Lichenologists In The Mist

Day 14: Roughly 14 lichenologists with varying degrees of expertise from beginner to professor gathered this morning on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill for a field trip among the fog-wrapped gravestones of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery. Mt. Pleasant is one of the oldest cemeteries in Seattle (and for my east-coast friends, that means some of the people buried here were born in the early to mid-1800s), and unfortunately most of the headstones have been kept remarkably lichen-free. Even so, we found several dozen different species (small colonies for the most part) of Parmelia, Hypogymnia, Chrysothrix and others. My favourite was a relatively uncommon lobed Lecanora which I'll feature in an upcoming post. This ancient horse chestnut tree was a veritable gold-mine despite its rather barren appearance on first glance. Used to the lush and verdant lichens which festoon the trees in Mount Rainier's lower forests, I was amazed to discover a whole new world of micro-lichens beneath my hand lens. Even though I didn't learn anything new with respect to identifying individual species, my eyes were opened to the wealth of nearly invisible lichens populating the urban environment.

Nephroma Resupinatum

Day 170: Some of you may recall that my search for kidneys at Longmire was recently rewarded when a gust of wind shook another small sample of Nephroma helveticum loose from the upper canopy. Well, I now have a second species in my photographic catalog: Nephroma resupinatum. I can't take credit for the find. It was shared with me by Lalita Calabria, one of the professors who served as leads on the Northwest Lichenologists' field trip to Deschutes Falls Park. To my credit, when she showed it to me, I identified it as a Nephroma immediately, but knew better than to venture any further into specific species. Lalita was very helpful. She turned the twig over so that I could see the lower surface of the lichen and pointed out the small white "pimples" which are diagnostic.

Usnea Apothecium

Day 169: An unidentified Usnea provided my second big thrill during the lichenology field trip. I simply adore lichens with "eyelashes" on their apothecia, and this was only the second one I've ever found. My previous discovery belonged to a different genus in which the fringed apothecia are common. In Usneas, it's something which is not too often seen around here. The largest "eye" (shown here) was roughly 5 mm in diameter. Two smaller ones were on a lateral branch of the same specimen. Upon closer examination, I believe two species of Usnea were present on this twig, although Usneas can be highly variable within a single species.

Chaenotheca Ferruginea, See It?

Day 168: Hands down, my most exciting find from today's field trip to Deschutes Falls Park with the Northwest Lichenologists was Chaenotheca ferruginea, one of the "pin lichens." Can you see it? There's just one, almost dead-center in the photo: a little black "pin" sticking out of a tiny patch of yellowish-grey thallus. The diameter of the stalk would be roughly that of a human hair. From base to the top of the rounded capitulum (head), the lichen is approximately 1 mm. in height. Yes, you read that right: 1 mm. Not 1 cm., one MILLIMETER. I think I'm going to be spending a lot more time with my nose pressed right against bark now that I know what to look for.

For the most part, the experts were very helpful and took time to explain basic features of lichens to less-experienced participants. Most of the attendees were students in the field and had some degree of expertise. I felt that I fell somewhere between rank novice and "advanced beginner" because although I recognized many of the species as also being in the Park environment, there were a lot of others with which I was not at all familiar (the Ramalinas, for example). I could hold my own talking about Cladonia bellidiflora or Pilophorus acicularis, but I was completely at sea with many other genera. And there is always one academic snob in every crowd. I had drifted away from one group to assist with the identification of a vascular plant and stopped to look at a specimen of Usnea someone else had picked up. When a nearby academic identified it, I asked, "How can you tell that's what it is?" I expected her to say something along the lines of, "It's sorediate" or "The fibrils are forked at the tips." Instead, she replied, "Because I'm a professional." Needless to say, I moved on.

Taking a field trip with experts can have two effects simultaneously. It can be very discouraging when you realize just how much knowledge you do NOT have, but on the other hand, it can be a strong motivator to learn more when the professionals are willing to share their expertise. Thanks to the educators in this group, I think I'll be able to weather the feeling of deflation and will become a better lichenologist through their encouragement.

Adventures With Arnie

Day 286: I think my readers will understand why I want to put the punchline at the head of the story once they've read the whole thing. This little jewel is Sparganium emersum, a species known to occur in the Park, but one without an herbarium specimen. Arnie found it, and wanted me to have a look to see if I agreed with how he'd keyed it out. I was planning to go as soon as I finished my office work on Tuesday, but then remembered that I was wearing my "dress" boots. I shot him an email to that effect, but as the day wore on, the idea of photographing a new (to me) species while it was in prime condition won out, and when I left the office, I went straight to Arnie and asked, "Wanna go for a ride?" We put together the necessary equipment for taking an herbarium specimen, grabbed a government vehicle and off we went. Both of us have now keyed the plant out and yes, it is Sparganium emersum.

Those of you who have been following my adventures this year will remember the discovery of the Phantom orchids and my radio call to Arnie which was broadcast over all receivers: "Arnie, Joe and I are kneeling beside two Phantoms." Most people had no idea what I meant by that, but it caught the ear of one Law Enforcement ranger (Kelly) who referred it to another plant-loving Parkie, Ana. She told him, "They must be referring to Phantom Orchids" and naturally, she became curious about where the Phantoms might be hiding. Kelly spoke with Arnie who gave nothing away, but neither did Arnie tell me about the exchange and how it further developed.

