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!
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!
No comments:
Post a Comment