The Horse And The Barn Door

Day 122: Again I am grateful to friends for their efforts on my behalf. My 25-year old Davis Weather Monitor II picked the most inconvenient time to die, i.e., while we were having the torrential, flood-and-landslide producing rains a week ago. I have been keeping weather records since March 1975 with very few gaps when one station or another ceased functioning and sent me hunting for an affordable replacement, but even in the interim, I recorded daily temperature and estimated wind speed as well as commenting on "notable occurrences" such as snow, thunder, or even the occasional earthquake (yeah, I know...that's not weather). Charting the data has been as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. In the Pacific Northwest, rainfall is arguably the most important piece of data to record and while a plastic gauge provides a close approximation of the amount, it's less accurate than I'd like. It was time to replace the station, and I opted for another Davis, the low-end Vue. It arrived today and I managed to get it installed on the pole erected by Joe Dreimiller without mishap, although he had made it look easy to swing a sixteen-foot piece of galvanized water pipe into position. Neither of us considered that he had the advantage of an additional foot in height. For a minute or two, I felt like Archimedes' fulcrum as I tried to get the pipe back into its brackets, but I am happy to say that the job is done and the station is reporting...wirelessly even, although I won't be hooking it up to the computer. Call me old-fashioned. I like paper records that I can pore over when I'm stormed in and the power's out, trying to determine from my graphs if the current weather is part of an established pattern or just a temporary trend.

Myriopteris Gracillima, Lace Lip Fern

Day 350: This small rock-dwelling fern (Myriopteris gracillima, Lace Lip Fern) was a new one for me. Subalpine plant life tends to be a lot smaller than its cousins from the lowlands, and ferns are no exception. In fact, you might be forgiven for not thinking they were ferns at all, but rather the foliage of some vascular plant. The fronds of Lace Lip are only about six inches long and grow as a dense mat of greenery. The foliage is rather leathery and somewhat stiff. Recognizing it as something new for a natural-history post, I bailed over the edge of an embankment to get a closer look while Joe remained safely on trail. I thought for a minute I was going to have to ask him to pull me back up, but I managed to crawl up the scree on my own. The things we do for science!

Home Arts

Day 348: An unexpected windfall of Asian pears from my botany partner Joe set Tuesday's course of action. I spent the morning peeling them (a process which dyed my fingers a lovely shade of orange), and then dragged out the water-bath canner and my biggest cook-pot which was necessary to accommodate sixteen cups of pear bits. I prefer to chunk them up rather than canning halves or slices; you get more in the jar, and fewer jars require less storage space. I put them up in pints rather than quarts so I can parse them out judiciously over the winter months. That said, I've never canned Asian pears before and was unsure how long to process the firmer fruit, so gave them a slightly longer boil in light syrup than I'd have given standard pears followed by twenty minutes in the water-bath. A dose of ascorbic/citric acid product will keep them from turning brown. Oh yeah, that's the kitty quilt in the background. I'm a little over half done with the machine-quilting.

Forecast Missed Mist

Day 345: It was certainly not the wettest or the coldest hike I've taken, but it was also not precisely the pleasant 45-degree, 20 percent chance of precipitation the forecast model was bold enough to suggest. Joe Dreimiller and I started out for Sheep Lake in thick mist in all our available layers of clothing: rain gear, gloves or mittens, warm hats and longjohns, shedding only one layer halfway there when we both began to overheat. "Just let me have one moment of sun at the lake," Joe implored the Weather Gods. They obliged with a two-minute break, but then followed it up with an increase in moisture and gusty winds. Sheep completed the first portion of our day's mission. There, I was able to gather a few specimens of lichen on the list of those I plan to demonstrate to participants in an upcoming indoor "nature walk" for the Nisqually Land Trust. A MeadoWatch circuit of Naches Loop Trail filled out the day, my last for the season. In total, we spent six hours in drizzle and hiked eleven bracing miles.

