Changed Plans On a Cold and Blustery Day

We had plans, my friends Ruth and Sue and I, to paddle a beautiful mountain-rimmed, bog-islanded lake this past week.  The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the day seemed right for exploring the sphagnum-carpeted islands and shrub-crowded shores of Lens Lake in the mountains above the village of Stony Creek in Warren County.  But when we got there, the temps were still in the 40s, the wind was whipping up waves on the lake, and oh man, this scene did not tempt us at all! And all three of us had driven quite a few miles to meet at this location.  What else could we do around here to satisfy our naturalist urgings?

Lucky for us, Sue remembered once visiting a beautiful nature preserve nearby, and she also  remembered how to lead us there, to the Francis J. Dean Farm Heritage Trails, a short drive away.

And it was so inviting! Paved trails led across rolling meadows and into a forest and along a creek, and  best of all, a bright sun soon warmed our shoulders as we started our explorations.

We soon took a trail that led us along a boardwalk into a forested swamp.

We were impressed by the size of the beaver dam that held back a stream to form a pond.

Lining the boardwalk were native shrubs beautiful with berries, bright-red ones on the Winterberry bushes (Ilex verticillata) . . .

. . . and a mix of bright-pink and navy-blue fruits on the trailside Northern Wild Raisin shrubs (Viburnum cassinoides).

We soon entered a woods, where fallen logs held a fascinating variety of life forms working to return those logs to the soil: the fungi, lichens, mosses, and liverworts that all contribute to the logs' decomposition.

Both Sue and Ruth are passionate "mossers" who enjoyed determining which species were finding a home on this rotting log.

I am at the age and stage of brain deterioration where the names of things leave my memory bank as soon as I learn them, so I am content to at least know which organisms belong to which kingdom.  I did not bother to suss out the name of this white fungus, although I was fascinated by how "furry" its fertile surface appeared to be.

But I was not sure if these rosy tubular growths were a fungus or a slime mold or what? I bet my friends will be able to tell me, and if so, I will come back and add it here. I had never seen anything quite like it before.

It could be that these pin-head-sized orbs spreading across a sawn stump were a fungus I once recognized as Fenugreek Stalk Balls (Phleogena faginea).  If I had determined whether the stump was that of an American Beech (the preferred wood of that species), or if I had sniffed one of the stalk-balls to see if it smelled like curry powder, I would have been more certain about the species. 

At least I did recognize that a ruffly green liverwort called Lovely Fuzzwort (Ptilidium pulcherrimum) and a greyish-colored lichen called Pixy Cups (Cladonia sp.) were sharing this space on a log.

Is this lovely moss Delicate Fern Moss (Thuidium delicatulum)? And which Bedstraw species is the plant with six whorled leaves?

We were all delighted to find this maple leaf on the forest floor, one of many that were marked by the signature circular markings and cut-out holes made by the larvae of a fascinating insect called the Maple Leafcutter Moth (Paraclemensia acerafoliella).  It was our friend Sue who a few years ago first noticed such distinctively marked leaves and told us about this tiny creature with its fascinating behavior, how it both eats the leaf tissue and creates folded-over shelters out of the cut-out circles of leaf.  And here's a link to a detailed description of the life-cycle of this amazing insect by the biologist Bryan Pfeiffer. Prepare to be astonished!

After so much kneeling and crouching and crawling on the damp, chilly, deeply shaded forest floor for some time, we welcomed the sun-warmed rolling meadows our trail next led us to.

Although at first I regretted that most of the meadow vegetation had been shorn, I soon learned that this mowing was an important way to maintain this particular preserve.  I was grateful to read this sign as we entered this habitat:

And I was also grateful that a few patches of our native Little Bluestem Grass remained unmown. I love how the fluffy seedtufts on the ruddy stems of this grass appear to shine in the sun.

The trees at the edge of the meadow were beginning to glow with their autumn colors.

This stand of tall slender Quaking Aspens (Populus tremuloides) demonstrated how this tree must have acquired its names (both scientific and vernacular), as the bright golden leaves shimmered in constant motion against the clear blue sky. 

 I look forward to returning to walk these Dean Farm Heritage Trails in different seasons, when spring ephemerals bloom in the woods, and sun-loving late-summer wildflowers thrive in the yet unmown meadows. What a happy find, when we decided our plans for a paddle were not to be!

One Misty, Moisty Morning on the Mud Pond Powerline

Lucky for Sue and Ruth and me, this past Tuesday was relatively warm, because it sure was wet! Not pouring, just misty, but the crowded vegetation along the Mud Pond powerline was sopping enough to soak our shoes and pantlegs as we pushed through the overgrown shrubs that are filling in what once was a  powerline clearcut.  We were on a mission to find the seedpods of several special plants that we've found blooming here in past summers, seeds that could be used to begin cultivation of plants appropriate for growing in the new sandplain Big Bend section of Moreau Lake State Park,  once the preparation for that habitat  has been completed.

The mistiness of the day certainly added to the beauty of the location.  Although the weight of water droplets had flattened the ordinarily fluffy plants of Pink Love Grass in a patch of meadow, a closer look would show us how those droplets added a sparkly aspect to the grass.

