Species Feature #10, Dog Stinkhorn

Yuck, right? This fungus is just as nasty and gross as its common name would lead one to believe. I don't know whether to call it a mushroom - the loose definition is "a large, fleshy fungus."  It's got the large part down, more than many fungi which are called mushrooms. However, I'm not sure I'd call the fruiting bodies "fleshy."  They're hollow on the inside, and what structure they do have is spongy. The first time I encountered these, I was new to mycology... so I eagerly brought a couple in for identification. I first cleaned off what I thought was oil or some animal's feces (these were the spores, as it turns out). Once I got my specimens inside, I sliced them open in the closest approximation I could manage to a longitudinal section. The smell was enough to gag me, so I tossed the lot of them into the garbage disposal and chased them with some strong cleaning product or other. It wasn't enough - the kitchen stank for days. These things do look kind of cool in a bizarre way, but my advise is to leave them alone. The olfactory beating they'll give you just isn't worth it. Other species of stinkhorn can be equally odd, intriguing, and gross.

The rain had knocked these over and washed away the nasty spore goop.

Mutinus elegans Quick Facts

Common Name(s): dog stinkhorn, elegant stinkhorn, devil's dipstick, headless stinkhorn

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Fungi
• Subkingdom - Dikarya
• Phylum - Basidiomycota
• Subphylum - Agaricomycotina
• Class - Agaricomycetes
• Order - Phallales
• Family -Phallaceae
• Genus - Mutinus
• Species - elegans

Synonyms: M. caninus, M. ravenelii


Range: To paraphrase Wikipedia, all of Eastern North America north of Mexico and as far west as Iowa. Also reportedly collected in Europe and Japan.

Here are some of the so-called "eggs." The fruiting bodies of other species of stinkhorn begin this way, as well.

Any attempt to describe this fungus seems to degenerate to a point-by-point goss-off, so I think I'll abandon all pretense and do exactly that.

Appearance: This is graphic, and I apologize, but this is why it got its common name. Frankly, it looks like a dog penis covered in feces. It is a pinkish-orange shaft that emerges from a white pouch, with oily black goo on the end.

Smell: It smells like poop.  Cut it open, and the smell becomes overpowering.

Texture: Its texture is that of a disease-ridden sponge. If your lving arrangements have ever been like mine were in college, you know what I'm talking about.

Common Names: 'Stinkhorn' wasn't enough to capture just how foul these things are. They needed several qualifiers.

Scientific Name: Not only does Mutinus elegans just sound disgusting, the genus is named for a phallic deity. You read that right. Biologists named this fungus partly as a reference to a penis god. If you extend this category to include all of its taxonomy, there are two more phallic references.

Reproduction: It's not that they reproduce by means of spores. That is common, ho-hum stuff. It's the way they disperse their spores. They secrete that slimy, diarrhea-like substance in hopes that it will attract flies, who will get it on their fet and spread it around. This thing's entire evolutionary strategy is to outstink decaying meat enough for flies to take notice.

Edibility: Despite all this, some people still insist on eating dog stinkhorns. They are considered edible in their "egg*" form. No. Thanks.


If I still have any readers after this post, I do have more content which I promise is at least slightly less disgusting.

If I see more of these this season, I'll try to replace this image with a better picture. Until then, farewell to the dog stinkhorn.

*It bothers me that stinkhorn buttons are referred to as "eggs." This implies things about its reproduction that are simply not the case.

Caesar's Mushroom

First off: wow! Busy summer. It was busy in a very positive way, but that did lead to two things 1) fewer outdoor excursions and 2) less time to post about them. But I have not abandoned this blog (for entirely selfish reasons; it's a lot of fun and strokes the old ego a bit). Luckily for me, it rained a lot in August/September and thus the mushrooming improved quite a bit. As such, I've accumulated a backlog of images and information to share here.

Astute observers with epic memory will note the absence of a "species feature" title and tag to this post, and there's a good reason for that. What reason? The mushrooms I'm talking about might not even be Caesar's mushrooms (Amanita caesarea) at all. The problem is, A. caesarea is notoriously difficult to distinguish from varieties of A. muscaria in this part of the world - specifically var. formosa and var flavivolvata. It's one of nature's cruelest traps - those varieties are both more similar to Caesar's mushroom and more dangerous than their European counterparts. On either side of the pond, A. caesarea is a choice edible. European varieties of A. muscaria, better known as fly agaric, reportedly cause hallucinations, and are sought after for this purpose. However, the U.S. version will just get you violently ill. It's like a ripped off BBC show that way. Michael Kuo (splitter!) has the North American version of Caear's mushroom as A. Jacksonii, a distinction that further confuses things. Kuo is probably technically correct, but for simplicity's sake I will be discussing the species as Amanita caesarea.

This is the nicest specimen of the alleged A. caesarea I have found. It was a lonely giant of its kind in Rock Creek Park earlier this month.

Before proceeding, I must include another mushroom-eating disclaimer. Don't use my blog as your primary resource. Don't eat mushrooms based on my advice. If you use my blog as inspiration to go learn enough to eat wild mushrooms safely, more power to you.

