Invasive Alert - Meadow Knapweed

Day 261: Recently, the Invasive Plant Council asked me to lead an introductory walk for new members, and after some discussion of potential locations, we settled on Eatonville's Bud Blancher Trail with the option of continuing into Pack Forest. Since I walk Bud Blancher quite frequently in the winter months as part of the Park's fitness challenge, I expected that the trainees would find very little (if anything) to report. I figured we'd practice by taking GPS readings on ivy, holly and Stinky Bob (Herb Robert). Since these species are so prevalent, we don't include them in our surveys unless there's a good possibility that they can be controlled easily by the land manager for the area, except to make a note in our reports that they are present.

Due to the distance from urban centers, I only had one trainee sign up for my walk: a young botanist/teacher from Puyallup. I arrived on site early, and while I was waiting for him to arrive, I noticed something purple growing at the top of the berm beside the trail. It was obviously not a thistle, so I climbed up for a better look. Aaaaggghhhh! Meadow Knapweed! There were several instances of it along a little side-trail on city property, so when Ian arrived, I announced that we could start the day off with a "positive," i.e., we'd found an infestation. As we walked down the first half-mile of the trail, we found several more occurrences, including one patch about 40' in diameter.

Meadow Knapweed (Centaurea debeauxii) is a hybrid of two other species of knapweed, Centaurea jacea x nigra (Brown Knapweed and Black Knapweed). There are eight species on the list of invasives in Washington. They are best controlled by using a combination of techniques to prevent their spread. Pulling is often not enough and must be followed by chemical treatment. However, if you see knapweeds on your property, pull them from the base and bag them to prevent the heads from going to seed.

Erythronium Grandiflorum, Glacier Lily

Day 260: Like their well-known white cousins Avalanche Lilies, Glacier Lilies (Erythronium grandiflorum) follow the receding snow-line, often flowering right at the edge of snow patches or sometimes poking their heads straight up through. In fact, the blooming cycle of both Erythroniums is closely tied to the depth of snow-pack. Their corms not only require a period of chill but of darkness. When the snow-pack is lower than normal, a small amount of sunlight passes through the snow. Given a low snow year or an early melt, fewer Glacier and Avalanche Lilies will be seen in the meadows the following spring. At Mount Rainier, Glacier Lilies are more likely to be found on the east side or below Paradise, while Avalanche Lilies dominate the western portion of the Park.

Gregor Samsa Revisited

 Day 259 (Part B): Team Biota's finds are not limited to vascular plants, lichens and the occasional Fungus Of Worldwide Concern. We're searching for the rare and odd in Nature, regardless of species; case in point: this Cicada chrysalis, a discovery which put me immediately in mind of Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis" and protagonist Gregor Samsa who woke one morning to find himself transformed into a "hideous vermin" (interpreted by many translators to mean a giant bug).

I had not known we had Cicadas in Washington until we found this abandoned husk, although in hindsight, I realize now that I've heard them as a nearly constant background sound on many hikes. Often referred to as "periodic," our local version has a life cycle of four or more years, with much of that spent in the nymphal stage. The adult female uses her ovipositor to pierce a twig where she lays her eggs. The eggs hatch into nymphs, dropping to the ground where they will spend their next several years of life in the soil. As the nymph reaches adulthood, it emerges from the soil to climb a tree, where it then emerges as a fully-winged adult, leaving behind its exoskeleton. The adult does not feed. It lives only to mate, and thus the cycle begins again, Cicadas buzzing in the trees, humming to hikers on the trail.

Finding Team Biota

Day 259 (Part A): Don't be misled by what appears to be a trail in the center foreground. That relatively brush-free strip of ground was only about eight feet long and was probably the remnant of an old elk trail. For the most part, Team Biota's assault into the Myriosclerotinia bog could best be described as a "penetration." It was rare when we could catch more than a glimpse of another team member even though we were only 15-20 feet apart. Sucky mud, tangled slide alder, fallen logs and hidden ankle-grabbers are just a few of the hazards keeping anyone but the most dedicated researchers out of the area. All but three of the 51 specimens of the rare fungus seen just six days ago had completed their ephemeral life cycle and no evidence of them remained. That said, we discovered two vascular plant species which had not previously been reported in this location. Science ain't for wimps!

