They'll Grow Anywhere

Day 163: I have often said that if you hold still for very long in the Pacific Northwe't, you'll find yourself colonized by lichens. Some species can take hold in the very smallest amount of growing medium, in this case, dust and pollen which has collected on the surface of my metal garden gate. At least two species are present here, Parmelia hygrophila dominating at the junction of the two ornamental curls. I have also found the same species growing on the manufactured siding of my house where it found a toehold (rhizine-hold?) in dust trapped in the simulated wood grain. Of course, any organic material is fair game. Lichens have been found on bone, leather and old cloth, and certain species exhibit preferences for one substrate or another. Fortunately for us, they do not seem to have an agenda which includes global domination, although they appear to be fully capable of taking over the world.

Usnea Pacificana

Day 145: Far be it from me to miss an opportunity which literally falls from above, so when the combination of wind and snow dropped a long, heavy fir branch in my yard, I simply had to check it for lichens. I was hoping for Kidneys, but no such luck. I settled instead for a chance to improve my skills at identifying Usneas. I made a little checklist, and if you flinch at my flood of weaving terminology, you should probably quit right here, because we're diving into a whole 'nother language which includes isidia, soralia, medulla, cortex, axis, fibrils, papillae, foveation, annular rings and stereomes. With a hand lens trained on a rather dry specimen, I marked off presence/absence, colour, shape and UV reaction until I had narrowed the field down to two: pacificana and subfloridana. Although I would have preferred to have a fully hydrated subject in hand, the ratio of thickness between cortex, medulla and axis suggested Usnea pacificana. As always, I reserve the right to be wrong, because both species are common in western Washington at this elevation.

Happy Campers

Day 21: Although most of us don't enjoy being out in the cold and wet, the lichen population heartily approves our sudden switch from summer to winter. They perked up in a matter of days, going from crisp and fragile to soft and pliable in an astonishingly short period of time. Lichens are amazingly resilient, sometimes springing back to life from a state where they are dry enough to crumble into powder between your fingers. Many species have begun to fruit, their apothecia readily apparent. Here are examples from four of the genera common to my yard: Platismatia (aka Ragbag), a Cladonia species, Usnea and one of several Hypogymnias which grow in abundance on the cedar fence. Happy campers, these! They won't grumble about chilly nights and soggy moss-beds. They'll revel in them!

Shared Space - Usnea And Ramalina

Day 121: It is not uncommon to find lichen species crowding together, intertwined so thoroughly that one might think that the different shapes are simply different manifestations of the same lichen, especially when they are similarly coloured like this combination of Ramalina and Usnea. These two species share a common photobiont, the algae which performs the task of photosynthesis. However, the fungal component of these two lichens is different, as microscopic examination of their spores would likely reveal. The fungus is largely responsible for determining the general morphology of a lichen, i.e., whether it is foliose (leafy), fruticose (having a more three-dimensional structure) or crustose (crust-like). A third component in lichens is yeast, of which there are also numerous strains. Yeasts provide protection against microbes. There's a lot going on in this shared space!

Footnote: By request, a specimen from yesterday's Arum dig will be placed in the WTU Herbarium as soon as it is dry.

To A Better Year

Day 79: It goes without saying that most of us are glad to see the back of 2020, but the new year opens with a number of situations which could send us from bad to worse. I learned long ago not to utter the words, "What else could possibly go wrong?" because as swiftly as I spoke them, the universe invariably would take up the challenge and give me a demonstration. There is no doubt in my mind that it could be worse, far worse, but as surely as lichens and mosses weather droughts, we have it in us to pull through if we follow their examples of cooperation and tenacity. As a practicing shaman, I draw many life-lessons from Nature. Sometimes she is a cryptic instructor; leading, but leaving her pupil to draw conclusions independent of her tutelage. Or sometimes she is less than patient, and gives a brisk swat upside the head when she feels it's merited. Yet the lesson of the lichen is clear: without the cooperative venture of three partners (fungus, alga and yeast), the community of these remarkable structures would fail. Thus, dear readers, my wish for you in the coming year is that you will learn to live as the lichens do, and that Nature will repay you in kind for your gentle treatment of her creatures.

Lichens Rock!