Now for some good news. I believe the similarities between A. caesarea and A. muscaria var. formosa (I can't speak directly to var. flavivolvata, because I've found no specimens of this) are overblown. Mushroom writers are rightly concerned about an amateur making a mistake based upon their descriptions and getting sick or worse. Some of the differences are in superficial or non-persistent characteristics, which are not usually the best aid to getting an accurate mushroom ID. They are both members of the genus that includes species with such common names as "death cap," "destroying angel" and "fool's mushroom." Amanitas account for 95% of mushroom-related fatalities (thanks Wikipedia). All of this leads to understandable caution. (For more on this general topic, see this entry from a fellow local mushroom blogger.) Fortunately for mycophagists, the deadly ones are much, much easier to distinguish from our hero. This leaves a knowledgeable field mycologist with only the risk of illness - and not much risk of that with enough experience.

Amanita muscaria var. formosa, as found in Watkins Regional Park some time ago. Pictures are not the most reliable way to distinguish mushroom species, but taking a close look at these first two photos is a good start.

How these two species are alike:

Both of these mushrooms exhibit classic Amanita features: the spore print is white, they have both universal and partial veils which persist as volvae (please don't confuse this with vulvae) and rings on mature specimens, their gills are free from the stem.  They are also similar in size, habitat, and season. Both are mycorrhizal with hardwoods and with pines. Both have yellow-to-orange coloring on their caps and white flesh. A key to successful mycology, however, is to learn which things are different and isolate them. Of course, one doesn't want to do so to the exclusion of these basic features, but with experience noting the Amanita characteristics will become second nature, and allow one to focus on some other details.

How these two species are different (the key features):

I think the simplest difference to detect is that A. caesarea has yellow gills while A. muscaria has white gills. This isn't a perfect test, because yellow gills can be so pale as to appear white, and white gills can appear yellow beneath a yellow cap in poor lighting. Another helpful difference can be found around their respective volvae. A. caesarea has a much larger, more persistent volva. A. muscaria tends to have shaggy "skin" near the base of the stem where it meets the volva. Caesar's mushroom has a yellowish stem while fly agaric has a white stem (again, the yellow can fade). Finally, A. muscaria not only has, but is famous for, white warts on top of its cap.  A. caesarea lacks these warts. Any one of the four preceding features is not a sure bet - but all four? Solid. I suppose it is remotely possible to find a specimen of A. muscaria whose warts have fallen off, that has an abnormally large volva and lacks a shaggy stem base, and which appears yellowish in the gills and stem. But doesn't that seem like a long shot to you?

Here's a closeup of the volva of Caesar's mushroom.

This shot was meant to demonstrate the yellow stem and gills - but it also inadvertently
demonstrates how it can be hard to tell if the gills are yellow in the field.

 

Luckily I have this old photo - here you can see A. muscaria var. formosa's  white gills, white stem, and smaller volva. You might be able to pick out the shaggy bits at the stembase as well.

Additional apparent differences:

These are why I think the chance of mistaking one of these mushrooms for the other is slim for careful and experienced mycologists. I will admit the possibility that I'm just not experienced enough. Maybe I'm misidentifying everything, and the range of variability within each species is broader than I think. This is why I've yet to eat any Caesar's mushrooms.

The bulk of these differences are in the caps. Look at the photos of the two species.  Don't they seem quite different? A. caesarea is distinctly orange*, shiny, very striated at the margin, lacking in warts, and possessed of a distinct umbo (that's the bump in the middle). by contrast, A. muscaria var. formosa is pale yellow with slight striations at most, many warts, and no umbo. Using these features for IDing a mushroom is a lot like performing a physical task with bad form - positive results are possible, but you're not putting yourself in the best position for achievement. All of those features are variable within each species and can be changed by the environment, given time. And yet, every time I have collected a specimen of either of these species, it has gone this way: I have noted at first glance that it superficially resembles one species or the other. I have taken notes, brought the specimen home, and obtained a white spore print. Upon examining the four key features above I have corroborated my field guess. This has held true for four or five ocurrences of each species. So what I'm saying is that in theory this group of features is not to be used as a definitive identifier, but experimentally they hold up as a reasonable predictor and starting point.

*since these mushrooms are named for a certain Caesar who purportedly had a taste for them, have I discovered the origins of the name "Orange Julius"?



In addition to the links above (mushroomexpert.com, wikipedia, roger's mushrooms, and the free dictionary) I used the following texts as sources: The National Audubon Society's Field Guide to Mushrooms: North America, Simon and Schuster's Guide to Mushrooms, 100 Edible Mushrooms (Michael Kuo), and Field Guid to Wild Mushrooms of Pennsylvania and the Mid-Atlantic (Bill Russell).

Species Feature #9, Ash-Tree Bolete

This feature is long overdue. In many ways the ash-tree bolete (Gyrodon merulioides) should have been Species Feature #1. Without this mushroom, my blog wouldn't exist. It was my first mycology success story: I encountered several specimens growing just outside my apartment. I had no idea what they were, but was able to get a tentative ID from one source. Since I was inexperienced, I really wanted corroboration - so I Googled the scientific name. At the time, one of the first search results took me to a post in this livejournal. It's written by a zoo employee in New England, and it planted the seed that grew into my idea for this blog. My introduction to this DC area blog by Laurel was, I suppose, the fertilizer. But it was my interest in G. merulioides that served as the soil. My blog's synthesis bears remarkable parallels to the ecological niche occupied by this species.