Hoary Marmot

Day 258: Even seasoned photographers can't resist taking pictures of the Park's most commonly observed mammal. Hoary Marmots are natural "models," ready to strike a pose or hold perfectly still. Marmota caligata is a member of the family Sciuridae, i.e., a squirrel on steroids. A full-grown marmot may weight up to 30 pounds! They live in dens dug as deeply as six feet into the ground and subsist on a variety of herbaceous plants. Hikers in the high country often see them with mouthsful of wildflowers, or sitting up on their haunches surveying their surroundings, but marmots are not exclusive to the subalpine areas. Although generally seen near tree-line, they have been reported at elevations near sea level. Their call is distinctive: a high-pitched whistle which gives rise to their nickname of "whistle pig."

The Future of NPS

Day 257 (bonus post): According to the folks at LEGO, the LEGO National Parks series wasn't "global" enough to put into production. I understand that logic, but I was unhappy because I really wanted one of those ranger mini-figures. Then I discovered that they were available as a limited edition, made from "repurposed LEGO parts" and not actually a LEGO product. I ordered two, and then set about finding a way to convert one of them into ME. I ordered a head with glasses and an additional Peter Capaldi wig (the only grey hair they had available), and from my small stockpile of spare parts, figured out a way that my avatar could hold her hat in her hand.

Of course I was duty-bound to insert her into my "Doctor Who" set, and within seconds of the time I submitted the photo to Facebook's "National Park Service LEGO Vignettes" page, the administrators contacted me with a resounding "Awesome!" and permission to post it to the page. I captioned it "The future of the National Park Service is in your hands."

Triantha By Any Other Name

Day 257: I don't know that there's an International Taxonomic Conspiracy, but if there is, I'm sure their motto is "A rose by any other name." I am finding it difficult to keep up with the changes being brought about by genetic research: new species names, moves of one species into a new genus. Aster species are now Oreostemma, Arabis has become Boechera, and beautiful, uncommon "Tofieldia glutinosa" has been completely recategorized as Triantha occidentalis. I'm sorry, guys...I can accept Tofieldia becoming Triantha, but "glutinosa" told me something about the plant that "occidentalis" fails to convey. In the field, I want to know that I'm looking for something sticky, not something which "occurs in the west."

Among my botanical colleagues, there are varying degrees of resistance to the changes in nomenclature. The largest camp voices complete rejection. Some of them have published field guides which will now need extensive revision before the next reprint. Others simply don't want to annotate the field guides already in their libraries. Some say, "Okay, you'll have to remind me of that the next time we see it," and a few are like me, trying hard to stay current with the science, even though the notes in our field-guide indices have demolished all hope of looking things up alphabetically. The hardest adjustment, however, is going back through our electronic records of the last decade or more to change the titles we've ascribed to our photos. It pains me to say it, but in my case, that's not going to get done.

Fortunately, we have ITIS (the Integrated Taxonomic Information System). If we remember to use it, we can save ourselves the embarrassment of correction when we present a plant publicly. That said, several of my recent photos of Triantha occidentalis were submitted to the WTU Herbarium under the title, "Tofieldia glutinosa." What you thought you knew on Tuesday may be different when you get up on Wednesday morning, and for that, you can thank a taxonomist.

Analyzing Umbilicaria Vellea

Day 256: When lichens are dry, they are much less easy to identify in the field. That it was an Umbilicaria was not immediately obvious because the "belly button" effect is not pronounced in this species, but as I removed a sample, its single point of attachment became clear. With the issue of genus settled, the real work began to determine species. I narrowed it down to two, and then threw up my hands and sent photos off to a lichen contact at the UW. Under her direction and using a microscope, I was able to confirm that it was Umbilicaria vellea, a less common and smaller lichen than U. americana (from which it has only recently been separated as a distinct species) and more likely to be found in an alpine environment. A closer look at the rhizines (inset) will reveal tiny black granules which may serve as vegetative propagules for the lichen.

