12 Months of Nature: March

Events conspired to force March's outing into April (though to be fair, it was only one day late). I hate to cheat early, because it can open the door to cheating regularly, but life has to take precedence to blogging about life. Unfortunately, I also missed seeing the targets of my trip. I can spin this positively, though. You see, the nice thing about this hobby is that even spectacular failure can be eminently enjoyable. If you're searching for an elusive creature, or desperately hunting morels, or trying to reach a difficult peak... succeed or fail, you're still outside. You're immersed in nature and surrounded by things that probably interest you in some way. Success is of course rewarding, but failure isn't depressing.

It was easy to combine two events from my guidebook into one trip, and given the driving distance involved it seemed like common sense to do so. Among the events not chosen for March were: rare gulls, tundra swans, and "accidental" species. That last one refers primarily to birds whose migratory senses have failed and sent them to who-knows-where. The phrase "primarily to birds" reminds me to point out my one disappointment with this book so far: it leans quite heavily to birding. So far 11 of the 15 suggested activities have focused on avian life. I have no aversion to bird-watching, but I had hoped for a bit more diversity. It looks like the ratio gets a little better in April, but a "guide to the natural year" whose April section excludes morel hunting seems like sacrilege.

March Events: Endangered Fox Squirrels and Migrating Ducks and Geese

This double-dip was made possible by the proximity of two "hotspots" to one another. I thought that either target individually might be difficult to spot, so the freedom to do both in one trip seemed like a prime opportunity to raise the odds of success. I was pretty enthusiastic about this trip from early March when I started planning it, because it offered two separate chances to see species that are a bit outside the norm. It disappointed me when one thing after another caused the trip to be pushed back, but I was determined to continue with this twelve-month project.

Aside from the stuffed specimen, this was pretty much the only evidence of fox squirrels, although there is a third example to be mentioned later.

Seeing Delmarva Fox Squirrels was an exciting prospect, because they're a) endangered, b) adorable, and c) enormous compared to other squirrels. The visitor center at one of our destinations had a taxidermied example, and so at least I know what one of these beasts looks like.

The rare gulls were something of a longshot anyway, especially since we were late. The migratory season for these birds starts at the beginning of March, and while stragglers are always possible several weeks later, April 1st was a bit of a stretch.

The Location

This trip took us first to Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, and then to Wye Island Natural Resources Management Area. The former does not allow pets (outside of vehicles, anyway) but is a beatiful drive. There are several short hikes available in Blackwater, and they are short enough that leaving a small companion (say, for example, a beagle-basset mix) in the car is perfectly safe and acceptable. This doesn't mean your small companion will like it. The latter is beautiful as well, but also pet-friendly. Wye Island NRMA offers about a half-dozen short-to-medium length hikes, of which we did two. Since Wye Island is directly on our way back from Blackwater, combining these two destinations into one outing was extremely easy.

Why there, and Why then?

Delmarva fox squirrels at Wye Island:

 This squirrel has a limited habitat range to begin with - it can only be found on the Delmarva Peninsula. Within this already small area, the squirrel has been eliminated from most places. Wye Island is a pocket of woods that still has everything necessary for a fox squirrel population; Blackwater also has some such areas, as does Eastern Neck NWR.  March is a good month for seeking them because their activity increases as their winter food stores begin to run dry. As I understand squirrel behavior in general, they are not hibernators but do spend most of the winter in their dens.

Migrating ducks and geese at Blackwater:

In this case the timing is the key. Migrating birds are directed by the lengthening days int he Spring, and so their journeys can be predicted with some accuracy after a few years of observation. Three species of geese, almost thirty species of duck, and tundra swans migrate through the Eastern mid-Atlantic every March. For several weeks, spots like Blackwater NWR provide havens for these birds on their journey between their two regular habitats (some, of course, stay in the region and can be seen more or less all year). Many, however, can only be seen in this general area during their migrations.


