Garbage Pigeons

Day 110: East coast friends think I'm exaggerating when I say that Bald Eagles are almost as common as sparrows in the Pacific Northwest. Well, here's the proof. There were at least thirty perched in the trees west of the Kapowsin landfill this morning with another thirty circling like vultures overhead, adults and juveniles in roughly equivalent numbers. It's a popular hangout for them, and long ago inspired me to start referring to them as "garbage pigeons." I doubt that my readers need to be assured that I love birds in general, but there are a few species which incur my disdain: Band-Tailed Pigeons, Starlings, and yes, Bald Eagles. I've often puzzled as to why the species was chosen as the National Bird, but I begin to see the logic as I follow current social and political trends. After all, this less-than-majestic denizen of the dump chooses to feed on garbage rather than putting out the effort to find something better, more substantive. Yes, Baldies are a good icon for much of today's American public.

Peltigera Britannica

Day 109: Any of my regular readers will vouch for the fact that I love lichens. In fact, I refer to them as the "wildflowers of winter" because so many of them come into fruit during the cold months of the year. Peltigera britannica is an example. If you look closely at the photos, you will see that the green surface of its lobes are flecked with tiny black dots. These are its cephalodia, small gall-like propagules which are at this point composed of cyanobacteria. Britannica's cephalodia detach easily when mature, often washing off during rainy periods. They then capture the same green algae (Nostoc) found in the parent lichen, and begin to develop lobes of their own. This lichen may also reproduce through the spores contained in its "painted-fingernail" apothecia (photo, right). Many lichens demonstrate more than one reproductive strategy, insurance for their survival.

Frog Fingers

Day 108: If you've been in a western Washington evergreen forest, you've undoubtedly seen at least one species of Hypogymnia, commonly referred to as "tube" lichens. This genus is characterized by lobes which appear to be inflated, twisted around into a herd of surrealistic balloon animals, some of which may be carrying odd, upturned umbrellas (the lichen's fruiting bodies, i.e., its apothecia). These lobes are actually hollow and, if separated into upper and lower layers, the colour of interior of the upper layer (the medullary ceiling) can be an aid to identification. In many species, it is dark brown; in others, either black or white. The diameter of the lobes is also helpful, as is the manner in which they fork (regularly or irregularly). Closer examination may reveal perforations at the tips of the lobes, again a diagnostic feature.

My geocaching partner likes to say that the reason I notice things like lichens and mushrooms is because I'm built closer to the ground than most people. While that may be a factor, I think it's due to the fact that I never outgrew the curiosity inherent in childhood. That said, I would like to encourage each of my readers to take a closer look at the small things in nature the next time you go out walking. You may be surprised by beauty in the microcosm at your feet.

Back To Work

Day 107: My last day in the office was December 12. Kevin was going on leave, so I brought my government computer home with me so I could make a much shorter trip to Park Headquarters a couple of times over the holidays to clear out my emails, which I did on the 21st, the last possible moment before the shutdown took effect. Today...January 28, mind you...I was at last allowed back in the office, and believe me, I was expecting a nightmare. As it turned out, it wasn't as bad as I'd feared because...well, because everybody else was shut down too. The exception to that was Volunteer.gov, through which people could still apply for volunteer opportunities in the Park. A fairly good portion of my backed-up email consisted of those same people writing to find out why I hadn't responded to their applications yet. Um...d'uh! How can anyone have been unaware that the parks were only being operated by a bare minimum of staff? As much as I'd like to think of myself as "essential personnel," my job doesn't include enforcing the law, keeping water systems running or plowing the roads to buildings which must be kept secure against the ravages of alpine winter. At any rate, I got through my day's work with a minimum of stress, and it sure felt good to turn the key in that lock again.