Noctua Pronuba, Large Yellow Underwing

Day 255: Breaking away from botany for a bit, I would like to say how much I appreciate the team of entomologists who sit patiently beside their computers under the aegis of BugGuide.net, ready to offer identification of insects to those of us who can't tell a Monarch from a Viceroy. Within fifteen minutes of the time I submitted "Unknown moth" to them, I had a solid ID of Noctua pronuba, Large Yellow Underwing for this critter and the image had been added to their database. It is no small point of pride that I can say I have over sixty photos in the BugGuide files, everything from butterflies to beetles and even a spider or two. None is a particular rarity, but many are those tiny flutterers which others dismiss as "little grey moths," not worth the time it takes to capture photographically. I like knowing the names of things. Once named, I can look them up and find out more about their habits: where they live, what they eat, when they metamorphose. Every scrap of information gleaned as a result of having a name put on a species adds to my knowledge of the world and helps me understand how I and other humans fit into the scheme. For example, Noctua pronuba is an introduced species, accidentally brought to Canada. It sometimes occurs in "epidemic outbreaks" in alpine meadows. It feeds on a wide variety of native wildflowers, and thus could pose a threat to the alpine meadows of Mount Rainier National Park.

Squirrel Baffle (by request)

Day 254: A couple of days ago, I built squirrel baffles to keep the little buggers out of my bird feeders. They consist of a pair of aluminum pie tins hung by fine copper wires about a squirrelslength apart, centered on the metal poles supporting the feeders and just loosely enough that they tilt when moved. I figured if a squirrel got around the bottom one, they'd try to stand on it to try to get around the top one, and if they hadn't fallen yet, that would cinch it. It seemed to be working. Squirrel was back, feeding on the ground, not even trying to go up the pole.

Until...

I saw a clever squirrel get around the bottom tin through an amazingly acrobatic set of maneuvers. He got hold of the copper wires (very close to the pole), snugged his body in close and was struggling to get around the top tin, but much to my dismay, it looked like he was going to make it. I was torn between watching and going out to chase him off, but before I had made my decision, I woke up.

Right. It had been a dream.

But when I woke up, I realized that I'd fallen asleep in my lawn chair and it was after dark. Mad at myself, I started thinking, "Gee, I've been out here since right after dinner." Judging from the depth of the darkness, I figured it was about 11 PM, but it was an uncharacteristically warm evening and actually quite pleasant. I had gotten a bit of a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair, and I was wondering if I'd get back to sleep once I got in bed. I started gathering up my stuff to go in the house...coffee cup, lichen book, fleece blanket (I'd had the sense to take that out with me) and was thinking that I was lucky the mosquitoes hadn't found me when...

...I woke up again. Yeah, I was in my own bed, dreaming a dream within a dream. Took me a minute to figure out where I was. Y'know, a thing like that can really make you doubt the rest of your day, or even your very existence. Am I really going to work now, or just dreaming it?

Finding Myriosclerotinia Caricis-ampullaceae

Day 253: In a paper published in Vienna in January 1996, Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae is referred to as "very rare," and goes on to describe it as occurring on two species of Carex, C. lasiocarpa and C. rostrata. The latter Carex is included in many PNW field guides, but there is some confusion regarding the sedges, and whether or not our Mount Rainier beaked sedge is Carex rostrata or Carex utriculata is a subject open for debate among botanists. This information opens the question of whether or not our discovery of the fungus shows a heretofore unrecorded host, or whether it could be a local subspecies. DNA research shows that specimens taken in Europe (notably from Finland, Sweden, Belgium and Czechoslovakia) are identical to those found in the US and Canada. We must also consider that the Carex host recorded in 1985 and detailed in the paper might have been misidentified. One question generates another, which in turn gives rise to many more. Oh, to have another fifty years to find the answers!

