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.

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 #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.

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.

Monocacy River Natural Resource Management Area

You won't often see me write negatively about a place set aside to preserve nature. This place, though, didn't seem to offer a whole lot. Don't misunderstand; I'm glad it exists - every pocket of wildlife and natural resource management is valuable. However, purely as a place to go spend an afternoon I wouldn't recommend it - especially not with the plethora of other options available to residents and visitors of this area. The Monocacy River Natural Resource Management Area caught my eye on a bike ride this Saturday, and, looking for something to do early Sunday afternoon, Laurel and I packed up Franklin and set off to check it out.


There is more to the place than we witnessed; perhaps a second visit beginning from the other access point is in order. However, from where we started there wasn't much. In the parking lot off of Maryland 28 were a couple of historical signs and some posted rules (no alcohol, closed at dark, etc). What there wasn't was any sort of information about the trail systems or what facilities it might possess. No maps or handy wildlife guides, either. The immediate area consisted of one rocky trial that appeared to lead to the river bank 100 feet or so away, and one muddy trail disappearing into the woods. Now, to a mycologist like myself that muddy trail looked promising, but it turned out not to offer much even in that department. As Laurel put it, "the two main features of this place seem to be mud and poison ivy." Other than the mushrooms shown below, the only specimens I saw were uninteresting or rotten.

I think these mushrooms belong to the genus Marasmius, but are possibly Mycena. I'm basing this upon the gracile stem that turns almost woody where it connects with the substrate, which in this case was a stick under leaf litter.

Now, I do have to admit that there was some variety in the wildlife we spotted, including a broad range of wildflowers and other ground-covering plants (mayapple, sorrel, ground ivy, etc). In my efforts to photograph some butterflies (which mostly failed) I stumbled across an eastern box turtle. In addition to the butterflies, other insect life was teeming - which was interesting, ticks notwithstanding. Yet the trails themselves were poorly maintained and unmarked. At times we were wading through wet, sticky, deep mud with no provision for going around. We did enjoy a few very pleasant moments where the trail crossed a streambed, but the water was high enough (and the surroundings disappointing enough) that we opted to turn around rather than get wet. I really have little else to say about the day, so I will get on with the pictures.

Daisy fleabane (Erigeron strigosis) was growing quite thickly at the beginning of the trail.

The painted lady (Vanessa cardui) is what the Audubon guide calls "perhaps the most widely distributed butterfly in the world."

What's up with this turtle's beak?  I don't know, but that white glob doesn't look normal.

I thought maybe I could name this millipede using online resources...but the other 9,999 species had something to say about that.

I did learn something from this hike, at least. I had identified this plant as lyre-leaved sage in my Naturalism on Speed challenge (I saw it every day, and I went with sage instead of ivy because it was upright). The leaf shape, and the sheer volume of it, corrected me. This flower is, in fact, ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea). This is why I was glad that I got well over the goal of 550 species.

May Mushrooms

It's May, and for mushroomers that means you're either riding high from a successful morel season or, like me, disappointed once again by your failure to find morels (not that I've been at this long, or tried more than a couple of times). A lot of mushroom enthusiasts are just now waiting for the showier mushrooms of summer and fall to appear. I caution you, though: if this is your thing, don't write off May! Quite a lot of good edibles grow around this time, and it's when you really start to see some variety out there. From this point until about November in this region, you can more or less count on finding some mushrooms of at least middling interest if it's at all wet outside.

So, what's to be found in May? Well, I'll start you off with some species I encountered on the stroll that inspired this post.

I initially thought that the mushrooms depicted above and to the right were wine caps (Stropharia rugosoannulata) based upon their superficial appearance, the season, and their growing on mulch. When I returned I discovered I was mistaken: wine caps have a distinctive ring which seemed to be lacking, though I do note what appears to be a ring zone near the top of the stem. Wine caps also have white gills which turn purplish black - never the brown color seen here. On top of all that, these don't really look anything like any images I can find of wine caps, after all. The question of course becomes, "well, what are they then?" The answer, to my chagrin, remains "I don't know."

I began and remain quite confident that these (above photo only) mushrooms are scaly inky caps (Coprinopsus variegata). The coprinoid mushrooms are possessed of gills which deliquesce as they mature. Most are edible, although the alcohol inky, so named because it is known to contain a substance which inhibits your body's ability to metabolize alcohol, can make you sick if combined with a couple of beers. I have seen this particular spot produce these mushrooms in spring for three consecutive years.

These two photos show varying stages of the mica cap (Coprinellus micaceus), another coprinoid mushroom that's pretty common around here. This one is easiest to distinguish by the tiny granules on the cap (you might have to expand the picture at the left to see them clearly). However, these have a habit of washing or blowing away quite early in the mushroom's life, so you may need to rely on characteristics. Honestly, I haven't had much trouble getting a fairly positive ID on the little guys most of the time regardless. If you plan to eat them, though, just be sure you DON'T have alcohol inkys instead.

Of course, we couldn't forget our old friend dryad's saddle, could we? These things might get boring fast, and might wind up with the record for most appearances in this blog.

At left are some pictures of a few unidentified mushrooms from the later part of my little stroll. I didn't bother collecting these for later analysis, or taking detailed notes, but I coudn't resist a few quick photos. The first specimen could be a small fawn mushroom, or a large fairy-ring mushroom, or something completely different, like an agrocybe. That's a convoluted way of saying I can't tell from my photograph, because it only offers a limited view of one specimen. I won't bother with my wanton speculation on the identity of the second.

What I've shown you thus far hardly exhausts the list of mushrooms one might find in May. I myself have encountered mower's mushrooms (Panaeolus foenisecii), fairy ring mushrooms (Marasmius oreades), orange dog stinkhorn (Mutinus elegans), and crown-tipped coral (Clavicorona pyxidata), among others. The stinkhorn is one of the foulest living things on the planet. It gets is name because it looks kind of like a dog's penis. It has a slimy, oily secretion which attracts flies and smells and looks like feces. When cut, it smells like I imagine Oscar the Grouch would smell.

I will close with an anecdote related to the above picture. Those tasty morsels are oyster mushrooms which became part of last night's dinner. I was biking home from work, which is what I'm usually doing at 5:30 or so on a Thursday afternoon, when I noticed some mushrooms hanging from a stump right at the edge of the path. Maybe a hundred yards later, my mind said "waaaaaaaaaaiiiiiit a minute! Those looked like oysters - and in good shape!" I brought my bike around and pulled off to the side. Sure enough, oysters they were. I didn't have any wax paper, so I put them in the messenger bag I carried and crossed my fingers against their destruction. Think that meal was satisfying? It most certainly was.