'Shroom-Sicle

Day 122: Had it not been for a little ray of sunshine, I might have missed this. In fact, I did miss it on the first pass, although the fact that I chose to walk around the right side of the tree instead of the left when the trail gave me both options might have been responsible for the oversight. On my way back from Big Bridge, a fine needle of sunlight angled through the quilted overstory of hemlock and Douglas-fir to center like a searchlight's beam directly on this ice-encrusted specimen of Pseudohydnum gelatinosum (commonly known as Cat's-tongue). My camera battery was almost dead and I knew I had less than a minute to capture its frosty beauty before the fragment of sunlight disappeared, so I dropped to my knees in the mud even as I was changing settings. How I had managed to be in the forest with both camera batteries in terminal condition is another matter: a banana peel on the path of my attention to small details like recharging, and the unavoidability of Murphy's Law. In any event, I got half a dozen snaps before losing the light, and figured wet, dirty pantlegs were worth the sacrifice if even one of the shots turned out. As I stepped around the tree in the middle of the trail, I found another older, browner specimen also encased in ice, and a question rose in the back of my mind when I noticed that the shelf fungus adjacent to it was not icy, nor was the moss or any of the other vegetation in the area. What conditions prevailed that only Pseudohydnum gelatinosum turned into a popsicle? Why?

Scutellinia Scutellata, Molly Eye-Winker

Day 250: Given that the largest specimen of Scutellinia scutellata in this grouping was a mere 4 mm in diameter, it's a wonder that I noticed it on a log twenty feet away and at the 3 o'clock position to the way I was facing. Yep, these little guys were literally in the corner of my vision. There were more, possibly a dozen in all, spaced out in small groups over six feet, and as my mind registered them, the thought passed through, "That's too big to be chiggers," although at first, that was what the colour suggested to me. "Molly Eye-Winkers!" I said aloud to the forest in general, recognizing them as I got closer, and even before I could see their distinctive "eyelashes." Molly is a fungus, not particularly common, but also not too particular about her substrate. I've found her attached to both wood and rock, apparently anchored to the latter via a layer of grit and dust. What she does demand is a moist environment to keep her complexion fresh and bright, and she doesn't care for a lot of sun. Always a favourite, if you see her, give her a wink from me.

Phlebia Radiata, Wrinkled Crust

Day 156: The crusts are a unique group of fungi which adhere closely to their substrate. They may appear on living or dead wood, and if a piece of tissue can be lifted, the underside can be observed to be without the pores noticeable in shelf fungi. The lower surface may be smooth, wrinkled or pimpled, and the upper surface may exhibit radiating folds and/or wart-like tubercles (both are present in this photo to some degree). Fairly common in the Pacific Northwest, Phlebia radiata (commonly known as Wrinked Crust or Radiating Phlebia) contributes to the overall ecology by facilitating the decomposition of wood. It largely affects hardwoods, but occasionally is found on conifers.

Heterotextus Alpinus, Poor Man's Gumdrop

Day 153: It is with great delight that I say I have finally identified this darling little orange fungus as Heterotextus alpinus (syn. Guepiniopsis alpina). Commonly called "Poor Man's Gumdrop," "Jelly Cup" or "Alpine Jelly Cone," it's fairly common in the Pacific Northwest and is often confused with other orange jelly fungi. The defining features of the species are its short and stubby stalk-like point of attachment and a top surface which is somewhat concave. The fruiting bodies frequently hang from the sides or bottoms of decaying wood, looking ever so much like the "gumdrops" in their nickname, but don't let the common name mislead you. Although they are purportedly edible, reports from those who have tried them say that although they have the consistency of a slightly soggy jelly-bear, the taste is insipid and only faintly "mushroomy." They fruit in spring and autumn.

Bisporella Citrina, Lemon Discos

Day 13: Hiking in deciduous forest affords opportunities to find things you wouldn't see among conifers. I can't say what prompted me to stop at this particular point on the trail, but had I not done so I wouldn't have noticed teeny-tiny little orange spots on a piece of decaying wood. Moving in for a closer look, I discovered that they weren't closely attached to the substrate as I had initially thought. Each little disk was supported on a stalk (stipe). The largest cap was no more than 3 mm and a smaller branch to the side was freckled with even more in the 1 mm range. "Cute!" says I, thinking that they probably wouldn't be listed in any of my mushroom/fungus field guides, but they were: Bisporella citrina, commonly called "Yellow Discos." Discos? I thought it was a misprint, the "o" having slipped in with a fumble of fingers. I checked. No, it really is Discos. Alternately, they're called Yellow Fairy Cups. They can be found growing on decaying hardwood which has lost its bark.