Day 112: Lichens rock! This is a younger example of Polycauliona polycarpa from a different location than yesterday's rosette. Niche ecology can have an effect on many species' growth habits: presence of abundant moisture may produce a higher algal concentration, exposure to wind or polluted air may cause changes in shape, colour or size; even the presence of other lichens may affect the delicate chemistry in a lichen community. Field characteristics can be misleading in the overview, as was the case with the Polycauliona rosette I featured yesterday. Exposed to the fumes of traffic, portions of it had lost the distinctive yellow-orange colour which typifies the species.

And that said, I have spent a frustrating morning with half a dozen samples from two outings, only three of which I have managed to identify. Although I enjoy a good puzzle, I do prefer to fit all the pieces together in a tidy package. It's not happening, and I blame the political situation. Normally, I can find refuge in science, occupying my mind with the whys and wherefores, but today I am asking myself whether it's worth trying to educate a humanity which seems bent on its own destruction, and worse, set to take the planet down with it. I am finding no comfort, not even in the company of my beloved lichens.

Raison D'être

Day 102: Platismatia glauca - pale greenish-grey, often turning pink with age; ascending and irregular lobes 3-20 mm. wide, margins often with abundant granular soredia/isidia; habitat: Douglas-fir and spruce forest, esp. on branches; apothecia rare.

(I might as well warn you right now that this is going to be a long read, and it's not a natural-history post. Proceed at your own discretion, and learn a little more about the Crow.)

The first paragraph of this post is a sample of the type of writing I will be doing for the portion of the Burke Herbarium's image gallery which includes lichens: bald facts inserted into a template as tidily as possible. It's not creative writing. It's Science, plain and concise. This "new gig" (as one friend termed it) comes about as a result of a casual inquiry I made to the collection manager about adding a description to four lichen photos I'd just uploaded. Very few of the lichen species in the gallery are described scientifically as yet, so in response, he suggested that if I was willing, he could open that portion of the database to me. I agreed, and will be starting work on the project shortly.

This was an exciting development from my point of view. I was thrilled with the prospect of having another venue in which to further education of the public as to the wonders of natural history, but I let my enthusiasm get somewhat ahead of my thoughts when I posted the news on social media. I did not consider that most of my readers might think the "Burke Gallery" was an elegant building parked somewhere on the University of Washington campus; I simply assumed that they would know it was a web page. I also assumed that they would realize that this was yet another volunteer project. I was surprised this morning by a collection of congratulatory comments from people who assumed there was a certain amount of prestige attached to the job. I was also stunned when one person commented, "Finally a paying gig! Now you'll be a published author!" Waitaminit, sez I to self, and I started immediately composing a partial retraction to set the record straight.

First of all, I already am a published author. My works have appeared in a few small publications and one notable one, the latter yielding a whole $50 in payment, not once, but twice. So there. I am not only a published author, I am a PAID published author! But that's beside the point, and actually in conflict with the nature of this post.

Those close to me will have heard me say at some point or another that I don't believe in money. I don't. It's an artifical construct, and it's been responsible for much of the world's woes since some nitwit invented it. It's arguable whether my disbelief in the monetary principle originated from never really having had much contact with non-vegetative green stuff, but that also is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is that I have lived on the margin of poverty almost my entire life, sometimes on one side of the divide and sometimes on the other. Since being forced onto Social Security, my income has placed me anywhere from a dollar and a half to twenty-five dollars above the level of eligibility for any type of public assistance. I lead, as have many naturalists before me, a hand-to-mouth existence, but the bottom line is that I am doing what I love at a cost I am willing to accept.

Let's back up to that "paying gig" comment again. I have to say that I am puzzled as to why the idea of doing anything for free with an eye to the greater good is so far beyond the grasp of so many people. Perhaps it's because as an impoverished member of society, I was restricted from accessing such privileges as a higher education that I now feel that knowledge, particularly knowledge of the natural world, should be readily available to every man, woman and child on the planet. Who knows what brilliant mind out there might be too focused on finding a reliable food source to be pondering a cure for cancer? The assumption is that the poor are stupid. Why? Because they're not making money. Thus, they are limited in how far they can elevate themselves academically (as I was), and because they have no credentials with which to obtain a position, they are caught in a vicious circle. I was fortunate in that certain people in the Park accepted me as knowledgeable even without a string of letters after my name. Okay, acceptance in the Park doesn't buy groceries, but as I said, I'm doing what I love even when the table is bare.