Lovely!

Everywhere we looked, some ordinary tuft of vegetation had been transformed by diamond sparkles.

Spiderwebs strung between grass stems were beautifully bejeweled, and this creation of a Bowl-and-Doily Spider (Frontinella pyramitela) was especially interesting. This tiny spider weaves a fairly complex sheet web system consisting of an inverted dome-shaped web, or "bowl," suspended above a horizontal sheet web, or "doily." The spider hangs from the underside of the "bowl," and bites through the bowl's web to allow any prey that lands there to fall down into the doily's webbing. This web design allows the spider to survey its prey from below the bowl while remaining in a protected position above the doily.  I believe the heavy water droplets in this case have caused the "doily" to sag until it looks more like a bowl!  I hope, for the spider's sake, the strategy still works!

UPDATE: If you click on this photo and look at the far right of the upper web, close to the arching grass stem, you can see the little black and white spider hanging on the underside of the "bowl."

Considering the dampness of the day, we shouldn't have been surprised to find several glossy patches of Nostoc commune, a colonial species of cyanobacterium that forms gelatinous masses on the ground.  When wet, Nostoc commune can be olive green and shiny, like it was in the patches we found, but it will turn brown when dry. Unlike some other species of cyanobacteria, Nostoc commune is not toxic to humans or animals, and is, in fact, eaten in certain Asian cultures. I have yet to try eating it.

The sections of this powerline that once consisted of open meadow are now filling in with Hazelnut shrubs and sapling conifers and other trees, since the power company agreed to stop spraying herbicide beneath the lines. The state park now has the responsibility to remove the woody growth that could interfere with the lines, and park managers are devising plans to do so soon, along a limited stretch of this powerline where protected plants are known to grow. We explored the once-clear area that Sue is here about to enter, where low-growing mosses and other plants now struggle to thrive with the increasing shade.

We did find areas still healthily carpeted with beautiful mosses, including this Bristly Haircap Moss (Polytrichum piliferum), the starry leaves of which end in long fine hairs.

Extensive patches of Common Haircap Moss (P. commune) still thrive along here,  and much of it is studded with small silvery-gray Humpback Mushrooms (Cantharellula  umbonata), a fungus that has a strong preference for mosses of the Polytrichum genus.

I do not know the name of these little tan mushrooms that also like to grow knee-deep in Haircap Moss.  I just called them "pretty maids all in a row!"

More Haircap tufts and some truly tiny mushrooms (species unknown).

I do believe the name of these itty-bitty mushrooms is Marasmias capillaris.  They spring up after rain, sprouting atop fallen oak leaves littering the forest floor. Then disappear as soon as the leaves dry out again.

Here's a fascinating fungus I find only in hazelnut shrubs, and sure enough, I found this example in an American Hazelnut shrub (Corylus americana) along this powerline. It's called Glue Crust Fungus, and this photo shows exactly how it has glued a dead twig to a living one. This is to prevent that dead twig from falling to the ground, where rival fungi could consume it. It absolutely astounds me that a fungus can behave in such a strategic self-serving manner!

Several species of clubmoss also thrive in this yet-open area, and the Tree Clubmoss plants (Dendrolycopodium obscurum) held slender golden spore-cones stiffly erect above their green branches.

I usually associate sphagnum mosses with bogmats, but several discrete patches of this rosy-colored Small Red Peatmoss (Sphagnum capillifolium) grow quite happily amid other mosses that occupy the dry sandy soil beneath this powerline.

As we return to the powerline trail and push ahead through the crowding shrubbery, we are delighted by the vivid foliage colors along the way.

Abundant thickets of Shining Sumac (Rhus copallinum) contribute the most spectacular scarlet leaves.

As we proceed, we note the location of seed-bearing plants, whose pods might be collected to begin cultivating future plants. We had no trouble locating several plants of Butterfly Milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa), thanks to the bright-yellow color of both leaves and pods.

Finding the plants of Blunt-leaved Milkweed (Asclepias amplexicaulis) was much more difficult, since we find fewer and fewer plants of this beautiful milkweed species along this powerline every year, especially as woody plants take over. We did find one plant with maturing seeds that we could report to those who are doing the propagation. Other plants we found had been decapitated, either by deer or flower-pickers.

Happily, Green Rock Cress (Borodinia missouriensis), despite its status as a Threatened species in New York, was more abundant than the milkweed, and each plant always produces plenty of its distinctively arching seedpods.

Sad to report, though, that our few plants of the native American Climbing Bittersweet (Celastrus scandens) did not produce a single berry this year. I did find healthy terminal clusters of flowers on the vines in June, but a late frost dropped the flowers before they could produce fruit. At least the vines still thrive, so maybe next year. . . .

We did not find any moths or butterflies or other flying insects on this damp chilly day, but we did find one of our most colorful caterpillars, the larva of a Brown-hooded Owlet Moth (Cucullia convexipennis). Despite being one of the drabbest-imagineable moths as an adult, this is a caterpillar that certainly vies with autumn trees for gorgeous colors!