Ramaria Acrisiccescens, "Blah Coral"

Day 9: "Blah Coral." Yes, that is the common name of this fungus, a coral often found in Pacific Northwest evergreen forests. It's easy to see why it got the name "Blah." The colour is unremarkable: a uniform light tan which ages to brown. Interestingly enough, the holotype of this species (Ramaria acrisiccescens) was collected in 1966 just a few miles south of my home, followed a year later by holotype collection of another Ramaria (R. araiospora) in the same locale. Older specimens may exhibit abundant dichotomous branching, i.e., each leg splitting into two parts, then into two again, up to nine times. Its Latin nomenclature reflects its unsuitability for the table: "acri-" defining its sharp (acrid) taste and "-siccescens" (pronounced "sick-essence") speaks to the dryness of the flesh. While some corals are edible, this one is just...blah.

Hericium Abietis, Bear's-Head

Day 363: This exquisite fungus has been jostled around taxonomically quite a bit since I first learned its scientific classification, and it seems to be one of those species names which is resistant to change in my mind. I hope that the friends who asked me about it only yesterday will forgive me for referring to it as a Hydnum from force of habit. In fact, the currently proper nomenclature is Hericium abietis, known commonly as Bear's-Head. It is edible and choice, but my conscience would give me gyp if I ever picked one and ate it. To me, that would be the gluttonous equivalent of...oh, let's say spray-painting graffiti on Yellowstone's Mammoth Terraces which, in fact, it resembles.

I had been admiring a recurrent colony for a number of years, watching it expand with each subsequent fruiting season until three years ago when I encountered a pair of collectors bearing large plastic bags near the spot where it grew. Given the size of their bags, I explained the Park's limits on gathering wild comestibles, but gave an inward sigh, fearing the deed had already been done and the evidence tucked safely out of sight. Continuing my patrol, I made a loop past the spot where my exemplary specimen should have been...and it was not. Nor was the smaller one which had been developing nearby. I checked the site again each of the next two years, but there was no sign of the fungus. Last night, Kevin showed me a photo he'd taken, largely to ask if I could identify it. I grilled him for the location, and today had the opportunity to check for myself. It was not growing in the precise spot where the previous specimens had been found, but it was close enough to be part of the same mycelial system. I hope no one collects it. It would be such a pity to destroy something so beautiful just for a few minutes of gustatory gratification.

Buttered Lichens

Day 13: Another wonderful present from far away arrived in my mail yesterday. A Parkie friend was visiting Michigan and had asked if I'd like some specimens of local lichen. I said yes, and asked her to look for species she had not observed in the Pacific Northwest. She replied, "I'm trying to get you some orange ones." Visions of Xanthorias and Candellarias danced in my head like so many sugarplums (Teloschistes being beyond my wildest dreams), and then she sent a photo. I burst out laughing. "Anne," I wrote back, "don't try to mail those. They'll go to goo in the post. Those are jelli fungi." "Too late," she replied. "I already mailed them."

Fortunately, she sent the parcel via priority mail. The fungi (Tremella mesenterica, commonly called "Witches' Butter") had only just begun to biodegrade, and were restored to health after spending the night outdoors. I spent yesterday evening examining samples of the lichen under the dissecting 'scope and determined from the sparsity of rhizines, absence of apothecia and granular soredia arising "from pustules" (per Brodo) that the specimen was one of Michigan's commoner species, Flavoparmelia caperata. Also known generically as "Greenshield," Flavoparmelia will grow on almost any bark substrate and may even attach to rock. Anne's specimens were taken from pine and maple. They are unlikely to survive in the Pacific Northwest, but I've given them the option to colonize on Acer.

Counting Noses

Day 235: My readers may recall that about this time last year, I returned home from a swamp expedition with photos of a mystery fungus, and that after two weeks or so of referring it to one expert after another across the globe, it was determined that it was a rare species (Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae) and further, that even the genus was considered rare worldwide. As such, the find marked the undisputable apex of my history as a botanist, and I can't imagine what could top it.

