Field ID Fail

Day 169: When I'm tutoring people in how to do "field-guide" photography, I often use birds as an example. The same method can be applied to Meadow Rovers who are trying to educate Park visitors with respect to being able to identify those little LBJs (Little Brown Jobs) they always ask about. This is the second of a series of illustrations I'll be using in a Rover training session this June.

When observing any species of bird or plant or anything else, it is important to capture as much information as possible, whether by eye or with a camera. A bird viewed head-on supplies very little in the way of distinguishing features. You might be able to see an eye ring or breast markings, but that's often insufficient to make a solid ID. Were there bars on the wings? Was the body colouration uniform? What did the silhouette look like? Was it short and squat, or did it have a sleek outline? What shape was the beak? The famous "Angry Bluebird" is certainly a cute photo, but as far as being helpful in making an ID, it is a classic fail. A square-on side view of a bird is much more informative! Likewise, wildflower IDs often require being able to observe the leaf as well as the flower. If you can't get both in one shot, take two! That way, the ranger at the information desk will be much more likely to be able to help you.

They Always Ask

Day 168: Recently, our Meadow Rover manager asked me if I'd be willing to do a training session for Meadow Rovers on the subject of birds. Well, that's a rather broad subject! We tossed it around a bit and after some further thought on my part, I decided to go with "Helping Visitors Identify Birds." Since I am technologically challenged and have no idea how to go about setting up a Power Point presentation, I have to go at this the old-fashioned way, posters and pointy-stick. This morning, I worked on the first of several 2' x 3' cards: "BURD!" It shows an imaginary species loosely based on a passerine with various field-identification points emphasized: eyebrow, "ear", throat marking, collar, wing bars, breast markings, tail bands, etc. I nicked the basic illustration from a field guide and enlarged it with a pantograph (I told ya this was doing it the old-fashioned way), inked it with a calligraphy pen and coloured it with crayons. Doesn't look like two hours' work, but it was! I still have several other posters planned. Fortunately, I have a month to get them done!

An Idea Of Angle

Day 167: I have to fill in here a bit. Y'see, I need to go back up to Sulphur Creek Falls to get a better picture of something unusual. I took several shots of it earlier this week, but when you're in dark forest trying to run a camera one-handed because your other hand is holding on tightly to a root so you don't roll downhill, your focusing ability is somewhat hampered and you wind up with a picture which isn't quite blog-worthy, but was good enough for a team of experts to make a sound identification. To give you a rough idea of what I was up against, see the slope immediately behind me in this photo? I had just come directly down it. Thoughts en route included, "If that rock rolls, I'm going to break something," and "If I slip here, I'm gonna bust my leg off at the hip," and "Damn, that moss is slick! If the bark on this log peels, I'm dead." Are you getting the picture?

A good hiker/explorer plans exit routes for those just-in-case moments when they can't be sure of the solidity of the next step. All my Plan Bs seemed to end with, "No, that's not a good idea either," followed by a mental image of compound fracture of the tibia or worse. That said, I have only broken myself once while adventuring, and that was on a climb when my blithe snowy glissade suddenly turned into an ice-slide at high speed and sent me sailing over a lip to land my tailbone hard on a pointy boulder. I have gone into some very treacherous terrain alone (quite often, if the truth be told), and count on my route-finding abilities and good balance to keep me in one piece. There are no alternate routes into Sulphur Creek Falls, or at least none which don't require a partner and a rope.

Why do I go? Not to be glib, but "because it's there." Or "because I can," especially at my age. I have always been adventuresome. What's over the hill or up the gorge is something I simply must see with my own eyes. The day I stop wanting seeking out the strange new worlds of the Pacific Northwest will be the day my spirit dies within me, leaving the husk to follow at its leisure. For me, there is nothing more exciting than the discovery of something I haven't seen before, whether it's a rare species of mushroom, a new lichen, or just what's at the top of another bump in the terrain. So why do I go alone? Because I like my adventures like I like my scotch: straight up. Or straight down, as the case may be.

Toothless

Day 166: We have quite a few species of snail in the Pacific Northwest and among the most common is Allogona townsendiana, the Oregon Forest Snail. The shell is brown and marked with thin, light lines when these snails are young, but the colour is only a papery layer which peels off in age, revealing a blue-white base. That said, Allogona can be confused with other species in age, and the most definitive feature for field identification is the absence of a tooth-like structure in the aperture. The Oregon Forest Snail is quite toothless!

Height Matters

Day 165: It's hard for me to make any progress along the trail when it's flanked by alder trees because that's where I'm likely to find one of my favourite lichens, the tiny (1/4" long) dashes of Graphis scripta. That said, I have made an observation which has so far held true: height matters. I always have to bend down to locate it. I have not yet seen it more than 3.5" from the ground regardless of exposure. None of my field guides mention this phenomenon and indeed it may not be universal. There are still a lot of alders out there which I haven't checked. I may never get where I'm going!

Unexpected Lesson

Day 164: Yesterday as I was reading "Las Flores" (a juvenile book in Heinemann's "Lee y aprende" series), I was surprised by a photo of Skunk Cabbage in the section on scents. "But are there flowers that stink like skunks? In the United States, they call these 'Skunk Cabbage.'" Of course this has to be a literal translation of the plant's common name since they undoubtedly don't grow in the hotter climates where Spanish is spoken, and it certainly wasn't a term covered by any of my dictionaries, so I was delighted to find a way to refer to it. It was one of the things which ran through my mind while I was exploring my favourite bog.

DuoLingo (an on-line language tutor) focuses primarily on grammar, but unfortunately centers around a vocabulary rather alien to my way of life: relationships and social activities. My personal Spanish vocabulary is much larger because I have read books like "Las Flores." I can talk about stamens and pollen and seeds, none of which are within DuoLingo's database. Likewise from my Mega Enciclopedias, I know the names of animals and birds and could discuss their habitats and the threats they face with the same ease that I can translate Duo's social scenarios. Unfortunately, the "science" section in Duo is very near the end of the Spanish lessons, and to get to it, I have to pass through "feelings," "sport," "business," "spiritual,"  and "politics," none of which hold the least bit of interest for me. I am currently at 49% proficiency (the highest score Duo awards is 50-60%), so I am not sure where I will go from here.

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.