This is the 15th year of continuous daily publication for 365Caws. All things considered, it's likely it will be the last year as it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find interesting material. However, I hope that I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world with my natural history posts, or encouraged a novice weaver or needleworker. If so, I've done what I set out to do.
Monday, July 13, 2020
Stemonitopsis Typhina
Day 274: When I sent Arnie the photos and told him I'd found another new species of slime mold on Park property, he replied, "Little popsicles!" That was the second natural-history belly laugh I've had this week, the earlier one being when an acknowledged authority in the field (a professional and lettered man) commented on someone else's image of a developing slime mold, "Who's a hungry little plasmodium, then?" I've long been a believer that the world needs more silly; it is encouraging to see it coming from the otherwise staid academic community.
So...to the "little popsicles." This is the same slime I photographed a week or so ago, a second and more abundant "fruiting." Better images made identification possible, and I have put a footnote on my earlier post stating that it is in fact Stemonitopsis typhina. Like lichens, slime-mold common names are not standardized and really shouldn't be used, but this one also goes by "Shiny Thimble." Indeed, some of the brown sporocarps were quite glossy, having not yet entered into the phase when they release their spores.
As a sidebar, there are three pocket-ecologies on this piece of property which now have my full attention. One is a stump which has hosted three different slime molds this spring, a very humid site; one is where Scutellinia scutellata grows in abundance alongside several slimes and Ramaria fungi, also a moist site; one where Stemonitopsis and Tarzetta cupularis (a rare fungus) live within a few feet of each other, a substantially drier micro-climate which nevertheless contains a lot of decaying forest detritus, albeit of a different sort (conifer vs. deciduous). With no fancy laboratory equipment at my disposal, I am attempting to analyze by observation, hoping to get some clue as to what is unique about these three areas that they support types of life not seen in other parts of the same forest. As new developments arise at these sites over the summer, I may find even more peculiarities. For me, this is what being a naturalist is about: observation, making connections, finding associations. It's much more rewarding than popping a tissue sample under the microscope.
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