Gyromitra Infula, Possibly

Day 18: The subject of this article is possibly Gyromitra infula. I say "possibly" not because of my recent misidentification of another 'shroom, but because of this qualifier in Steve Trudell's field guide: "Gyromitra infula and G. ambigua typically occur in late summer and fall with conifers and hardwoods on soil and wood. Although G. ambigua normally as stronger purple tones on the stipe base and somewhat darker caps, determining which of these species you have usually requires checking spore size (mostly 20-23 microns long in G. infula and 22-30 microns long in G. ambigua) and, even then, the answer might not be clear." He goes on to note that "both species are very poisonous." All things considered, I will err on the side of caution, definitely not collecting them for the table and holding out on proposing a solid identification. Of an impressive size (that's Oxalis at the base, not clover), the species presents 6-7" of plain ugly, and one 50' diameter circle in a nearby sunfleck forest environment held a dozen or more convoluted, roughly saddle-shaped caps in shades of purplish-tan and brown. I could imagine that someone stumbling across them in a Hallowe'en frame of mind might liken them to the hands of corpses upthrust from the forest floor. Whodathunk it? My very own neighbourhood zombie apocalypse!

Hericium Abietis

Day 17: On October 19, I posted a photo of Hericium coralloides, a species I had probably observed on many occasions, although I never took the time to investigate its substrate. Had I done so and found it growing on hardwood, I would have known that it was not Hericium abietis (shown here), a morphologically identical species which grows only on conifer wood. Many fungi are substrate-specific, genetically encoded to release particular enzymes which will allow them to break down the substrate material into the nutrients which sustain them. In turn, the fungi may then be consumed by insects whose nutritional requirements match what the fungus has absorbed and carries in its tissues. Thus, one species of fungus may grow only on one substrate and may only be consumed by one type of insect, although in actuality the range is generally wider than 1:1:1. Mushroom rarity may be influenced by a number of different factors including plant associations, substrate availability, and so on. This specificity puts a whole new dimension on the phrase, "You are what you eat." Just ask a fungus.

Xylaria Hypoxylon

Day 16: I find myself in the position of needing to revise much of this post since discovering that I made not one but TWO misidentifications of the subject at hand. I thought I'd found a new species of fungus for the Park when I pulled the photos off the camera after yesterday's walk. Admittedly, they had been taken in poor light, were somewhat out of focus, and the colour was less than true, all factors which sent me back up the road today with a tripod. I'd also read up on the species, finding some clues which seeded a touch of doubt as to my proposed identification. There was nothing for it. I needed to go back to make a more thorough examination of the specimens. Once on site, I became even less certain of the ID, but given the size of the growth (under 3/4"), I couldn't imagine what else it might be. And then ten minutes later, I stepped over another log further along the route (a term I use without any inference that there is even a vestige of trail present) and...on, hang on a mo'...there was a more mature grouping. I took better photos, but even so, I drew the wrong conclusion. I was given a gentle nudge in the right direction by our Park Plant Ecologist, and would like to apologize to my readers. This in fact is Xylaria hypoxylon, aka "Carbon-antlers" or "Stag's horn fungus," a common PNW species which occurs on rotting wood.

The Perhaps Bag

Day 15: You have probably seen me refer to my "perhaps bag" several times now without knowing the origin of the term or perhaps simply chalked it up to a Crow peculiarity. In fact, it comes from the Soviet era and the Russian word is "avoska," and generally is accepted to refer to a string bag, the precursor of today's reusable shopping bags. Russians carried their perhaps-bags with them when they went out, in the hopes that fortuitous circumstances might allow them to obtain a few groceries in a time of scarcity. In the autumn, I do not go out without a perhaps-bag, although perforce, mine must take the character of a baggie. Mushrooms would fall through the holes of a net bag. I wasn't anticipating chanterelles when I went out for a walk today, but I am glad I had my perhaps-bag with me.

More Botanical Art

Day 14: The vining hydrangea (Japanese climbing hydrangea, Hydrangea anomala) doesn't provide much visual interest during spring and summer, but its few white flowers and lush green foliage fill the gap between the House of Chirp and Pussywillow Cottage nicely and give me something to look at through the kitchen window while I'm washing dishes. That said, when autumn delivers its Midas touch and the foliage turns to gold, it is utterly spectacular. For the better part of two weeks, it's been asking to sit for a portrait, so with a cold snap threatening to shatter the leaves' tenuous hold on their stems, I snipped a small spray, flattened it against the paper and traced around the edge. I have a very limited palette of watercolours and an even more limited stock of artistic talent, and was not quite sure I wasn't biting off more than I could chew with four (count them!) leaves instead of one, but here you see the result.

Stick with me, people. It's hard to find blog material in the winter months even without a pandemic and political turmoil. Hopefully, I'll be able to return to informative natural history posts at some future date.

The Greatest Thing Since...

Day 13: Over fifty years. That's how long I've been making my own bread: over fifty years. Bread-making is part of my household routine, just like washing the dishes, putting on a new bog roll, vacuuming and dusting (well, maybe not vacuuming and dusting...I have better things to do than vacuum and dust). "Bread Day tomorrow," I say to myself as I pull the second half loaf from last week's baking out of the freezer, or "Gotta put sourdough start down tonight" as I set out a pan to remind myself to do it before bed. Why, then, have I never bought a bread slicer? I've struggled with lopsided slices forever, and although I've never actually sliced a finger, I've come way too close for comfort. Now by "bread slicer," I do not mean some fancy gadget which does the slicing for you. I suppose to be semantically correct, this simple non-mechanical device should be called a "bread slice gauge," but that's too much work to say. Even Amazon refers to it as a "bread slicer" despite its notable absence of a blade. Yes, I finally took the plunge, and with even slices falling like dominoes from each cut, I have to say that it's the greatest thing...well, you know the phrase...the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Winter Clothes

Day 12: Yep, it's time to break out the winter clothes. A few light frosts had already touched my garden, not enough to knock the raspberries entirely out of commission, but I could tell by mid-afternoon yesterday that the overnight temperature was going to take a plunge, if perhaps not all the way to 22 degrees as has been forecast. It didn't miss by much. My weather station recorded 26 for the low, and I was glad I'd dug out my fleece nightgown and put an extra blanket on the bed. But I am not the only one changing into my winter garb. The Goldfinches have lost their summer glow and only their white wing-bars make them instantly recognizable among the other LBJs in the yard (that's "Little Brown Jobs" in birder parlance). A close encounter yesterday when one nearly landed on me as I was filling the feeders inspired me to wonder what triggers the change in some birds and not in others. I did a fair bit of information-mining, and the consensus is that we don't really know for sure. It is believed to be keyed by photoperiod insofar as timing is concerned, i.e., length/strength of daylight, but schools of thought are divided as to whether it is related to camouflage and/or thermal efficiency. There simply hasn't been much research done on the subject. Oh, if only I were fifty years younger! There are so many questions I want answered, so many "whys and wherefors" without adequate explanations. This, my dear readers, is why I write these natural-history posts: to inspire you to guide your children into pursuing education in the sciences and perhaps even to become the scientists of the future. Maybe one of them will find out why the vivid Goldfinch puts on such drab winter clothes.