The Trip, and What I Learned

A turkey vulture

We didn't see any Delmarva fox squirrels, and we missed out on the migrating fowl. Yet this trip was in no way a disappointment. What we did see was lovely. Blackwater and Wye Island are both places I recommend visiting without hesitation. They are lovely landscapes and offer much in terms of bird-watching, even if the rare and migrating birds are absent. There is a viewing scope trained on a bald eagle nest at Blackwater, and the drive there meanders through several ideal raptor habitats. There are man-made nesting sights for Osprey, as well. Our day included sightings of: American robin, cardinal, American crow, mallard, Canada goose, osprey, great blue heron, turkey vulture, and bald eagle. There were also several small songbirds and several gulls and plovers, although I didn't try to identify these specifically. A final bird-related sighting was a cluster of owl pellets along one of the trails we hiked. Their coloration and contents suggested that we might have found the remains of a Delmarva fox squirrel.

jack-in-the-pulpit

Plant life is coming back into form for the spring, and so we also saw several lovely floral displays. Among them were dense coatings of mayapples and a few patches of jack-in-the-pulpit, the latter appropriately on a side trail called the "jack-in-the-pulpit trail." Also spotted were some cattails, lilies, and princess pines. Violets lined many segments of trail, adding a nice spring touch.

I learned a lot about the Delmarva fox squirrel, although very little about the ducks and geese we also didn't see. I have also resolved to take the word "endangered" more seriously. Our squirrel technically is only a subspecies of the fox squirrel, Sciurus niger; however, I understand there are those who contest that it deserves its own species (one can imagine Monty Python shouting "Splitter!" in anger). It is much larger than the common gray squirrels DC residents are familiar with, and has lighter fur with a white underbelly. In terms of behavior, it spends more time on the ground and prefers a higher canopy than its urbanized cousin. It is most active early in the morning, which I think contributed to our failure. I believe that the many species of fowl we had hoped to find were already gone; by now they are likely well-settled in their summer homes. We returned home from this trip having missed our objectives, but feeling nonetheless fulfilled by the beauty of nature.

Naturalism on Speed: Challenge 2

Welcome back to the silliest feature of my blog, the Naturalism on Speed Challenge. Last year I challenged myself to identify 50 species before the CASA River Century and another fifty by the end of the year. This time I'm going for fifty more, for a grand total of 153. I expect this one to be much harder because so many of the most familiar species are eliminated. Further, since there are only so many terrestrial animals likely to show themselves I will be primarily identifying plants (outside my wheelhouse) and squinting at birds (which move as quickly as I do). I suppose insects might be a promising well to draw from, but those are, well, very small.

As with last time, I'm sure I won't have pictures of everything. After all, I have specifically stated that stopping to get a better look is off-limits, and I haven't mastered the art of photography from the back of a moving bicycle (and will never attempt to do so). Fortunately, the first few species this year are a product of some new wildflower knowledge I picked up within the last week or so, and so I happen to have a few pictures to show off. The top photo is bloodroot, which is sort of sneaky-beautiful Easy to overlook but worth the time to stop for. Photo two is a blanket of lesser celandine, while the third is the familiar mountain laurel.

Some of these may just get their own species features (I'm looking at you, bloodroot). Bloodroot and lesser celandine were the inspiration for returning to this project. They are beautiful wildflowers which bloom in early spring - a refreshing burst of color after months of grays and browns. Violets show equally early and are equally refreshing, but there are quite a few similar species and I have little hope of nailing them down as I rider by. I'm pleased to add mountain laurel this time,  because this was on the "how do I not have this yet" list along with sassafras and chickadees.

The List

I thought about reproducing the original list in this space, but it is something of a wall of text. I'll see if I can figure out a non-obnoxious way to present it later.

1. Ranunculus ficaria (lesser celandine)
2. Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot)
3. Kalmia latifolia (mountain laurel)
4. Hieracium pratense (yellow hawkweed)
5. Claytonia virginica (Virginia spring beauty)
6. Lamium amplexicaule (greater henbit)
7. Dryocopus pileatus (pileated woodpecker) added 3/22/12
8. Mertensia virginica (Virginia bluebells) added 4/6/12
9. Dicentra canadensis (squirrel corn) added 4/6/12
10. Haliaeetus leucocephalus (bald eagle) added 4/6/12
11. Phlox divaricata (wild blue phlox) added 4/6/12
12. Brassica juncea (Indian mustard) added 4/15/12
13. Geranium maculatum (wild geranium) added 4/15/12
14. Trillium grandiflorum (large-flowered trillium) added 4/15/12
15. Meleagris gallopavo (wild turkey) added 4/15/12
16. Corvus corax (common raven) added 4/15/12
17. Cardamine concatenata (cutleaf toothwort) added 4/15/12
18. Heracleum maximum (cow parsnip) added 4/15/12

Starting with a little over ten percent accomplished feels good... but it doesn't remove the daunting nature of the task ahead.