Joe And Myriosclerotinia

Day 252: Joe dropped me off about twenty minutes ago and is en route home as I write this, and I think neither of us will sleep a wink tonight. Our primary goal for the day was to bushwhack into the site at which in 1948 Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae was last seen in Mount Rainier National Park. We had noted a small clearing in which Carex was growing, a known host for this rare species. A narrow stream of trickling water ran through the center of the mini-meadow, so we began patrolling its edges with our eyes peeled for even the smallest cup. Joe went up a secondary stream which fed into the main flow and was about fifty feet away when I suddenly shouted, "Oh, my gawd, I've got one!" I honestly had had no expectations of success, and immediately pulled out my GPS to mark the location. I got down on my knees and began taking photos from different angles, and in viewing my specimen from the side, I saw two more near it. Then the hunt began in earnest, Joe on one side of the stream and me on the other. In the course of the next hour or so, we found a grand total of fifty-one specimens. Although none were as large as the ones we had found in the first location on June 2, these appeared to be newly emergent and still growing. Many were only about 3 mm. in diameter. As we studied the area for clues into Myriosclerotinia's habitat requirements, we noted that the fungi only grew on the south bank of the stream and never more than 8 inches from moving water. All but one occurred in a strip approximately 8" x 30', and nowhere else in the meadow. Two are visible in this photo if you have keen eyes, and Joe is photographing another cluster of three hidden in the sedge. Fifty-one!!!

Lecidea Lapicida, Grey-Orange Disk Lichen

Day 251: If you are a follower of my posts, you've heard me mention on several occasions that common names for many lichens must have been inspired by chemical substances having nothing to do with lichen composition. Here are a few drawn straight from Brodo: Pink-eyed Shingle, Blistered Script, Punctured Rock Tripe, Tar Jelly, Varnished Tube. I suspect there was more than one six-pack involved with those names, maybe a wee drap of single-malt or demon rum. This crustose species occurs on siliceous rock in exposed areas. Its rust-coloured thallus is quite eye-catching. Wouldn't you have thought that Lecidea lapicida deserved a more distinctive appellation than the grossly uninventive Grey-Orange Disk? "Burnt Chili" comes immediately to mind, or perhaps "Devil's Beauty Spots." No, they settled on Grey-Orange Disk instead. It must have been a really dull party.

Platanthera Dilatata, Bog Candle

Day 250: The word "orchid" generally brings about a mental association with a tropical paradise, warm temperatures and high humidity, so it might surprise you to learn that the Pacific Northwest hosts quite a good number of orchid species. Ours are much smaller than their exotic cousins, but taken in proportion, many species are equally as fragrant for their size. Even half a dozen Bog Candles (Platanthera dilatata) will sweeten the air with their scent. When fully open, this orchid is recognizable by its long, slender tongue (lower petal). Closer observation will reveal a pale green spur protruding from the back of the flower. Several related species are similar in form, but none is as strikingly white.

Myriosclerotinia Caricis-ampullaceae

Day 249: Since my botanizing partner Joe and I (Team Biota) discovered this unusual cup fungus in a snow-melt meadow in Mount Rainier National Park, a flurry of emails went out, first from Joe to a friend who is a mycologist, thence to a mycological society and further, to mycologists around the globe. The consensus is that it is Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae. This particular species is considered "very rare," but the genus is rare as well. Who would have thought that such a lowly thing could generate such interest? And who would have expected to stumble across it while hunting for rare/uncommon vascular plants?

Joe, his wife Sharon and I have made several return trips to the site over the last two weeks, and have learned that these fungi are extremely ephemeral, here today and gone tomorrow. Joe and Sharon found a few on their second trip, but none since. After a conference with the Park's Plant Ecologist earlier this week, I was authorized to take an herbarium specimen if enough examples were present. Arnie knows my feelings on collecting, and trusted me to make the critical judgment call for collection of a rare species.