No Such Thing

Day 198: I am fond of saying to friends that there is no such thing as "too many raspberries," so to that end, my hard-working botany partner Joe and I cleared a new line of sod today, planted sturdier posts and built a chicken-wire cage around the raspberry plot. We salvaged some strays which had emerged in the driveway gravel and under the contorted filbert and relocated them to the new row. What I am now calling the "Raspberry Cage" should be bambi-proof, blocked on one end by the filbert and two large flower pots at the other, chicken-wire from the tops of 6' posts to the ground on the long sides. Likewise, we removed the old fence from the garden and strung new wire around the "Dreimiller Extension" which now includes gooseberries, currants, a frost-nipped mulberry and yes, more raspberries (bush type). Joe also finished taking out the old hawthorn, allowing the weak end of the grape vine to receive more sun. Gardening is a lot more fun when you're sharing the work. Thanks, Joe! I couldn't have done it without you.

Xanthoria Polycarpa Unhomed

Day 185: This comes under the category of Great Sadnesses. I didn't know I had Xanthoria polycarpa growing on the hawthorn tree when I asked Joe to take it out, although it probably wouldn't have changed my decision to remove it. I'd planted the hawthorn when I first moved in here, asked by the friend who provided it if I was really sure I wanted one but not understanding her concern. It was only later that I found out how invasive the damn things can be, but by then, the tree was fifteen feet tall with several trunks as thick as my upper arm. To make matters worse, it was shading out one end of my grapevine. Joe said he was willing to take it down, and to that end, showed up yesterday morning with his chainsaw. As you know from my previous post, most of the morning and early afternoon were spent enlarging my garden space. It was after noon by the time we got to the tree, and both of us were experiencing the aches incumbent with hard work. Still, Joe started on the tree but the intertwined branches made for slow going. We called it quits when the job was two-thirds done. He'll be back to finish it off later (I've promised not to put him to work digging again, not this year anyway), but as we were hauling away the branches, I spotted the poor unhomed Xanthoria, collateral damage. It's not an uncommon lichen, but I love the colour. I hope the grape appreciates the sacrifice.

Team Work

Day 184: Thanks to my Team Biota botany partner Joe, my garden is roughly a third bigger than it was yesterday. It is also now framed by timbers as I had always wanted it to be, but could never manage to budget, if in fact I'd been able to find a means to transport them. While Joe busted more sod, I hauled away the piles he'd accumulated, and then after the plot had been expanded, we laid landscape cloth and rolled the timbers into place. I'll maintain the outer edge with the weed-eater, and will spread bark mulch in the interior as soon as I'm done planting. What's next? I have a dwarf mulberry on order, but will have to give the remaining open spaces some careful consideration, "jam fruits" being the only criterion presently in mind. One thing is certain: Joe is destined to reap a jammy reward for his labours.

Arnie's Retirement

Day 47: Arnie's retirement party was today, the last day I will see him in the work environment. I am sad, but happy for him and Sara at the same time. They'll be in the area a little while longer, but then they hope to be off to Ashland OR and volunteer service at Crater Lake. It feels like a forever-goodbye, but he's assured me they'll be back to do some hiking in the Park next summer.

I took a lunch walk to practice my presentation speech, found myself at Cougar Rock 1.5 miles from the office without really realizing how far I'd gone. Even so, I couldn't get through everything I wanted to say, my voice faltering and the tears coming to my eyes. I've seen a lot of people come and go in Park Service, but there has been no one I'll miss as much as Arnie.

Historically Present

Day 242: For several weeks now, Team Biota has been watching the snow melt back in anticipation of being able to time when Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae might appear in the basin where it was recorded in 1948. For those of you unfamiliar with backcountry travel in the shoulder season, melt-out isn't like the rolling back of a blanket. It's more like a major moth infestation eating away at that same blanket, holes appearing here and there until the fabric is entirely gone. Terrain affects the rate of melt, and sun exposure may work in either of two ways: by causing a hard crust to form lengthening the duration of snow in any particular area, or by melting it. It's not easy to predict which way it will go.