One largish specimen

Gyrodon merulioides Quick Facts

Common Name(s): ash-tree bolete

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Fungi
• Subkingdom - Dikarya
• Phylum - Basidiomycota
• Subphylum - Agaricomycotina
• Class - Agaricomycetes
• Order - Boletales
• Family -Paxillaceae
• Genus - Gyrodon
• Species - merulioides

Range: I couldn't find information directly on the range of this species, but it is limited to the range of ash trees. Most commonly it is found under white ash, Fraxinus americana.

Just a small sampling of the hundreds of specimens I found one day in Silver Spring

Because of its proximity to white ash, the ash-tree bolete was long thought to be mycorrhizal.This is generally the case when a mushroom species is found exclusively under one species (or in this case, one related group of species) of tree. Yet the life of G. merulioides is more complex than that. It instead participates in a totally different symbiotic relationship - with a species of aphid which itself only feeds on ash trees. Meliarhizophagus fraxinifolii, according to this press release, fights predation by breeding wildly... so wildly, in fact, that some generations are born pregnant. I won't pretend to understand how this happens, but it adds one more layer of fascination to the scene.

Unfortunately, in the 1990s a fourth species entered the picture: the emerald ash borer (Agrilus planipennis), often referred to as simply EAB. This species of beetle decimates populations of ash trees, and threatens the entire genus. I have previously written about invasive species, taking the position that we are often too quick to label introduced species as damaging to their new environments. However, this seems like a clear-cut and very serious problem. Forests in this area can ill afford the loss of yet more tree species, and the EAB threatens several, and no North American species of ash tree has yet shown effective resistance to infestation. Lose the trees, and this biome loses the aphid and the mushroom mentioned above. Lose the aphid, and its predators lose a food source which rapidly replenishes itself.

Collecting spores.

'





This mushroom is easy to identify if one knows what to look for. From above, the irregular, leathery, brown caps can be easy to miss, but once seen these alone are a good indicator of what you're looking at. The stem is lateral and often not very substantial. Underneath, the pore surface is a solid yellow with hexagonal pores. The light yellow (sometimes white) flesh of this bolete, like that of many boletes, bruises blue. A spore print usually isn't necessary for identification, but if taken it will appear olive brown. If you're unsure, look around for ash trees.

Note the blue bruising, and how the pores peel away from the flesh as a discreet layer.

Challenge Complete!

I had to rent some wheels this time - my own bike was out of
commission. A part is on order...

The Naturalism on Speed Challenge is complete! I left for vacation last weekend just two species short of my goal of 100. The five new species I was able to add while cruising Highway 12 on the Outer Banks fell short of my lofty ambitions for the trip (after all, it's a completely different environment) but were more than enough to put me over the top. The new additions are not likely to be seen in the DC suburbs (though I have seen laughing gulls this far inland). While that makes them a little off-topic for the blog they're well within the rules of the challenge. Speaking of rules, I'll recap. The basic premise is to identify species from a moving bicycle. To keep this different from simply identifying wildlife in general, I imposed the following five restrictions:

1. Listed species must be identified to species while riding, with certainty. 
2. No unnatural stops are permitted. 
3. Retroactive identification is also not permitted. 
4. Domesticated animals (and humans) do not count. 
5. Plants which grow at my apartment complex or other very familiar areas (my workplace, my parents' house, etc) are ineligible.

Species #99 - Laughing Gull (Leucophaeus atricilla)

Species # 100 - Sea Oats (Uniola paniculata)

Species # 101 - Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis)

Species # 102 - Adam's needle (Yucca filamentosa)

 Not pictured: Species # 103 - American beachgrass (Ammophila breviligulata)

This brings me to a final count of 103 species: 58 plants, 23 birds, 11 mammals, 5 fungi, 4 insects, and 2 reptiles. "Final" is a bit of a lie, because I do intend to keep adding to this list as I continue to cycle and to explore the natural world. The marriage of  these two hobbies has been too great an experience to discontinue simply because I reached an arbitrary milestone.

Hike from the New Digs

Most folks reading this already know, but I moved a few weeks ago. It wasn't far, so exploring the neighborhood is really more a matter of seeing the same neighborhood from a slightly different perspective. Still, it's been interesting seeing nature from this new vantage point. I have an altered bike route to work, the grounds of the new apartment are landscaped differently, and the surrounding area is a little more residential. I'm still close to most of the same parks and green spaces, and yet the slight shift in perspective seems to have shaken up my mindset enough that different details stand out.

I noticed this last weekend when taking my first long hike from the new base of operations. It wound through some of the same areas of Rock Creek Park I have blogged about before. I returned up the same section of East-West Highway I used to live on. Yet this hike was different than any previous ones in terms of which living things stood out to me. The next day I took an out-and-back bike ride along Sligo Creek Trail - a ride which allowed me to add about ten new species to my Naturalism on Speed challenge. It's been quite a while since I added more than two or three after a single ride.