I went into the meadow in full rain gear on a blustery, cold day and began searching the margins of snow-melt pools and the banks of a tiny stream, but was frustrated at having no success in finding my quarry. With additional information I had been given about the species, I examined several dozen stems and leaf sheaths of the Carex (Cotton-grass) native to the site, but found no evidence of sclerotia. It was beginning to look like my mission was going to be a bust. Then, just as I was packing up to leave the meadow, I saw something floating in the water, loose. It was a single specimen, not attached to anything, waiting to be lifted out for preservation with only minimal pangs of conscience on my part. It was in less than perfect condition, admittedly, but it would serve for DNA analysis at some future date, should the budgeting for such advanced research ever be possible.

Team Biota has another trip to the site planned, but even if this ephemeral species is done for the year, there will be other years. The last known record of it at Mount Rainier is dated 1948, and a specimen from that date is preserved in the University of Illinois herbarium. I may be dead and gone before it sprouts again, but for 2016, I was there. I saw it. A solitary specimen is drying on my desk as I write this. I have a feeling the story of Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae is not at an end.

Peltigera Venosa, Fan Lichen

Day 248: Peltigera venosa is the smallest Pelt lichen to be found in Mount Rainier National Park. In a mature specimen, individual lobes measure only 10-15 mm. wide with brownish-red lentil-sized apothecia generally visible on the margins. Its most distinguishing feature (apart from being bright green) can be seen on the back side of the lobes; true to its Latin name, P. venosa is heavily veined. Interestingly, unlike many other Peltigeras, venosa's reproductive structures occur on the lower surface of the lobes rather than the top, and when these cephalodia (vegetative propagules) become detached, they usually drop close to the parent lichen. A young P. venosa can be seen on the righthand side of the photo. Peltigera venosa is easily the most recognizable species of Pelt in the Park.

Allotropa Virgata, Candystick

Day 247: Arguably the showiest of Mount Rainier National Park's mycoheterotrophic species, Allotropa virgata will make any hiker stop in their tracks for a photo. The "canes" may rise as much as 20 inches above the forest floor, and although they're usually seen as single specimens, they do form colonies. Like other obligate mycoheterotrophs, Allotropa virgata is entirely dependent on a mycorrhizal component (Tricholoma magnivelare) which facilitates the plant's uptake of nutrients from the soil. Where the fungus is absent, Candystick will not occur.

In Nature, everything holds hands, a point which becomes more obvious when you study any tightly linked relationship like mycoheterotrophy. As I learn more about these species, a question arises in my mind about the harvesting of edible wild mushrooms. Like any Hobbit worth the name, I do enjoy a meal of chanterelles, morels or boletes, and if I had been possessed of the skills necessary to make a 105% identification of Tricholoma magnivelare, I'd probably have picked the "American matsutake" as well. Fortunately, those skills are not in my repertoire, or I might have been murdering dozens or hundreds of Candysticks by my gluttony. It's a sobering thought.

She Of The Six Flowers

Day 246: This bit of botanical news comes from the home front: Sarracenia surprised me by putting up a total of SIX flowers this year! In 2015, two went to maturity and a third failed to develop, so I expected three at most. The winter cold nipped most of her pitchers when a 22-degree night caught me left-footed. I move her to an indoor "cold-room" (the old furnace closet) when temps are forecast to go below 24. As exotic as she appears, this species and indeed several other members of the genus are hardy in the Pacific Northwest climate. The loss of the majority of her traps didn't slow her up, though. More have sprouted to replace those which were damaged by frost, to the extent that I may have to divide the plant after she's done flowering. She's getting too big for her pot!

Hemitomes Congestum, Gnome Plant

Day 245: As I have said repeatedly, last year was a banner year for the mycoheterotrophic species including the relatively uncommon Hemitomes congestum, aka Gnome Plant. Prior to last year, I had only found Hemitomes a handful of times in half a century of woodland ramblings, and those sightings were mostly of single, isolated specimens. However, in 2015, I discovered it in multiple locations for a total of over 100 individual plants. Following another mild winter, I predicted that we might again see an uptick in mycoheterotrophs, a prediction which was borne out at least in part by a record number of individuals (16!) for Corallorhiza trifida earlier in the year. I've been monitoring two known Hemitomes sites for the last month, and was elated to see them beginning to emerge in both locations just one week ago. So far, the count is only five in one site and one in the other, but I am confident more will burst through the forest duff following the next spell of warm weather.