Grainy photo of pileated woodpecker snapped in June of 2010.

That didn't take long! One day and one more species to add to the list. This was an awesome one too: the pileated woodpecker. I came across this gorgeous bird as I slipped back into the woods from a road crossing. He was sitting on a stump at about ankle height (from a cycling POV, of course) no more than a few inches from the side of the path. I guess I wasn't making a lot of noise, because he didn't take off until my front wheel was even with him. Never been even remotely that close to such a bird - and that proximity gave me a real sense of its size. It was more than a foot tall, which may not seem like much but is impressive when seen at close range.

My most recent training ride took place outside the usual habitat zone I ride in (on Shenandoah National Park's Skyline Drive, to be precise). As such, I entered with high hopes of really putting a dent in this year's challenge. I did, but not quite to the level I had hoped. Seven new species went on the books, but a few were plants I could have easily picked up in the 'burbs. Unfortunately the black bear I saw was from the car, I only heard the coyotes (at night anyway),  and I couldn't pin down the exact identity of the owl or some of the hawks I rode past. Good get on the wild turkey, though.

New species from most recent edit: 7
Running Total: 121
Animals: 44 (11 mammals, 27 birds, 4 insects, 2 reptiles)
Plants: 72
Fungi: 5

Back in the Saddle

I don't think fierce pedaling would be enough to escape that fellow... 

With the return of Spring (which is now official, if specious) comes the return of cycling. While I have been riding to work intermittently since the end of January, this weekend marked my first ride longer than that. That ride served as a reminder of just how awesome it is to live in the DC suburbs and own a bike capable of handling varied terrain. My route took me through urban streets in Silver Spring, down Beach Drive (closed to motorists on weekends), past (and into) the National Zoo, onto the National Mall, along the C&O Canal Towpath, and back to Silver Spring on a paved bike trail. All of this was less than a 30-mile ride.

Boulder Bridge in Rock Creek Park is one of my favorite cycling landmarks.

 
So what does a new season of cycling mean? Well, I'm doing another century ride, or the same one over again if you prefer something that sounds more zen. The CASA River Century was a lot of fun and training for it was good for me, good for the environment, and good for traffic between Silver Spring and Rockville. Dustin and I will be joined by a third rider this year, and hopefully this time it serves as a prelude to the Sea Gull Century. Other life events might make this difficult, but I think I'll be able to make it happen.

The new season also means a new Naturalism on Speed challenge for me, which may bore the bajeezus out of my readers. Even if it does, it will at the very least hone my knowledge and skills, which in turn will make me better at this*. I'm aiming for fifty new species to add to last year's final total (which will make 153 the magic number). Sunday's ride netted me five or six to get started with. A quick recap of the rules:

1. I have to ID each species positively.
2. I can't stop for a better look, but I can count what I see when I'm already stopped.
3. I must know what I'm seeing when I see it - research can only help for next time.
4. Domesticated animals and people don't count, nor do plants in planters/gardens.
5. I can't count specimens I see all the time and thus have the chance to study thoroughly.
   
   

The sights in DC are iconic and worthwhile - and with a bike you can take in a huge number of them in just a few hours.

I'll close by reminding everyone how bike-friendly the Washington, DC area is. The Capital Bikeshare program is awesome, and there is an extensive network of trail systems. I could conceivably ride (about 90 miles) from my apartment to my parents' house just outside of Martinsbug, WV. The Metro makes it easy to close little gaps in your ride by hopping a train for a stop or two (except during weekday rush hour). The buses are theoretically all equipped to handle your bicycle.








*That's my polite way of saying "deal with it."

Species Feature #11, Mountain Laurel

I thought now would be a fitting time to feature this species, given my recent engagement to Laurel. While I believe she was technically named for the bay laurel (which isn't even closely related, taxonomically speaking), the mountain laurel is about as close as we're likely to find growing wild in this area. In this case "close" refers non-scientifically to plants called "laurels."

Mountain laurels have stunningly beautiful white flowers with red or pink highlights. Something I didn't realize about them is that they are evergreens... and so my prior thoughts about them as a "sign of spring" were in error. Still, I don't think they're generally quite as striking in winter as they have appeared the last few weeks.

A very photogenic plant.