There's Gold On Them Thar Trees

Day 106: "There's gold on them thar trees!" Yes, and not just on the north side, scout. Sorry to disappoint, but that's a myth, and one I've never been able to understand. Lichens and mosses grow on the MOIST side of trees, and as anybody who lives in the Pacific Northwest can attest, sometimes that means all the way around. That said, a walk through our conifer forests will often cause an observer to comment on trees crusted with Chrysothrix candelaris, Mother Nature's version of tagging trees with her yellow-gold "spray paint." Commonly called "Gold-Dust Lichen," one of its most popular substrates is the thick bark of Douglas fir. Some experts claim that it can be differentiated from other Chrysothrix species by granule size when they occur in the same region (a contentious subject), but here in the PNW, it's a pretty safe bet to call any gold-bearing seams on Doug fir by the name C. chrysothrix.

Egg Hunt

Day 105: What with having been sick last week, I wasn't sure if I'd be up to attending both sections of the training in identifying amphibian egg masses which was on the schedule for today. The lecture portion was a definite yes, but wading in a stormwater retention pond on a cold and possibly rainy January day was not something I wanted to commit to until the last minute. Fortunately, the weather was better than it had been all week and, while still chilly, it was forecast to be dry. I borrowed a pair of insulated chest waders and waded into the project with full scientific enthusiasm. By the time I emerged two hours later, I'd scored one Long-Toed Salamander egg and one aquatic red mite from the family Hydrachnidae. Most members of the group managed to find at least one salamander egg (Long-Toed Salamanders typically lay one egg at a time, as opposed to a cluster of eggs). Further up the pond, one team of four scored a large grouping of Red-Legged Frog eggs in a mass resembling a bunch of gelatinous grapes. As one person put it, "You can sure say you love your job when what you do on your day off is also what you do for a living." While I'm not likely to become an expert on local amphibians, I certainly know more about them this afternoon than I did at 7 AM.

Exploring For Usneas

Day 104: I set out on the Bud Blancher Trail with no particular purpose in mind other than clearing my lungs of the last vestiges of a cold, but of course no walk or hike is ever taken without some tidbit of nature drawing my interest. I'd just crossed the first bridge when a small clump of pendulous lichen caught my eye. I don't know why I took a closer look, because I had already given it an initial dismissal as an Alectoria, but as I lifted it, I noticed fibrils perpendicular to the main branch. "Waitaminit," I said aloud to no one in particular, "that's an Usnea!" Sure enough, when I stretched it lightly, the cortex split, revealing the axial "spinal column" typical of the genus (inset). This unexpected discovery set the tone for the rest of the hike. How many Usneas could I find?

Not having an authoritative guide to Usneas on hand, I am reluctant to make any firm identifications here. According to lichenologist Bruce McCune, the group collectively called "Usnea filipendula" has not been strictly divided taxonomically. He goes on to state, "...local material also seems to intergrade with U. scabrata and U. scabiosa. Until the taxonomy of this group is worked out more clearly, it seems futile to try to apply these names." Suffice to say that the five specimens I collected were sufficiently different morphologically that I knew them to be separate from each other. Other specimens found during my hike showed a confusing admixture of characteristics, "a little o' dis, a little o' dat."

Bud Blancher Boogers

Day 103: Several years back, I discovered a rather...um...snotty-looking fungus growing on a dead tree near the Community Building at Longmire. Observing it through the seasons, I noticed changes in its structure which eventually allowed me to identify it as Exidia candida, but my original designation was simply too appropriate to let slide, and the "Booger Tree" established itself in my lexicon. A couple of years ago, the Booger Tree sloughed its bark and the boogers disappeared. They have since re-established themselves, if not perhaps in their original abundance, but at least they've reappeared. That said, this image shows an entirely different nose-oyster. I found these along the Bud Blancher Trail in Eatonville, and I'm just thankful no one else was out walking this morning to hear me exult, "Boogers! I found a new Booger Tree!" We must take our little joys wherever we may find them, and the boogers made my day.

