More Bog Stuff (and More)

I was so delighted by all that I saw in the bog yesterday, I took way too many photos to include in one post. But I just had to add this one of a "layered" Black Spruce because it's so characteristic of how this tree grows in a bog.

Since the bog mat is not solid ground, but consists of layers of soft, spongy sphagnum moss, the tree gradually sinks into the moss by its own weight as it grows. Then its buried branches take root and send up clones, baby trees that encircle the original trunk, as this photo shows. According to John Eastman, author of the wonderful Book of Swamp and Bog, "The tall standing tree you see in a bog may well be only the top third or so of the entire trunk. . . . Sets of progressively younger adventitious roots that emerge from the buried trunk stabilize it. Finally the sinking tree drowns, leaving its cloned surviving offspring to repeat the process."

Eastman also advises his readers to look in late summer beneath the Black Spruce for red mushrooms with depressed centers and toothed undersides. I'll bet this might be the one he meant. If so, its name is Depressed Hedgehog Mushroom (Hydnum umbilicatum). Update: No, it's not. See comments for discussion.

I just had to post another photo of this deep red sphagnum. (Undoubtedly, it has a scientific name, but I don't know it.) I have never seen a moss so richly colored.

Near the trail to the bog, Evelyn showed me these tiny purple-striped flowers, which I had never seen (and wouldn't have then, if she had not pointed them out). This flower is called Eyebright (Euphrasia americana), a northerly member of the Figwort Family long used by herbalists for various ailments. A tea can be used to soothe sore or itchy eyes, or ease the mucous membranes of cough and cold sufferers. For me, it soothed my itch to add new flowers to my life list. It's also really pretty, if you can see it up close. (I'm grateful my camera can.)

Here's another tiny flower that Evelyn showed me and I would have missed because I couldn't see it until I got down on all fours and held it up close to my eyes.

This is Sand Jointweed (Polyganella articulata), a jointed-stemmed wiry plant that Evelyn told me is common in sandy spots like the North Creek public beach where we found it. Well, I'd never seen it before, and once again, couldn't really see it anyway, until I enlarged it on my computer screen. And look at that, it's really very pretty!

Messing About on the Bog

Some days, I really feel my age (67): bad eyes, achy joints and all. But other days (and despite those complaints), I feel like a 12-year-old kid: wet feet, muddy knees, torn pants and all. I sure felt like that kid-Jackie yesterday, when my fellow nature-nut Evelyn and I went prowling several wetlands together.

We started out at the Ice Meadows on the Hudson north of Warrensburg, where Evelyn wanted to check on a stand of Japanese Knotweed invading one of the river islands there. The only way over was wading through rocky rapids, pants rolled to our knees, walking sticks in both hands to preserve our balance as we tottered and slid among slippery rocks and rushing water. I didn't dare bring my camera along, for I was sure I would dunk it. Well, I made it without slipping, but now I sure wish I had a photo of us two old ladies messing about in the river. (We found the knotweed, but Evelyn -- an Ice Meadows steward -- felt reassured that it hadn't spread since she found it last.)

Back safe on shore, I saw this platinum blond of a caterpillar, climbing a stem of another invasive, White Sweet Clover (which we pulled out by the sackful). I found a photo that looks like this in my book Caterpillars of Eastern North America by David L. Wagner: Yellow Bear (Spilosoma virginica), larva of the Virginian Tiger Moth. The long soft hairs of variable length, including some that are very long, match Wagner's description.

Curious as to which end was which, I turned the caterpillar over, and just adored these cute little feet.

Our next adventure took us 30 miles farther north to a bog near Indian Lake, the first genuine bog I have ever had the experience of walking on. What looks like a solid grassland is actually a floating mat of sphagnum moss, built up over decades and decades, each generation of sphagnum sinking below the new.

Walking about on the bog was a very eerie experience: climbing out onto what looked like solid ground but which sank like a soggy sponge beneath my feet, water oozing up over my shoes, and in spots it thrummed underfoot with an soft crashing sound that seemed to echo down, down, down to unknown depths.