Botanizing With Bears

Day 244: Visitors to Mount Rainier National Park should be aware that they may see researchers going about their work in sensitive off-trail areas. A wide range of scientific research projects are being done throughout the Park, including seismic monitoring, air and water quality sampling, rare plant and phenology studies, amphibian studies, documentation of lichens, monitoring of benthic species, glacier and stream studies and so on. In order to obtain a reliable cross-section of data, these scientists often must go where the public is not permitted. In this photo, we see one of the Park's nutritionists test-sampling the corms of Erythronium montanum (Avalanche Lily) for caloric value. Just a reminder: research data can be skewed by a single footfall. Please stay on trail.

Asterella Gracilis, Syn. Mannia Gracilis

Day 243: "Minions." That's what Joe thought they looked like. At first glance, I thought they were an odd seed head, but rejected that idea after ascertaining that the adjacent foliage did not belong to the same plant. With my nose only an inch from the rock, I began a search for clues. If you'd been in the area, you'd have heard my whoop of exultation echo off the canyon walls when I found the answer. "It's a LIVERWORT!" At the moment, I had to be content with that alone.

Upon consulting field guides at home, I determined it belonged to the Asterella genus. I suspected it of being A. gracilis, but I had no way to confirm that simply from photos. Another trip was made to obtain a specimen even though I knew I was in over my head. One of my lichenology contacts referred me to liverwort expert David Wagner of the Northwest Botanical Institute in Eugene OR. After obtaining permission from the Park's Plant Ecologist to refer the specimen out for analysis, I mailed it to David. When I got home from work last night, his reply was in my email: "I have received the capsules and the spores show this is Asterella gracilis. Its reddish coloration on the carpocephala is not typical and the spores are a pale brown rather than yellow but otherwise it has typical ornamentation. The purple scale appendages at the tip of the thalli is also typical."

He went on further to explain that in 2010, A. gracilis was proven to be more closely related to Mannia than to other Asterella species and therefore could be called Mannia gracilis "if one wishes to ignore morphology in favor of DNA analysis," a statement which goes to show that I'm not the only one who has trouble accepting taxonomic shifts. Still, I couldn't be happier if Santa Claus had showed up on my roof with all the Christmas presents on my list.

Collinsia Parviflora - A Penny Perspective

Day 242: The flowers of Blue-Eyed Mary (Collinsia parviflora) are not easy to spot, but they are worth a closer look when you find them. The tubular corolla is bent at an angle to the stem and terminates in four lobes, the upper two white or pale blue and the lower two a cheerful sky-blue. The foliage consists of slender, opposite leaves on the lower portion of the stem, but often appears in a whorl on the upper part. Flowers emerge at the tips and at leaf axils. Shown here in a Penny Perspective, Blue-Eyed Mary is a tiny treasure waiting to brighten your next hike...if you can find her.

Tofieldia Glutinosa And Friend

Day 241: Tofieldia glutinosa (Western False Asphodel) is a member of the lily family, the flower stalk rising above a tuft of iris-like leaves which can easily be mistaken for a grass on first glance. The upper portion of the stem is covered with minuscule sticky, reddish glands which assist in cross-pollination. As insects crawl on the plant, pollen adheres to traces of the glutinous substance gathered on their feet and wings, allowing transfer to another specimen. Tofieldia is a moisture-lover, and grows where mosquitoes and flies serve as pollinators. Bees aren't the only bugs doing the job!

Footnote: the taxonomists strike again. Tofieldia has been reclassified to the point of having an entirely new designation: Triantha occidentalis.