Tatting - The Transfer

Day 102: If I had a dollar for every person who's said to me, "I tried to learn to tat, but I kept getting knots in the wrong places," I'd have substantially more to spend on fibers than I do currently. That said, I sympathize with their plight. I made the same error when I tried to teach myself using a book. It wasn't until I got some...ahem...hands-on instruction that I saw what I was doing wrong.

It's difficult to see what is meant by "the transfer" when working with something as fine as crochet cotton, even in the larger sizes. To make it clearer, I wound a "Tatsy" with nylon cord. "Tatsy" is a giant economy-sized shuttle, very awkward to use with hands as small as mine. I can't imagine how you'd ever use it for a project, but that's neither here nor there because it serves its purpose well as a teaching tool.

For this demonstration, I'm only showing the first half of a double stitch (ds), but the principle is the same for the second part. Tatting is comprised of double stitches and picots. Double stitches are comprised of two half-hitches, the first made when the shuttle passes under and then over the ring thread, the second made when it passes over and then under (the exact opposite move). We won't worry about that for now. Let's just get the transfer down, because that's where people make their mistakes.

To start the first half of the ds, the shuttle thread is looped over the back of the working hand (right hand in my case), then passed under and over the ring thread, and under itself. The shuttle thread is then slid from the back of the hand and pulled tight as the tension is relaxed in the fingers holding the ring thread (left hand in this case). This allows the knot which has developed in the SHUTTLE thread to be transferred into the RING thread so that it actually slides along the shuttle thread as it (the shuttle thread) is pulled taut. Note the loop of thread in the center photo. Observe that it is still in the shuttle thread. Now look at the bottom image. The shuttle thread has been pulled tight, and the half hitch has transferred to the ring thread on my left hand. After a series of ds have been made, you'll see that they slide along the shuttle thread easily if the transfer has been done correctly. If not, they won't budge. When sufficient ds and picots have been made for a ring, the tatting is dropped from the left hand and the shuttle thread is pulled up to close the ring.

Most tatting is done with two threads, shuttle and ball. The shuttle thread is used to make the rings which give tatting its characteristic "little flowers" look, and the ball thread is used to make chains between rings. Tatting can also be made using tatting needles, although needle-tatting is seen less often than regular tatting.

Tentative ID: Physcia Phaea

Day 101: Sometimes you go in pursuit of one thing, only to return with something different. Desperate for blog material, I'd pulled into Smallwood Park to see if there were any "garbage pigeons" (Bald Eagles) in the trees. Personal opinion of the species aside, Baldies are usually a hit with my readers, particularly those on the east coast where the obnoxious things aren't as common as sparrows. Yeah, there was one sitting in a customary spot, so I hopped out of the car and wove my way through the brush to a spot where I could get a clear view, but Eagle had other ideas. As soon as I stepped into the open, he flew off upstream. Still not feeling exactly well, I wasn't inclined toward even a short hike, so I headed back to the car. As I went past one of the boulders lining the driveway, a tight cluster of little black spots tugged at the tail of my eye. "Oh, some of that stuff," I said to myself, referring to something I haven't been able to identify, and was about to walk on, but for some reason, I did an about-face and took a closer look. Definitely not what I'd thought, and definitely not something I was going to dismiss without further analysis. I figured a few minutes in drizzle wouldn't kill me, so I snapped some photos and lifted a small specimen to bring home. I checked the other rocks on the way out. Nope, only on the one. Best guess? Physcia phaea. And now I know where it lives.

Pixie Cups

Day 100: While lichens have adapted to optimize ambient moisture, Cladonias such as this one demonstrate a wide variety to strategies for the task. Starting at the base, the overlapping, ruffled squamules (scales) not only gather moisture but direct it to the heart of the colony. The podetia (stalks) are covered in even finer, granular squamules, maximizing the surface area. Even minor amounts of dew/mist are husbanded, reducing the evaporation rate. Characteristic of the genus, the tips of many Cladonias are bowl-shaped, another adaptation for conservation of moisture. These structures give the lichens their common appellation of "Pixie Cups."