 
Kalmia latifolia Quick Facts

Common Name(s): Mountain Laurel, Spoonwood, Ivybush, Sheep laurel, Lambkill, Calico bush

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Plantae
• Division (Phylum level) - Magnoliophyta (aka Angiospermae)
• Class - Eudicots (not technically a Class, but this is an approximation)
• Order - Asterids (another approximation. Asterids are part of the "core Eudicots.")
• Family -Eracaceae
• Genus - Kalmia
• Species - latifolia
  

Range:  From southern Maine to northwest Florida. It can be found as far west as Mississippi with patches in Indiana and Louisiana as well.

Showing off its evergreen properties in the snow

The ovine names above were bestowed upon the plant because of its poisonous properties. It has been known to kill sheep, cattle, and horses and is also toxic to humans. I was alarmed to read that the plant is toxic, yet used in food... and that it isn't one of those situations in which the toxicity is removed with cooking. I dare not investigate this further, lest I become paralyzed with fear.

Mountain laurels are gregarious in this area, and quite hardy. I have of course found them in Shenandoah National Park, but I have also noted their presence in myriad other places. Patuxent wildlife refuge has its share, as does Seneca Creek State Park. The flowers of course are the easiest way to identify this species, but the leaves are also fairly distinctive, at least when compared to other shrubs of the Mid-Atlantic.

The family to which it belongs, commonly referred to as the "heath' or "heather" family, is also home to a variety of familiar plants. Several berries (blueberries and cranberries, notably) are members of this family. Azaleas and rhododendrons also fit here, as do the common heathers of Europe.

Showing off its hardiness by growing from a rock.

I want to conclude with a note about the "taxonomic breakdown" I have been including in these features. It is important to note that these things are fluid, and one biologist may not agree with another over a species' placement. Further muddling this is the fact that there are even competing systems of classification, and that when it comes to plants phyla, classes, and orders are really "clades" which are not quite at the same level of biological classification. I have listed them that way to avoid confusion, and hope that I haven't instead created confusion. Believe it or not, Wikipedia is a reasonably reliable source for sorting this all out. I don't trust it to have the most current information, but it does do a good job of discussing the competing systems and, for example, what an "Angiosperm" is.

12 Months of Nature: February

Like February (that most dismal of months) itself, the February section of  Seasonal Guide to the Natural Year was generally short and forbidding. When conceiving this project, I had expected some months to be easier than others, and even expected to fail spectacularly at achieving the aim of my journey once or twice. But after reading my options for February, I despaired of even being able to put together a trip worthy of this blog... would "12 months of nature" become "11 out of 12 months of nature" so soon?

Option 1, "Winter Hawks" sounded promising until I discovered that all of the recommended spots were prohibitively far away. Option 2, "Tracking" seemed a little too general and unexciting for my purposes. Options 3 and 4 were titled "Lake Eerie Steelhead,"  and "Exploring Winter Beaches," respectively - both of which were also out because of travel time. The final option, "Pelagic Birding Trips," sounded fascinating but requires much more organization than I had the time or inclination to put together. Frankly, I had to look up the word 'pelagic' anyway.


February Event: Tracking

My choice of a human footprint here doesn't mean
I failed entirely...

So, I chose "Tracking" from the list above. I could have instead resigned myself to traveling a greater distance than I wanted to with a good chance of not seeing the hawks or steelhead I sought. The payoff might have been far more interesting. But the conservative approach meant that it would be hard to fail. One of my favorite places, Shenandoah National Park, was a recommended destination. There was the possibility of snow, which would only make track identification easier, in theory. Besides, the point of tracking isn't necessarily to find fauna itself, but to understand and interpret signs of its presence and impact on the environment.



The Location

I have repeatedly talked about this place, and I'm sure it will come up over and over again in this blog. So I won't bore you with redundancies (except in link form). Looking back, though, it's hard to believe I only have one post solely about Shenandoah.

Why there, and Why then?

Well, the guide was right about one thing. There was definitely snow.

The answer to "why there" was sort of unclear... really, one can track anywhere outside. Animals walk, poop, eat, and so forth everywhere. I think the guide suggested Shenandoah primarily because there is a ton of open space, and because wildlife traffic is a lot higher than most places in this region of the US. I had an ulterior motive for going to the park that most of my readers are aware of. So "why then," then? Well, I think they stuck "tracking" in February primarily because it was the toughest month to fill out with reasonable activities, but also because of the likelihood of snow.


