Hypogymnia Imshaugii, Forked Tube Lichen

Day 7: I keep falling over the name "Imshaug" in my travels, sometimes attached to lichen taxonomy, other times to research papers or field studies. Although I'm not normally the least bit interested in human history, Imshaug's repetitive presence raised my curiosity. I haven't been able to find out much about him, since it seems that academics are as proprietary about biographical information as they are about scientific discoveries, but what I have been able to find without paying $10 for the privilege of reading a 7-page article is that he was primarily a lichenologist and was the curator of the cryptogam collection at Michigan State University's herbarium. Bingo! That answered one of my main questions right there. Imshaug's name appears in the list of explorers who, in 1941, found Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae in Mount Rainier National Park, a rare fungus which captured my attention several years back. I wondered how an herbarium specimen of the rare cup fungus cropped up in MSU's collection. Imshaug undoubtedly took one back with him. Imshaug oversaw the studies of a number of graduate students who went on to become noted lichenologists themselves, including Irwin Brodo, author of the forty-pound field guide, "Lichens of North America." The lichen shown above also bears his name: Hypogymnia imshaugii, Forked Tube Lichen.

Fashionably Geek Revised

Day 172: Surprisingly, a couple of people got caught briefly by my April Fools prank photo yesterday, including one who said that she was having a hard time figuring out what to say until she got to the punchline. Anyone who knows me should have spotted one deviation right off: instead of my customary buffalo-check flannel shirt, I was wearing a blouse. However, today I am pleased to present the REAL new glasses, truly fashionably geek according to my optician. I think they are better suited to the shape of my face than any others I've owned. The temples are lightly textured, but the front is plain. The change in correction has substantially improved my ability to read road signs, too.

Worth A Second Trip

Day 113: As soon as I got home from Pack Forest yesterday, I started asking myself why I had walked right past this delightful specimen without stopping to take a picture. I knew it was unique, just as surely as I knew that I would not be returning by the same route on the way down, and yet I did not stop. I even remarked on it to myself at the time, remembering that I'd seen it in Brodo and that it had cropped up in the same location as the Stinkhorns I'd found previously. At home, I took myself to task for the omission and resolved to put it to rights today, rain or shine.

In the political arena, a "mugwump" is a person who can't decide which way to vote. I think that term could also apply to Multiclavula. Brodo includes it in "Lichens of North America" because it exists only in cooperation with an algal species; however, he qualifies his entry by saying that it "does not really qualify as a lichen because its association with the algae, although apparently obligate, does not produce a special thallus structure of any kind." In other words, Multiclavula is somewhere between a fungus and a lichen, having characteristics of both which therefore put it in a different category than either. It is neither a true lichen nor 100% fungal. It's a mugwump. It can't make up its mind.

There are several species of Multiclavula known to occur in the US. The two Pacific Northwest species are indistinguishable without microscopic analysis, and even that is not always definitive unless the spores exceed a certain size. Unfortunately, the sample I'd tucked in my pocket went missing in transit.

Today's Puzzle - Marchantia Polymorpha, A Liverwort

Day 299: While I love to be able to track down the identity of a species in my field guides, I am equally pleased and dismayed when I cannot do so. I'm sure you'll understand why I'd be frustrated, but you might not immediately catch on to the logic involved in the enjoyment of defeat. "Why would anyone be happy they failed?" you wonder. Because, my dear readers, that failure affords an opportunity to learn.

I don't know what this lichen is. Several rosettes of it are growing in my north flowerbed, almost entirely shadowed by Hosta leaves. It hugs the ground closely. Its apothecial disks are open and some contain teeny-tiny spores or spore capsules reminiscent of those found in the Bird's-nest fungi (Nidulariales). Nothing, and I repeat, nothing in Brodo's 40-pound "Lichens of North America" resembles it, to the extent that I am at a loss to even place it in a family.