Usnea Lace

Day 99: There are a lot of Usnea species which aren't covered in the Forty-Pound Field Guide, so I won't emulate this one by going out on a limb to identify it. Suffice to say that it's as fine as an example of Mother Nature's lace-making skills as any piece ever entered in a state fair. I can say that several identifying features are absent or present, e.g., its bushy growth habit, the fact that the tendrils are not regularly dichotomously branched, its pussywillow host (as opposed to an evergreen); all factors which allow me to rule out a few species common in the Pacific Northwest, but nothing I can point up to say, "Yes, that's the one!" For whatever it's worth, several very similar specimens appear on Sharnoff's website under "Usnea - unidentified species" collected in Washington. Even if I can't pin it down, it appears I'm in good company.

Selfie

Day 98: It seems a new standard has been instituted. For most of my life, I've bragged that I just don't get sick, but the last three or four Januaries have shattered that enviable record. Last year, a cold went into bronchitis and then progressed to pneumonia, keeping me down for six weeks. So far, this is just a cold, and I'm giving it the Aboriginal treatment, i.e., snuffling water up my nose every few hours to wash out the inside of my head. It's helping. I'll spare you the remaining complaints. Just suffice to say that if I don't seem to be my usual perky self...well, it took every scrap of energy I had to set up this shot.

The Crow Board

Day 97: It's almost impossible to get a good photo of any of the Breakfast Bunch for two reasons. One, no matter how I angle the shot, the background is a dense screen of Douglas fir. Two, although they are comfortable with me standing on the back porch with almost anything else in my hands, they are highly suspicious of the black-bodied camera with its glinting eye. Even if I stand well back in the kitchen and shoot through the double-pane glass of the door as I did for this image, they are wary. Still, the Crow Board has gone through many iterations in thirty years of daily use. The platform has been replaced several times and the post at least twice. They're not bothered by new wood or shiny-bright nailheads, but let the lens wink, and they scatter. Sometimes as many as a dozen birds crowd onto the board, wings flapping to maintain purchase on the rough edges as beaks dart below other beaks to snatch a bite of dog kibble. Older, cleverer birds wait for an opening and then pack multiples in their bills before flying off to eat them at their leisure.

Cutie-dee

Day 96: You have to realize that the presence of Black-Capped Chickadees in my yard qualifies as a Really Big Deal, so I hope you don't get tired of seeing them. I certainly don't! It has taken decades to lure them across the road to the contorted filbert, less than 200 feet in human terms but a major expedition for these avian explorers. Far less common species have made farther journeys: Lazuli Buntings, Western Tanagers, high-country Grey Jays down from the Park, out of their customary environs for the occasional visit. Yet here I sat, Chickadeeless for almost thirty years before any small winged soul set toenail across the border dividing My Side from Your Side. I felt like I was living in one of those movie families where the disagreeing occupants draw a line down the middle. I hope they've come to stay!

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Day 95: I have to admit that I'm not much for electronic games, but not long after the first Angry Birds was released, Kevin introduced me to it when I was at his house for a family event. I was skeptical of it at first, thinking that wingless birds were something contrary to my nature, but it only took playing the first few levels before I was convinced. I got it for my Kindle a few days later, and over the course of the next few weeks, became aware that playing a level until I had achieved a single star was not the way to proceed. I went back to level one and pounded away at it until I'd reached three stars, then moving on to the next game. Rovio came out with a different version (Seasons, if memory serves) before I'd achieved three stars on all the levels, but I added it to my Kindle as well and started pecking (excuse the pun) at it whenever I got stuck in the original. One thing led to another and eventually...yes, really...I scored three stars on every level of every game available to my Kindle. And I was sad; oh, so sad that I didn't have any more pigs to blow up.

