Lecanora Muralis

Day 15: This specimen would have left me puzzled, but its identity (Lecanora muralis) was provided by Katherine Glew during a "lichen walk" in one of Seattle's cemeteries yesterday. According to some sources (particularly those in the UK), it is most often found in urban environments where deposits of grit and ash on various substrates provide it with an easy means to take hold. It is unusual among Lecanoras in that it is lobate, i.e., the outer edges of the rosette are scalloped by small, loosely attached lobes much like those of the Parmelias. However, the apothecia (disk-like fruiting bodies) give it away as a Lecanora. This specimen was roughly 1.25" across and at least for me, it was one of the most interesting finds of the day.

Lichenologists In The Mist

Day 14: Roughly 14 lichenologists with varying degrees of expertise from beginner to professor gathered this morning on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill for a field trip among the fog-wrapped gravestones of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery. Mt. Pleasant is one of the oldest cemeteries in Seattle (and for my east-coast friends, that means some of the people buried here were born in the early to mid-1800s), and unfortunately most of the headstones have been kept remarkably lichen-free. Even so, we found several dozen different species (small colonies for the most part) of Parmelia, Hypogymnia, Chrysothrix and others. My favourite was a relatively uncommon lobed Lecanora which I'll feature in an upcoming post. This ancient horse chestnut tree was a veritable gold-mine despite its rather barren appearance on first glance. Used to the lush and verdant lichens which festoon the trees in Mount Rainier's lower forests, I was amazed to discover a whole new world of micro-lichens beneath my hand lens. Even though I didn't learn anything new with respect to identifying individual species, my eyes were opened to the wealth of nearly invisible lichens populating the urban environment.

Also Known As...

Day 259: I don't feel so badly now. I wasn't quite sure of this lichen's identity, so I sent it off to Katherine Glew at the UW for confirmation. She replied with taxonomy new to me, sparking a discussion covering the logic behind renaming species. When I couldn't find any reference to "Polycauliona elegans" in any of my customary sources, I asked her if she could provide me with a link to the updated information. At that point, she said, "Oops! Correct that genus to 'Rusavskia.'"

Even among professionals like Katherine (lichens) and Arnie (vascular plants), confusion is rampant because nomenclature can change overnight. Largely, we are not privy to the molecular studies and genetic research behind the changes, so they take us by surprise. We struggle to keep up, worried that we'll embarrass ourselves by using an older synonym in conversation with colleagues, concerned that we'll be marked as resistant to change. I rail against taxonomists constantly because the changes make my work more difficult, but at the same time, I am thankful for the better understanding of the species which has necessitated reclassification. That said, I wish the taxonomists would stick to descriptive terms. "Xanthoria" tells you something memorable about this lichen, i.e., that it's orangy-yellow, xanthous. "Rusavskia" only gives us a clue to a person or place (Rusavski) related to it. To further confuse matters, not all Xanthorias were removed to the new taxon. Indeed, some were reclassified as "Polycauliona," hence the hiccup in Katherine's communication.

Will I remember "Rusavskia" the next time I find this orange lichen's beautifully symmetrical rosettes? Not likely. I will say as I did on the occasion of this discovery, "Oh, it's xanthous and it's utterly elegant. Joe, look! I've got another Xanthoria elegans over here."