A flowering plant along Portal Drive was the first new thing to draw my attention. Its leaves were shaped like a child's drawing of a Christmas tree, and its small flowers ranged from pale violet to white. It had a row of spines along the stem, and these occurred in pairs opposite one another. These spines were also present on the underside of the leaf. (Wow! Typing this paragraph has reminded me just how much plant life review I need if I want to appear knowledgeable. I just don't have the biological vocabulary to be precise.) I've no idea what this plant might be, so if anyone can ID it from the photo below please leave a comment.

Mystery Plant #1.

The next "new" thing I noticed is probably best explained by a picture. It's something I see all the time, but last weekend was the first time I thought it might make a nice photo.

This is a reminder that oyster mushrooms are appetizing to more than just humans. Also, it's hard to tell from this photo but that was one enormous slug.

Mystery plants were a theme of the day. Number two was a ground-covering plant lining much of the trail through the park. I see this plant often but until lat weekend my mind filed it as part of the background, and therefore not an item of interest. It had a long whiplike flower and large leaves relative to the overall plant size. Once I noticed it I saw that it was quite prevalent throughout the northern section of the park. Again, if you have any clue as to this one's identity from the photo below please let me know!

Mystery Plant #2

It was while climbing THE HILL on the way back that I collected my one big mushroom find of the day. This was a large patch of Chlorophyllum molybdites, sometimes known as the green-spored parasol since *dramatic pause* it looks like a parasol mushroom and has green spores. This mushroom is an old friend and among the first handful I learned to reliably identify. The "new" of this encounter was that I hadn't before considered the narrow strip of grass between the main lanes of East-West Highway and the access road as fertile ground for a mushroom search. Looking back, though, these aren't the first mushrooms I've seen there.

Franklin didn't care one bit about the mushrooms, but it sure looks like he's proud of something here, doesn't it?

This brings me to my final mystery plant (well, there was a mystery tree as well but I didn't take any pictures). This plant was enormous for a non-woody plant. It stood easily eight feet high, and likely closer to ten. Its leaves were each larger than my head. I can't really think of any identifying features other than its size, so I'll just show you. If you know what this thing is, you know what to do.

The leaves of Mystery Plant #3

 

 

 

Mystery Plant #3 in all its monstrous glory.

Coming down the home stretch of the hike, I started seeing a plant I'm familiar with but had never really noticed in Silver Spring: pokeweed. This stuff has berries that start as white flowers which turn green and then a deep, nasty-staining purple. I'm confident enough that the species is American pokeweed (Phytolacca americana) that I counted it in my little challenge when I saw more of it the next day.

Pokeweed in the green (and thus not yet fatal to garments) stage.

I guess the takeaway from last week's experience is that however familiar I think I am with the natural environment, there's always something there I hadn't noticed before. Whether my move had anything to do with my shift in perception is immaterial - what matters is that the diversity of life is great enough to continually provide new surprises.

June Mushrooms

June is already drawing to a close, but most of this month has been so dry here that I haven't really seen a lot of mushrooms. Honestly, this whole year has been pretty weak for my mycological exploits - but enough whining. June is when mushroom variety really begins to assert itself. As always, let me warn you not to eat any wild mushroom (even those I say are safe to eat) unless you know what you're doing. There is too much room for error between my blog and your plate to use this as an edible mushroom guide.

With the exception of morels, most of the mushrooms seen in May can still be found in June (nature, of course, isn't as conveniently divided into months as our calendar). The coprinoid mushrooms (inkys) are a bit more scarce by this time, but I did see a batch of them just yesterday afternoon while walking the dog. The ubiquitous oyster mushroom can also still be found. If you were to walk outside on June 15th and wander long enough, you could probably encounter most mushrooms from last month's post in addition to those featured below.

A personal favorite of mine, the ash-tree bolete (Gyrodon merulioides), begins to fruit in June in this area. For Silver Spring residents, these grow gregariously and predictably in Falkland Chase Apartments (where I used to live) from mid-June through late July. You can find them to the North of East-West Highway in the courtyard which lies just behind the big sign (weather conditions permitting, of course). I find this mushroom absolutely fascinating, as it can only be found near white ash, though its relationship to the tree is indirect. It exists only in the presence of a species of aphid which in turn only eats white ash leaves. Unfortunately, its taste is, erm, not good. I'm being charitable.

It's ugly and it's gross, but it's interesting.

In the showy category is the pretty - and often huge - Chlorophyllum molybdites. I have found a number of patches of these in the greener areas around downtown Silver Spring. They are easy to identify because they resemble parasol mushrooms but have green spores. The spore print they make is, in my opinion, about as beautiful as this hobby gets. As they age, specimens of this mushroom will literally become green around the gills. They'll make you sick, though, so don't eat them.

A button sitting on the gills of a mature specimen. I believe I measured this one at an eight inch diameter.

An unusual but commonly found summer mushroom is the crown-tipped coral (I know it as Clavicorona pyxidata, but it has many synonyms). This is another easy-to-identify mushroom because unlike other similar species it grows from rotting wood.  If it looks like the photo below and grows from wood (not terrestrially), then you can be pretty sure you're looking at crown-tipped coral. Then, it can be eaten! But not too much, because it is known to have a laxative effect. I have tasted this, both on its own and in an omelette, and would rate it as "passable."

One of the first wild mushrooms I tasted, this specimen was found in Shenandoah National Park.