There's something eminently gratifying about playing Angry Birds when every portion of the rest of the world seems to have spun out of my personal control. I thought hard about clearing out my scores and starting over, but then the thought occurred that it would be even more challenging to try to beat my previous highs. That's been my project for the last year or so. I'm sure that I've maxed out on perhaps half a dozen, but since I don't know what the maximum scores might be, I frequently plug away at any given level for a week or two before finally giving up and moving on to the next one. Today, I beat one I've been working at for a week, and then smashed through the next one in less than six tries. Even if I don't achieve a new high score, I have the satisfaction of keeping the pigs under control.

Pieces Of Sanderlings

Day 94: The Christmas tree was down, freeing up space in the living room. I got both looms emptied. I got the knitting off the needles. All my time-value projects were done, so I was ready to start putting together a custom jigsaw puzzle given to me by a friend. When Patty posted her photo of "Sanderlings on the Rocks" some time last fall, I'd commented that I'd love it as a 1500-piece puzzle, not expecting her to take me seriously. I didn't even know that custom puzzles of that size could be made, but it put me in mind of a series I'd done forty years ago called "Super Challenge," scenes with very little colour distinction. I love difficult jigsaws, and thought her Sanderlings image would have been a perfect candidate for the brand. When I work a puzzle, I go at it with the same fervor I devote to any other project, and a standard 1000-piece model usually takes me about three days to complete. The Super Challenges required a bit more time, but never more than a week. I have now been at the Sanderlings for roughly 10 days now (possibly as many as 12), and don't yet have even a third of it done. Now that's a challenging puzzle!

Faithful Feathered Friends

Day 93: Depending on the age of your field guide, you will see a number of different common names applied to Junco hyemalis. Some of this is due to the fact that most field guides don't bother with breaking species down into subspecies, thereby creating confusion among the ranks of birding hobbyists. To further complicate matters, in areas where the subspecies overlap, they intergrade. Three generations down, the genome becomes hopelessly blurred. Without gene sequencing, it would be impossible to say that any individual bird was "50% Oregon, 50% Pink-sided" any more than a human could claim that they were "50% German, 50% Scottish" just because their parents were born in those countries. The two Pacific Northwest subspecies are Oregon and Slate-Coloured, lumped together as "Dark-Eyed" and as thoroughly mixed as good cake batter. They are present year-'round, and at my feeders,  challenging Steller's Jays for the distinction of "most common bird."

Bucket In The Woods

Day 92: I'm venturing outside my customary scope with this shot, but occasionally I happen across something which just begs to be photographed. Such was the case when I found this battered old bucket at the base of a tree on a friend's property. It was well past its prime and its original purpose was unclear, but buckets are meant to contain things, and even overturned, this one's rustic character had neither been spilled nor had it dripped away. What is beauty, anyway, if not that which delights the individual eye? We do not have to agree on the subjects of our admiration and should not allow others to jade us toward their own ideas of perfection.

Feeding Habits Of The Common Crow

Day 91: I would like to take a moment here to explain the feeding habits of the common Crow. Willing to consume almost anything which isn't actually spoiled, crows are frequently described as opportunistic feeders. They are generally wary of things with are unfamiliar, at least at first, but after a few tentative probes of an inquisitive beak to be sure the food won't fight back, a crow will consume practically anything it can find. This is not to say that they do not have discriminating palates; indeed, their favourite foods are much the same as those of humans, i.e., those high in fats and sugars, and they will eat them (as my mother used to say) "until they're fit to bust." At the rate my Park colleagues are throwing parties as their co-workers go into retirement, it's a wonder this Crow can still button her britches.

Mountain Drama

Day 90: There is more drama than that of politics associated with Mount Rainier today, beautiful in nature, if perhaps somewhat foreboding. Clouds mount a nebulous assault from the north, lifting over the summit in ragged lenticular formation, fighting vainly against an unseasonably warm upslope wind. The Mountain makes its own weather, according to its mood; dangerous at times, kindly at others, but never without an undercurrent which warns that changes may come on a whim, with little to announce their imminent arrival. Experienced climbers know this; the foolish ones trust to luck. Most of us, regardless of our camp, survive more or less intact, living out our days in the foothills when our bodies cannot meet the demands of the sport. That said, our hearts are on the Mountain, even in bad weather. Don't let the allegory bite you on the bum.