Money aside, neither am I concerned with prestige, although I have to admit to being thoroughly jazzed at the thought of being the Burke's "lichen writer." My name will not appear as a by-line in any obvious context. If you wish to see how many lichen descriptions I may have authored (none as yet!), you will have to find one of my photos in the gallery and click on my name in order to get a summary of my various contributions, both photographic and descriptive.

That said, I am not without ego, by any stretch of the imagination. Although it will be impossible for me to know that it has occurred, my deepest desire is that some day, someone somewhere will be browsing through Park archives or the Burke, Nisqually Land Trust files or those of the Invasive Plant Council, or even the Bird Phenology Program, and that person will turn to their companions to ask, "Who's this Crow guy whose name keeps popping up?" If one of the companions turns back to that person to reply, "Oh, that was a woman back at the start of the 21st Century. She was instrumental in advancing knowledge of the natural world through her works in several organizations," I will have had all the reward I need.

Cladonia Parasitica

Day 37: Arguably the weirdest Cladonia I've ever met, the identity of this species eluded me until recently when I stumbled across the description while looking for something else. Known principally from specimens found on the east coast and commonly known as "Fence-rail Cladonia," Cladonia parasitica occupies a single post on the rail fence surrounding my yard, tucked in behind the yew hedge where it would have gone unnoticed but for the fact that I regularly check my fence line for interesting subject matter. The species is similar to two others, both of which tend to exhibit red apothecia more frequently and which respond differently to chemical testing. It is characterized by the granular appearance of its abundant, tiny squamules and plump podetia. How it came to live on my fence is a mystery. Did it arrive as a spore, perhaps dislodged from an Eastern tourist's car, or a squamule carried in on nursery stock or mud? One thing is certain: it couldn't have found a home where it would be appreciated more.

Evernia Prunastri And Usnea Scabrata

Day 365: I often refer to lichens as the "wildflowers of winter," in part because that's when many of them form their fruiting bodies, but largely because that's when they're at their best. Even after a hot, dry summer, a little rain and a few humid days is all it takes to restore them to their former vigour. Some, like Evernia prunastri (foreground) and Usnea scabrata (behind it and in the background) will be so stiff and crisp at the end of the summer season that they crackle underfoot, but soon return to a pliable, sometimes even limp state once they have absorbed sufficient moisture. As with these three here (a Parmelia is just barely visible left of the yellow leaf), mixed species often share the same substrate, everyone getting along famously, no one competing for dominance. I'll leave you with that thought as Year 9 of this blog closes. Don't worry. I'll be back.

From Alectoria To Xanthoria

Day 355: This temporary collection of two dozen species represents many miles of driving and at least 15 miles on foot, demonstration specimens for my upcoming Nisqually Land Trust "Introduction to Lichens" talk this Sunday. I'm glad we booked a conference room at Billy Frank National Wildlife Refuge because as of last night, thirty people had signed up, more than double what I was expecting. Of course it's always nice when you can guarantee that a "field trip" won't be rained out and you don't need to advise participants to dress warmly. Maybe that's what accounts for the popularity of this event. Folks will have the opportunity to view lichen structures under the microscope, and will learn how to identify some of the more common genera from Alectoria to Xanthoria . Note that in the first sentence, I used the word "temporary." All but a very few samples will be returned to their respective homes, weather permitting.

Forecast Missed Mist

Day 345: It was certainly not the wettest or the coldest hike I've taken, but it was also not precisely the pleasant 45-degree, 20 percent chance of precipitation the forecast model was bold enough to suggest. Joe Dreimiller and I started out for Sheep Lake in thick mist in all our available layers of clothing: rain gear, gloves or mittens, warm hats and longjohns, shedding only one layer halfway there when we both began to overheat. "Just let me have one moment of sun at the lake," Joe implored the Weather Gods. They obliged with a two-minute break, but then followed it up with an increase in moisture and gusty winds. Sheep completed the first portion of our day's mission. There, I was able to gather a few specimens of lichen on the list of those I plan to demonstrate to participants in an upcoming indoor "nature walk" for the Nisqually Land Trust. A MeadoWatch circuit of Naches Loop Trail filled out the day, my last for the season. In total, we spent six hours in drizzle and hiked eleven bracing miles.