Suksdorfia Ranunculifolia, Buttercup Suksdorfia

Day 240: Buttercup Suksdorfia takes both its common name and the second half of its taxonomic binomial from the shape of its leaves, i.e., the fact that they resemble those of buttercups (a different family). Its range within Mount Rainier National Park is broad, but nowhere does it occur abundantly. Freshly open flowers exhibit a yellow eye which changes to red with age, both often evident in the same panicle. After finding a few rain-battered examples in one location, I returned under better weather a few days later, only to discover that the flowers had already withered. Thus began the Great Suksdorfia Hunt of 2016, a process which covered a substantial number of hours and miles on foot before I found a satisfactory specimen in bloom, never mind that it was several feet above my head and required some minor scrambling up a rock wall. In my attempt to hold the camera steady, my left arm and leg were perforce positioned in a small trickle of unpleasantly cold water, and by the time I'd gotten the shot, I was soaked on one side, dry on the other. Suffice to say, botanizing isn't for wimps!

Collomia Heterophylla, Varied-leaf Collomia

Day 239: Varied-leaf Collomia will put your botany powers to the test. It lives up to its common name by exhibiting multiple leaf forms on any given plant. Near the tips, Collomia heterophylla's foliage will consist of hairy leaves which are almost always entire, i.e., not divided into lobes and having smooth edges. Further down the stem, they are often strongly divided, even lacy in appearance. The flower is a long and very slender tube (pink or sometimes white) terminating in five open-faced lobes surrounding a white/yellow eye. Striking in close-up and fairly common in the Park, this wildflower often goes unnoticed because of its diminutive size.

Erythranthe Alsinoides, Chickweed Monkeyflower

Day 238: Those taxonomists are at it again. It's hard to keep up with the changes brought about due to DNA research. The genus Mimulus has become Erythranthe, a change which to the best of my knowledge affects all Monkeyflowers across the board. That field guide you bought last week? It's out of date, and trust me, by the time the revision goes to press, more species will have been assigned to other genera.

Today, I bring you Mim...no...Erythranthe alsinoides, also known as Chickweed Monkeyflower. Why "chickweed?" I have no idea. The flower is smaller than that of most other Monkeyflowers, its bright yellow monkey-face nevertheless bearing the red spots which make the genus one of the most recognizable in the field. It stands a mere six inches tall, the flower 8-14 mm. in length as opposed to 2-4 cm. for Erythranthe guttatus. Like its cousins, it enjoys keeping its feet cool and can be found in seeps and damp rock crevices as well as along streambanks. At least six species of Monkeyflower (formerly Mimulus, now Erythranthe) can be found in Mount Rainier National Park.

Orobanche In A Bunch

Day 237: You might be misled into thinking those pretty lavender flowers belonged to the succulent leaves beneath them, but in fact, there's something botanically sinister going on here. Orobanche uniflora (Naked Broomrape) is a parasite with a particular appetite for the roots of saxifrages and sedums. The species lacks chlorophyll and is therefore incapable of photosynthesis, so it relies on host plants to process nutrients into a form it can utilize. There are several categories of parasitism in the realm of botany. Broomrape is considered a holoparasite, i.e., one which depends entirely upon the host.

Pinguicula Vulgaris - Butterwort

Day 236: Another score for "Team Biota" and a life-list species for me, a thriving colony of Butterwort was growing on a rock wall over which a steady drip of water was falling. Ten feet above it, we spotted another solitary plant, its yellow leaves and single blue flower the only other evidence of the species at the site. If not considered rare in the catalogue of Mount Rainier flora, Pinguicula vulgaris has been classified as "review - group 1" per "The Endangered, Threatened and Sensitive Vascular Plants of Washington" (2014) and is reported to occur in only a few places in the Park. This location was not one of the ones on record for the species.

Pinguicula is an insectivore. Tiny, specialized glands on the upper surfaces of its leaves exude a sticky/slimy substance which traps insects. The hapless mosquito or gnat which becomes ensnared in the goo is then digested by enzymes contained in another type of gland. Husks of former meals are often found on the leaves of Butterwort.

Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae

Day 235: Updating this: Originally identified from the photos as Myriosclerotinia dennisii by one mycologist, this specimen was referred out by my botany partner Joe to another mycologist who in turn brought in several other experts to study the images. Based on their replies (and they did not necessarily agree with each other), I am amending the identification to Sclerotinia sulcata.