The Trip, and What I Learned

Like the previous trip, this one was wonderful. Unfortunately I didn't learn much about tracking - I relied on a few things I already know and just enjoyed getting a good hike in in February. We got to the park pretty early, and chose one of our favorite spots: Mary's Rock. (There are those ulterior motives again). The last time we had done this hike was in the hottest part of the summer, so it was a nice change of pace (and still gorgeous) to hike it with a dusting of snow. What's nice about this hike is that although steep, it's less than a two-mile trip from the parking lot to the summit. And the view is spectacular.

The trailhead - per the sign, much of this hike is on the Appalachian Trail.

We thought this was beautiful - a veritable explosion of color amid the white, gray, and brown.

I have a couple of decent photos of the view from Mary's Rock itself, but I don't feel they do it justice. If you follow the link above there are a couple that almost get the job done, but it's one of those things you just have to see to appreciate fully. Luckily for DC denizens, it's not too far away and you don't have to be a marathon runner to pull off the climb.

When we were finished with that hike, we decided to make a quick stop at one of the park's other notable spots, Big Meadows. As usual, there were quite a few deer nearby (and signs of other fauna, which I'll get to). I have to say, though, that Big Meadows is pretty drab in the dead of winter. There's still a certain beauty to the place, and I'm glad I have seen it in its more dormant state, but I wouldn't put it at the top of my list for winter outings.

Big Meadows and one of the creatures it is famed for. As a nerd about such things, it has often bothered me that "Big Meadows" is a singular proper noun for a place composed of plural meadows. But I digress (as usual).

My guess is these were left by a squirrel. But it's hard to be
certain without a clear footprint.

 You don't even have to be an astute reader to wonder where the bit about tracking is, since that was after all the point of the exercise. Well, to be frank, we didn't find a lot of identifiable tracks, even in the snow. I think the amount of snow was such that it made it harder rather than easier - just enough to cover any visible tracks but not enough to leave good tracks. Also, the ground was still frozen. Any place where deer or some other large animal had clearly been was mostly torn up into a tangled mess. The clearest tracks were those left by fellow hikers and their canines. However, as you'll see below, footprints aren't the only signs one can use as clues to animal activity.

Deer poop

 I apologize for this next photo, but one just can't talk with any reasonable credibility about tracking without briefly discussing poop. It just can't be done. The scat at right belongs to white-tailed deer, although on this trip we also saw quite a bit of carnivores' waste as well. It could have been from foxes, coyotes, bobcats, or possibly just family pets. There was a lot of high fur content, though (you can tell just by glancing) so my guess is "coyote." In the past there was an unfortunate incident involving Franklin and some bear feces, but I don't want to talk about it. So end my scatological ramblings for the day.



A couple of other signs of note were some loose feathers, and some obvious groundhog trails. Photos of those are even more boring than photos of poop, though, so I'll let it go.

When tracking, what a good naturalist is really after is not just  an identity of what had passed this way, but a story of what it was doing and why. If the deer tracks are clustered in one muddy spot, what made them behave this way? Was it a predator? A mating display or fight for dominance? If there's loose fur, did the owner just get snagged on a twig or was there some sort of conflict? How recent are the tracks you're looking at? Was the animal moving quickly or slowly? One thing I noticed was that some of the deer scat was clustered into piles, while other spots were scattered. This led me to wonder why those particular deer were exhibiting divergent restroom behaviors. It's this type of question that can turn one from aware of nature's signs to an expert at interpreting them. Myself, I'm somewhere in between... I know how to ask the questions but not often how to answer them. Good guides on tracking do exist, though I can't offer much in the way of critique. If you're interested in learning how to track and "read sign" I suggest that you research these and select one... but it's really the experience that will teach you. I will leave you with my favorite deer picture from the day.

This young buck is showing his antler velvet... I've never managed a clear photo of this before, so I'll call it a win.

Further Evidence of Spring

This is more of a follow-up than its own post. I don't have a ton of new thoughts to share, but since I wrote yesterday about the signs that spring is upon us I have been hyperaware of anything that could constitute such a sign. I've been looking for them. I continue to be surprised by them. This could be thought of as a validation post (see! I'm not crazy!) There may also be an element of wishful thinking: Spring! morels! biking! BEING OUTSIDE! Laying all that aside, I'll just present some snapshots (all taken today). I'm not going to try to identify what I don't know, or go into detail about what I do know. So please, just look at the pretty things.

In this out-of-focus photo, you can see that some of the topiary at Rock Creek Springs is budding. This appears to be something related to holly, but how closely I don't know.

I don't believe these red berries usually start appearing for a few weeks.

