No Foolin'!

Day 169: It is not April Fools' Day. It is March 31, and this is no prank. My peonies are in bud, a full month or more ahead of their normal blooming period. I don't think I've ever seen them so early. On the heels of this comes a news report that Antarctica has reported a record-breaking temperature of 63.5 degrees yesterday. You'd have to be a pretty big fool to turn a blind eye to the significance of these portents, but there are still those who deny the growing mountain of evidence that our climate is warming. However, some will cite the East Coast's hard winter as a contradiction. It is not. In fact, it is a symptom. As the temperatures rise, so does atmospheric moisture, and this leads to heavier snowfalls when the right conditions are met. It seems odd to say that heavy snows and global warming go hand in hand, but those are the facts, no foolin'.

Postcard Skunk Cabbage

Day 168: Every year, I have to get one "postcard" shot of Skunk Cabbage. This year's specimen comes from Eatonville, found alongside the Pack Forest extension of the Bud Blancher Trail. Surprisingly, the site isn't particularly boggy, but rather is in the gravelly bed of an intermittent stream. The plants aren't as large as those found in swampier areas, but nevertheless seem quite healthy.

My fondness for this showy Arum was certainly instilled at an early age. It was my mother's favourite flower. Every spring, she would pick one early blossom, setting it in a vase to infuse the air with its unmistakable odor, a scent many people find too "skunky" to bear. I do not find it offensive, although I will admit it is a learned tolerance. In fact, when I walk through a bog filled with Skunk Cabbages, the air I breathe seems clean above the musky note; purer, if odiferous. Nor is there any mistaking the visual freshness of a sea of chartreuse-green leaves and yellow spathes. For all of its scent, Skunk Cabbage is a merry plant, massed in shadowy forest bogs.

Trillium Cluster

Day 167: Spring is coming on in a rush! I spotted my first Trillium of the season just a few days ago, quite near this site along the Bud Blancher Trail where today they were out in dozens. Following close on the heels of Skunk Cabbage, Trillium boasts a common name reflecting its early emergence: Wake-robin. A charming term, it is sadly falling into disuse for the white-flowered variety, more often to be heard in the eastern portion of the United States where a red-blooming species carries the name. Like so many common names, it may also refer to other unrelated plants, a confusion which less romantic Latin resolves. As much as I prefer using scientific nomenclature for clarity's sake, the phrase "Wake-robin" conjures up a delightful vision of fantasy forests too enchanting to resist.

Advanced Frog-Stalking

Day 166: "Practice makes perfect." I'm getting better at this. Of eight or nine froggies visible from a distance of fifteen feet, I only spooked two as I clambered over the boulders surrounding their pool in the hopes of getting a "field guide" photo showing the full morphology. My success solidified what I had suspected: these are Cascades Frogs, Rana cascadae, as evidenced by the yellow belly and distinct black spots.

The Cascades Frog ordinarily breeds from April to June. However, I observed a large mass of eggs in which the tadpoles were already clearly visible. According to the Washington Herp Atlas, breeding begins when water temperatures reach 46° F. This species breeds in still or slow-moving water. The larval period lasts two months. Adults may measure as much as three inches in length from snout to vent. Cascades Frogs can be found at altitudes of 2000' and higher, above the upper limit for the Red-Legged Frog. There have been no reports to indicate that this species is in decline, and from what I observed on this occasion, there are likely to be many more generations of Rana cascadae to come.

Lunch, By George

Day 165: Today's hike was the one I intended to take a week ago, a plan which was derailed by an unexpectedly closed gate on the Westside Road. The road's opening a few days later was accompanied by inclement weather, again deterring me from reaching my proposed destination. However, today offered a fresh opportunity, so off I went from Dry Creek, aimed at Lake George. At Fish Creek half a mile beyond, I realized I'd left the camera in the car.

Since I'm still working on mileage for the Park's winter fitness challenge, backtracking meant an extra mile for the day's total. Two hours from the time I left the car for the second time, I arrived at Lake George to find scattered snow patches on the ground and the lake still for the most part slushily iced over. A nippy breeze drifted off the shoulder of Mount Wow, inspiring me to head back after a brief lunch of cookies and dried mangoes. When I hike, I am very goal-oriented. It doesn't matter if I stay an hour at my destination or simply tag a signpost or favourite tree before turning around. After all, most hikes go both directions, and in reality, your ultimate goal is your starting point. Often when someone asks me how far I plan to go, I reply in the only reasonable manner, "Halfway."

Rana Catesbeiana, Bullfrog

Day 164: As much as I love the froggy folk, I find it difficult to say anything nice about Rana catesbeiana, the Bullfrog which is outcompeting native frogs in a rapidly growing number of ponds and wetlands in the Pacific Northwest. This exotic ("non-native") species is easily identified by its large tympanum (eardrum), as large or larger than the eye. Color can be quite variable, brown to brownish-green, green, or in some cases, even blue. In size, Bullfrogs can measure up to 150 mm. from snout to vent. The female is capable of laying up to 6000 eggs in a single season. Native to the eastern portion of the US, Rana catesbeiana is considered a problematic invasive in Washington.

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.