Profiling Tussilago Farfara

Day 196: I was expecting to find the Usual Suspects during an invasive-plant patrol of Tilton River State Park two days ago. In patrols lower down the Tilton, I've found Japanese Knotweed and hybrid Knapweeds in abundant supply. I was not expecting to find Tussilago farfara, a relatively new invasive in western Washington, and one which we discovered in Mount Rainier National Park only a couple of years ago. That find was the first for Pierce County.

Tilton River State Park is undeveloped and has but a single unmaintained trail leading from Hwy 508 to the river. A plaque marks its establishment at a potholed one-car pullout beside the road. You'd miss it if you didn't know it was there. As such, it's quiet during most seasons, a private place to enjoy a quiet moment beside the river. The sandbar at the end of the trail is sullied by a few fire rings created by fishermen and (illegal) campers, but most notably, by the Knotweed which plagues much of the Tilton's run. Since I had not done a formal weed patrol here, I thought I should document the problem. My eye was set for the weeds I expected and predictably, I found them, but then as I turned to go back out on the trail, I saw the Tussilago, growing sporadically in an area roughly 50' in diameter. Experience with the species in the Park has taught me that it's almost impossible to eradicate by pulling or digging; every fragment of stolon is capable of generating a whole new plant. I was left with only one option: record it and report it to shift the onus of responsibility to Washington State Parks. Occurring here as it does, it has the potential to spread down-river into areas not accessible by the public, and may develop into a major issue unless property owners can be educated. Tussilago farfara is the "new kid on the block," just listed by the state in March 2018. In fact, one of my photos appears in King County's "Noxious Weeds" blog.

Tussilago Farfara

Day 212: Last summer, the invasive plant species Tussilago farfara was discovered at a roadside pullout in the Park. Several theories suggest how it got there; a seed brought in with a load of purportedly "weed-free" road gravel, carried on someone's car bumper or in a piece of mud stuck to the undercarriage, or simply borne on a summer zephyr in some prior year. It has a seed head which resembles that of the common dandelion, little parachutes just waiting to be lifted away to new homes. In any event, several of us who are skilled in plant identification were authorized to monitor the site and to remove it, all but one specimen which our Plant Ecologist wanted as a test subject for chemical control. I had marked the spot with a rock (my companions in Team Biota are now very familiar with "Crow rocks"), but one thing led to another, and before he could treat it, the snows came. I was given permission to remove the plant manually if the site cleared, but the snow persisted for the remainder of the winter. I figured my rock would have been moved by the plow, but day before yesterday, we stopped at the site to check. The rock was still in place, and right beside it, Tussilago was putting up new growth. I lifted it with the dandelion jigger I'd brought along for the express purpose of vegicide and delivered the corpse to Arnie with the phrase, "I have a present for you." I'm watching you, Tussilago.

Herbarium Specimen

Day 217: I was a little unsure of protocol when I gathered two specimens of Tussilago farfara from the Park even though they were slated for removal, and decided that I'd better check with our Plant Ecologist before turning them over to the Invasive Plant Council. I'm glad I did, or I might have been guilty of a federal offense. Even noxious weeds growing within the boundaries of a national park are government property. I could have disposed of them in a government trash can, but I was prohibited from giving them away, even though both the IPC's and the Park's herbarium specimens eventually wind up at the UW's Burke Museum. After some discussion with Arnie regarding the irony of this situation, it was decided that I could keep them at home for pressing and drying, since he didn't have a place in his office where they wouldn't interfere with daily operations.

Per the instructions I had been given by the IPC, I placed the specimens between sheets of acid-free paper backed by newsprint and cardboard to absorb moisture. Stacks of encyclopaedias and dictionaries served as my press. Although I have not glued them down (I don't have the proper archival cement), they're ready to turn over to Arnie for further disposition. This was the best one, showing both the flowers as well as the leaf and root structure.

Corallorhiza Mertensiana

Day 206: "You're looking for pink asparagus." Those were the words I used to describe our quest to Park colleague and friend Anne Spillane this morning. We'd already visited Corallorhiza trifida at two locations and had discovered one more specimen, bringing the year's total to an astonishing 17. During the hunt, I had noticed a few spears of Corallorhiza mertensiana (a related and much more common species) poking their little heads up through the forest duff. I asked Anne if she would like to visit a site I call the "Mertensiana Grove," a suggestion to which she readily agreed. It was there where the search for pink asparagus began in earnest. By the time we had covered roughly half an acre of mossy ground in open forest, our tally of Western Coralroot surely numbered over 100. There were 21 spears in this colony alone, more evidence that 2016 promises to be another banner year for mycoheterotrophs.

As a footnote, our trip also included removal of two more specimens of Tussilago farfara, the invasive I described a few days ago. Both were found at the site of the original infestation. In a moment of whimsy, I put today's score in an interoffice envelope directed to our Plant Ecologist.

An Uncommon Evil

Day 201: Not all rare/uncommon plants are things to celebrate; case in point, Tussilago farfara, European Coltsfoot. This invasive has only recently started showing up in Washington and British Columbia, otherwise unreported west of Minnesota and Ontario.

A few days ago, a friend (Park colleague) sent me a cell phone capture of a plant she couldn't identify, apologizing for the lack of clarity in the photo. That said, her image showed enough diagnostic features that I figured I could find it in my field guides. When I could not do so, I asked her for more details about where she had found it, and last Wednesday, the Park's plant ecologist and I stopped by to have a look. We discovered a dozen or so 12-16" stalks each bearing a single closed flower. Peeling one apart revealed what I thought I had seen in Kristyn's photo: a central disk with rays. I was baffled, and Arnie admitted that he had no idea what it was, either. I resolved to go back for more photos on a sunny day when I knew it would be open. Arnie took the next step and referred it out, with the result that it was identified as Tussilago farfara. Arnie told me, "I'll take a couple of herbarium specimens and then will eradicate it early next week."

With a short time-frame in which to get photographic documentation for the Invasive Plant Council, I made a trip to the site this morning. The flowers were just beginning to open with the first rays of sun, and the mosquitoes were out in numbers. By the time I'd gotten a handful of snapshots, I was gnawed from stem to stern. I went off on another natural-resources project for a few hours, and upon my return after noon, the flowers had opened up.

Tussilago farfara may occur in Mount Rainier National Park, but not for long!