Apparently not only are dandelions already growing, but some have even gone to seed!

Some very pretty blue flowers are also showing themselves.

Crocuses?

I saw these and thought "wow, the daffodils already have buds!" So imagine my surprise...

...when I saw these! Yes, I saved the best for last.

I know this has all been plant-based evidence of Spring. I had hoped to steal a picture or two of some of the robins and other returning birds I've been seeing, but either they weren't cooperating or I was too lazy. I was also both too early and too late to catch the bees in action today.

Seneca Creek State Park and the Return of Spring

I know that around here it's hard to think of this Spring as a "return" from anything. I can't recall a winter this mild. Did we crack three inches of snow? Nonetheless, the signs of mother nature waking up can already be seen, and it is a stark contrast to the grayness of early February. Why, this morning when I took the trash out I saw bees pollinating the bushes lining the front steps. Bees? Yes, bees.

The signs hardly begin and end with bees, but for me that has been the single most surprising among them. On Sunday I took a stroll to Joe's Record Paradise in Downtown Silver Spring, and along the way I noticed a number of small wildflowers already in bloom. For over a week now I have seen green shoots peeking out of the ground in various places, and I've noticed greater activity among the birds and small mammals. It seems odd to be typing this on February 22nd, but I can't argue with what I'm seeing.

Looking for a way to enjoy the warm weather and the rest of nature's early offerings, Laurel and I set out for Seneca Creek State Park on Saturday. It wasn't one of our more intense trips, but we got in a nice four-mile hike around the lake and took in some lovely sights. Unlike our previous new adventure (Monocacy), this park had a lot to offer, and I'm sure we'll be returning sometime in the future. Apart from the beauty of Clopper Lake, the Park had numerous beautiful picnic areas and pavilions. It also extended for unexplored (by us) miles along Seneca Creek. In fact, combined with other area parks, one could stroll through uninterrupted parkland from the Potomac River all the way to Damascus, Maryland. Several of the trails are also available to mountain bikers. It seems both kid-friendly and wild enough to make the most hardened naturalist happy.

Clopper Lake, the primary feature of our day's excursion.

I spoke above briefly of renewed bird activity. Well, in the park we did hear and glimpse a few songbirds, but it was still primarily waterfowl that were on display. In attendance were of course the run-of-the-mill Branta canadensis (Canada goose) and Anas platyrhynchos (mallard). However, we also sighted through binoculars a small flock of Bucephala albeola, or buffleheads. These are fairly easy to recognize by the large white patch at the back of the head (males only). The females have a smaller white stripe slightly lower on the head. I didn't get a precise count, but our flock consisted of at least a dozen birds, mostly female, although some may have been immature males and I was able to pick out for certain three adult males. Additionally, we heard the shriek of at least one bird of prey, though we never caught a glimpse of its owner and I am not nearly adept enough at discerning birdcalls to hazard a guess as to its identity.

The sign also confirmed our suspicions about the presence of beavers.

We also discovered a restoration project aimed at the American chestnut, Castanea dentata. Chestnut blight is a problem in the park, as it has apparently been everywhere the tree occurs.  I'm not sure how likely they are to preserve the trees within the park, but I salute their efforts and wish them well. We may not always know we're doing the right thing when we act on nature, but biodiversity is good and plant biodiversity is suffering greatly in this region. Here's some further reading on the tree and its plight.

I took this photo thinking these were the "shoots" mentioned in the sign above. Thanks to some vigorous Google image searching, however, I no longer think so. Whatever this plant is, I hope it doesn't out-compete the chestnuts.

In terms of other plant life, there were more green things than expected. The pines and American holly (Ilex opaca) weren't surprising, but the mountain laurel bushes already possessed a wealth of green leaves. Even the mosses and prickly vines lent a refreshing color to the landscape. Even a few grasses were peeking through the mat of dead leaves.

The blooming mountain laurels can be seen here as a faint green band.

For those interested, visiting the park is an easy trip from DC and the surrounding area. Simply take Exit 10 from I-270 and proceed East on Clopper Road. The park will be on the left. From Silver Spring this is about a thirty to forty minute drive.

12 Months of Nature: January

I recently discovered a book titled Seasonal Guide to the Natural Year: A Monthly Guide to Natural Events - Mid-Atlantic. Despite the unwieldy title, I was pretty excited to get into it. You see, timing can be everything for the success of a naturalist's outing, and I have never been possessed of the keenest sense for this.* I gleefully proceeded to the counter, slapped down my two bucks, and sped home. (Thank you, Friends of the Library!)