The tree ear, or jelly ear (Auricularia aricula), is another interesting mushroom that I usually start seeing in June. It's a jellylike but still somehow leathery mushroom which grows from trees and logs. It's fairly distinctive and can be seen just about anywhere in this area if one looks hard enough. The odd thing about this one is that mycologists have been known to chew it like gum while out on a hunt. Now, I love mushrooms, but... well, YUCK.

When I see this, I don't think "chewing gum," but to each his own I suppose.

Unfortunately, in June I have also encountered Amanita phallioides and Amanita virosa (known as the "death cap" and the "destroying angel," respectively). I could get technical about things like "species complexes, but I feel that such digression would cloud the issue that THESE WILL KILL YOU if eaten. The Amanita genus in general should be avoided and its characteristics learned by those who have any intent at all of eating wild mushrooms. These two mushrooms are the greatest contributors to the death toll of the unwary.

This scratches the surface of what a mycologist can find this month. After all, I've covered only six species plus another handful of May leftovers. I wanted to highlight the variety of mushrooms out there by showing a few vastly different ones rather than inundating my faithful readership with page after page of photos and descriptions.

Invasive Species

Let me preface this by saying: I am not a biologist, and therefore not qualified to truly debate the issue of invasive species. Nor should the thoughts which follow be taken as an indictment on the field of biology or any of its scholars. I'm certain that the central question I wish to raise has been thought of and discussed in those circles. (In fact, I know some research has been done.) What I am uncertain of, however, is if a satisfactory conclusion has been reached. My question: are invasive species always bad?

This question is pretty simple in terms of syntax, and yet my research into this has suggested that it is complex and even difficult to asses as a valid question. The first problem is that the term "invasive species" has a fluid meaning. It is sometimes defined as a "non-native species with an adverse effect on the habitat it is invading." Adherents of that definition of the term would say "yes," and the discussion would end. At the other end of the spectrum, the term is synonymous with "introduced species," broadening its horizons to include all non-native species. Under this definition, I think it would be safe to say "no" to my original question and move on... after all, the apple is an introduced species, and I don't think anyone is blaming it directly for any particular problems (if I'm wrong about this, I'm certain there is another example - perhaps the tomato).

The above, infuriatingly, gets us nowhere: we have an absolute question with a simultaneous yes and no answer (yuck!). So how do we move past the semantics here? The first definition above is the more widely used, so I will use that as "the" definition for the purposes of this discussion. To avoid the dead-end in the debate, I must rephrase the question as follows: do biologists and/or naturalists too readily classify a species as invasive? The crux of this question is whether or not we have enough data and understanding of our ecosystem to accurately evaluate harm.

I don't have an answer to that question; I do have suspicions that naturalists are generally predisposed to see any change as negative. That predisposition, I suspect, leads us to view any effect of an introduced species as a negative effect. I'm going to attempt to share my thought process as it occurred to me: through a series of examples encountered in my own life over the past year or so.

Mile-a-minute and its distinctive triangular leaves and red
vine. The plant produces small, blue-to-purple berries.

Last summer, I put in some volunteer hours removing invasive species with the Friends of Sligo Creek. There were several such species marked for destruction, but the hardy mile-a-minute stands out in my mind. This stuff earns its name. Its vines snaked through an entire field, choking off other flora to a staggering degree. It climbed bushes and trees, out-competing not only the other ground cover but the taller flora as well. This seems like a clear-cut case of an invasive species which is truly bad for its environment. In this environment, mile-a-minute thrives so well that it threatens every other plant, endangering food sources and habitats for the area's fauna. There's no one species it is in competition with - it risks a severe drop in the biodiversity in the local area.

This is mile-a-minute doing what it does.

I've been hearing a lot about deer exclosures lately. These are tall fences put in place to exclude deer from a small area. The vegetation inside and outside the exclosure is later studied comparatively. On the surface, this would seem tangential to the subject of invasive species - the white-tailed deer is an example of a native species which has become a problem. However, per NPR reports on these studies in Silver Spring (Sligo Creek again) one of the more striking differences between the vegetation growth on either side of the fence involves the success of native vs. introduced species. Where deer are free to roam, they decimate populations of native species, while leaving the invasive species alone. Looked at in one light, this means that the native plants are under attack on two fronts. However, without the non-native plants, would the deer simply consume ALL of the area's vegetation? In this interaction, I wonder if perhaps the introduced plants are in fact acting to preserve the biodiversity of suburban wooded areas in the region. I don't know, but it seems a question worth asking.

This red mulberry grows near my apartment. As I will explain below, it may actually be a hybrid with the introduced white mulberry. One cannot really tell without a DNA study of the specimen these days.

It was some new information about mulberries that finally inspired me to write on this topic. I learned that the native red mulberry (Morus rubra) is often hybridizing with the invasive white mulberry (Morus alba). When I first read of this, it was presented as a sinister attack on the genetic purity of M. rubra. Yet the more I read the less I understood why this is a problem. Both species occupy the same niche, and the hybrids produce viable offspring. I'm sure the rationale is that if one species eliminates the other it would constitute a decrease in biodiversity. But would it? If two closely-related species interbreed to become one with a greater range of genetic variability, isn't that positive? Doesn't a larger gene pool mean a more robust population? The line between species is arbitrary in the first place - it is sometimes even loosely defined by the ability to produce viable offspring, which calls into question whether these are two species or one with a broad genetic base. At its best, the idea that M. rubra is somehow threatened in this interaction seems analogous to dog breeders' aversion to mutts, or to the concept of preserving a royal line through inbreeding.