This species had been reported as occurring in the Park, but the only record was contained on a 1948 herbarium card which cited it as having been found in an entirely different location. My companions in Team Biota Joe and Sharon Dreimiller and I set about trying to find the 1948 location immediately. We were successful, and between the two sites, we documented 64 specimens in 2016.

These fungi are extraordinarily ephemeral as we discovered on subsequent trips. Here today and gone tomorrow, we knew that our chances of finding them again in 2017 would be governed by some very precise timing. We have been monitoring Site A for several weeks (the second location still being under several feet of snow), and yesterday, the three of us sallied forth through soaky-wet snowmelt meadow and emerged victorious with a total of TEN examples recorded for posterity by multiple cameras. The newly-emerged specimens are as yet quite small, the three in the upper photo the most well-developed. The smallest was hardly larger than a straight pin. The rest of our happy family can be seen in the collage below. The little guy is just right of the three in the top left image, about a third the height of the one immediately to its left.

Team Biota doesn't usually bring home the bacon in quite such grand style, although we do turn up a number of botanical rarities or new locations for uncommon plants almost every time we go out. Yesterday's tally was not limited to Myrio by any means, and over the next few days, I'll be bringing you more Park peculiarities.

Sarcoscypha Coccinea

Day 162: Sarcoscypha coccinea is a species of cup-fungus endemic to the Pacific Northwest and is commonly called Scarlet Elf Cup. Its bright red colour make it easy to spot in the shady forests where it prefers to live. It grows on decaying hardwood (maple, for example), although it often appears to be sprouting directly from the ground when the wood is buried. A short stipe (stalk) may or may not be apparent. The outer surface of the cup is lightly tomentose (fuzzy) and whitens with age. Other similar Sarcoscyphas can be found on the east coast, but S. coccinea can be found solely in the west from California northward. The species fruits in late winter through spring, unlike the majority of other cup-fungi.

Bird's-Nest Life Cycle

Day 40: Bird's-Nest fungi such as these specimens of Nidula niveotomentosa grow on rotting wood and propagate by means of spores contained in tiny lentil-like structures known as peridioles. Each "nest" is only about the size of a pencil eraser. The "eggs" of this species measure 0.5-1.0 mm and are protected by a gelatinous substance. When this fungus first emerges, the "nest" is covered by a dome which bursts as it matures, revealing the peridioles in the gel. They are then washed from their "nests" as the cups fill with rain. It is not uncommon to find lines of bird's-nests following cracks in old wood or colonies confined to low areas where the peridioles have come to rest. In this photo, you can see one unopened bird's-nest, one in which the peridioles are still suspended in the gel, two which are fully open, and several faded, grey ones from last year. Note also the peridioles on the rims of the cups and one (far right) resting on bare wood.

Joe And Myriosclerotinia

Day 252: Joe dropped me off about twenty minutes ago and is en route home as I write this, and I think neither of us will sleep a wink tonight. Our primary goal for the day was to bushwhack into the site at which in 1948 Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae was last seen in Mount Rainier National Park. We had noted a small clearing in which Carex was growing, a known host for this rare species. A narrow stream of trickling water ran through the center of the mini-meadow, so we began patrolling its edges with our eyes peeled for even the smallest cup. Joe went up a secondary stream which fed into the main flow and was about fifty feet away when I suddenly shouted, "Oh, my gawd, I've got one!" I honestly had had no expectations of success, and immediately pulled out my GPS to mark the location. I got down on my knees and began taking photos from different angles, and in viewing my specimen from the side, I saw two more near it. Then the hunt began in earnest, Joe on one side of the stream and me on the other. In the course of the next hour or so, we found a grand total of fifty-one specimens. Although none were as large as the ones we had found in the first location on June 2, these appeared to be newly emergent and still growing. Many were only about 3 mm. in diameter. As we studied the area for clues into Myriosclerotinia's habitat requirements, we noted that the fungi only grew on the south bank of the stream and never more than 8 inches from moving water. All but one occurred in a strip approximately 8" x 30', and nowhere else in the meadow. Two are visible in this photo if you have keen eyes, and Joe is photographing another cluster of three hidden in the sedge. Fifty-one!!!

