Devil's Tower

Day 152: I talk about the Devil's Tower in conjunction with trips to Sulphur Creek Falls, but have rarely posted photos of it because it doesn't present itself readily to the lens, obscured as it is by vegetation. It is also difficult to capture its detail since it is almost always backlit by the sun. I believe it to be an ancient volcanic plug, exposed by erosion. In any event, its pockmarked, knobbled construction affords mosses, sedums and various other mosture-loving plants a place to take hold, and very little of its rocky structure remains visible through gaps in their blanket. It stands as gate-keeper to the Tolkienesque stronghold of Sulphur Creek Falls; you cannot go below its base without wearing heavy armour against the massed forces of devil's-club and salmonberry, and if you should be inclined to come in from above, there is no way down short of a treacherous rappel. I would estimate its height at roughly sixty feet from the narrow, mud-greased ledge I refer to as its base (although presumably it is anchored in some geologically impressive lava conduit far beneath the forested slope). Its ledge always draws a sigh of relief from my heaving chest. There, I can progress some thirty yards without struggling for every toehold, even pausing to admire its botanical garden. "That really is Suksdorfia," I say to myself as I admire a cluster of scalloped leaves which obviously enjoy the wet, north-facing wall. It is the only location outside the Park where I have observed the species. As much as any other reason, the botanical diversity pulls me back here, certain that there is some rarity on the Tower which I've failed to notice, being too set upon the goal of the falls.

Communities

Day 231: Well, this one will make my botany partner Joe happy, because he never has been able to pronounce "Suksdorfia," but it leaves us both having to unlearn the name and trying to remember to call it Hemieva ranunculifolia instead. Even the common name has changed. It's no longer "Buttercup Suksdorfia" for obvious reasons. Now it's Buttercup-leaf Mock Brookfoam. Try saying that three times fast. I dare ya.

One of the "secret techniques" I use when searching for rare plants is to look for other plants which I know to be associated with my target species. They may or may not have any physical link ("association"), but they prefer the same habitats. For example, we know that Aphyllon purpureum is parasitic on specific sedums. This is a direct association, i.e., if the sedum is not present, neither is Aphyllon. However, both the sedums and Hemieva enjoy the same habitat (areas where the roots of the plant can remain cool and moist), so it makes sense to seek out Aphyllon where the two occur together. Of course, there are no guarantees. You could spend days searching through Hemieva's buttercup-like leaves and the fleshy foliage of the sedums without finding a single example of Aphyllon, but it's a place to start. There is quite a bit of information on plant communities on line, so sometimes I do my preliminary leg-work on the internet, reading research papers, trying to determine which associations I might find in our area. Perforce, plants in California will have a different circle of "friends" than those in Washington, and those at Mount Rainier may be found with different species than those in the lowlands. And sometimes, no matter how much you've read ahead of time, the environment will offer its own set of subliminal clues to point the careful observer in the right direction, the "if I was Aphyllon, I'd be over there" moment, recognition of the ideal habitat. It's a skill which comes naturally to some people while others struggle to develop it. If something seems to be compelling you toward a specific niche in a rock, check it out. Your subconscious mind may be trying to tell you something.

Suksdorfia Ranunculifolia

Day 238: The current trend in taxonomy leans toward naming plants and animals after their discoverers or after researchers who have contributed substantially to the respective disciplines. It is a source of much frustration to me. I far prefer something informative in the nomenclature, such as "Suksdorfia ranunculifolia" (the photo above). It tells me that when I observe the plant, I should see leaves resembling those of the common buttercup (unrelated). Likewise, "latifolia" tells me that the leaves are broad, "rotundifolia" that they are round, "purpurea" that the leaf or flower is purplish. I can equate the terminology with some portion of the plant, and thus the name is easier to remember than (for example) "lyallii" (named after David Lyall, a Scottish botanist) or "hookeri" (a friend of Charles Darwin). It might be different if these botanists' images leapt into my mental vision along with some association to a botanical feature. Surely "einsteini" would call to mind the frizzy hair of that well-known physicist. Yes, I could see a dandelion with the taxonomic designation "Taraxacum einsteini." Makes perfect sense if you think about it.

Suksdorfia Ranunculifolia - A Profile

Day 247: I've spoken often about how important it is to capture a side view of a bird if you want to use your photo to make an identification. In the side view, a bird presents the greatest number of field markings possible. But what about plants? Ah, there we're getting into tougher territory.

Many plants have inflorescences which rise well above their leaves. This often means that you can't capture the flower and leaf in the same image. Growth habit also supplies a definitive characteristic. When given a species like Suksdorfia ranunculifolia ("the Suksdorfia with the buttercup-like leaves"), it's best to take three views for your records.

This lovely Suksdorfia often exhibits red-centered and yellow-centered flowers in the same panicle, the panicles rising as much as a foot above leaves which resemble those of common buttercups. When individual blossoms first open, their centers are yellow. As they age, they fade to red. The plant's preferred habitat is somewhere its "feet" can be kept cool and moist, and therefore can be found where seeps emerge from rock. In the Park, it is most common in Stevens Canyon.

Suksdorfia Ranunculifolia, Buttercup Suksdorfia

Day 240: Buttercup Suksdorfia takes both its common name and the second half of its taxonomic binomial from the shape of its leaves, i.e., the fact that they resemble those of buttercups (a different family). Its range within Mount Rainier National Park is broad, but nowhere does it occur abundantly. Freshly open flowers exhibit a yellow eye which changes to red with age, both often evident in the same panicle. After finding a few rain-battered examples in one location, I returned under better weather a few days later, only to discover that the flowers had already withered. Thus began the Great Suksdorfia Hunt of 2016, a process which covered a substantial number of hours and miles on foot before I found a satisfactory specimen in bloom, never mind that it was several feet above my head and required some minor scrambling up a rock wall. In my attempt to hold the camera steady, my left arm and leg were perforce positioned in a small trickle of unpleasantly cold water, and by the time I'd gotten the shot, I was soaked on one side, dry on the other. Suffice to say, botanizing isn't for wimps!