An Historic Day

Day 243: You see before you the portrait and moment of scientific discovery. Yesterday was an historic day. Team Biota isolated a heretofore unrecorded host Carex (sedge) for our rare friend, Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae.

So momentous was this discovery that we made a trip out to a point where we could contact Plant Ecologist Arnie Peterson by phone. When he answered, I announced without preamble, "We've got the sedge!" He immediately dropped what he was doing and drove an hour to meet us at the site. Ankle-deep in snowmelt water and under a penetrating rain, Arnie and I obtained three juvenile specimens from the 42 inventoried on this trip, a painful but necessary sacrifice in the name of science. One was preserved with the Carex still attached, and the fungus' tell-tale knobby and diagnostic sclerotium visible.

Arnie was unable to identify the specific Carex in the field, but of the known hosts for Myrio, only one occurs in the Park. That host does not grow at this site. In and of itself, Myrio was a signal discovery; documenting it on a new host is emphatically more significant.

I am enormously grateful to my companions in Team Biota Joe and Sharon Dreimiller for their field-work in inventorying Myrio despite the unfavourable weather, and for providing this photo of a couple of soggy but very happy scientists.

Counting Noses

Day 235: My readers may recall that about this time last year, I returned home from a swamp expedition with photos of a mystery fungus, and that after two weeks or so of referring it to one expert after another across the globe, it was determined that it was a rare species (Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae) and further, that even the genus was considered rare worldwide. As such, the find marked the undisputable apex of my history as a botanist, and I can't imagine what could top it.

This species had been reported as occurring in the Park, but the only record was contained on a 1948 herbarium card which cited it as having been found in an entirely different location. My companions in Team Biota Joe and Sharon Dreimiller and I set about trying to find the 1948 location immediately. We were successful, and between the two sites, we documented 64 specimens in 2016.

These fungi are extraordinarily ephemeral as we discovered on subsequent trips. Here today and gone tomorrow, we knew that our chances of finding them again in 2017 would be governed by some very precise timing. We have been monitoring Site A for several weeks (the second location still being under several feet of snow), and yesterday, the three of us sallied forth through soaky-wet snowmelt meadow and emerged victorious with a total of TEN examples recorded for posterity by multiple cameras. The newly-emerged specimens are as yet quite small, the three in the upper photo the most well-developed. The smallest was hardly larger than a straight pin. The rest of our happy family can be seen in the collage below. The little guy is just right of the three in the top left image, about a third the height of the one immediately to its left.

Team Biota doesn't usually bring home the bacon in quite such grand style, although we do turn up a number of botanical rarities or new locations for uncommon plants almost every time we go out. Yesterday's tally was not limited to Myrio by any means, and over the next few days, I'll be bringing you more Park peculiarities.

Hypericum Anagalloides, Tinker's Penny

Day 263: Local field guides may refer to Hypericum anagalloides (Tinker's Penny) as "common," but it is not often found in Mount Rainier National Park. It was only by chance that we discovered it while searching for the Fungus of Worldwide Concern (FOWC), several small patches almost entirely hidden by the dominant sedge. As its scientific name implies, it is a member of the same genus as common St. John's Wort, but unlike its weedy roadside cousin, it is native to the state. It is a tiny plant with stems no more than 8 cm. long and blossoms ca. 4 mm and so intensely yellow that they put buttercups to shame. Unfortunately, your correspondent neglected to place her reference penny beside the Tinker's Penny for comparison, thoroughly distracted by the FOWCs and the need to document them for posterity.

Camoufrogged

Day 262: Watching where you step is very important when you're searching for rare plants and the occasional Fungus of Worldwide Concern ("FOWC"). While glopping through the gloopy mud at the edge of a bog, I was mildly startled when several brownish-green blobs leapt for the safety of the denser forest. Although I'd had my eyes peeled for Cascades Frogs (Rana cascadae), I had not spotted them until they moved, and then they seemed to be everywhere. Fortunately, my footfalls set off vibrations in the soil well in plenty of time to alert them, but of course that made approaching one for a close-up all the more difficult. Still, sometimes stillness is the best adjunct to camouflage, and this fine froggy froze in place. I moved in slowly, careful to keep my shadow from falling on my photographic prey as I knelt down in the wet. When I stood up again, I noted how effective this species' markings are in making it blend in with its environment. Only the symmetry of the eye gives it away.

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!

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!!!

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.

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.