Icmadophila Ericetorum, Fairy Barf

Day 108: Let's talk about evolution for a moment, specifically the evolution of language. Language, like any other living organism, evolves over time. Not only do some strains die off, others mutate from their original form, while others spring up seemingly out of nowhere and spread with the rapidity of a virus. Here, I'll give you examples of each scenario.

Yclept. Go on, use it in a sentence. I dare ya. You'll find it in Chaucer, but it had gone extinct by Shakespeare's day. It means to call or to be called. "Oon was Cyrus yclept, and th'othir Galfridus." i.e., "One was called Cyrus, and the other Galfridus." Dead as a doornail, except when someone like me resurrects it for illustrative purposes.

Hippie. In the jazz/swing era, to be called a "hep cat" implied that you were stylish and cool and "with it," but around the time Elvis Presley began making the top of the charts, "hep" got "hip" and moved up a notch linguistically. Somewhat later, the "hippie" generation was born. Oh, and while we're at it, jazz can be "hot" and "cool" simultaneously. Go figure.

Barf. Prior to 1960, you might have upchucked, urped, heaved, etc., and even Shakespeare might have puked, but you never would have barfed if you had eaten a bad meal. "Barf" cropped up spontaneously, its lineage untraceable by serious etymologists who suggested that it was probably imitative of a sound as many other words are known to be, and before long, children everywhere were barfing like crazy. Ugly and crude, it spread quickly among those who were not vaccinated against linguistic disease.

This brings us to Icmadophila ericetorum. When I first heard the common name for this lichen ("fairy barf"), I rejected it completely. Very few lichens have "official" common names, but since I. ericetorum was recognized as a species well before 1960, I felt that the term must have been someone's bad joke. However, "fairy barf" has come to be accepted as the number-one choice when it is listed in lichen field guides. Although I still think the humour in calling it by the phrase is puerile, we're stuck with it. It's easier to say than "Icmadophila ericetorum," although that may be the only point in its favour.

Icmadophila Ericetorum

 

Day 143: Science is about asking the Seven Questions: "what, why, how, when, where, how much" and to some extent even "who." Any one of these may lead into another, and sometimes those of us who pursue science find ourselves following Alice down the rabbit hole until we are so engrossed in our discoveries that we temporarily lose track of where we began. Take the lichen Icmadophila ericetorum, for example. It goes by the common name of "faerie/fairy-barf," and as I was puzzling over the sophomoric humour of the appellation, it occurred to me that "barf" was a word I had not encountered until I had reached adulthood. I thought this rather odd since children universally seem to know all sorts of words for disgusting substances, yet "barf" had not been in the lexicon of my school-aged peers. That the word was probably imitative of the sound made by someone retching I had no doubt, but when had it entered the English vocabulary? My three-volume dictionary printed in 1966 did not list it, so I turned to Google. Indeed, it was first recorded some time between 1955-60 as a verb and advanced to an acceptable noun in 1960. And you thought this post was going to be about the lichen, didn't you?

Unbecoming Nomenclature

Day 41: I have to admit that the first time I heard Icmadophila ericetorum referred to as "Fairy Barf," I thought my leg was being pulled, or rather I should say that I thought the person who said it was applying their own personal "pet name" to the species. Lichen common names are not standardized like those of most vascular plants, so it's a bit of a free-for-all out there. Surely no one would call a lichen "Fairy Barf!" Little did I know at the time of lichen taxonomists' predilection for determining acceptable nomenclature while (apparently) stinking drunk, or I would have understood. Needless to say, I have since encountered the term in numerous references. Although I don't like it (I dislike common names anyway), it does seem to be peculiarly descriptive of the species' pale pink apothecia. The light green crust beneath them is the lichen's thallus (body), and its hue fails to supply a better suggestion. In any event, although I can't speak to a timetable for when the fairies deposit it, you're likely to find it on decaying stumps of cedar.

Icmadophila Ericetorum, Faerie Barf

Day 61: For the most part, I tend to commit to memory the Latin nomenclature for vascular plants, fungi and lichens, but once I had seen the common name "fairy barf" applied to Icmadophila ericetorum, I could not dismiss it from my mind (and believe me, I tried). That said, I prefer an alternate spelling ("faerie") for this lichen and the weakly pink apothecia and pastel green thallus which characterize it. Since lichen common names are not standardized like the majority of those applied to vascular plants, I feel justified in taking a small liberty to afford a slight measure of dignity to the species. Bottom line? Icmadophila is one of my favourite lichens. It deserves better than it's been given.