Myriosclerotinia Caricis-ampullaceae

Day 249: Since my botanizing partner Joe and I (Team Biota) discovered this unusual cup fungus in a snow-melt meadow in Mount Rainier National Park, a flurry of emails went out, first from Joe to a friend who is a mycologist, thence to a mycological society and further, to mycologists around the globe. The consensus is that it is Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae. This particular species is considered "very rare," but the genus is rare as well. Who would have thought that such a lowly thing could generate such interest? And who would have expected to stumble across it while hunting for rare/uncommon vascular plants?

Joe, his wife Sharon and I have made several return trips to the site over the last two weeks, and have learned that these fungi are extremely ephemeral, here today and gone tomorrow. Joe and Sharon found a few on their second trip, but none since. After a conference with the Park's Plant Ecologist earlier this week, I was authorized to take an herbarium specimen if enough examples were present. Arnie knows my feelings on collecting, and trusted me to make the critical judgment call for collection of a rare species.

I went into the meadow in full rain gear on a blustery, cold day and began searching the margins of snow-melt pools and the banks of a tiny stream, but was frustrated at having no success in finding my quarry. With additional information I had been given about the species, I examined several dozen stems and leaf sheaths of the Carex (Cotton-grass) native to the site, but found no evidence of sclerotia. It was beginning to look like my mission was going to be a bust. Then, just as I was packing up to leave the meadow, I saw something floating in the water, loose. It was a single specimen, not attached to anything, waiting to be lifted out for preservation with only minimal pangs of conscience on my part. It was in less than perfect condition, admittedly, but it would serve for DNA analysis at some future date, should the budgeting for such advanced research ever be possible.

Team Biota has another trip to the site planned, but even if this ephemeral species is done for the year, there will be other years. The last known record of it at Mount Rainier is dated 1948, and a specimen from that date is preserved in the University of Illinois herbarium. I may be dead and gone before it sprouts again, but for 2016, I was there. I saw it. A solitary specimen is drying on my desk as I write this. I have a feeling the story of Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae is not at an end.

Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae

Day 235: Updating this: Originally identified from the photos as Myriosclerotinia dennisii by one mycologist, this specimen was referred out by my botany partner Joe to another mycologist who in turn brought in several other experts to study the images. Based on their replies (and they did not necessarily agree with each other), I am amending the identification to Sclerotinia sulcata.

Newer update: this 'shroom has gone 'round the globe! The consensus among the mycological community is that it is in fact Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae, a rather rare species globally and only recorded in Mount Rainier National Park in 1948. The 1948 specimen is in the University of Illinois herbarium.

Another score by "Team Biota" (Joe and Crow), several dozen were found growing at the edge of a small seasonal pool in the Hudsonsian zone, some with their feet in the water. The height of the tallest was about 5", a 1" cup wobbling on a narrow stipe surrounded by adjacent grass. The others were in various stages of development, and those with larger cups had a tendency to fall over when the support of the grass was removed. The flesh was very thin and brittle, textured with depressions which brought to mind of the hammered metal cookware of the 1950s. Definitely one of the oddest "Freaky Fungi" in Crow's Catalogue, I'm grateful to Joe for tracking down the identity of this unusual 'shroom.

Freaky Fungus - Lycogala Epidendrum

Day 204: There are some truly strange things out there in the woods, and if I hadn't gone exploring on my lunch break today despite the rain, I might never have found this ephemeral jewel. I'm not going out very far on the limb when it comes to making an identification because I'm clearly out of my depth. That said, I will make an informed guess (operative word being "guess") in defining this particular specimen as a species of Trichia, a Slime Mold, and possibly Trichia botrytis, or Orange Drops. Whatever it is, it looked for all the world to me like someone had stuck wads of orange-pink bubblegum all over a mossy, rotting log, colonies of the fungus occurring every few inches over an area approximately 1' x 3'. Needless to say, I called our Plant Ecologist out of his office to have a look, and the two of us poked and prodded it sufficiently to learn that it was very soft and gelatinous, and the interior was filled with a watery goo of the same colour. Arnie admitted he had no idea what it was beyond a slime mold. I will be attempting to find someone who can confirm or reject my tentative identification.

Footnote: My thanks go out to Angela Mele for identifying this as Lycogala epidendrum. She adds that it was "the first species of slime mold ever put into print, in the mid 1500's in a German herbarium."