As I began paging through it that evening, I immediately started to envision a new project for From the Suburbs, Naturally. The guidebook is presented in month-by-month format, with several natural events per month. Each of the sixty entries includes recommended locations for viewing these events within the Mid-Atllantic region. I've decided to choose one entry for each month in 2012. I will explore these for myself and chronicle my attempts here. This first one was a doozy - I kind of nerded out.


January Event: Bald Eagle Viewing

This is an ambitious start. Few North American animals are as revered or as majestic as the Bald Eagle. I'm not sure I'll be able to top it in the months to come. The photos are only so good, but this trip was a resounding success. Laurel and I were able to see dozens of birds, some at surprisingly close range and all quite active. I had no idea that there was such a population of bald eagles anywhere close to us.


The Location

The suggested viewing point for wintering bald eagles was Conowingo Dam. Located near Darlington, MD on the Susquehanna River (just after it flows from Pennsylvania into Maryland), this is about a 1.5 hour trip for DC residents. I don't recommend a weekday trip, as most of your driving will be on I-95 or US 1. For a pleasant Sunday, however, this spot was well worth the drive. The dam itself is kind of nifty, and it is a paradise for birders. It is just a short drive (or medium hike) from Susquehanna State Park, which is a small but pleasant park on the river's western bank. We spent some time there after the main attraction. It wasn't particularly exciting in January, but it has potential for a spring/summer visit.


Why there, and why then?

The eagles, along with many other bird species, have identified the dam as a reliable winter food source. It blocks not only water, but fish. Further, when water is released from any of the sluices, it deposits several of these fish in the shallows - often disoriented or dead. Bald eagle numbers climb in the winter, as other food sources grow more scarce - a couple of internet sources cite as many as forty birds counted.

Dam! (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Those rocks at the far right are the tip of an island where the birds congregate, waiting for meals.

The Trip and What I Learned

Something that was entirely new to me: not all bald eagles possess the distinctive white head. In fact, it takes about five years for this to develop, and the immature bald eagles look fairly similar to the golden eagle. I'm still uncertain if any of the birds of prey we observed were golden eagles. Some of them had white markings on the wings that were remarkably similar. A related tidbit: hawks and eagles don't display the marked sex differences in plumage known to occur in smaller birds. Sexing bald eagles can be accomplished by comparing size (see the second question at the link for more).


There was only one other car in the parking lot, yet I knew we were in the right place when we got out of the car and immediately saw an eagle take flight from a nearby tree. Turns out I was wrong... the Visitor Center where we parked was about a mile from the viewing area. When we got out of the car there, though, it was hard to deny that this was the spot. People with notebooks stood behind tripods with serious cameras. I heard a shriek to my left and lo, about forty feet up and almost straight overhead sat a pair of bald eagles. Those soon took to the sky, but were replaced by a spectacle: a dining eagle.

Welcome to Dinner!

I think I may have learned a birders' lesson: if the people with the awesome technology are there, you're in the right place. I have previously learned this lesson as it relates to cycling.

None of the other eagles came remotely close enough for me to snap even a passable picture, but this was far from the end of the activity. We stayed for perhaps two hours, and never went more than a minute or two without seeing one. This is definitely a must-see spot.


 Eagles, however, weren't the sole attraction for naturalists. This site presents a list of other species seen at Conowingo, with shorebirds the main attraction for more experienced birders. Apart from the eagles, we saw black vultures, great blue herons, Canada geese, mallards, and several species of gull. I am almost certain to return at least once when my knowledge base is broader. I'm sure picking out the various species of shorebirds would be fascinating.

There was one other item of note, and it's something of an oddity to me. I noticed several dead mice scattered around the viewing area. The first seemed perfectly normal. After two more I started to wonder. Of course we were there to see birds of prey, so I wondered if they were lost meals. That's pure speculation... it could be that the dam owners use poison, or that the (mild) winter has started to hit the mouse population. I'm partial to the "dropped dinner" theory, so I'll just pretend it's that.

For anyone who is interested, the peak season for bald eagles at Conowingo Dam extends into March, and they can reportedly be seen in smaller numbers throughout the rest of the year.


*Aside: it seems I am always bringing up naturalist skills which I am deficient in. I suppose it's a combination of youth and a desire to learn more.

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.