The Hunt For Fairy Barf

Day 220: Up until a month and a half ago, I had only seen Icmadophila ericetorum referred to as "fairy barf" in one lichen reference. Since then, I've encountered the name at least half a dozen times in unrelated field guides and on authoritative websites. Common names for lichens are not standardized, but it would appear that this one is achieving popularity rather quickly. Since pre-teen children seem to delight in innocent grossness, I decided to base today's kid-level Bio-Blitz lichen program on a hunt for fairy barf.

Six groups of seven or eight fourth and fifth grade students passed through my station on the Trail of the Shadows, usually starting at my favourite rock (the one which holds both species of Pilophorus), proceeding counter-clockwise to end at the junction with the Rampart Ridge trail. There was plenty of fairy barf along the way, and most of the kids took the opportunity to make a botanical drawing of the species. However, much to my surprise, almost every one of them sought out examples of the other species in their guides as well as those for which I provided botanical specimens. Even more surprising was the fact that in almost every group, at least one youngster asked me if Alectoria was "Old-Man's Beard," a very similar species. When I explained how to tell the difference, one young man searched and searched until at last he found a specimen of Usnea, and brought it to me to demonstrate the "elastic band" in the core. It was enormously rewarding to see young people taking a genuine interest in any science, but their enthusiasm for lichenology astonished me. I can only hope my adult audience tomorrow is as receptive! In the final tally, I have to say that Day One of Bio-Blitz was a rousing success.

Scoping Out Spray Paint

Day 63: The pinkish apothecia of Spray-Paint Lichen (Icmadophila ericetorum) seldom measure more than 3 mm. in diameter and are hardly noticeably to a casual observer. The blue-green crustose thallus will be the first thing to catch the eye, but it is quickly dismissed when the apothecia are discovered. However, under the microscope (large circle), the thallus is revealed to be a lumpy, bumpy world all of its own. Where many lichens appear leafy (foliose), Icmadophila is grainy, a characteristic which allows it to retain precious moisture during dry weather. Every dewdrop counts when you're a lichen!

Lunchin' With Lichens

Day 163: Vile weather didn't prevent me from lunchin' with a couple of my favourite lichens today. I found another nice colony of Pilophorus acicularis (top) near the Longmire bridge, higher up on the rocks than I'd previously explored. A bonus was the discovery of a three-foot section of log thickly populated with Icmadophila ericetorum (bottom), a common "dot lichen" here in the Pacific Northwe't. The rain? The lichens love it, even if I don't.

Icmadophila Ericetorum, Spray-Paint Lichen

Day 110: Invariably when the subject of lichens arises, someone will take me to task for my pronunciation of the word. Y'see, I say "litch-en" to rhyme with "itchin'" rather than "like-en," which to me is something done with careless abandon on Facebook. Webster's Third New International Dictionary (my bible) supports my usage, although admittedly it adds "chiefly British" by way of justification. It's not the only word in my vocabulary which has been influenced by proximity to Canada, but it is probably the most deeply entrenched. I've recently started countering the teasing with a riposte: "Quitcherbitchin' and call it 'litchen.'" Of course if you prefer, you could always stammer your way through the Latin names of these fascinating life forms instead. Let's start off with Icmadophila ericetorum, aka "spray-paint lichen" or "candy lichen."

Icmadophila Ericetorum, Candy Lichen

Day 134: "Who sprayed green paint all over that log?" I've heard that question asked several times, and the truth of the matter is that the "paint" is the crustose thallus of Icmadophila ericetorum, also known as "Candy Lichen" or (appropriately) "Spray Paint." The pinkish-white structures are the apothecia (fruiting bodies), not an overgrowth of a fungus as many people suppose. That said, lichens are neither fungus nor plant. In fact, they are a symbiotic union of an alga and a fungus, a co-dependent  and complex relationship which operates to the mutual benefit of each partner. Many have very specific requirements for growth. Icmadophila is often found on decaying cedar in the Pacific Northwest.