Prevalent Species

Day 121: I must admit that bryology is not my field, so I am venturing out on a very long limb, saw in hand, to suggest that this might be Hylocomium splendens, a common "step moss" in the Pacific Northwest. It carpets the forest floor on the Park's Tahoma Woods property, and when I say "carpets," I mean thickly. Its reddish stems and chartreuse foliage give the woods a feeling of lushness you won't find even in the Olympic Rainforest. The pseudo-fractal pattern of its leaf blades rivals that of any fern, always appearing translucent and moist. A hiker's foot straying from the path would be engulfed by its depth (to the moss' detriment, I might add).

There is such beauty in the microcosm of the forest! Take time to observe the small things when you're out on your next hike.

Strange Planet

Day 120: You have only to walk through the forest to experience parallel universes and alien civilizations. Bizarrely shaped creatures occupy every rotting stump and march across the duff in vast armies. If you think giraffes and octopi are odd, bend down and make the acquaintance of a family of bryophytes or better yet, a colony of Cladonia lichens like those shown here. Like the other creatures which populate the Earth, these fascinating plants have evolved their peculiar structures to adapt to their environments in a manner which allows them to take advantage of moisture and nutrients. Notice how the sporophyte (seed head) holds a water drop. Observe the scales of the lichen and consider how they can pull moisture from the atmosphere by presenting more surface area in a small space. Truly, there are wonders at our feet!

Water Restriction

Day 119: Someone's been overwatering the pitiful plant in the Admin Building's upstairs bathroom. We can exclude at least half the staff (those who aren't equipped with hoses). And that, I think, is probably enough said on the subject, but the sign did make me laugh.

Boundary Trail, Tahoma Woods

Day 118: When the forecast rain hadn't materialized by 10:30 AM, I decided to seize the day and go for a walk. In so doing, I discovered a trail I hadn't known existed on the north and east sides of Park Headquarters at Tahoma Woods. The forest floor was lush with some type of step moss (bryology is a sea in which I do not swim at all well) and my poor little point-and-shoot camera, carried instead of the SX30 IS, recorded the melange of winter greens and browns with a warm wash, warping the photographic temperature toward an unnatural yellow hue. But it was not the color I wanted to capture. It was the complexity of the environment I hoped to portray, and I found that tone-mapping and converting the image to "box camera" served my purpose best. Here, you can see each scale of bark, each ferny frond of moss without the distraction of color. It makes me wonder if perhaps color vision isn't inferior after all.

A Tiger In My Tank

Day 117: Some of my readers may be old enough to remember the Exxon commercials and "Put a tiger in your tank," and some may even remember the joke which was spawned by the adverts:

Question: How do you put a tiger in your tank?

Answer: First you put his back paws in. Then you put his front paws in. Then you put his head in. And then you kick him in the gas hole.

Well, I discovered the tiger in my tank today. I'd gone out for a six-mile walk, but accidentally set the counter for a distance of three miles. I didn't notice until the male voice I'd chosen told me I'd gone halfway, but I said "What the heck, he'll tell me when I've gone three miles and then I'll just turn around. Not a problem." You can't reset a workout midstream on the Nano, but it keeps a record even if you exceed your goal. It does allow you to check your pace without pausing the workout, though, and when I checked at two miles, it told me I was pulling something just under a 14-minute mile. At the end of my intended six-mile workout, I'd maintained a pace of 14'49".

That was when I discovered the tiger in the tank. After the selected voice had given me the statistics, a new voice said, "Congratulations! This is Tiger Woods. You've just completed your fastest mile."

Neighborhood Watch

Day 116: If you travel the Foothills Trail east from Orting, about two miles from town, you'll find a large grassy area rimmed by 2 x 4 fencing topped by three strands of barbed wire, and posts which bear warning signs varying from "Keep Out" to "Don't feed the animals" and "If I don't call the police, my neighbor will." Clearly, the property owner means business, but nine times out of ten, the open space seems empty of any life larger than a bug. However, if you're lucky, you'll discover what the signs protect...

No, I've said that all backwards. If you're lucky, you'll discover what protects the signs.

You see, this is an emu farm. I've never seen more than three emus in it at any one time. Most times, there's only one. Bicyclists and walkers often stop to take pictures of the enormous birds, but must be careful not to venture too close to the fence. Emus are not known for their sunny dispositions. This fellow was feeling decidedly territorial today, and chased me back from my position at the wires by running toward me with clear intention to attack. Even though I had retreated to the trail twenty feet away, he kept pacing the boundary, following me whether I moved left or right. With a little fancy dancin', I was able to shift him over to his job description. This is one "Neighborhood Watch" you don't want to mess with!

Vertical Bookends

Day 115: I was fifteen minutes into a workout on the stationary bike when I saw one of my back neighbors walking down the driveway. He was moving slowly as he usually does and I figured he was on his way out to get the mail, but a minute or so later, I saw his wife trotting out behind him. Neither of them passed into the field of view from my front window until several minutes had passed, and then I saw them both standing near the end of the driveway staring UP. That was enough to raise my curiosity, so I dismounted and followed the line of their gaze to a white head glistening in the sunshine high in one of Clyde's trees. Eagle! Hot and sweaty, I grabbed the camera, slid on a pair of shoes and dived into the cold clad in shorts, an athletic tank top and a bright red headband, drawing stares from every passing car as I stood beside the neighbors dressed in their winter woollies, right down to gloves and hats. Then I realized there were two birds, not one. Zoomed in at 74x (digital), the photo lacks a bit in clarity, but other than a slight crop, this image has not been processed in any way.