We had a fairly good idea that the basin would melt out ahead of the trail which accesses the general area. In other words, we knew we'd have to travel on a fabric of snow in order to reach the appropriate moth-hole. There, another factor comes into play: cross-country travel. At this time of year, snow travel off-trail poses a number of risks such as pools of meltwater or streams concealed below a fragile surface layer, or the dreaded "tree-well," an area of melt around a tree trunk or fallen log. Snow mats down flexible young trees like alders, pins them down until the spring-loaded branches trip like a mousetrap as soon as a hiker steps on the release point. In this case, we got lucky. The snow was sufficiently deep to allow us to skim over the tops of the tangled trees once we left the trail.

The basin was almost fully melted out. We performed an inch-by-inch survey of the section where Myrio had been present two years ago and found about thirty specimens. Then I circled around to the northwest edge and began working through the basin from tree-line down. Almost immediately, I found one Myrio and then another and another and another. As I shouted out the numbers in the growing census, Joe made his way up a small log which was almost completely grown over by meadow vegetation. I heard his excited call: "Got one...no, two. There's another one! There's a cluster of four, no, five-six-SEVEN!" Meanwhile, I was keeping count, "That makes 51, 52, 53, 57, 58-59-60!" By the time we called it quits, we'd raised the total to 88, but even more thrilling was seeing that they weren't confined to one narrow band. They were all over the place!

Needless to say, this was an exciting field trip. Arnie wasn't in the office when I reported back and returned his radio, but this morning, I gave him the news. Now that we've recorded occurrences in both of the known locations, we'll be expanding our search to other potential sedge meadows. The hunt for Myrio continues!

First 2018 Phantom

Day 231: Perhaps even more exciting than Team Biota's other recent finds, if perhaps not as showy, the first Phantom Orchid (Cephalanthera austiniae) has made its appearance in 2018. Although we thought it was too early for them to be emerging, Joe Dreimiller and I visited the site in the hopes of seeing any sign of new growth. This rare species has only been recorded in the Park three times (a single specimen in 2005 and now twice by Team Biota), with a fourth historical mention prior to the establishment of the Park in 1899. That fourth record is suspect; the location given is very vague and may have been from outside the Park. Last year during an extensive survey of the area, Plant Ecologist Arnie Peterson and I recorded an incredible total of 14 stems which, due to the nature of the species probably only represents five or six plants. Needless to say, the location of these treasures is a highly guarded secret, but I can share them with you via photos. We'll be keeping an eye on the patch.

The Aspen Mission

Day 229: This is the first installment in the saga of Team Biota's May 29 field trip. There will be several more forthcoming.

Until yesterday, there had been no official record of Populus tremuloides (Quaking Aspen) within the Park boundaries. Plant Ecologist Arnie Peterson had received a report and photos from a member of the Owl Crew, but with anything of this nature, the plant's presence needed to be verified and herbarium specimens needed to be collected. Arnie provided Joe Dreimiller and I with coordinates for the site and off we went.

It didn't look like a place where you'd expect Aspens to grow, and indeed the 41 specimens we identified and flagged looked like they'd been struggling for many years just to reach a height of thirty inches (the tallest), but there was no doubt that they were P. tremuloides: stunted, but definitely Aspen. Any obviously live growth (fresh foliage) occurred on stems no larger than my little finger. However in many cases, multiple shoots were observed emerging from a thicker (1.5") woody base, often with the dead wood of former growth attached to it. All but three specimens occurred in a narrow swale approximately 10' x 100', in thin soil over rock better suited to moss and lichen. With such a small population in a very localized area, we couldn't reasonably remove an herbarium specimen roots and all, so three twigs were taken, sufficient to document the species.

Arnie, Joe and I are baffled by the presence of these trees. How did they get here? They're too far from any known Aspen population for a seed to have been excreted by a bird, although I believe that there could be a slim chance that one might have been caught in feathers. Likewise, although elk enjoy the occasional snack of Aspen, the same distance limitation applies. We searched for a larger parent tree, but found nothing. It is, as they say, a puzzlement, but Team Biota is on the case!

