Life List Lichen - Hypogymnia Duplicata

Day 93: The days or weeks after a windstorm are great times to go lichen hunting. That wasn't really on my mind when I set out for a walk on a nearby trail, but when I saw how much debris had come down out of the canopy, I said to myself, "Hmmm...I've found Kidneys on this trail before. I'd better keep my eyes open." As always I had the camera around my neck, but after I had taken a few pictures of nothing in particular, the battery indicator began flashing. To conserve what little charge was left, I decided to use it only if I found something of note. When I came across this lichen, I dismissed it as an atypical specimen of Hypogymnia imshaugii which I have found on the trail previously, and didn't bother to take a photo because it was so tangled. A quarter mile further on, I found H. imshaugii, and a niggling suspicion began fomenting in my brain. I could have circled back right then, but did not do so. Instead, I came home and uploaded the photos to the computer, and looking at H. imshaugii, realized that the earlier lichen had been H. duplicata instead. I replaced the battery in the camera with another which was nearly dead as well, and returned to the site, driven by the fact that Hypogymnia duplicata was a Life List lichen for me. This photo is now in the WTU image database, and I am a happy camper. Did I find Kidneys? You'll have to wait for my next post to find out.

Galeopsis Tetrahit, Common Hempnettle

Day 308: For all of its name being "Common Hempnettle," Galeopsis tetrahit was not known to occur in Pierce County until yesterday morning. Yep, I found it while I was out for a walk. The "up" side of this story is that I can add another check mark to my growing tally of rare and unusual plant sightings. The "down" side is that this one is a weed, and an invasive one at that. However, it also provided me with an opportunity to submit a voucher specimen to the Burke Herbarium, the first one I have ever made for WTU. As I once told Arnie, it's against my religion to pluck a plant from the wild, but in the case of an invasive, I'll make an exception. I made a second trip out to collect it, and it is currently drying in my plant press. What I had not realized until it was too late was that the plant was in seed. As I dug it out, it released dozens of them onto the ground. I'll need to monitor this site for the next several years to ensure that Galeopsis doesn't take hold in the county.

Stemonitopsis typhina

Day 268: Update: I now have a positive ID of Stemonitopsis typhina, still a new species for me! So...please make mental corrections as you read the following post.

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Since discovering the fascinating realm of slime molds several years ago, one genus has been on my Bucket List: Stemonitis. The distinguishing feature of these elegant slimes is the long, slender sporangia which develop at the end of thread-like stalks. The sporangia group together in clusters, a characteristic which has given rise to one common name of "tree hair," although that name can also be applied to certain lichens and mosses.

I've been hunting Stemonitis for some time, not knowing what type of habitat it preferred other than rotting wood. There's plenty of rotting wood in our Pacific Northwest forests, but apparently it has to reach a certain state of decay before Stemonitis deems it worth consuming, and each species within the genus has specific preferences for type of wood. With no more clues than that, I set out to investigate rotten wood until I either found a Stemonitis or ran out of forest. I was almost back to the point where a private property line compels me to return to pavement when I decided to take a small and very brushy detour. I was about ready to abandon my jungle-commando search when something pinkish caught my eye from about twenty feet away. It could have been any number of common things: a fungus, a bit of blush-tint wood, a trick of the light, but I couldn't leave without checking. Lo and behold, when I reached it and bent over..."Stemonitis!" You could have heard my whoop in Tacoma. That said, without examination of its micoscopic features, it is impossible to tell whether this is S. fusca (which I suspect), S. axifera or S. splendens. All three are macroscopically similar and are known from this area.

I don't need furs or diamonds. I don't need a hot car or a European vacation. Just give me a new slime mold or a plant I've never seen before, and I'm happy as Larry. Simple pleasures for a simple mind.

Hypotrachyna Sinuosa, Green Loop Lichen

Day 86: Holy soredia, Batman! Another life-list lichen, and this one right in my OWN BACK YARD! Winter always leaves me struggling for post material, and I find myself circling my garden spaces like the guy who keeps making trips to the refrigerator to see if anything new to eat has somehow magically appeared. I was certainly not expecting a new species (new genus, actually) to show up on the pussywillow at the corner of my garage. At first, I thought it was a Hypogymnia, but when I broke off a piece to check the colour of the medullary ceiling, I discovered it wasn't tubular at all. The lobes were a single layer, pale yellowish-green on top, black underneath. Was it a Parmeliopsis? No. Examination under the microscope showed branched rhizines confined to the lobe margins. Those of Parmeliopsis are unbranched. Powdery soredia populated the tips of the lobes. "Hmmm...got a little problem here," I said, and began paging through the forty-pound field guide back to front, hoping to find it before needing to break out the chemicals. At H, I came to a screeching halt. "Hypotrachyna sinuosa! Life-list! Bingo!" No doubt about it: it fit all the parameters. Also known as "Green Loop Lichen," it prefers humid, open forest and occurs on small branches of various types of bark. If finding two life-list species in the first week of 2020 is any indication of things to come, this should be a spectacular year, botanically speaking.