Where Are the Autumn Coralroots?

Late September is the time of year my orchid-hunting pals Sue and Ruth join me to search for Autumn Coralroot Orchids (Corallorhiza odontorhiza). In fact, we used to go searching for two varieties of them, the more common straight species (var. odontorhiza) and the very rare variety (var. pringlei) called Pringle's Autumn Coralroot. But since recently an expert taxonomist has cast doubt on whether we ever actually did find the Pringle's variety at Moreau Lake State Park, we decided to focus our energies on simply seeking out the more-robust straight Autumn Coralroots. That meant we had to climb up into the mountain range that lines the shore of Moreau Lake and follow the Red Oak Ridge Trail.  We had a perfect day to do so this past week, with sunlight dappling a still-green woods. 

Lovely late-summer wildflowers decorated our path as we climbed, including the gracefully arching stems of Blue-stemmed Goldenrod (Solidago caesia) and the abundant clusters of Heart-leaved Aster flowers (Symphyotrichum cordifolium).  Both of these flower species prefer a shady woods to sun-washed roadsides and meadows.

We were definitely pleased to find a solitary plant of American Ginseng (Panax quinquefolius) in a hidden place we know of.  Since this is a native plant too long over-gathered (and thus destroyed) by unscrupulous herbalists, we are careful not to reveal where this grows, in a spot well off in the woods.

We were disappointed we did not find a single specimen of the standard variety of Autumn Coralroot, in several places where in past years they were remarkably abundant.  This standard variety with its closed flowers is larger than the ones we once believed were the rarer ones, which are smaller and have open flowers that reveal the sex parts, and also possess a broad petal protruding from the bottom of each floret.  Here's my photo of Corallorhiza odontorhiza var. odontorhiza, taken fifteen years ago along this same trail.  Note the closed flowers and no broad lower petal:

It's possible we were looking for Autumn Coralroots along the Red Oak Ridge Trail just too early this year. As this old photo above reveals, yellow leaves littered the forest floor at the time this photo was taken, on October 14, 2011. So far this year, the forest trees are still green.

For comparison, here is one of my file photos of what we believed was the Pringle's Autumn Coralroot flowerhead, which we once found in a quite different location in Moreau Lake State Park. Note the broad lower petal and the open throat. Several years ago, one of our state's expert botanists was able to peer deep into the inner structures of the floret, where he detected internal reproductive organs that were believed to be a defining feature of the Pringle's variety.

We have since been told, however, and by the definer of the taxon himself, that this is most likely a form of the standard Autumn Coralroot.  Darn!

We were pleased, anyway, to find several other forest wildflowers we could recognize, if only by their leaves, since their flowers were long spent. The pale-veined, dark-green basal leaves of Downy Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyera pubescens) were very evident, several plants with remnants of their flower stalks still protruding. The leaves of this native orchid will be green all winter.

The vividly patterned dark-green leaves of Striped Wintergreen (Chimaphila maculata) were also easy to find on the forest floor.  And they, too, can be found on the forest floor all winter, looking as fresh as ever (if you brush away the snow). 

For several years, I had longed to find the pale-veined leaves of Round-leaved Shinleaf (Pyrola americana), and now I realize that many plants of this species populate a forested hillside above Moreau Lake.

Frequent rains during the month of September have inspired a nice crop of fall fungi this year, and we found many interesting ones along the trail. Here's just a sample:

A nice cluster of Jelly Leaf (Phaeotremella foliaceae) on a fallen log.

Tiny discs of Lemon Drop Fungus on a rotting log. Calycina (formerly Bisporella) citrina.  Also called Yellow Fairy Cups.

 Old Man of the Woods (Strobilomyces floccopus), an edible (!) boletus species that grows on the forest floor. Its scientific name can be roughly translated as "woolly mushroom that looks like a pinecone."

The distinctive pores of the Old Man of the Woods:

And here was the beauty queen of the forest-floor fungi today, the Crimson Waxcap (Hygrocybe punicea)! These upturned scarlet caps were at least three inches across (if flattened), much larger than other species of waxcaps, which tend to be quite small.  This species is widely distributed across North America (and in Europe), preferring birch and hemlock forests here in eastern North America, while preferring to grow under redwoods on the West Coast.

Before we left Moreau Lake State Park today, we three friends decided to visit the site where we first detected the Autumn Coralroot later believed to be the rare Pringle's variety.  This site is not up on the mountainside, but closer to the lakeshore and right along our way home.  We agreed this was probably a fool's errand, since why would ANY Autumn Coralroots be blooming down here, since not a single one of the standard species had been found on the mountainside trail earlier in the day?  Well, a surprise awaited us! We actually found a couple DOZEN Autumn Coralroots in the woods between the lakeshore and the beach road.  But which variety were they?  The flowers were certainly not wide open.  But they certainly had wider and more visible petals than did the ones we used to always find along the mountainside trail.

Could it be there are more than TWO varieties of Corallorhiza odontorhiza?  The puzzle remains. But at least we did find ONE of them today!