To reach this bog, we carried our Hornbecks a few hundred yards through a woods to Center Pond, then paddled to where the bog mat began and pushed our canoes up onto the sphagnum bed. Here, the sphagnum grew in amazing colors: ox-blood red, golden yellow, pale ivory, gorgeous green. Baby Leatherleaf sprouts and Small Cranberry plants poked through all over the place, ripening berries strewn all over the moss.

I wonder if this stripy caterpillar likes to eat cranberries. Check out those pretty pink feet! This is most likely a Striped Garden Caterpillar, larva of the moth Trichordestra legitima. Wagner describes this "handsome brown and yellow caterpillar" as having "yellow stripes edged with white; black spiracular stripe contrasting with white spiracles [the respiratory pores along the side]." (If you click on the photo you can see those spiracles.) His description of an orange-brown head won't help us here. He never mentions those pretty pink feet.

The waters surrounding the bog mat teemed with all kinds of pond life, including this (algal?) slime, which you could pick up by the slithery handful. Some residual girly part of me said Ewww! but mostly I just thought Cool!

There were Pitcher Plants everywhere, some in colors I've never seen, like this radiant yellow-green:

And this gorgeous orange, lit up as if from within by a slanting sunbeam:

Here was one lone Pitcher Plant flower, nestling among the boughs of a baby Black Spruce, one of the few trees that can tolerate the acid conditions of sphagnum bogs.

American Larch, also known as Tamarack, is another bog tolerant tree. This one is just a baby. Our only deciduous conifer, this tree has soft needles that turn a glowing gold in autumn before they fall.

Common bog shrubs include Bog Rosemary, Bog Laurel, and Labrador Tea. This topmost twig of a Labrador Tea shows the leathery undercurled leaves so typical of bog-dwelling shrubs, as well as the orange furry stems that distinguish this particular shrub. The undersides of the leaves are furry, as well, and usually browner than the ones in this photo. Perhaps this furry coat helps protect the evergreen leaves through the long cold winter.

I wish I had brought a handful of Labrador Tea leaves home with me: they have the most intriguing scent, which Thoreau described as "between turpentine and strawberries." If I made a sachet of those leaves, I could breathe in the scent of the bog any time I wished. Of course, I hope to return, especially in spring and summer, when the heath plants and orchids come into bloom. But even as autumn descends, shortening the days and chilling the water (yes, I did plunge through to my hips at one point), this complex and strangely beautiful wetland revived a deep sense of wonder in me. Like a kid on a trip to Disneyland, I was dazzled by delight. Thanks for taking me there, Evelyn.

Drifting and Dallying

Lately, my nature adventures have taken me far afield, where I've focused on exploring new habitats and discovering new plants. I've combed the Ice Meadows upriver in Warren County, roamed a calcareous talus slope across the Hudson in Lake Luzerne, driven more than an hour up to Essex County to paddle on Pyramid Lake. But today I just stayed home. Today I just drifted and dallied along my favorite stretch of the Hudson, not looking to find any new plants to list, just slipping along familiar banks, greeting familiar friends among the plants that grace those banks.

I entered the river from Potter Road, and rejoiced to see so much beautiful color in the trees along the water.

The sunlight came gleaming through leaves the color of fire, illuminating the emerald carpets that cover the rocks on Bear's Bathtub.

I paddled around Rippled Rocks Point to visit my totem tree, the Black Tupelo, whose leaves are now both glossy green and brilliant ruby, with fruits a deep blue-black.

In the marsh behind Three Pine Island, the water lay still as glass, reflecting the brilliant color of one Red Maple.

The blossoms of Buttonbush are now long gone, but the seed heads possess their own beauty.

The dark burgundy leaves of this dogwood gleamed like a lamp as a beam of sunlight shone through.

Everywhere I looked, I found something beautiful to behold, like this bank just massed with blue gentians and tiny white asters.

Or this bank aglow with the glossy green leaves and bright red berries of Wintergreen.