A Myrio Of Rare Device

Day 221: Most of my readers will be familiar with these inconspicuous but very special little fungi from earlier entries in my blog. However, if you happen to have missed the fanfare, this is Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae, a critter which is rare world-wide not only as a species but as a genus. In 2016, my botany partner Joe Dreimiller and I found them in Mount Rainier National Park where they had only been recorded once previously in a different location in 1948. After some substantial research into the species' preferred habitat and the historical record, we were able to locate the 1948 site and found them present there as well. Since then, the Hunt for Myriosclerotinia has become an annual project for Team Biota under the aegis of the Park's Natural Resources division.

Last year, we found a record number in "our" site, but none in the historic site. Of even greater importance was the discovery of a specimen still attached to its host. Our Plant Ecologist Arnie Peterson and I spent the remainder of that day dissecting it to reveal the knobby sclerotium characteristic of the species. At that point, any doubts about correct identification evaporated.

Today, Joe made a preliminary foray to "our" location and after an hour and a half of searching, returned to Longmire to report to me that he had found a single specimen. I dropped what I was doing, grabbed a radio, let a confidant know where we were headed and returned to the site. Over the course of the next hour of slopping about in snow melt, we found a total of seven cups. Not bad for a start to the season!

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.

Erythranthe Breweri - A Penny Perspective

Day 233: I barely know where to begin. Yesterday, I went on a botanizing expedition with my friend Joe. He'd baited me with a report of an insectivore I'd never seen in the wild, but by the time the day was over, we had recorded half a dozen rare/uncommon species. The prize was won by Erythranthe breweri, formerly called Mimulus breweri and known commonly as Brewer's Monkeyflower. It has only been recorded in a few locations in Mount Rainier National Park, and the site at which we observed it was not one of them.

Upon referring our find to the Park's Plant Ecologist, we were dispatched on another mission: to collect a single specimen for inclusion in the Burke Museum's herbarium. I am of two minds with respect to taking herbarium specimens, one side of my head arguing that if it's rare, it should be left in place, even as the scientific part of my brain protests that being able to profile the DNA or otherwise study a rarity has great and growing value. Since we were able to count at least 36 individual specimens at this site, I carefully removed one, cleaned its hair-like roots of soil and pressed it temporarily between the pages of a notebook, laying it out as naturally as possible. Spreading the petals was no easy task since even in the space of a few minutes, they had begun to curl. Immediately upon returning home, I transferred it to acid-free paper and weighted it for drying. Once the process is completed, I will return it to the Park where it will be catalogued and archived.

Umbilicaria Angulata

Day 224: Yes, I know this one won't win any beauty contests, but it is the first of its genus that I have found. It is a lichen: Umbilicaria angulata. Joe Dreimiller and I set off at 8 AM to hike up Rampart Ridge with the intention of giving one talus slope a more thorough going-over. We'd seen some odd Cladonias there during Bio-Blitz and hadn't been able to identify them readily in the field. On the way up, we paused to get photos of Parmelia hygrophila, and while surveying for other examples of that species, we discovered the Umbilicaria. Later in the day, we found this textbook specimen near the top of Rampart.

The Umbilicarias take their name from the fact that they attach to their substrate with a single holdfast. Although this lichen at first seems appressed, the lobes are in fact free of the rock, extending from a "bellybutton" (slightly below the center point in this photo). Black, irregular apothecia set in small depressions and a black lower surface with abundant, tiny branched rhizines clinch the identity.

In six and a half hours of searching under intermittent rain, we located three identifiable species to add to my Park database. I got GPS coordinates and better photos of some we'd classified during Bio-Blitz, and predictably found a couple more which I can't nail down. But the day was not altogether stellar. On the way down, I took a fall on a slick puncheon walkway, wrenching foot, ankle and knee in different directions. I wasn't hurt, but the knee is showing signs of bruising and my backside is going to be purple by morning!