Plectritis Congesta

Day 210: From its common name Shortspur Seablush, you would expect that Plectritis congesta would grow close to the coast. I didn't know what it was when I found it in Rimrock County Park near Eatonville a few days ago, so because I was very excited about discovering Erythronium oreganum in the same general area, it went in my files under "Identify." Things in "Identify" tend to get nudged off the board when I transfer files to secondary storage, but I happened to be looking back over the last week's photos and noticed that I hadn't dealt with it yet. I was prepared to accept that it was an escapee from someone's garden, and will admit that I was somewhat surprised to learn that it's native with a range from Vancouver Island to California. It is not found outside the western states, and makes a second "Life List" plant I've discovered in Rimrock Park.

Erythronium Oregonum, Giant White Fawn-Lily

Day 202: Well, I did a double-take. "That's not an Avalanche Lily! What the hell...? Is that a Trout?" In the end, it proved to be Erythronium oreganum, commonly known as Giant White Fawn-Lily, but closely akin to both Avalanche and Trout Lilies and something I had never before seen. I was out on an invasive-plant patrol in the undeveloped Rimrock County Park. It's a lovely place for hiking in solitude, although the peace is frequently broken by the sounds of rifle fire from the local gun club, but I am willing to endure that in order to have the woods to myself. Besides, they're over a hill from the trail system and pose no danger to someone walking on the back side. So, like I said, I did a double-take. The mottled leaves told me it was no Avalanche Lily, nor would I have been likely to find them at such a low elevation. "Trout" and "Fawn" tend to follow some pretty indistinct rules in the application of common names to the Erythroniums, so being a fisherman, those speckly leaves led me to spend the rest of the day saying, "Trouts! I found Trouts!" Well, in between bending over to pull Digitalis and Tansy Ragwort, anyway. A "life list" plant is a pretty good reward for pulling weeds.

Where'd He Come From?

Day 144: Following the interrogative theme, today's feature is "Where," as in "Where the hell did HE come from?" Please forgive the crummy photos. When you're documenting a Life List sighting, it's important to capture the field markings at any cost. As it was, this White-Throated Sparrow would not come out of the deep shadows in the interior of the contorted filbert long enough for me to get a good shot. Consequently, I've settled for some loss of focus and have done quite a bit of processing to bring him out of hiding. I'm sure Zonotrichia albicollis must have been at my feeders before this, but only today did I notice that...what the heck? Yellow eye stripe? Light-tipped secondaries? Dark beakie? Smudgy tie-tack? Wait...white on the throat? That's not one of my regulars! And thus the photographic chase began, bird in the gloom, me at the open window, snow falling, the house rapidly getting colder. But there he is, and now I know to watch for him in the hopes of obtaining a decent "field guide" image.

Life List Sighting - Northern Pygmy Owl

Day 116: This was purely a case of being in the right place at the right time. I was passing through a rather dark section of the Bud Blancher Trail when something small and brown flitted across my field of view and landed on an arched branch of vine maple. When my eyes came to rest on it, I said to myself, "That is not a Pacific Wren. It's too big." Carefully raising the camera without letting the bird out of my sight, I zoomed in, but the woods was too dark for me to make out any detail other than a flat face and big eyes. Again, I remarked to myself on the size, saying, "Boy, if that's a Saw-Whet, it's tiny!" I had time for two shots before my little friend disappeared into the forest.

As soon as I arrived home, I downloaded the photos from the camera and enhanced them to bring up the light. Better to shoot dark and get detail than try for a longer exposure which would undoubtedly result in a blurry image! The next step was to refer to Sibley: nope, not a Saw-Whet. The raised eyebrows, the spotted forehead, the barring on the tail, and the slight rufous "collar" told me what I needed to know.

The Northern Pygmy Owl (Glaucidium gnoma) is an uncommon species here. It is substantially smaller than a Robin (6.75" as opposed to 10"), but is stockier for its size. It often flicks its tail from side to side when perched, a behaviour which I noted on this occasion. Unlike many other owls, it is active during daylight hours.

Life List

Day 125: Just a bit of whimsy here. This image was in response to a photo challenge: Create a whimsical book jacket for a mystery/thriller novel. I took it one more step and wrote a teaser.

"Ornithology professor Jay Byrd is drawn into a murder investigation when several of his colleagues are found dead of poisoning. When it becomes apparent that the victims' names are ironically puns upon actual bird species, Professor Byrd realizes that he may be on the killer's Life List."