A few nights ago, a friend invited me out to Chinese at an excellent restaurant in the middle of nowhere. When we walked in, I heard someone call my name. Sure enough, it was Kelly, accompanied by Ana. As I walked over to them, he said without preamble, "Arnie said I should ask you about some phantoms." I checked up short. No way did I believe that Arnie would compromise our find. I groped for a reply and finally said, "No, you're not going to catch me with that old trick!" We had a good laugh, and then the rest of the story came out.

It seems that Arnie and Kelly got their heads together and had decided to play a little joke on me about proper radio protocol. Arnie told Kelly that the next time he saw me, he should take me to task for "improper use of code phrases." That revelation confirmed something I've suspected: Arnie is a wicked tease. Obviously, I was going to have to find a way to get the jump on him. But how?

When I got in the car to drive into work on Tuesday, I noticed something I'd left in the cup holder between the driver's and passenger's seats: a sprig of Spotted Knapweed (a virulent invasive) which I'd plucked in South Hill and had forgotten to take inside for analysis. I realized I had the perfect tool at my disposal.

Upon arriving in Longmire, I went immediately to Arnie's office with the Knapweed in hand. As soon as I had his full attention, I said, "Houston, we have a problem...Spotted, I think." Arnie took the plant from my hand and replied, "Spotted or Black, I'm not sure which. Where did you find it?" I was ready for the question. I said, "In the rip-rap on the levee below the Sunshine Point washout." "How many?" Arnie asked. "Three or four," I said, wanting to make it believable. We talked for some time about how it should be treated...chemicals were out because the site was on the river, pulling would be difficult because it was bedded in rip-rap and it had probably gone to seed several years in order to be so firmly established. Oh, yes, he swallowed the story hook, line, sinker and copy of 'Angling Times.'

Then I changed the subject. "Y'know, I ran into Kelly in Salkum a few nights ago. He greeted me by saying 'Arnie says I should ask you about some phantoms.'" I elaborated on how Kelly had tried to trip me up, and how I'd stopped him in his tracks. Then I said, "...and I understand you enlisted him to play a little joke on me about radio protocol. You're messin' with the wrong person. Paybacks are a mother. I've been known to send people down to the (non-existent) basement of the warehouse as a practical joke. And there's no Knapweed at Sunshine Point."

I said it so quickly that the ensuing silence lasted a full two minutes before he could wrap his head around the words. When it finally hit home, he threw the sprig of Knapweed in the trash and said, "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that then, do I? You're a sneaky one!" So we had a good laugh, talked about his Sparganium find, and then went back to work.

The story now picks up at the top of this entry. Just before lunchtime, we were off to see Sparganium, me in my dress boots despite Arnie's clear warning that "the mud will suck you down unless you stay on logs." I thought I had good footing on a two-inch stick. I was wrong. The mud was so soft that I sunk in, stick and all, up to mid-shin with my right leg. The action threw me off balance and my left foot landed on gooey mud and also sank. As I shifted my weight to try to free myself from the suction, I just went deeper and deeper until I was finally mired up to the knees of both legs. The voice in the Sparganium said, "I did tell you it wasn't a good idea to go over there!" as he was maneuvering around on solid footing to capture my plight for posterity. It took me at least five minutes to extricate myself. I suppose I deserved getting stuck in the muck for being so wicked to Arnie! When he sent me the photos, he said, "Your boots need a polish."

Botany - it's not for sissies!

Corallorhiza Trifida

Day 221: For the last two weeks or so, I have been monitoring three sites in the hopes of seeing Corallorhiza trifida, rare at Mount Rainier National Park. We discovered it two years ago and thought we'd hit the jackpot with a total of four specimens; at that time, it had not been observed in the Park since 1999. In 2016, my two botany partners and I made a concerted search for the species and turned up a whopping sixteen. In the vernacular, we were "over the moon!" Until yesterday, my 2017 total was again sixteen, all found while searching alone for threads of green no larger or longer than the lead in a standard pencil. It's slow work. Every footstep must be taken with enormous caution not to crush what might be a one-inch stem barely visible above the carpet of moss. Yesterday, Team Biota (the three of us) took to the woods again. When we emerged, we had surpassed the 2016 record by four specimens. Twenty! Only a few stalks bore open flowers, but a few more days of warm weather will bring out the remainder. Team Biota's first day in the field also turned up a new site for our favourite Liverwort as well as a slime mold I've referred to an expert for identification.
UPDATE: Joe went back up alone today and found three more, two in new locations and one at a site where we hadn't seen any yet this year. Twenty-THREE!

A Field Trip To Trifida

Day 197: Today, I had the delightful experience of taking the Park's Plant Ecologist Arnie Peterson on a field trip to see Corallorhiza trifida. After visiting the first site, we decided to hike the second trail despite impending rain. I had a little trouble relocating the specimen, but after backtracking fifty yards or so, I spotted it. At both sites, I had a little fun with Arnie, stationing him within a few feet of the plant and challenging him to find it. At the second site, I had to give a few hints: "About eight feet away...one o'clock from the maculata..." before he saw it. On the way back down, I stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "We're blind as a couple of bats," I said. Met with a blank look, I pointed. Two feet from the trail was a cluster of seven with one single off to the side. We'd walked right past them! It was a huge thrill for both of us.

We made another stop before returning to Longmire, and were equally baffled by a composite which had been brought to my attention by a colleague. The flowers were closed, but her photos had given enough detail to rule out several things, but even the expert was stumped. I had to chuckle when Arnie said, "I'm going to have look at all my books with pretty pictures of plants for that one."

My last surprise of the day was quickly snatched and pocketed with no restrictions on its harvest. Two nice morels followed me home to be turned into cream of morel soup. Mmmmmmm, yummy!