one of the most significant milestones of my botanical career. It is on the state's list of rare and endangered species, and Pierce County is at the northernmost margin of its limited range. I first observed Torrey's Peavine (Lathyrus torreyi) after receiving an alert from my contact at the WTU Herbarium. Following his instructions for reaching the site, I found the vines occupying a patch roughly 12" x 20" with a few fading flowers and, as I recall, no evidence of developing buds. I am happy to report that two years later, Torrey is in good health as of a recent visit to the location, and the patch has now more than doubled in size. The vines were displaying both blossoms and new buds, but how the first seed reached this site is a matter of conjecture. Obviously, I can't disclose the location. Just suffice to say that I think it's an odd place to have a pea.

Pinguicula

Day 279: There is a good reason that Pinguicula vulgaris (Butterwort) is relatively uncommon in western Washington: it prefers an alkaline habitat. There are only a select few places where it can find a suitable ecological niche because our Pacific Northwest environment is largely acidic, thanks to its heavy cover of evergreen trees. In this case, it's growing on a vertical rock face where fir needles are not likely to accumulate. Presumably its substrate rock is of alkaline composition, which in this case would exclude granodiorite, andesite or basalt. Butterwort is an insectivore which captures insects by means of a sticky secretion on its leaves. When an insect is trapped by the mucilaginous "glue," its struggles trigger the release of a digestive enzyme contained in specialized glands. Exoskeletal remains of insects can often be seen as black dots on the yellow-green foliage.

Antennaria Microphylla, Rosy Pussytoes

Day 278: Pussytoes! Or as I say to Tippy when I blow on his feet, "Pussyfoots!" The pink "blossoms" you see here are actually rose-coloured bracts which surround the true flower: yellow, inconspicuous, and capable of a remarkable reproductive feat: Antennaria microphylla can set viable seed without being fertilized. In botany, this phenomenon is called apomixis or agamospermy. The plant is also capable of sexual reproduction, doubling its opportunities to create a new generation of Pussytoes. Individual colonies of Rosy Pussytoes are likely to be genetically identical, i.e., clones of themselves. Having a backup reproductive strategy is more common in flowering plants than one might expect. Other species which can reproduce by means of apomixis include dandelions and hawkweed.

Moneses Uniflora, Wood Nymph

Day 276: Recorded from only a handful of locations in Mount Rainier National Park, Moneses uniflora resembles the Pyrolas, but prefers a darker, more moist habitat. Its shining white flowers provide the common name "Wood Nymph," for indeed it is both as elusive and beautiful as those legendary beings. The flowers are scented and highly attractive to bees, although the plant produces no nectar. In a phenomenon known as "buzz pollination," the downward-facing anthers shed their pollen when a bee vibrates its wings beneath the flower. The pollen falls on the bee's back where it can be picked up by the next plant the insect visits. Buzz pollination is a reproductive strategy employed by a number of plants which have poroidal anthers, i.e., anthers which emit pollen through a single pore or through narrow slits which insects cannot enter. Pollen is loosened only when the bee vibrates its wings at a specific frequency. Research on buzz pollination has shown that across plant species, different frequencies are required to effect pollen release, and thus may require a different insect as the vehicle for pollen exchange.

Budding Cephalanthera

Day 271: The forest and I are growing old together. As my strength and stamina begin to wane, the woods are becoming more deeply tangled. Limbs and trees fall, thickets thicken, ground cover covers more ground. The trailless route to Cephalanthera has always involved climbing over, under, around and through an infinite variety of obstacles, and each year brings more. I emerged from this morning's foray with a head count of four very young stems and multiple new bruises, dings and gouges in my anatomy. Was it worth it? Need you ask? Also worthy of mention is the fact that in an area where they are normally abundant, very few specimens of Corallorhiza were in evidence. I counted a mere three occurrences of maculata, and all at the "seed pod production" phase of their phenology. My suspicion is that the mycoheterotrophs in this particular pocket ecology are suffering from a stressor of some sort, possibly that late-spring snow event which could have disrupted their timing. In any event, I will have to make a second excursion to Cephalanthera in two weeks or so, so I'd better start steeling myself for another round of crawling under fallen trees, over logs, around impasses and through devil's-club, the demanding rite of physical passage which takes you to the Phantom's secret lair.

Campground CITO

Day 235: Among geocachers, the term CITO stands for "cache in, trash out." The original concept of this particular type of "event cache" drew cachers together to clean up litter in an area, and then leave behind a physical container with a log book and appropriate swag for other cachers to enjoy. However, the definition of "CITO" became more flexible with time. Mount Rainier National Park prohibits the placement of physical containers, so the event is a one-time opportunity for members of the geocaching community to rack up another smilie in exchange for a few hours' work cleaning up the campground and erecting platform tents for use by summer volunteers. After a hiatus of two years due to covid restrictions, the annual Mount Rainier CITO made its return yesterday. While there wasn't much cleanup to be done in the tent sites, several platforms had to be moved to new locations. Many hands made light work of the process while three of the four supervisors (Kevin, Moe and I) kibitzed from the sidelines. Tom, our campground host, was in the thick of things, making sure that the platforms were properly seated. Years of trial and error have resulted in a smooth system for erecting the tents. The job was done and dusted in just three hours.

Sunshine Point Water Tower

Day 231: I do not know if the old water tower which served Sunshine Point Campground for many years qualifies as a historic structure or not, but my curiosity about it is growing and I know the people to ask. Given our Pacific Northwe't climate, I'm surprised it's still standing after all this time. The Calypso Orchids and Northern Coralroot which once graced the slope beneath it have almost ceased to appear. Today, one lone Calypso poked up behind a log amid a tangle of broken branches and forest debris, a small and cheerful companion for this old relic. "See? I have not forgotten you. I bloom to recall you to your better days."