There is a range of ambiguity in the examples above. The first seems a clear-cut case of a correctly identified invasive species. The second seems nothing but gray area to me. Clearly the overpopulated deer are damaging the ecosystem, but are the introduced species truly invasive in this case, or will they have a net positive effect given the destruction already wrought? The third seems a very likely candidate for just the type of mistake I suspect happens. I certainly could be missing a key point there, so I don't mean to imply that I have answered my question... I cite it instead as evidence that my question is valid. Is M. alba truly "invasive" under the strictest definition of the term?

It is certainly a tricky - and even uncomfortable - question. Where is the line between healthy competition and destructive contaminant? How do conservationists act without a complete answer to this question? I don't wish to sound pessimistic, or to frighten anyone into inaction. I do hope, though, that readers will think on these matters when they act to preserve the natural environment.

Species Feature #8, Train Wrecker

The train wrecker is a fascinating mushroom, technically an edible but not particularly palatable. I'll get the story of its common name out of the way quickly rather than keep you in suspense. This mushroom has reportedly decayed railroad ties to such a degree that accidents have resulted. These stories, however, may be apocryphal - after all, a number of other organisms were undoubtedly at work on each of the ties in question. Mature specimens can be quite large and showy, and their brown scales, jagged gills and inrolled cap margins can give them a rustic appearance. The stems, too, contribute to this rugged feeling with their often shaggy rings and reddish-brown scales. The size makes this mushroom a tempting kitchen experiment, but it has a tough, leathery texture which prevents it from being truly appetizing.

An immature specimen harvested from a decaying stump. Note the gills' attachment to the stem, and their already ragged nature. The scales on the stem are also readily apparent.

Neolentinus lepideus Quick Facts

Common Name(s): train wrecker, scaly lentinus

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Fungi
• Subkingdom - Dikarya
• Phylum - Basidiomycota
• Subphylum - Agaricomycotina
• Class - Agaricomycetes
• Order - Gloeophyllales
• Family -Gloeophyllaceae
• Genus - Neolentinus
• Species - lepideus

The genus of this mushroom used to be Lentinus, but as with many fungi these days this has recently changed.

Range:  This mushroom is common throughout North America and Europe. It can be found growing on decaying coniferous wood and occasionally on hardwood as well. It has even been reported in coal mines.

A mature specimen, with a bit of substrate (the thing it grows on and consumes) brought along for good measure.

Here is a closeup of the gills and cap margin in a mature specimen. This one was found deep in Rock Creek Park alongside a picnic table.

It is not recommended to eat this mushroom if collected growing from treated wood - unpleasant substances like the chemicals used for weatherproofing can be taken up in the fruiting body as it grows. I personally don't recommend eating this at all due to its general mediocrity. In Michal Kuo's 100 Edible Mushrooms, Darvin DeShazer quotes another mycophagist, Robert Mackler, thusly: "If it's not at least as good as a portobello, why eat it?" I don't agree fully with this fourth-hand thought (the answer is "because it's cool," or maybe "to find out what it tastes like," etc.). However, having tasted this species I am inclined to agree in this instance. Of course, it isn't recommended to eat ANY wild mushroom at all without extensive knowledge and experience... so keep that in mind as well. If you see a mushroom that looks like the above, the reward side of the risk-reward balance is very small.

It's Hot (A Cautionary Post)

It's summer! Don't give me this Summer Solstice crap, here in the DC area we know better. Early June, and we're flirting with trip-digits out there. If you're new to the area and reading this, you are hereby warned: over the next three months, you will be seeing this. Often. Wait, though... why am I griping about the heat on a blog about naturalism? Well, apart from the obvious fact that most of naturalism happens outside (you know, where all that heat is) hydration is a matter of tremendous importance for anyone doing anything outside in heat like this.


You may think (and you'd be right) that hiking or strolling is a lot less strenuous on your body than playing sports, running, "working out," etc. However, one is also less likely to notice when one is becoming dehydrated during this lower-impact activity. My goal today is to convince anyone reading this to consider hydration - and to take it very seriously - when doing whatever it is you do in nature. Much of this is common sense, but it is good practice to occasionally sit and think about common sense. Why is it common, and why is it sense?

Hydration begins before you do.

What do I mean by that load of BS? You need to be hydrated before you go outside and start your activity. Did you have three cups of coffee this morning? If so, you'd better down a glass or two of water before you get going. Whatever your morning diet, you should really consider drinking a significant volume of water before you leave the comfort of your A/C.

Take more than you think you need.

No translation needed for this one. Whatever your estimate of water needs, bring more. If you're driving somewhere, leave excess in the car. If you don't think you can carry it, find a way. Make room.

Plan your refills.

If your trip is long, make sure you begin it with an idea of where and when you will encounter fresh water sources. Then, take advantage of them. Even if you're "ahead of the curve" it doesn't hurt to top off your supply. You may want to consider purification tables if you're depending on streams, springs, etc.