Newer update: this 'shroom has gone 'round the globe! The consensus among the mycological community is that it is in fact Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae, a rather rare species globally and only recorded in Mount Rainier National Park in 1948. The 1948 specimen is in the University of Illinois herbarium.

Another score by "Team Biota" (Joe and Crow), several dozen were found growing at the edge of a small seasonal pool in the Hudsonsian zone, some with their feet in the water. The height of the tallest was about 5", a 1" cup wobbling on a narrow stipe surrounded by adjacent grass. The others were in various stages of development, and those with larger cups had a tendency to fall over when the support of the grass was removed. The flesh was very thin and brittle, textured with depressions which brought to mind of the hammered metal cookware of the 1950s. Definitely one of the oddest "Freaky Fungi" in Crow's Catalogue, I'm grateful to Joe for tracking down the identity of this unusual 'shroom.

Erythranthe Breweri - A Penny Perspective

Day 233: I barely know where to begin. Yesterday, I went on a botanizing expedition with my friend Joe. He'd baited me with a report of an insectivore I'd never seen in the wild, but by the time the day was over, we had recorded half a dozen rare/uncommon species. The prize was won by Erythranthe breweri, formerly called Mimulus breweri and known commonly as Brewer's Monkeyflower. It has only been recorded in a few locations in Mount Rainier National Park, and the site at which we observed it was not one of them.

Upon referring our find to the Park's Plant Ecologist, we were dispatched on another mission: to collect a single specimen for inclusion in the Burke Museum's herbarium. I am of two minds with respect to taking herbarium specimens, one side of my head arguing that if it's rare, it should be left in place, even as the scientific part of my brain protests that being able to profile the DNA or otherwise study a rarity has great and growing value. Since we were able to count at least 36 individual specimens at this site, I carefully removed one, cleaned its hair-like roots of soil and pressed it temporarily between the pages of a notebook, laying it out as naturally as possible. Spreading the petals was no easy task since even in the space of a few minutes, they had begun to curl. Immediately upon returning home, I transferred it to acid-free paper and weighted it for drying. Once the process is completed, I will return it to the Park where it will be catalogued and archived.

Trachemys Scripta, Pond Slider

Day 234: On a previous trip to Lake St. Clair, I spotted three turtles basking on adjacent logs in the southeast arm of the lake near the shore of a small island. They were rather shy, and it was only with great difficulty that I was able to maneuver close enough to them to get a photo showing enough detail for an identification. The red marking on the head told me that they were Pond Sliders (Trachemys scripta), an introduced species. In searching for more information about them, I discovered that they are not considered invasive, due to the fact that before their numbers reach a stage where they out-compete natives, large die-offs keep the population in check. It has been suggested that the species is not suited to Washington's climate. At this time, there is no plan in place to remove them from Washington waters; however, WDFW requests reports of any sightings (particularly of nesting females) so that they can monitor any issues which may arise. Two days ago, I again spotted all three in the same location, making me wonder if they were "pets" released from captivity by someone living on the near shore.

Zen Master

Day 232: The Zen Master strikes a pose. To all purposes, he becomes a stick: grey, angular, motionless on the bank and remaining so, at least seemingly. A keen eye may notice that he drifts slightly with the breeze which lightly ripples the water, motion measured in the merest fraction of an inch. He settles onto his forward leg, the lightest change to his center of gravity. The muscles of his rear leg relax, the angle of his knee changing imperceptibly. His stance is a poem of tai chi balance and form, flowing with grace over a five-minute span to reach a new position. His rear leg is now forward, and the observer wonders how the transition occurred because she has not taken her eyes off him and registered no movement. Suddenly, there is a thrust of his beak downward, piercing the water like a blade. He tosses his head back and gulps a hapless amphibian down in a lump. There is a moment's pause, and then the Zen Master spreads his wings to take off in an incongruously ungainly flight, sweeping through the branches to look for another hunting ground.