First Snow

Day 25: Intelligent creatures tend to be curious about the world around them, taking new events and circumstances as learning moments. On the most basic level, this contributes to their survival, but among the brighter bulbs, it can also be an opportunity to experiment. A young crow, seeing snow for the first time, might notice that it was colder than bare ground. However, with birds' countercurrent circulatory pattern rewarming blood from the legs as it returns to the body, this would likely fall into the category of "just how things are" and not be worthy of a second thought. The fact that a beakful of crisp white crystals turns rather quickly to water would be lodged in the brain for future reference in case of thirst. So far, we're talking about things which are almost instinctual, but what about play? What if you discovered that with a toss of your head you could shower one of your companion crows with this strange white stuff before it had a chance to melt in your mouth? Doesn't that sound like fun? On several occasions, I have watched what could only be called "snowball fights" between young crows or raven couples. The parties involved were unmistakably enjoying the experience because neither participant made any attempt to leave the scene despite having plenty of opportunities to do so. In fact, the game usually culminates with one or both of the players getting rolled about before settling back on the fence to dry out. Corvids play games in summer as well, catch-the-stick (baton-passing), aerial acrobatics and so on, but my crowd seem to enjoy winter sports most of all.

New Family Member

Day 24: We are pleased to announce the arrival of a new member of the family! Much to my surprise, my family unit of three Canada Jays were recently joined by a fourth mature bird. For a second or two, all four were perched together on the shepherd's-hooks, taking polite turns at the suet feeder. The group has stuck around for much longer than usual and seem to be intending to stay for the winter. Their preferred food is the suet, although occasionally I see one of them take a few black-oil seeds. I've spent many a backpacking trip in their company, so it pleases me no end that they have come to visit me at a time in my life when I can no longer go into the deep backcountry. You kinda have to wonder...alpine birds showing up at my feeder, mycoheterotrophs sprouting in my yard...I am feeling a connection here, in Ma Nature's benevolence.

Six Degrees Of Separation

Day 23: Six degrees of separation: the idea that any two people are but six steps away from one another in the social sphere. Back in the days when my interest in lichens was in an early phase, I discovered a strange mass of tube-like branches, black on the underside, but more notably, bearing several disk-like structures (apothecia) of a rather sickly-looking chartreuse hue. I had discovered my first Hypogymnia. With my curiosity for the genus piqued, I began looking for other species within it, learning to identify them from the way they branched, the colour of their medullary ceiling and other cues. I developed a particular fondness for H. imshaugii (above), partly because it was present in my yard and partly because I was curious about the person after whom it must have been named, so I dug a little deeper and came up with a Wikipedia article about Henry Andrew Imshaug who, it must be confessed, should have been on my radar as a notable lichenologist. However, it was some time later when H. Imshaug the botanist (as opposed to H. imshaugii the lichen) came to the forefront of my attention when I found out that he was part of an expedition to inventory the fungi of Mount Rainier National Park in 1941. During that survey, he and his colleagues discovered a rare fungal species and wrote a paper about it. My botany partners and I learned of Imshaug's paper when we stumbled across the same fungus, although in a different area. Imshaug didn't have access to GPS technology in 1941, so his description of the location where he had found it was vague to say the least, but armed with knowledge of the fungus' preferred host and a rough idea of where Imshaug's group had gone, we were able to locate the site. Standing there among sedge and tinker's-penny, I thought about H. Imshaug the botanist, and how H. imshaugii the lichen had been instrumental in piloting me to the same ground where he and his team had stood. The six degrees of separation had come full circle for Imshaug and me.

Cats N Dogs

Day 22: As yet, I have not determined what parameters inspire my Davis weather station to offer up this particular observation, but I believe it has something to do with conditions over the past 15 minutes. In any case, since midnight (10 hours), I have recorded 1.52" of rain. If you were to walk down my driveway, you'd have to avoid numerous poodles to get to the mailbox. Otherwise known as a "Pineapple Express," the Pacific Northwe't is currently at the bottom of an atmospheric river. Flood watches are in effect (not "flood warnings," not yet, because the runoff hasn't reached the river channels), particularly in southwest Washington. Because we received so little precip during the summer (in a 5 1/2-month period, my gauge only registered 0.11", mostly as fog/dew), the ground is exceedingly dry. As the top layer becomes saturated and heavy, the possibility of landslips increases dramatically. Fortunately, I am situated where neither flood or landslide is likely to have a direct effect, at least as far as potential property damage goes. However, I may find myself cut off from the rest of the world, either physically or virtually or both, by road closures, power outages or other secondary events. Something tells me we're in for a long winter.

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!

Snowline

Day 20: So close! And wasn't it just two weeks ago that I was complaining about temps in the mid-80s? This is the view from my front yard this morning, roughly 0.2 miles away horizontally and 500' vertically. If you feel like calculating the hypotenuse, go right ahead. It's too early in the morning for me to engage in mathematical gymnastics. I do believe "autumn" lasted all of three days this year, and while a short "shoulder season" is not uncommon in the Pacific Northwe't, I suspect this one may have been one of the shortest on record. We went from bone-dry to sopping within seven days, the human population exchanging shorts and tank tops for long johns and wool socks over the span of one week's laundry. The forecast shows the white creeping downward, although it still may miss my yard by a margin of a hundred feet. Although I have yet to see a mushroom, the lichens perked up immediately following the first rains. At least somebody is happy for the change in the weather!

From A Sow's Ear

Day 19: From the sow's ear of my stash of tag-end worsted yarns, I shall endeavour to make the proverbial silk purse in the character of a waffle-weave lap throw. Even if it doesn't work out according to plan, it'll be warm. When you have knit and crochet as many things as I have done over the years, that pile of leftovers, wrapped into little balls and tucked aside as "too big to throw away," threatens to reach critical mass. Lest my home should pass the event horizon of a black hole formed around a nucleus of yarn, the time has come to reduce my fiber footprint rather than buying even more yarn for another project. Although I still have a piece on the floor loom, it's near completion, so I've begun measuring a warp of worsted waste to replace it immediately. The "waffles" will be in stripes of coloured warp against a black weft (higher mathematics came into play to determine whether or not I had enough of ANY colour for weft, again trying to avoid buying more yarn). Warm, and bright in the bargain!