Seen In A Different Light

Day 113: I have to admit that I have been in a foul mood, so dark that even science failed to pull me out of it yesterday, and for that I apologize to my readers. Today, I am seeing things in a different light, quite literally. The Usneas I had brought home from Orting were eluding identification until I put two of them under UV this morning. Despite some minor and acceptable morphological variation, both proved to be Usnea subfloridana, a bushier and shorter species than U. pacificana (which is also UV+). A Ramalina on the same twig also yielded a positive reaction to UV, if not to my efforts to identify it conclusively. My mood improved substantially once I'd put a name to the specimen.

Lichens Rock!

Day 112: Lichens rock! This is a younger example of Polycauliona polycarpa from a different location than yesterday's rosette. Niche ecology can have an effect on many species' growth habits: presence of abundant moisture may produce a higher algal concentration, exposure to wind or polluted air may cause changes in shape, colour or size; even the presence of other lichens may affect the delicate chemistry in a lichen community. Field characteristics can be misleading in the overview, as was the case with the Polycauliona rosette I featured yesterday. Exposed to the fumes of traffic, portions of it had lost the distinctive yellow-orange colour which typifies the species.

And that said, I have spent a frustrating morning with half a dozen samples from two outings, only three of which I have managed to identify. Although I enjoy a good puzzle, I do prefer to fit all the pieces together in a tidy package. It's not happening, and I blame the political situation. Normally, I can find refuge in science, occupying my mind with the whys and wherefores, but today I am asking myself whether it's worth trying to educate a humanity which seems bent on its own destruction, and worse, set to take the planet down with it. I am finding no comfort, not even in the company of my beloved lichens.

Author Unknown

Day 110: Well, this is a little embarrassing. However, when I stand back and really look at it, it's also hilarious.

While out on a four-mile walk on the relatively new and extraordinarily ugly levee trail in Orting yesterday, I was searching for anything noteworthy for my daily posts. I thought I'd struck paydirt when I found a script lichen unlike anything I'd seen before, multiple examples of it occurring on several young Red Alders on the bank of the Puyallup River. I could not remove a sample without damaging the bark. Nor did I have a hand lens, so I took close-up photos of several different examples and conducted a visual analysis with my nose to the tree. The lirellae (the type of apothecia unique to the scripts) seemed to be incised into the bark rather than rising above it. I knew that some species have lirellae which lie beneath the bark surface, so I was sure that would narrow the field when I began searching for an ID. I kept thinking, "They look like dirty thumbprints in wet paint...how very odd!" and reviewing my eidetic memory files, I couldn't recall having seen anything with that morphology in either Brodo or McCune. A diligent page-by-page search of both field guides confirmed my fears: this one was going to be problematic. In the end, I gave up and for the first time in well over a year, sent photos off to lichenologist extraordinaire Katherine Glew, explaining that "I just can't make this one fit in anywhere." I had a note back from her in my morning email clarifying the authorship of the unusual script: "This looks like grazing by a snail or slug."

Live and learn. I do not get to add another lichen to my Life List, but at least now I will be able to recognize the marks of snail teeth. Whodathunkit?

A Good Word, "Resupinate"

Day 109: It's a good word, "resupinate." You ought to be able to pick up a clue to its meaning if you parse it. In everyday language, to be "supine" means "lying face upward." It's the opposite of "prone," which of course you know means "lying face downward," because you are a literate person and appreciate the semantic distinction. A resupinate fungus, therefore, is one which is growing upside down or, if you prefer, pores up. Think of the more familiar shelf fungi. They have a hard upper surface and pores or teeth on the lower portion. Resupinate fungi grow the other way around, as this beautiful specimen of Irpex lacteus demonstrates.