Salad Burnet

Day 89: My artistic skills leave a lot to be desired, but every now and then, I'm inclined to make a botanical drawing. Today seemed as good a day as any, so I give you Salad Burnet, anticipating that you will be unfamiliar with this delightful little plant and will ask, "What the heck is Salad Burnet?" Sanguisorba minor is a culinary herb, not often cultivated in the home garden, but very easy to grow, quite hardy and won't run rampant. Despite temperatures in the 20s a few weeks ago, mine is still as green and fresh as ever. It can be eaten by itself if one is so inclined, picking it fresh from the garden as I often do when I'm working outdoors, but its best use is as a garnish. It tastes of cucumber! The individual leaves are about the size of a thumbnail. Strip them from the main stem and sprinkle them over your next potluck salad and be prepared to answer the inevitable question: "What is this stuff, anyway?"

The Flasher

Day 88: Humans smile. They frown. They scowl. Their eyebrows raise or draw together. Lines appear at the corners of their eyes. In short, the human face is the clearest indicator of the state of mind affecting the individual. Dogs and cats and a few other species smile and may exhibit a less versatile repertoire of facial expression, but birds...well, you'd think a bird was pretty much stuck with no way of making its emotions known. Anthropomorphization aside, birds have emotions. Anyone who's ever lived with a Psittacine can vouch for that.

Adult male Red-Winged Blackbirds exhibit a band of red and yellow feathers on the upper portion of their wings. Even during mating season when the colours are at their brightest, this patch may be relatively indistinct. When the bird is agitated or when it wants to impress a lady-friend, this band can be seen more clearly, signifying the mood of the moment. Any of the cockatoo species possessing a crest can raise it at will, with subtle differences of position (height, spread) signifying a range of emotions from concern to curiosity. Exactly what is going on in a brain which doesn't verbalize is open to conjecture, but the emotion is there. It is vanity for a human to think otherwise, and demonstrates just how self-centered we as a species can be.

#Shutdown

Day 87: #Shutdown. I should probably just leave this here without any explanation because I don't trust myself to speak on the subject without using all of my father's tractor-starting words. I come from an era when misbehaving children were spanked, and it's my considered opinion that a hairbrush applied to a certain individual's backside would not have gone amiss. In fact, a belt might have been insufficient. It might have even taken several good horse-whippings out behind the barn to convince said individual that tantrums were not to be tolerated, but by gawd, I'd have thrashed him within an inch of his life if he'd been a child of mine. Petulance is expected in children under three. Whining often persists into the early teens when outright rebellion takes hold, but by the time a person has reached voting age, they should have gained enough life experience to understand that things are not always going to go their way. That we have such an incorrigible brat seated in the highest office of our country is unforgiveable and a sad commentary on the state of American social development.

Melanelixia Glabratula

Day 86: Some rather interesting deconstructive typographical errors on line made it difficult for me to identify Melanelixia glabratula (formerly M. fuliginosa). This species is one of very few "camouflage" lichens present in the Pacific Northwest. Its army-fatigues colour is due to its green algal photobiont; other lichens such as the Parmelia sulcata to its left and the Usnea along the bottom of the twig depend on blue-green cyanobacteria as their photosynthetic partner. The underside of this Melanelixia is black, exhibiting simple, unforked rhizines (root-like structures). On my next exploration of Rainey Creek, I'll look for more of it. I only found it in one small area during my recent hike.