Aleuria Aurantia, Orange-Peel Fungus

Day 28: It's not difficult to imagine how Orange-Peel Fungus earned its common name. From even a short distance, that's exactly what it looks like. Closer in, you'll notice an absence of the dimples and pith you'd expect to see in a discarded citrus peel, and then you may observe the thin walls of this very vibrant species. For all of its "caution light" colour, it is non-poisonous, although almost tasteless and leathery despite being brittle. It is easily identified by its lack of stipe (stalk) and the uniform colour of its interior and exterior surfaces.

The Schizophyllum Adventure

Day 27: The Schizophyllum Adventure kept me up well past bedtime last night because I was determined to solve the mystery of this fungus' identity. A friend had piqued my curiosity when she sent me photos taken during a walk on the network of trails within her acreage, photos which showed only enough detail to convince me that it was something I had never before seen. Nothing baits me as well as the unusual and mushrooms tend to be rather ephemeral (especially when the weather is rainy), so in the interests of science, I arranged to go exploring with my friend as guide.

Upon arrival at the site, we discovered multiple specimens growing along a 15' length of downed alder. The fungus was most definitely something I'd never observed, so true to form and with my eye fixed on the goal, I went straight through the nettles to get a closer look. I took photos from several different angles, and made a close visual examination, but fearing that I might miss some important detail, I took a sample in the end and tucked it safely away in a petri dish in my pocket. That moment of foresight made it possible for me to make a positive identification: Schizophyllum commune, Split-gill Fungus.

The common name tells the story. Under 10x magnification, the odd structure of this fungus' gills becomes apparent. They are truly schizoid, i.e., split into two parts longitudinally as you can see in the bottom photos. The fungus forms brackets (shelves) similar to those in the generic classification of "Oyster Mushrooms," but are exceptionally "hairy," the feature which drew my friend's attention initially.

As luck would have it, we encountered a second immature colony much closer to her house which will allow her to monitor their further development.

The Clavariadelphus Club

Day 23: Membership in the Clavariadelphus Club is very exclusive. First of all, you have to be a fungus, but not just any fungus can apply. Secondly, you have to be markedly club-shaped...it's a "clubs only" club, so to speak. Right there, that's fairly limiting, and only a few species are represented in the Pacific Northwest. Often difficult to tell apart, these fungi's true nature may require microscopic examination of the spores, and even that may be insufficient. In fact, the jury is still out on whether some species of Clavariadelphus should truly be categorized separately from another. That brings us to "lumpers" and "splitters," the two species of taxonomist currently accepted as different breeds. The "lumpers" (so named for their tendency to lump subspecies under a single heading) will tell you that Clavariadelphus sachalinensis (presumably shown here) and Clavariadelphus ligula should be considered one and the same. The "splitters" (those who prefer to separate by minute differences) will argue that they are two distinct species. However you may care to parse it, any Clavariadelphus is still a member of the Club.

Elfin Saddles

Day 17: "Elfin," I said. "Elfin, not 'elephant.'" It's amazing how many people mispronounce the common name of this family of mushrooms. Personally, I wouldn't care to sit astride one whether I was an elf or on an elephant. Think of the saddle sores!

Elfin Saddles can fruit in spring or fall, and novice mushroomers often confuse them with Morels which are exclusively a spring occurrence. Characteristically, Morels have a nicely shaped cap with regularly spaced ridges and pits. On the other hand the Helvellas look like gobs of wax, contorted and lumpy. Helvella lacunosa, so named for the lacunae (deep pits) in the stipe, is one of the more common Saddles to be found in the Pacific Northwest.

Hericium Abietis

Day 16: One of four Hericium species to occur in the continental US, Hericium abietis (Bear's-head) is the most commonly found in the Pacific Northwest. Unlike its relatives, it grows almost exclusively on conifer wood, particularly that of Douglas Fir and Western Hemlock. Unmistakable in form for anything other than a closely related species, Hericium coralloides, it is considered edible and choice (as is H. coralloides), however a rare individual (your narrator, for example) will react badly to it, experiencing a variety of gastric side-effects sufficient to put the collector off further harvesting. Besides, who would want to destroy such a beautiful specimen just for the sake of a meal?