Come Walk the Lakeshore With Me!

 Oh my, but I sure do feel honored!  The New York Flora Association, a state-wide organization "dedicated to field botany and furthering the understanding of plants that grow wild in New York," is holding their annual meeting on October 4 right here in my favorite stomping grounds, Moreau Lake State Park.  And I have been asked if I would lead a nature walk in the park as one of the day's events.  Well, SURE I will! And I already know where I hope to lead it.  On an easy walk along the beach,  the site where I have found a number of rare plants over the years, right out within easy view. No scrambling up mountain cliffs or slogging through swamps, just an easy walk where the sandy shore meets the surrounding forest.

If you click on this photo, looking toward the north end of Moreau Lake, you might be able to make out a wooden pedestrian bridge that separates the main body of the lake from its smaller back bay. That's where I hope to start our walk.

I sure hope some of these New England Asters will still be blooming by October 4.  They were certainly in their glory this week, masses of bright-purple blooms inviting me to continue across the bridge.

That glorious aster patch was bobbing as if the flowers were blowing in the breeze, but the only breeze was created by the wafting of wings of hundreds of pollinating insects feasting on the asters. This bumblebee was one of the very few that held still enough for the picture-taking!

Directly across the bridge I continued along an inter-lake forested trail, where I can see expanses of blue sparkling water through the trees on both sides. By the first week of October, we should start to see some autumn color in the leaves.

I am delighted that both White Pines and Pitch Pines line this wooded trail, making it easy to distinguish each species by its bark, that of the Pitch Pines rendered most immediately obvious by the reticulated fissures in the bark, reminding me of a giraffe's hide.

Pitch Pines are also interesting because of how they hold onto their cones for several years, so we can find examples of each year's cones together on the same branch.

From this wooded trail we will make our way down to this broad sandy beach, where small flatsedges form lines of greenery in the sand

Here's where we will search for our first rare plant of our walk, called Small-flowered Dwarf Bulrush (Cyperus subsquarrosus). It might take some sharp eyes to find it, since it is very, very small, and it might be starting to fade by October 4. If our state's head botanist, Rich Ring, is with us on this walk, perhaps he might relate our experience of first finding this Endangered species along these shores. (I did record that experience on a blog I posted back in 2018.)

Among the other flatsedges along this sandy shore is this attractive Toothed Flatsedge (Cyperus dentatus), with its golden spikelets.

As we stand on this sandy shore and look up to the forested border, we will note thick hedges of Black Huckleberry shrubs (Gaylussacia baccata).  If we're lucky, these shrubs will have acquired something of their vivid red foliage by the first week of October. Some years, that foliate is a brilliant red, other years a more subtle burgundy red.  But always beautiful.

As we turn to proceed along the eastern shore of the lake, the aster experts among us might be able to identify the different species of small white aster flowers that grow in masses there.

I can usually identify the Heath Asters (Symphyotrichum ericoides) myself, so compact are its flower clusters and short and sharp are its leaves.

When I first spied the loose cluster of these pale-purple flowers in a wooded clearing, I thought it might be the Heart-leaved Aster.  But then I noticed its leaves were neither heart-shaped nor sharply toothed nor slender stalked. So I took a closer look.

The larger stem leaves of this aster were not toothed at all and their stalks enlarged at the base and clasped the plant's stem.  These leaves sure suggested to me that this was a Wavy-leaved Aster (Symphyotrichum undulatum).

At least I did not have to puzzle over these bright-yellow blooms.  Except I was surprised to find such a fresh-looking bunch of flowers this late in summer on an Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis). Most of the other Evening Primrose plants along this shore now bore clusters of seedpods instead of flowers.

A number of small trees hung their branches over the shore, and the hop-like seedpods of this tree made it immediately evident that this was Hop Hornbeam (Ostrya virginiana).

The leaves of Mapleleaf Viburnum (Viburnum acerifolia) had yet to acquire their beautiful autumn pinky-purple color, but I was glad to see the shrub had produced a cluster of berries.

As I neared the shoreline where I would turn into a deep cove, my eyes swept the forested high banks where in other years dozens and dozens of Green Rock Cress plants (Borodinia missouriensis) were immediately made visible by their cascading slender siliques.  Aha!  I did spy one specimen, anyway.  The populations of this state-ranked Threatened species seem to vary from year to year, but at least I was encouraged to see this one bearing seed.  When state botanist Rich Ring and I scoured this bank a few years ago, we found abundant numbers of these plants thriving here. (I recorded that visit on my blog as well.)