Renamed As Sphaerophorus Tuckermanii

Day 62: The snowy forests of the Pacific Northwest are not as lifeless as they appear on first glance. In fact, the cold season is when lichens are at their prime: growing, fruiting, propagating. In the vacancy left by the showier vascular plants, lichens emerge as the "wildflowers" of winter, displaying apothecia plump with the spores of reproduction. Their colours brighten with the hues of health, the greens and blue-greens unlike anything seen during the drier summer months.

Formerly known as Sphaerophorus globosus, this graceful and common lichen was split into two species recently, S. tuckermanii (shown above) and S. venerabilis, based on research by Wedin, et al. and published in "The Lichenologist" (the quarterly journal of the American Bryological and Lichenological Society). It has several sub-species which are visually identical and can only be differentiated with chemical testing and microscopic examination. Yes, those pesky taxonomists have struck again, damn their eyes.

Diversity And Cooperation

Day 361: Diversity and cooperation make the world both beautiful and complex. One has only to look at a 6" x 6" piece of tree bark in one of the Pacific Northwest's damp forests to see both principles in operation. Species co-exist in a variety of cooperative relationships, and none represents partnership any more strongly than the family of lichens. Pairing in numerous combinations of algae, fungus and yeast, lichens exhibit a wealth of forms and survival strategies. Maybe humans should take a lesson from Nature. Just sayin'.

Snow For Christmas

Day 72: Random musings, here. I am staying home for Christmas this year, fixing myself a turkey and stuffing, snuggling down with the cats, sharing gift-giving with my sisters-of-the-heart, and in a way, it feels more "Christmas-y" than it's felt in years. This sense is augmented by the fact that there is snow on the ground and more falling at this very moment, maybe not a Currier and Ives scene yet, but at least Bing Crosby wouldn't be disappointed. I think I'm "lichen" being home alone, watching the little birds flit in and out of the feeders, listening to their happy chatter. I'm warm, there are bright lights on the tree, and the spirit of Love announced itself with a firm bite on the back of my arm to let me know I should put aside the quilting to provide Skunk with access to a comfortable lap. She's an old lady. It takes her ten minutes to figure out how to arrange her bones. Maybe I took a lesson from her: find a soft spot and make the most of it. Cats are wise people, wiser far than humans.

Fence Gardening

Day 21: I take as much pleasure in what grows in my garden naturally as I do in the species I carefully cultivate. My rail fence is a wonderland of lichen forms, from squamous and cupped Cladonias to thready Usneas and puffy Hypogymias. They are colourful as well as diverse in shape and size, ranging from lime green through grey-green or sometimes tinted with a blush of orange or pink. The fruiting bodies (apothecia) of the Cladonias dot the colonies with specks of brown and brilliant red, and one could imagine that the faerie folk were decorating for the holidays. A four inch by four inch section of rail may hold a forest of half a dozen species, each one as alien in appearance as the next. Take a closer look at lichens when you're on the trail. You may become as fascinated by them as I am.

Maine Amusement

Day 7: Patty's thoughtful contribution to my Maine amusement kept me occupied for the better part of one evening and a sizeable chunk of morning. Once they had rehydrated sufficiently for me to be able to separate the layers for a look at the medullary ceiling, I confirmed that the Hypogymnia was H. physodes, a species which also grows in the Pacific Northwest. The Bryoria was a bit more challenging because it was quite dry and wiry even after soaking. Of course stiffness is characteristic of Bryorias. That's why they're known as "horsehair lichens," but this one was exceptionally crisp and only a small bit was present, tangled in the sample of Platismatia tuckermanii. The specimen was somewhat darker than our local version, a factor I attribute to a more abundant algal component. Indeed, more blue-green algae was present in two of the Platismatia colonies than in the third, and the sample of Bryoria had been extracted from one of the darker Platismatias. Lichen colour can be quite variable depending on the amount of algae in the tissue. Even so, my identification of Bryoria capillaris is somewhat hesitant; the taxonomy is currently in a state of flux with various sources disagreeing on whether or not east-coast populations should be considered separate from those on the west coast. I've gone with the lumpers in this case.