You never know what you may find when you take a closer look at Nature. I'd decided to walk the restored levee trail in Orting from the bridge north, and was rather thinking I'd made a very bad choice after the first mile of barren gravel. Well, it's the top of a levee. What did I expect? It was built to keep Orting safe from flood, so it's raised above the wetland by ten feet or so, essentially a berm of fill which keeps the river on one side and the city on the other. It is singularly ugly, but of course I didn't know that when I started out. The sides are lined with riprap, so there was no way to get within touching distance of anything even remotely vegetative, unless the occasional invasive (Japanese knotweed or buddleia) was to your liking. It was only after I'd reached the end and was coming back that I noticed a lightly lichenized cottonwood next to a short trail leading into a housing complex. Eh, it was worth a look, so I sheared off from the main trail and almost stepped on a small branch bearing a little colony of bright orange Xanthoria. I knelt down to take a photo (desperation!), picked up a second branch harboring an Usnea and a non-sorediate Ramalina and...what in the world? There was the resupinate in all its glory. For what it's worth, Irpex is common worldwide, even if I'd never come across it in my travels. Two inches of a fungus (which to my mind looks rather like a tromped-on slug) really made my day.

Spring Song

Day 143: Melospiza melodia...Song Sparrow...he wears a tie tack in the center of his breast, but if you hear him sing, you won't need to note any other identifying feature. His clear, liquid notes come like a chorus of bells from thickets of willow and wild roses. You may not see this little singer, but there is no mistaking his voice. Plain though his colors may be, his song is one of the loveliest sounds of spring.

Black-Capped Chickadee, Poecile Atricapillus

Day 141: I do envy the people who say, "Oh, the Chickadees are so tame here! They'll come right down and sit on your hand." Any Chickadee I've met during my ramblings in field and forest has been flighty, jumpy, and impossible to photograph, and I've spent hours trying to get a decent shot of one. Today, I had three in a group at Warbler Bridge (Foothills Trail). As soon as my eye fell on this elusive avian quarry among the tangle of limbs, the birds would leap to another branch or disappear into a thicket altogether. They also seem to know how to use the sun to good advantage. As I would maneuver myself into position so that they weren't in silhouette, they'd hop ahead of me again, always keeping the sun in my eyes as I searched for them. I did finally manage a few shots, although they're certainly not field-guide quality. One of these days, you little stinkers...one of these days, I'll catch you when you're not looking!

Foothills Trail Highlights

Day 126: While friends in the eastern states are experiencing bitterly cold temperatures and snowdrifts threaten to cover their houses, the Pacific Northwest is basking in unseasonably warm weather. I took advantage of it again today to put in a little over ten miles walking the Foothills Trail in Orting. I thought I would share a few of my favourite spots with my readers.

If you park near the fire station and walk east a little over two miles, you may find yourself confronting the Attack Emu. Even though he's behind a sturdy fence decorated with "Not responsible for any accidents" signs, be careful not to approach too closely if you want to take a picture. His beak fits between the wires, and I have no doubt that it would be strong enough to break a lens. He's fast, too. He can sprint across the field in the time it takes you to change ISO settings, and he resents the fact that no one asks him to sign a model release.

At about 3.25 miles, you will reach a bridge over a small bog. Right now, the trees are bare, but as soon as they leaf out, the warblers will come. These fast-moving little birds are hard to spot amongst the foliage, so you may want to study up on "birding by ear" before heading this way. You may also find eagles in the general area, as well as other accipiters.

Four miles in, you'll come to a larger swamp created by a beaver dam at the southwest end. It is always dark and cool here. There are many lichen-covered, broken trees standing in the water, giving the area an air of mystery and foreboding. I call the trees the "Swamp Witches."

The best attraction on the trail as far as I am concerned is the wetland interpretive area. In summer, it is possible to find Blue Herons, Red-Winged Blackbirds and a wide variety of other avian life here. You will also see native and non-native frogs, and of course some of the insects which are the staples of their diet. Recently, many of the young alders east of the picnic table have been cut down by beavers. You'll find the interpretive area 4.5 trail miles east of Orting.

If you'd like, you can continue on to the town of South Prairie, but I generally turn around at the interpretive area or where the trail crosses the next paved road. Ten miles of pavement-pounding is about all I care to do. I'll come back this summer and ride the entire trail on my bike.