Sip, don't guzzle.

If you don't listen to this one, you will learn why.

Over-hydration can happen...

...but it generally doesn't. It takes something extreme. If you're worried about it, bring some electrolytes with you (in whatever form you choose). Again, this is rare but needed to be mentioned.

If you feel dehydrated, it's too late.

Take this one to heart. You should drink regularly throughout your activity. It's best to take in liquid before you even feel thirsty, though again, there's no need to guzzle. If you do get to the point of feeling dehydrated (headaches, lack of concentration, general wooziness, etc.) make sure that you rest until you feel better. Then rest a bit more. If you start moving and feel bad again, you haven't rested enough or taken in enough water.

Hydration doesn't stop when you stop.

We've come full circle. Keep drinking water when you get home. You don't have to take this to an extreme, but just because you've ceased your activity doesn't mean your body has finished using and shedding water.


Before I leave you, I want to leave a final note to dog owners. Be careful with your pets. However awesome your dog is, he or she cannot manage heat as well as you can. I'll let Franklin's vet do the heavy lifting on this one, but be warned. Dogs have limited ability to release heat, and they're such loyal creatures that they will literally walk or run themselves to death to keep up with you.

This is perhaps a more appropriate setting for our four-footed friends in this type of weather.

Manliness and Wildlife

Well, it was a great weekend for sure - lots of manly bonding in a house on a lake. It was a bachelor weekend lived hard by nine guys. It was also an opportunity for me to photograph nature. While I didn't take the same type of advantage I might have in other circumstances, I did manage to photograph some interesting things. I don't really have an overall message to get out with these, and so I may as well go ahead and share the pictures.

This is the house we stayed in, as photographed from the small dock.

A combination of evergreens and hardwoods lined the lake shore.

I hadn't been fishing in fresh water in a long time. This perch was caught by Matt, who had a heck of a day.

This smallmouth bass (Micropterus  dolomieu) was the highlight of my own catch. Between the two of us, we caught about a half-dozen species of fish.

The amphibians were out in force, including this Plethodon cinereus (red-backed salamander) which was hiding out under a board. We startled up a couple of species of frog as well.

I took a hike with Jamie, and these guys were all over the place. They are the juvenile stage of the Eastern newt (Notophthalmus viridescens); I have often heard them referred to as "red efts." This is the terrestrial stage of their development.

This baby raccoon was freaking out in front of the neighbors' porch Monday morning. We discovered him during a quick round of bocce. It made a sound unlike anything I've ever heard from a mammal - something of a raptor's screech tinged with complete terror. It's a shame that I had no idea how to safely help the little guy.

Experiencing nature wasn't really the fullest intent of the weekend. It was more of a male-bonding experience. Still, there's nothing like being outside in a rustic atmosphere to really heighten the testosterone. I think I freaked a couple of the dudes out by killing and eating my own meal (the bass shown above) but that itself was a pretty satisfying feat for a naturalist. Sustainable dining is always a plus.

Species Feature #7, Red Admiral

The photos for this entry were taken on a camping trip to the Outer Banks this past July. Nonetheless, the Red Admiral is very much relevant in the DC area. This species is relatively easy to identify from a top view. The white spots (on a black background) on the forewing tip are fairly distinctive, and you can't miss if you also see the black-fading-to-brown central coloring with orange bands around it. I don't have a good shot of the ventral view, so I'll let Wikipedia handle that for you. Note the mottled coloration and pink bar. I have to say, when I first started browsing a butterfly guide the biggest shock to me was how many species exhibit drastically different patterning on the "top" (dorsal) and "bottom" (ventral) of the wing.

Isn't she a beauty? Also, why do I inherently think of all butterflies as "she"? Am I unconsciously sexist, or is that just over-analyzing?

Vanessa atalanta Quick Facts

Common Name(s): red admiral, alderman

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Animalia
• Phylum - Arthropoda
• Class - Insecta
• Order - Lepidoptera
• Superfamily - Papilionoidea
• Family - Nymphalidae
• Subfamily - Nymphalinae
• Tribe - Nymphalini
• Genus - Vanessa
• Species - atalanta
  

A superfamily, a subfamily, AND a tribe? Really? I think this is brought on by 1) a staggering number of known species in order Lepidoptera and 2) biologists' obsession with the beauty of butterflies. I'm poking fun, but honestly in this case such minutiae are certainly warranted.

Conservation Status: Not Assessed

Range: This butterfly is found all over the place. In North America, it spans Guatemala to Canada, Hawaii, and the Caribbean.

The same specimen as above takes a break on our tent. Man, was this a wonderful campsite (but I digress).

Since this is the first butterfly species chronicled here, I'll throw down with some basic butterfly information. Like all insects, butterflies have three-part bodies (head, abdomen, and thorax) with three sets of legs attached to the thorax. Also like all insects, they have a pair of antennae and compound eyes. In butterflies, the antennae are clubbed. They also have a pair of palpi, which are sensory appendages attached to the mandibles, as well as a proboscis (feeding tube, if you want to be unpretentious). Butterflies, of course, feature two pairs of showy wings as well. As biologists are wont to do, they have further divided the wings into parts, although most of these are fairly self-explanatory. Parts of the forewing and hindwing are described by terms including: cell, disc, tip, trailing edge, base, outer margin, etc. Understanding these terms is important when using a guide, because they tell you where to look for the characteristic features of a given species.


