Leocarpus Fragilis On Usnea Sp.

Day 359: If you were a slime mold, you would begin life as a single cell, having "hatched" (as it were) from a spore. Like any self-respecting cell, you would grow by fission. After reaching a certain state, you might encounter another compatible cell and, after a suitable cellular courtship, you'd join with it in a second biologic process called fusion. This fusion (similar to that of sperm and egg) would include the respective nuclei of both partners. The resultant diploid zygote would then feed and grow, its nuclei redividing and increasing, eventually resulting in a structure known as a plasmodium: a single multi-nucleate amoeboid cell. When various environmental factors align (food supply, temperature, light level, moisture, pH), the fruiting process is initiated (shown here in Leocarpus fragilis on an Usnea lichen). Inside the fruiting bodies, the protoplasm separates into units each containing a single nucleus. These undergo further division reduction until what remains of each unit is a haploid spore. When the sporangia (spore capsules) rupture, the spores are dispersed and the process begins again. That said, some slime molds have a secondary reproductive strategy to ensure the continuation of their species, and they will continue to populate the Earth long after we humans, so convinced of our own importance, are gone to dust.

Trichia Decipiens

Day 358: In the last week, I have found three species of slime mold, a bit of a surprise given cooler, wetter weather. Slime molds are more commonly out and about when conditions are dry and warm. That said, this one (Trichia decipiens) was a new one for me. As you can tell from the wood grain, they're tiny little buggers, but I'd tuned my eye for red/orange, having been out on a hunt for Ramaria araiospora and as a sidebar, a potential chanterelle dinner. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw them, giving vent to the phrase which will go down in history as my contribution to science: "What the hell is that?" In the next heartbeat, I said, "Ooooooh, new slime mold!" Seriously, I'd be the easiest person to find if I ever got lost in the forest. Searchers could locate me by ear if they listened for my running natural-history soliloquy. Trichia decipiens has a fondness for decaying conifer wood, thus the Pacific Northwest makes an ideal home for the species. Slime molds being what they are, I can't help but wonder if their plans for world domination are being coordinated from Mount Rainier National Park.

Ramaria Araiospora

Day 357: Unique to the Pacific Northwest, the Himalaya and for reasons obscure to science, Kansas, Ramaria araiospora is the most spectacular of all the Coral fungi. The holotype (the specimen from which the species was described botanically) was collected in 1967 from a location only a few miles from my home. I feel a little proprietary about this lovely fungus, and consequently get a little testy when someone asks, "Is it edible?" The answer is yes, but I'll sidestep the question whenever possible and might even respond with, "Why would you want to destroy something so beautiful?" I do not understand the human compulsion to taste everything. Surely that instinct should have been deemed unnecessary to our genome by the time Ugg and Ogg left their cave. By then, Homo sap had discovered its vulnerability to poisons and was having no particular difficulty surviving on Nature's provender, and some members of the species were even beginning to develop a sense of aesthetics, painting the walls of their shelters with images of animals and geometric designs. The feast Ramaria araiospora provides the eye is one which nourishes our need for beauty. Its caloric value is negligible when placed on the table. To me at least, the choice between its two merits is clear.

24-Karat Gold

Day 356: It was an afterthought. The rain stopped and I was in the area so, backache or not, I said, "Y'know, I really ought to go see if there are any chanterelles." It's been a banner autumn in the mycological sense, but even so, I wasn't expecting to find the first buttons less than 100 feet up the hidden trail which eventually takes me to my secret patch. By the time I reached Ground Zero, I had enough for my own dinner and was working on filling a second bag to give to Kevin. True to form, I didn't pick any one spot completely, always leaving a few 'shrooms on both ends of the age spectrum as "seeds" for next year's harvest. It's a practice which has stood me in good stead these many years of collecting from the same spot, as evidenced by this haul. Kevin and Kelli will eat well tonight, and I have a second batch waiting to be fried up for today's lunch.

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.

Pseudohydnum Gelatinosum

Day 354: Bottom line: I think Pseudohydnum gelatinosum is cute. It looks like it wanted to be a shelf fungus when it grew up, but just couldn't pass the exams to get into the course. The stipe is not centered as it is in most terrestrial 'shrooms although it has some height, and the cap projects forward from its point of attachment giving the whole 'shroom the look of a faerie awning. The lower surface exhibits fine "teeth," and the flesh is translucent white. If carved appropriately, you could stick 'em in a bowl of white gumdrops and safely so; it is considered edible. Your friends might never trust you again, though. What? Who said that? You're not coming trick-or-treating to my house?

The Bizarre Akebi Fruit

Day 353: Consider this an editorial retraction. This year's bumper crop of hand-pollinated Akebi fruit has changed my mind about lack of redeeming merit, if only by a smidgin. I waited for the pods to be fully open (more open than the one in the foreground) before picking half a dozen. By forcing the pulp through a sieve to remove the abundant large black seeds, I retrieved roughly a quarter cup of frothy "juice" which, when taken by the teaspoon, was pleasantly sweet and somewhat aromatic. They're definitely not something you'd want to pack in your lunch, but at least they've proven themselves to be more than just a botanical novelty/pasttime. I would need a few hundred more and a healthy helping of patience before I'd attempt to make them into jelly. I still have only had success pollinating one direction, white-flowered vine to purple. Only the purple one bears fruit.