Best Present Ever!

Day 6: I knew I had a surprise coming in the mail from my sister-of-the-heart Patty, and saw by its tracking progress that it was due for Wednesday delivery. Patty had warned me that it was perishable and fragile, so I was in a hurry to get home from work to liberate it, whatever it might be. I slit the tape and opened the box to find another box made of clear plastic, and in it a mass of...LICHENS!

Y'know, I'm a cheap date. It doesn't take much effort or expense to entertain me. I was going to leave the project for morning and better light, but I was just too curious about the foliose species which had caused me to blurt "Rag-bag!" before I'd even felt the specimen. Okay, it resembled our local limp-washrag Platismatia, but there were some distinct differences which told me it wasn't the same thing. I spent the next 45 minutes with Skunk squashed under the 40-pound field guide on my lap and a lighted magnifier pressed tightly to my eye as I analyzed the black pycnidia along the lobe margins and searched for pseudocyphellae. At last I was content with an identification: Platismatia tuckermanii, named for lichenologist Edward Tuckerman who likewise lent his surname to Mount Washington's famous Tuckerman Ravine. He also has a whole genus of lichens named for him: Tuckermanopsis. There are still a couple of other species to sort out in this best-prezzie-ever, but I think they need to hydrate a little longer.

Sorting Out Hypogymnia

Day 138: Well! That came as a bit of a surprise! I have several Hypogymnias occupying my fence rails and had identified H. inactiva and H. pinnata previously by examining the inside of the tubular thallus. As a group, the Hypogymnias are known by the common name "tube lichens," referring to their hollow structure. Most are black on the reverse and have various degrees of black speckling on the front; some have tubes which are open at the ends, and some fork in distinctive manners. All these characteristics help separate them by species, but when it comes to the trio of inactiva, pinnata and imshaugii, surgery is required to reveal the medullary ceiling. Inactiva's ceiling is black. Pinnata's is dark, and therefore the two can be confused. However, imshaugii's medullary ceiling is white (circular inset). I'm glad I checked! And thus a new name has been conferred upon part of my garden: the Imshaugii Rail.

Lichen Basics

Day 106: This is the type of dry reading you're likely to see on official NPS pages from here on out, but at least it's science.

*****

Those of us who live in the Pacific Northwest are fortunate to have a wide variety of lichen species in our forests. Although lichens appear in almost every geographic region of North America, the leafier types are more abundant on the northwest and northeast coasts. Many of them are mistakenly called "mosses," but in fact they are complex symbiotic organisms. One of the most exciting revelations in the field of lichenology occurred this year when a third component was identified in the classic "fungus/algae" pairing: yeast. Let's look more closely at some common PNW lichens and learn a little of the specialized terminology which describes them.

There are three basic types of lichen: foliose, fruticose and crustose. Foliose ("FOH-lee-ose") lichens are "leafy" (think "foliage"). Platismatia (upper left) is an excellent example. Fruticose ("FROO-ti-cose") lichens are bushy or shrubby, or have a three-dimensional structure which often includes round stalks topped by cups or knobs. The photo in the upper right shows an example of Cladonia, a classic fruticose family.

Sometimes, it is difficult to assign a lichen to a specific category. The lower left image shows a Hypogymnia. The Hypogymnias are classified as "foliose-fruticose." The last type of lichen is called crustose ("CRUST-ose"), and as you might guess, it forms a crust which adheres tightly to trees and rocks. Crustose lichens often exhibit small fruiting bodies such as those which appear on Ochrolechia (lower right).

Cladonia Bellidiflora, Toy Soldiers

Day 48: You can have your holly and your mistletoe. I'll take my Christmas colours in Cladonia bellidiflora. This showy fruticose lichen puts on a spectacular display of red apothecia, giving rise to its common and appropriately seasonal name of Toy Soldiers. A similar species (C. cristatella) is only found east of the Mississippi River and its common name of British Soldiers is frequently misapplied to C. bellidiflora. Closer examination of the podetia will reveal one easily observable difference: bellidiflora's "stems" are abundantly covered with pale green squamules (scales) whereas cristatella's podetia are finely granular.