Chondrostereum Purpureum

Day 85: At first glance, one might assume that Chondrostereum purpureum (Silver-leaf Fungus) was like any other polypore, but a view of its under-side reveals a significant difference: it's smooth, as opposed to exhibiting the tiny pores characteristic of most shelf fungi. When I first saw it near Rainey Creek, I said in respect to its eventual identification, "This is gonna be either really easy or really hard." Fortunately, it turned out to be the former, so I spent the rest of yesterday evening reading various papers, fascinated by what I found in regard to its pathogenic effects. Chondrostereum is a fungal disease which attacks various hardwoods, specifically those in the genus Prunus (plums, cherries, etc.). It also affects other broadleaved deciduous trees such as maple, oak and willow. For this reason, it is cultivated by the timber industry for application where faster-growing "weed" trees such as Red Alder threaten to shade out cash crops of evergreens. Deliberately infected, the unwanted trees quickly succumb to it, the effects noticeable in the silvering of their leaves (hence the common name, "Silver-leaf"). It also occurs naturally on rotting stumps and logs. Healthy trees tend to be resistant to the disease, so it seldom becomes problematic in a balanced forest ecology, but its effects on stressed trees such as those grown in timber plantations can be devastating.

Seeking New Populations

Day 84: I am a regular contributor to the Burke Museum's Herbarium Image Collection. I've lost track of how many photos I've had put up, but they include vascular plants, lichens and the occasional fungus. A few days ago, I sent in two images, and when the curator notified me that they'd been posted on the spanking-new webpage, I wanted to check to be sure they were listed correctly. When the webpage loaded, the banner was displaying one of my photos of Usnea longissima, taken at Rainey Creek in Lewis County. The banner rotates through a series of images; I was very proud to see one of mine included. It inspired me to take a walk to Rainey Creek today, but I was not prepared to see that the Usnea-bearing tree had been undermined by the creek and its remains, bare of anything resembling green matter, were under mud and water. The discovery left me feeling very sad. It was one of the most lush Usnea longissima colonies I've seen. The lichen only grows where the air is purest, and fifty feet back from the creek, no more can be found.

I have not explored all of the Rainey Creek area by any means. For one thing, it's choked with reed-canary grass and strikes me as a prime location for collecting ticks. I don't venture off the path when the grass is high. Today, though, it was fairly well beaten down and the muddy paths usually concealed beneath it were open and visible. I decided to go on an Usnea hunt. My efforts were rewarded with the discovery of several other nice Usnea-bearing trees, and another pair of gems which will appear in this blog over the next two days, one of which has already been forwarded to the Burke. Government shutdown or not, I'm still hunting plants, albeit for different agencies.

Footnote: As of this date, I have 94 images in the Burke database (4 more are pending). The new site lets you browse by photographer.

Desperate Measures For Desperate Times

Day 83: "Desperate times call for desperate measures." Good Chinese food is just too far away for me to make another special trip out, but I can do the next best thing: make wonton soup at home. I make good wontons.

First of all, let me assure you that this is easier than it looks. It's more time consuming than most of the meals I prepare for myself, but I make a big batch and freeze them. My recipe makes roughly 50 wontons, and 10 in soup provides me with a Crow-sized meal. Second, there are many different ways to fold a wonton. I figure nobody's going to see them but me, so I use the easiest method: put a gob of filling in the middle, bring the four corners together in a bunch and pinch just below the points. They're not elegant, but then, neither am I.

I prefer to make a cooked filling. It holds together better for wrapping. My favourite utilizes ground pork or mild sausage. You will need

3/4 pound ground pork, fried and drained
3 or 4 leaves of nappa cabbage
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. ground ginger (or alternately, 4-5 chunks of candied ginger)
1 Tbsp. sugar (omit if using candied ginger)
1 Tbsp. soy sauce

Slice the green leafy portion away from the white center rib of the nappa and reserve the greens for addition to the soup later. Dice the white portion finely, and if you're using candied ginger, dice it at the same time. Mix the diced nappa together with the sausage and remaining ingredients. Divide into 50 balls roughly 1 tsp. in size.

Lay out half a dozen wonton skins. Dampen the outer edges. Place a ball of filling in the center. Pull up the four corners and pinch together just below the tips. Set aside until all the filling has been used. Place the wontons in a steamer (mine holds 10 at a time), and steam for 3 minutes. The wonton skins will take on a translucent appearance. Remove them from the steamer and immediately transfer them to a freezer container. Put the lid on the container and put it in the freezer, or in the fridge if you're planning to make the soup in the next two days. Repeat for the remaining wontons. The frozen wontons should be thawed in the fridge before adding to the soup.