Foothills Trail Walk

Day 107: The town of Orting lies in the path of prediction: sooner or later, Mount Rainier is going to turn loose a lahar which inundates the valley. When it will happen is anyone's guess, but as the climate grows warmer and warmer, the likelihood of the event increases. However, given a sixty-degree January day, who could pass up the opportunity to walk or ride the Foothills Trail? I elected to go by foot from downtown to the wetland interpretive site 4.5 miles east in the full knowledge that I could never outrun a mudflow if the Mountain chose to send one down the Carbon River. It's not that I am in denial of the hazard; it has not happened in my lifetime, so I'm playing the odds. That it could happen is never far from my mind, but that it would happen "on my shift" is a chance I'm willing to take. Like the residents of this valley, I just don't believe it will be today.

Squirrel!

Makeup Day 10: As a rural homeowner, there is no fondness in my heart for Sciurus carolinensis. Cute though he may be when he comes bouncing along to mooch peanuts and popcorn in city parks, he is a holy terror if he gets into your attic where his passion for chewing on coated electrical wires quickly becomes apparent. Too, this immigrant from the east coast has displaced the native Western Grey Squirrel to the point that it is believed to be extirpated in many locations on the Pacific Coast. If you see a grey-colored squirrel in western Washington, it is almost certainly an Eastern Grey.

Our meeting today was in an open campus-like environment where squirrel-feeding humans are abundant. So brazen was this little demon that he mounted the stairs to meet me at the top, and for a moment, I thought he was going to continue his ascent up my leg. It was obvious that he thought the camera contained food of some sort. After all, it was in my hands, so what else could it be but a bag of treats? He was supremely offended when I stamped my foot, but he only retreated to a low crotch in a nearby tree, there to glare at me as I captured his portrait.

My Bicycle And Me

Day 224: The Pacific Northwest has been basking in summery temperatures for the last several days and they're due to stick around for a couple more before the rains return. Anyone who enjoys the Great Outdoors can't be expected to stay inside if there's any possible way they can escape other obligations. I did have some shopping to do, and thus my destination was dictated by the convenience of locations where I could purchase pet supplies, fishing lures and possibly pay a visit to the bike doctor for the annual derailleur adjustment.

It's only been a week or so since I rode the Foothills Trail from Orting to South Prairie, so I wasn't expecting any surprises. The frogs aren't out at the wetland wayside yet, nor have I seen the Great Blue Heron who sometimes hangs around, but Red-Winged Blackbirds provided a brief diversion. South Prairie's little riverside park is a pleasant place to stop for lunch, and if no children are about, the swing is great fun for an "older kid." The emu (a sight which stops nearly everyone) was grazing in his field, and otherwise, the river just rolled quietly by, its passage only marred by the regrowth of invasive Japanese Knotweed along the banks. Given this pastoral vignette, the word which might come to mind is "uneventful," which indeed described the day until I came to the bull ambling casually down the center of the trail.

This is not the type of obstacle one normally encounters on paved bike paths. His ladies were calling to him from the pasture, voices he answered with a loud and mournful bellow. It was clear that he had no idea how he'd come to be on the wrong side of the fence and unfortunately, I had no clue either. We exchanged glances and passed each other without incident, and I rode on, stopping at the farmer's house to report his errant charge. The owner's comment? "Yeah, he does that from time to time. I'll take care of it."

Waldo On The Rocks

Day 340: If Waldo was sitting on your hand, you'd probably describe him as being brown, but once he's in his own element, his patterns and coloration mimic warm grey earthtones and shadows amazingly well. However, when he opens his wings and flies, broad bands of yellow may make you think he's a butterfly.

I've seen more grasshoppers this year than any time in the last decade. When I was young, we would collect them by the dozen, but these days, it's rare that I see more than three or four all summer. I wonder if they are truly in decline, or if their range has simply shifted in response to climate change? Many plants and critters are moving north.

Down Among The Pumpkinheads

Day 339: Hurray! It's time for county fairs, grange displays and the grand weigh-in of pumpkins! Oh, these are just babies compared to the ones which will take the prizes, but nevertheless, any one of them would fill a wheelbarrow, leaving only a few gaps to stuff with ears of late-season corn. Farmers' fields are full of orange giants, but the behemoths have been trucked off to their respective places of honor. A fifty-pound pumpkin won't even take an Honorable Mention when competing against a thousand pound squash suitable for Cinderella's carriage. Stay tuned, because the Washington State Fair opened today!