Botanical Adventures at Pyramid Lake

For a paddling trip that didn't work out quite as planned, it sure was a fine adventure. I had offered to lead members of the Adirondack Botanical Society on an exploration of Pyramid Lake last Saturday, but by the time the date rolled around, only three other folks besides me were able to make the trip. But lucky for me, those three were the best of companions: noted botanists Ruth Schottman and Nancy Slack, and also my good friend with the excellent eye for nature finds, Sue Pierce. Here's Ruth setting off toward the site of our morning excursion, a cedar swamp at the western end of the lake, on a day as fine as a summer day can be.

And here's the swamp. It's a good thing there were not more boats than ours. We had enough trouble finding places to land where our feet didn't plunge into muck.

But land we did, and then pushed on in through cedar and hemlock boughs to a mossy, swampy interior where the rare pink Pyrola asarifolia was sure to be blooming by now. Or so I thought. There was lots of this threatened species growing here last summer, when I took this photo of one on June 23, 2010.

Unfortunately, not a one could be found this year. Not even one in bud.

We did find three other pyrolas, however. There was plenty of Shinleaf still in bud, and also abundant numbers of this Green Pyrola.

A few plants of One-sided Pyrola were still in bloom.

So was I disappointed? Well sure. The chance to see one of New York's rare species was a major reason for planning this trip, and it's worrisome that not even a trace of the plants could be found. Ah well. I'll be back on the lake in a couple of weeks, so I'll check again.

I had also advertised a second rare plant, a small bur-reed (Sparganium natans, also called S. minimum) that just a year ago (when I took this photo) had been filling a shallow area at the eastern end of the lake.

At least in the case of this species, we did find many, many plants, the tips of their leaves just beginning to emerge from the water. Unfortunately, we would need to closely examine the flowers to determine the distinctive features of this species.

But how could we stay disappointed on such a splendid summer day in one of the most beautiful lakes in the Adirondacks? We had the whole day to paddle its pristine wilderness waters under a high blue sky, slipping quietly under the shade of overhanging cedars, birches, and pines; gazing at the majestic height of sheer mountainous cliffs that plunged to the water's edge; and pushing through patches of Fragrant Water Lilies, some of which were so dainty and small, we wondered if they might be another species altogether.

Paddling close to a jumbled shore of monumental boulders that had tumbled down from the mountain above, we were surprised to come across these two brilliant Fireweed blooms, sheltering under a giant slab of rock.

Fireweed is a plant I usually think of as growing in masses along Adirondack roadsides and burned-over clearings. It's really a puzzle how just these two plants came to find a home here on this boulder.

Did I mention before that Sue had a marvelous eye for nature finds? It was she who caught sight of this small water snake taking a snooze on the branch of a shoreline bush, just at her eye level as we paddled by. It just looked like another branch, to me.

It was also Sue who spied this mass of transparent jelly floating just under the surface in a marshy end of the lake.

How on earth could she see this water-colored blob down under the water? Note that there is some kind of translucent green structure encased in this loose, almost liquid, jelly. Could this be a bryozoan, an ancient kind of moss animal? Ruth suggested it could be Pectinatella, but it doesn't look much like the photos that we later googled. (If I ever find out what it is for sure, I will come back to add its name to this post.)

Update: Elizabeth adds a comment to this post stating that she thinks this might be the leftover egg mass of spotted salamanders, after the eggs have hatched. After looking at photos of similar jelly blobs on the internet, I tend to agree with her. Thanks, Elizabeth!

We could count on Nancy, a moss expert, to discover this unusual moss growing on a rotting tree stump out in the shallow quiet water. She called it a spear moss, but wasn't sure of its exact species. I've sent her this photo, so she can confer with her fellow moss folks and perhaps put a name to it. "Spear Moss" seems about right.

Nancy got back to me to identify this moss as a Calliergonella species. After looking at photos of various species of Calliergonella, I'd say this was C. cuspidata, otherwise known as Spear Moss.

A Celebration of Orchids

A few years ago, my husband had gone to Paris and a friend asked me why I hadn't gone with him. "Oh, I've been to Paris and I don't need to go there again" I answered, explaining that I'd rather stay home and hunt for wildflowers. Then I added, "If someone could show me where Showy Lady's Slippers grow, that would be worth the trip!" Well, folks, today someone did show me where Showy Lady's Slippers grow, and it was, indeed, worth the trip. I'm sworn to secrecy about the location, but I will let on that I traveled over a hundred miles (round trip) to see them. Or rather, to see just one. And my, it was beautiful!

It was quite a day for orchids, in fact. That Lady's Slipper was the showiest, no doubt, but my friends and I found several more. First, when Ellen and I stopped along the Ice Meadows just north of Warrensburg, we stumbled across a Tubercled Orchis hidden among the grasses along the Hudson. Its greenish-yellow flowers were too small for my naked eyes to see, but my macro lens managed to capture some detail.

We also found the small orchid called Wide-leaved Ladies' Tresses growing there among marble rocks. This is the earliest Ladie's Tresses to be found, and one of the details that sets it apart is its yellow lower lip.

Later on, in the fen where the Showies were growing, we found this Northern Green Orchis. Its flowers are just as green as its leaves, and because it was growing in very deep shade, it was hard to photograph with my pocket camera.

That same boggy woods was a treasure trove of pyrolas of many species. The first one we found was One-flowered Pyrola, scattered like stars across the forest floor. Some little pink Twinflower made it into the photo, as well.

One-flowered Pyrola hangs face-down, so you have to lie low to see the detail of its flower.

One-sided Pyrola grew abundantly there in the mossier spots.

And so did lovely Pink Pyrola, the tallest and showiest of all.

The Cottongrass we found in the shadowy fen is a different species than that which grows out on the sunny Ice Meadows. I don't know the name of the one we found today. It was certainly furry!

I was surprised to see the pretty blue speedwell called American Brooklime growing in such deep shade, since I usually find it where streams run through open marshes.

So all in all, this was a very special day for a wildflower-obsessed person like me. I'm recalling that phrase, "See Paris and die," but I'm substituting "Showy Lady's Slippers" for the word "Paris." Not that I'm ready to die. But it did seem today that I got to go to wildflower Heaven.

P.S. To get some idea of just how special these flower finds were, go to the USDA plant data site and type in the name of any one of them. There you will see how many are on endangered species lists in many, many states. Including New York.