Now that I've thoroughly bored you with bug parts, my work here is done. In other news, I'll be spending the coming long weekend at a lakeside house in New York. I'm hoping to return with plenty of new material.

Species Feature #6, Tuliptree

The tuliptree, or tulip poplar, is an unmistakeable hardwood found throughout this region. Wikipedia lists it as the tallest eastern hardwood. Why do I call it "unmistakeable"? The leaf and flower are both strikingly distinctive, and can be identified from a distance. Other than its Chinese counterpart (the only other member of genus Liriodendron), nothing resembles it in terms of leaf shape. Some things I did not know:

• It is an excellent lumber tree, because it grows quickly and does not always develop limbs until it is quite tall.
• It is also a major source of honey in the US, although rarely used at the table.
• It is generally found in forests and stands of trees 50-150 years of age, and rarely in those of over 500 years.

Notice how much of the trunk is uninterrupted by branches. It almost seems, from
this photo, as if the leaves come from an entirely different plant.

Liriodendron tulipifera Quick Facts

Common Name(s): tuliptree, tulip poplar, American tulip tree, yellow poplar, tulip tree

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Plantae
• Division (Phylum level) - Magnoliophyta (aka Angiospermae)
• Class - Magnoliopsida
• Order - Magnoliales
• Family -Magnoliaceae
• Genus - Liriodendron
• Species - tulipifera

Range:  Throughout the eastern United States, except for southern Florida and northern New England. Its western range roughly follows the natural boundary of the Mississippi River.

The flower of the tuliptree.

Isn't that flower beautiful? It's not even open. It's also a good instructional flower, as all of its parts are large and easy to identify. Google can do a better job than I of showcasing the flower's true beauty. Please note that some of the results are not correctly identified... however, that set of photos should be more than enough to get the idea.

This sapling in Watkins Regional Park gave me a good opportunity to capture the leaf shape.

It doesn't take much imagination to see where this tree's name comes from when looking at its leaves.

Well, I've little else to say about this particular species. I have a feeling, though, that anyone who reads this without first knowing what a tuliptree is will henceforth recognize the species forever. One of these days, I will showcase a species that's a little harder to nail down. Eventually.

Century Ride

Well, I don't want to spend much time bragging about accomplishments on this blog - that is quite a departure from the point. However, since yesterday's bike ride was a) a monumental event in my life and b) relevant to several things I've talked about here, a post about it is almost necessary. The event was the CASA River Century, a bike race of 103.5 miles to benefit the Court-Appointed Special Advocate program of West Virginia's Eastern Panhandle. My coworker, neighbor and friend Dustin talked me into it, a job made easier for him since the route ran right through my hometown and past many childhood memories. Though it took the equivalent of a work day, we finished and did so with dignity.

Thanks to our cheering section, who spent the day in Shepherdstown waiting for us to pass and then finish. This photo was taken after 55.4 miles.

Dustin has kept a blog about the whole process (and sandwiches!) I recommend it, but only if you like sandwiches. (If you don't, I recommend some soul-searching. Seriously, how can you dislike something as broad as "the sandwich"?) It certainly captures the idea of just how much of our lives became devoted to this race over the last two-plus months.

From the perspective of this blog, yesterday's race represented the end of part one of my personal challenge, Naturalism on Speed. With my mind so focused on the race itself (the term "race" is used loosely. No one kept time, and riders were not monitored except for safety) I was only able to add four species to the list. These were: common sorrel, striped skunk (carcass), eastern chipmunk, and common sulfur (butterfly). Over 100 miles, I am sure I missed quite a number of species I could have easily nabbed - but, having already cleared my goal by a wide margin it wasn't much of a priority. I did see one additional creature which I was very tempted to count, but I am not confident enough in my fleeting glimpse. A brilliant blue bird flew across my path - too small to be a blue jay but too dark to be an eastern bluebird. My assumption was that this bird was an indigo bunting, but after consulting some guides I realized that there are somewhere between three and six species I could have been seeing. I still think my gut instinct was right, but counting this would violate my own rules.

Sorrel (Rumex acetosa) happens to be the only member of the above list that I have a photo of. Thanks to Laurel for reminding me what this is.

Having never attempted a feat of endurance like this race, it became as much a learning experience as it was a test of my physical limits. What I discovered is that as you near your tolerance levels, it is your mind that can take the strongest hit. I don't know if this is backed up by medical science, but it seemed as if my body could only maintain so many things at that point. Almost every bit of energy it could assign to my brain was used to keep me breathing and to keep sending the necessary instructions to my legs. I found myself doing things like looking at the ground and nearly riding right off the road toward the end. Thinking straight was a real exertion of will. What surprised me most, however, was how little time the exhaustion lasted. After some food and a shower, I felt no worse than I did after our longest training rides, which were between 70 and 80 miles. I guess what that means is that we trained more or less properly.

I don't want to go on and on about this thing, so I'll wrap it up. Suffice it to say that this was a great personal achievement for me, one I'm happy to be able to include in my bragging rights folder. That it was something I could do outside while observing nature is quite a bonus.