For the soup, use canned or homemade chicken broth. Slice the nappa greens into narrow strips and add to the soup along with some little green onions. Bring it to a boil, add the wontons and cook for three minutes.

There are a lot of ways you can vary this recipe. Use chicken instead of pork, use bok choi instead of nappa, throw in some five-spice, add more vegs to the filling...get creative! And enjoy your wonton soup!

What You Don't Know...

Day 82: They say (and I will be one of the first to point out: quite erroneously) that what you don't know won't hurt you. Ignorance of blasting caps aside, you can get yourself into some pretty bad situations if you're not fully apprised of the facts, and as far as plants go, many invasives have been introduced into areas in complete innocence. The classic example is the common dandelion. The two most common species were brought to the North American continent by a person or persons who wanted a reminder of their European home. Now they're a pest. There are more subtle examples and not all introduced plants have the potential for out-competing native species; it's only when they escape the cultivated garden that they become known as "weeds."

The shrub Comptonia peregrina (Sweetfern or Spicebush) is native to the eastern parts of the US. When I was visiting a friend in New Hampshire many years ago, I fell in love with the spicy scent of its foliage and decided to bring a slip home. It's said to be difficult to transplant. Perhaps because I didn't know that, I treated it in the manner which has proved successful for me with many other plants: I stuck it in a pot, bedded the pot and slip in the garden, and allowed the roots to form for a year before putting it directly in the ground. Not only did it "take," it flourished. My garden specimen was easily twice as densely leafed as any I'd seen back east. It liked me! It wasn't until some time later that I became aware of two facts about Comptonia. First, it is notorious for establishing monocultures. Second, the foliage has a reputation for being "poor-man's marijuana." No wonder I got some strange looks from people who saw it in my flower bed!

True to its nature, its roots have spread ten feet or more, popping up new plants further down the line. I manage them with a sharp shovel, keeping the growth confined to the original trunk. It is in no danger of taking over my garden, and from time to time, I enjoy the fragrance of a handful of leaves crushed and set in a bowl on my dresser...crushed, I said, not smoked.

Sarcoscypha Coccinea

Day 81: Experts will argue that Scarlet Elf Cup (Sarcoscypha coccinea) is peculiar to the Pacific Northwest despite the fact that the name has been applied to similar fungi elsewhere in the world. Whatever its range, one thing is certain: it will stop you in your tracks when you encounter it in the deep, dark forest as I did when I was hiking into Sulphur Creek Falls. I've seen it there before, although somewhat closer to springtime. Its colour is a striking salmon-red, and its exterior surface is covered with a white "bloom" which makes it appear pink at first glance. It grows on decaying hardwood twigs and often appears in multiples, emerging from beneath deteriorating leaf litter. When it releases its spores, it may do so in a fog-like burst resembling that of a puffball mushroom. Now there's a phenomenon I'd like to record!

Ramalina Thrausta

Day 80: What a great way to start the new year! I picked up a lichen specimen on my way back from Sulphur Creek Falls yesterday after deciding that it was a Ramalina of some sort, and therefore a new genus for my unofficial lichen life list (or rather, that I found on my own instead of having one handed to me by an expert). Ramalinas are characterized by small perforations in the thallus; some species are so perforated that they look like lace. Although I couldn't see the holes with my naked eye, other details clued me in: both upper and lower surfaces were uniform in colour and the branches were flattened. I thought I might have trouble keying it out, but its growth habit and size quickly narrowed the options. Under the microscope, the perforations were visible, as well as a few very small patches of soredia. Bingo! At least I'd thought to take a picture of the tuft in the field, because by the time I got done picking it apart, it qualified as "specimen destroyed during analysis." May the joy of discovery be part of your life in 2019!