I've now reached the deep cove where we will head toward the final destination of our nature walk on October 4.  I sure hope we can make it this far, because one of the rarest plants in the park, the Endangered Whorled Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum var. verticillatum), grows along this cove.

Masses of Gray Dogwood (Cornus racemosa) and Buttonbush shrubs (Cephalanthus occidentalis)  flourish at the edge of the wide sandy shore along this cove.

The red seedpods of the Buttonbush are just as attractive as the spheres of tiny white flowers had been.

I sure hope the birds will not have devoured ALL the Sassafras berries before we have a chance to delight in them on our nature walk.  (Sassafras albidum)

Masses of late-summer wildflowers fill the edges of this cove.

This bee was feasting on the nectar (or pollen?) of flowers of White Snakeroot (Ageratina altissima), a plant that is known to poison most other animals that would dare to eat it.

This lovely little Pearl Crescent butterfly was feeding on one of the small white asters that thrive on this shore.

There were at least two species of Smartweed (Persicaria sp.) growing on this sandy shore, one with pale-pink nodding flowers and the other with deeper-pink more-erect flowers. I did not examine the plants closely enough to determine the species of each, so this could be a task for any of the more-knowledgeable botanists who might be taking this walk.

This was a very small plant of Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata), but you could not miss noticing such bright-blue flowers.

I hope we reach these plants of Blue Curls (Trichostema dichotomum) before they drop their tiny flowers with the distinctive curving anthers (early afternoon). If not, we could probably find the intact flowers littering the sand.  And their seed pods are just as cute as the flowers.

I do hope we might find a plant of two of Small-flowered Agalinis (Agalinis paupercula) still blooming.  The shores of Moreau Lake are the only place I have ever found this pretty late-summer flower, once rated as a Rare species in New York.  They certainly are not rare along certain damper stretches of this lake's shoreline.

We should find more of that Endangered species, Small-flowered Dwarf Bulrush (Cyperus subsquarrosus), along this sandy shore, too. If they haven't shriveled beyond recognition by this October date. They do disappear after frost.

But this final plant of our seeking today, the Whorled Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum var. verticillatum), is usually quite visible well after frost, the sturdy bracts of its tiny florets now bearing seeds.  We once counted over 270 specimens of this Endangered species along this cove, but varying water levels in the lake affect how many plants will emerge each year. At least they continue to persist, in varying numbers each year.  I found them in good shape this year, so I'm excited to think that our friends in the New York Flora Association will be able to see them for sure.

I don't know what's turning some of the Whorled Mountain Mint seed clusters black, but I sure hope whatever might be causing this does not imperil the future of this population along the shores of Moreau Lake.

A few more pretty things awaited me on my return walk along the lakeshore.  A bright-red Autumn Meadow Hawk dragonfly, and a bright-yellow Amanita mushroom standing beside a multi-colored Big Tooth Aspen leaf.

Another Powerline, Another Amazing Day!

This past Friday was a really, really great day.  Not only was the weather perfect for being outside, but I had a grand site to explore for natural points of interest in the Daniel's Road State Forest just north of Saratoga Springs. And I had the very best companions to do so with. I'm scheduled to lead our Thursday Naturalist friends here next week, so my friends Sue and Ruth joined me to take a preview walk along a powerline that stretches for miles both east and west from where we parked our cars. Here's the powerline heading east, lined with sunlit meadows of rosy-colored Little Bluestem Grass, a view of mountains rising in the far distance.

And here is a view of the powerline heading west, where the lane dips low and forms a small wetland thriving with plants well-suited for just such a dampish habitat. Some puddles of open water are also present. Deep forest lines the powerline in both directions.

The Sun-lit Trailside

We chose to first head west on our foray today,  but either section of the trail was lined with the gorgeous sun-loving wildflowers that come into late-summer bloom.  Several species of goldenrods were in full bloom, including these Blue-stemmed Goldenrods (Solidago caesia), a species that bears its flowers in small clusters along gracefully arching stems. This is one of very few goldenrods that can tolerate the shade.

One of the most common wildflowers today was Pringle's Aster (Symphyotrichum pilosum var. pringlei), whose large white flowers, open habit of growth, and slender, pointed involucral bracts suggested at first it might be Frostweed Aster (Symphyotrichum pilosum), except for one thing. The stems were not as hairy as most of my guidebooks described for that species.  Thus, Pringle's Aster instead.

