Blue Elderberries

Day 334: "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Those words always chime in my head when I see blue elderberries.

When I was growing up, the red-fruited Elderberry was the only one you'd see in the cooler, damper climate of Snohomish County. It wasn't until I moved to southwest Washington that I saw blue Elderberry in abundance. My mother had always told me that the fruits of red Elderberry were poisonous, and while that is not exactly true (they must be cooked before eating), it kept me from nibbling on the ones in our neighbourhood. She also said (correctly) that black or blue Elderberries could be used for pie and jam. As a young housewife, I was tempted by the abundance of dusty blue berries within a short walk of our prairie property, and one afternoon set out with my husband to collect a five-gallon bucketful. Our mission was soon accomplished and we returned to the house for the next phase. That's when it all went south.

Y'see, for all of the fact that they grow in heavy clusters, each one of these berries is only about 5 mm. and consists largely of skin wrapped around hundreds of crunchy little seeds. After crushing the full five gallons and pressing (I might say "squeezing the hell out of") the mash through a jelly bag, the juice extracted would not have filled a quart jar. Perhaps this was the wrong way to approach the project; maybe I should have put them in a pot with some water and boiled them, but I was new to jam and jelly production then, and was following a "live off the land" recipe which I suspect had been written by someone who'd never actually tried to do it themselves. In the end, I chose the only reasonable option. I threw mash and juice onto the compost heap and put the cookbook in the darkest corner of my library.

Older and wiser now, I choose to leave blue Elderberries on the bush for the birdies. "Once bitten, twice shy" is another phrase which comes to mind.

Magnificent Bryozoan

Day 326: This is a colony of Magnificent Bryozoans (Pectinatella magnifica). Yes, that's really the name of the organisms which form this gelatinous underwater mass. I would imagine (I would hope!) that some of you are opening your mouths and/or limbering up your fingers to ask, "A what? What's a bryozoan?" The word translates as "moss animal," and that pretty much says it in a nutshell. Although they could easily be mistaken for a coral or blob of algae, these creatures (zooids) are filter-feeding aquatic invertebrate animals. Seen singly, they resemble tiny sea anemones. A colony begins when a single zooid buds to reproduce genetically identical copies of itself asexually. As the colony matures, the reproductive process converts to a sexual one. Large colonies such as this one are a mosaic of smaller colonies (each with its own individual genotype) which must merge before their gelatinous exoskeletons harden. The Magnificent Bryozoan is unusual in that it occurs in fresh water (most bryozoans are marine). They are native to North America and to the Pacific Northwest, although until recently, they were considered rather rare here.

I encountered my first Magnificent Bryozoan colony in Swofford Pond two years ago. I had no idea what I was seeing, and quite honestly, I was rather repelled by the great gobs of goo I saw floating just below the surface of the lake. I made some inquiries and found out that these creatures are becoming more prevalent in our lakes, and some scientists believe that this is due to a rise in water temperatures. I am inclined to agree. During my September Morn paddle, I encountered HUNDREDS of colonies along the west edge of the Tilton Arm where it debouches into Mayfield Lake. Most were attached to submerged logs and branches, but a few were free-floating.

Magnificent Bryozoan colonies are large (up to two feet across) and surprisingly firm, if reports are to be believed. Thank you, I will admire this life-form from the 'yak. I feel no compelling need to lift one out of the water for the sake of science.

Fossils

Day 325: My September Morn paddle was not without other notable discovery in addition to the anticipated invasive plants. I found fossils! Well, sort of..."fossil" needs to be qualified. I think what I found up the Tilton Arm qualifies as a "pre-fossil." What initially caught my eye was an ochreous clay concretion which had broken apart to display the imprint of something teardrop-shaped roughly 1.5" long (a freshwater mussel shell, perhaps?). Turning over other fragments of the material revealed a pattern of straight lines which on closer examination appeared to be the imprint of evergreen needles; under the magnifier, the central vein of each needle was quite distinct. The clay matrix was quite soft, easily scored with a thumbnail. I suspect the clay is a recent deposition, probably pre-dating Mt. St. Helens' 1980 eruption, but possibly not. This area did receive substantial ashfall. I will ask our Park geologists for their thoughts on the find.

Even if the mineral specimen isn't a "fossil" in the truest sense of the word, you can't deny the paleontological significance of a Tyrannosaurus rex preserved in its entirety. My second discovery of the day came from the Cowlitz Arm, just off the banks of Ike Kinswa State Park. Never knew they'd roamed the Pacific Northwest.