When I spotted it, my first thought was, "I've got to get a picture of that." Down on my elbows, I was able to get a better look, and noted its field characteristics before consulting Brodo for the first time. When I came up empty-handed, I resorted to stronger methods, i.e., I took a sample, cleaned it, photographed it under controlled conditions and examined it under a magnifier. With it enlarged on the computer screen, I again consulted Brodo. Nada. Not even close.

The final chapter in this story is waiting on a professional opinion. That was the next step: refer it to an expert. Maybe I missed something in that weighty field guide; maybe not. One way or another, I will learn from the experience and will be richer, not only for discovering the identity of this lichen, but for being shown points of identification I may or may not have overlooked.

Update: The mysterious "lichen" isn't a lichen at all. It's a thalloid liverwort, Marchantia polymorpha. I am grateful to Dr. Irwin Brodo, author of the 40-pound field guide to "Lichens of North America" for his personal response to my request for an identification.

What I mistook for apothecial disks are gemma cups. The "spore capsules" are gemmae, asexual propagules of the plant.

"Inactive" Lichens

Day 132: In another venue, the lichen photo I posted yesterday sparked quite a discussion of where the "inactiva" part of the scientific name originated (Hypogymnia inactiva is also called "Inactive Tube Lichen" in some references, but Brodo is the recognized authority, so I have used "Mottled Tube Lichen" as the common name). I did some digging and found out that "inactive" lichens are those which can survive long periods of dry and/or cold weather. Growth ceases during stressful conditions and resumes only when sufficient warmth and moisture are available. It is always good to understand the taxonomy.

Here is another specimen of Hypogymnia inactiva showing the typical brownish-yellow apothecia fully open. It is growing on a downed limb of Red Alder (Alnus rubrum).

Best Of The Shelf

Day 268: We all have our favorite books. Mine just don't happen to be fiction, biographies, collections of poetry or historical accounts. Nope, my favorite books are field guides, and I have them on a variety of subjects ranging from rocks and minerals, weather phenomena and animal tracks to birds, wildflowers and mushrooms and the more specialized category of lichens.

Among habitual users of field guides, the best resources are generally referred to by author's name. "Brodo" is the North American lichen expert, "Sibley" and "Roger Tory Peterson" ("Roger Tory" for short) the bird men. "Mark Turner" is my go-to guy for Washington wildflowers, alongside "Pojar and MacKinnon." Backing up the hard copies, I also have Sibley on my Kindle Fire, ready to use in the field when some warbler crosses my field of vision.

It always pays to cross-reference. Species names change. Microseris alpestris may appear in one reference with the same plant identified as Nothocalais alpestris in another. These changes often reflect the growth of knowledge about the plant or bird/animal. Taxonomy is a science unto itself, and a little Latin goes a long way in helping the field scientist track a particular specimen down. What shape are the leaves? What is the growth habit? Chances are good that the nomenclature will refer to an identifying feature.

For my nickel (and often a more substantial dip into my bank account), field guides are the best books you can add to your library, even if all you do is look at the pretty pictures. Better yet, learn to use the keys and start exploring the fascinating world which exists all around you. Grab your binocs and magnifiers and let's go on a field trip!

A Little Light Reading

Day 217: I got the chain-sawing done. I got the whole lawn mowed. I got the fenceline weed-whacked, and I did it all this morning. With my yard actually looking like a yard instead of a weed farm for a change, I decided to stage a "light reading" shot under the Whatzit Tree, "stage" being the operative word in that sentence. Admittedly, the mosquitoes aren't abundant yet, but in a few weeks, you wouldn't want to sit outside without being covered in bug spray. It's the price you pay for living out here in the dingleberries.

That said, for the last several days, the weather has been unseasonably gorgeous, maybe even a little too warm for those of us who are native to the area. It feels like summer ought to feel, a time for lemonade and straw hats and breezy clothes. And nothing reads better outdoors than a field guide, although Brodo is a bit heavy on the lap.