There were doubtless more plants of Indian Tobacco (Lobelia inflata) along the trail than this small specimen I found. But the number and plumpness of the inflated seed pods on this one indicated that this pretty native wildflower was nearing the end of its blooming season.

We were certainly too late to see the Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) species that once lifted their large spidery lavender blooms under this powerline, but their round attractive seedheads certainly told of their previous abundance here. A pinch of one of those seedpods scented my fingers with a minty fragrance for the duration of my visit.

I also pinched a flowerhead of this Sweet Everlasting (Pseudonaphalium obtusifolium) to inhale its own distinctive fragrance, a scent very similar to that of maple syrup.

I am always disappointed that the leaves of Wild Basil (Clinopodium vulgare) do not smell at all like the minty culinary herb, but their pretty flowers circling a hemisphere of spiky-looking bracts make for adequate compensation for that lack of pleasant scent.

I did recognize this plant with its many tiny hard round pods as a member of the Pinweed genus (Lechea sp.), but I did not know how to distinguish this plant from among the seven species listed in the NYFA Plant Atlas as present in New York State.  I did find only one plant along either stretch of the powerline today.

One of the marvelous botanical finds along this powerline is the abundant population of Yellow Ladies' Tresses (Spiranthes ochroleuca), a native wild orchid that was just now achieving full bloom.  This pair was among more than the dozen we found today.

You have to look close to distinguish this Spiranthes species from others that are found in Saratoga County, and the distinctive yellow throat is the most obvious visual clue.  Time of blooming is helpful, too, for this is our last Spiranthes to bloom around here, just as other species are fading.

We had to seek out the driest, sandiest place along the powerline to look for the Blue Curls plants (Trichostema dichotomum) that we remembered growing here.  Luckily, we found them early enough in the day before they dropped their distinctive flowers with the curling anthers, usually by noon.  New flowers will bloom tomorrow. 

Rock Spikemoss (Selaginella rupestris) also likes a sunny, dry spot, but on hard rock, not sand.  There are many rocky outcroppings along this powerline,  and several of them boast populations of Rock Spikemoss, a tiny, mat-forming, drought-resistant perennial plant that resembles a miniature clubmoss. We often find it surrounded by another drought-resistant plant, Reindeer Lichen.

The Wetland Stretch

My friends were smart to wear waterproof footware for exploring the wetland section of the powerline. This habitat supports an entirely different kind of wildflower, those that can tolerate wet feet.  Our first sign of this habitat was the large population of pretty purple-flowered Slender Agalinis (Agalinis tenuifolia) that started to show up along the trailside. This species can tolerate dryer soils, but doesn't seem to mind a certain dampness underfoot.

The name Swamp Aster (Symphyotrichum puniceum) should be a good clue that this large-flowered, purple-stemmed, lavender-colored aster can thrive among other swamp dwellers. And thrive it did, at this location, and beautifully so!

Beggar Ticks (Bidens frondosa) is another native wildflower that can tolerate damp soils. Lacking petals, the central disc flowers can produce plenty of the seed-bearing stick-tights that cling to our clothing. I'm glad they mostly grow in places I am not likely to walk in.

Nodding Bur Marigold (Bidens cernua) is one of the showiest members of the Bidens genus, and it also  shares a preference for damp habitats. The flowers were on fine display today.  They won't nod downward until they go to seed.

I know this tiny-flowered plant is a Willowherb (Epilobium sp.), but I learned it as Northern Willowherb many years ago from my 1977 edition of Newcomb's Wildflower Guide, so I assume both its vernacular and scientific names are different now.  Whatever its name is now, I still love its wee little pink flowers, so tiny they would make a cute bouquet for a dollhouse.

Can I really still call this pretty bushclover with its slender leaves Slender Bushclover (Lespedeza virginica), both the vernacular and the scientific names Newcomb assigned to it in his Wildflower Guide all those years ago? I had actually never seen this plant until I found a solitary specimen under this powerline today. The NYFA distribution map does not show it as present in Saratoga County, but that's only because no one has contributed a specimen. To date, it has not yet been ranked by state botanists as to its rarity status. I regret I dropped this stem and couldn't find it again. Many more stems remain on the plant.

The Tree-shaded Grassy Verge

The north-facing side of the western-leading stretch of powerline offered another kind of habitat, where fallen trees and rotting stumps hosted a fascinating variety of fungi, and tree-shaded grassy stretches were home to some of our prettiest wildflowers of the day.  And both Ruth and Sue, dedicated "bryo-philes," found bryophytes fascinating enough to bring them to their knees. In this photo, Sue (orange shirt) is studying some lichens adorning the tree trunk, and Ruth might be checking iNat to help confirm her ID of a moss she has found.

I am drawn to this grassy verge each year now to experience vast numbers of Purple Milkwort flowers (Senega sanguinea), so numerous here I can barely walk among them.

I love how the teeny-tiny multicolored florets of Purple Milkworts are tucked within the enveloping bracts, like mini bouquets wrapped in purple tissue paper.

Clubmosses of several species thrive among the grasses, often intermingling, as do this yellow-tipped Fan Clubmoss (Diphasiastrum digitatum) with this furry-tipped Running Clubmoss (Lycopodium clavatum).

Several species of violets also thrive in this grassy verge, including one my friends and I have not found elsewhere, the Arrow-leaved Violet (Viola sagittata).  The arrow-shaped leaves of this violet are sometimes deeply lobed at the base, as this photo of them displays.

Ah, and then there were the FUNGI! In many surprising shapes and colors. My old mushroom guides are so out-of-date regarding both vernacular and scientific names, forgive me if I opt to neglect them.

I cannot recall finding Turkey Tail fungus standing upright like this blue-colored group (Trametes versicolor). This species usually protrudes from a stump in a horizontal manner.

Here is the white pore-surface of that blue-colored Turkey Tail fungus pictured above. The pores are very tiny.

Whoa!  I am not sure if this is a fungus or a slime mold, but whichever it is, it is certainly RED! 

UPDATE: Thanks go to Sue Pierce for finding the name of this fungus: Tulasnella aurantiaca

This small rosy mushroom cap was only about an inch across, but its pretty color called it to my attention.

 Just a bunch of squiggly orange-colored mushrooms sprouting abundantly from a sawn tree stump. I wonder how all those tiny holes appeared in the stump.   Or are they the natural texture of the trees vascular system or something?

Could this be the Amanita species known as Yellow Patches (A. flavoconia)?

Would this be Brown-toothed Crust (Hydnochaete olivacea).  Or something else?

Aha!  Here's one I think I know: the Thin-walled Maze Polypore (Dadaeleopsis confragosa).  The top of it, anyway.

And here are the gills of the Thin-walled Maze Polypore, displaying the maze-like gills that suggested the name. Note how the name of the ancient Greek maze-builder Daedalus is included in this fungus's name.

I do know the name of these next mushrooms, too, distinguished by their eccentric stalks and radiating gills. They also have a distinctive trait of being able to glow in the dark, which suggested their name of Luminous Panellus. I have never witnessed this trait myself, but every one of my mushroom guidebooks mentions it.  This mushroom's scientific name, Panellus stipticus, was possibly suggested by its reputed ability to staunch bloodflow from wounds. I love the tiny Panellus infants just emerging in this photo.

I found this fascinating group of vertically-oriented Violet-toothed Polypore caps (Trichaptum biforme) absolutely astounding. They originally formed on this now-horizontal tree trunk when the trunk was vertical and the fungus caps protruded from the trunk in a horizontal manner. But now look how NEW caps are developing on the underside of the original caps. Crazy! I've never witnessed this happening before.

Not a fungus, not an animal, but a slime mold: the Insect Egg Slime Mold (Leocarpus fragilis). It started life as a slimy goo that could move on its own, feeding and excreting almost like an animal and now is at the stage where it has formed these fruiting bodies that will produce and expel spores to be distributed by the wind, in a way similar to a fungus. So many different ways of being alive!  Our world is jam-packed with marvels!

One last little mushroom, so tiny and translucent, sprouting from a clump of pretty green moss. I don't know the name of either the moss or the mushroom. But that doesn't mean I can't be gobsmacked by how charmingly adorable they appear together.

Both Ruth and Sue will be away when our Thursday Naturalists will be exploring this site next week.  I'm so glad they could come here now and search for an elusive hornwort they once found here before. It was right in the middle of the path, growing on muddy dirt.

Oh ho! It looks as if Ruth has found that hornwort and is taking a photo of it.  I believe the hornwort in question is that vaguely greenish growth on the dirt.  I hope she got a good enough picture of it that she might show it to me some day. Most of all, I'm delighted that my friends had a great day exploring this powerline.  I know I sure did.  Now I can't wait to share it with more interested friends next week.

We did not see much in the way of critters this trip, aside from elusive butterflies that fled our cameras' focal lengths and also this brown-colored Praying Mantis. I think it is not our native one, but I was glad to see it, and to thank it for holding still for the picture-taking.