A Retreat for Two at Pyramid Lake

A spectacular late-summer day today, and what better way to spend it than with a friend outdoors? Especially outdoors on a wilderness lake. My friend and fellow blogger Ellen (Adirondak Naturalist) met me this morning at Pyramid Lake, which lies about half way between her home in Newcomb and mine in Saratoga Springs. Because it is completely surrounded by the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area, the only access to this beautiful lake is through Pyramid Life Center, a retreat center where I volunteer and occasionally attend retreats.

We had our own private retreat today, for we had the place virtually all to ourselves on a mid-September Monday morning. I showed Ellen around the old 19th-century lodge and one of the cabins, a bare-boards structure with a big stone fireplace, porch railings made out of tree limbs, and (best of all!) an upstairs sitting porch overlooking the lake through the trees.

We had a little visitor while we were visiting the cabin. Well, hello there, Mr. (or is it a Mrs.?) Toad!

I found a couple of pretty things while wandering the woods near the cabin. Here's Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis), a ground-hugging dwarf dogwood with bright red berries:

And here's a small, bright orange cup fungus called, appropriately, Orange Peel (Aleuria aurantia):

The lake was calm when we first set out for a paddle, easing along close to shore, enjoying the views of forest and mountains and the fragrance of sun-warmed pine needles spilling over the banks. We hadn't paddled for very long when whoops! up popped a juvenile loon just a few feet from us . . .

And shortly after, whoops! up popped its mom. The pair dived and surfaced for quite some time, occasionally coming up with fish, seeming to pay no mind to us at all. At one point mom did a little dance, flapping her wings and moving vertically across the water.

We completed our tour of the lake by pushing our way through water lilies in a quiet, shallow-water marsh. Here's where Ellen noticed these thousands of tiny celery-green balls suspended among the bur-reeds and lily pads. They were soft, almost jelly-like to the touch, the same color and texture inside, and came in sizes from period to pin-head to pea. Neither one of us has the slightest idea what they might be. Does anyone?

While trying to scoop up those little green balls, I pulled up this intriguing plant structure. It looks very much like a bladderwort, with little water-filled sacs among the filaments, but which species could it be, if it is? I can find photos and descriptions of bladderwort flowers, but not of its bladders. These were so beautiful, like tiny garnets or amethysts shining in the sun.

Rocky Outcrops, Colorful Moss

Feeling a little better today but still a little snuffly, I chose an easy hike: the Spier Falls Dam access road on the Warren County side of the Hudson, a road that also leads to some limestone outcroppings and the interesting plants that inhabit them. I started my trip in sunshine, then we had just a little sprinkle, then the rain stopped. Some cobwebs in the grass retained a few raindrops.

Our old familiar asters and goldenrods lined the dirt road, as did Pilewort (Erechtites heiracifolia), a plant just about as homely as its name. Its flowers never seem to really open, until they go to seed, and then, POUFF! they turn into silken puffs as pretty as can be. Well,kind of pretty.

What was really pretty today were the meadowy spots, with tall grasses turning their autumn colors, the ferns still green but starting to turn golden.

Some of the grass was as fine as baby's hair. I wonder what kind it is.

Many outcroppings were edged with multi-colored sphagnum moss, which puzzles me a bit. I usually associate sphagnum moss with acid bogs, not limestone rocks. But the rocks are watered by seeps and springs and surrounded by baby white pines. Perhaps they neutralize the alkaline soil. I don't know. I'll have to find out. Maybe this isn't really sphagnum moss. In the meantime I just enjoyed the beautiful colors the moss was turning.

In among the moss were tiny leaves that had turned a brilliant red. Are these baby tree leaves, or some other plant?

Here's a starry green moss adorned with brilliant red leaves, a few sprigs of Reindeer Lichen and one very tiny, brand-new baby White Pine.

I found a new (for me!) flower today, or rather, I discovered one that was not what I had thought it was. This tallish cottony-leaved plant with pussy-toe-like blooms I had assumed was Sweet Everlasting (Gnaphalium obtusifolium). The flowerhead sure looks the same. But today I saw the real Sweet Everlasting blooming right next to this one and noticed a subtle difference. This plant has leaves that widen at the base and clasp the stem. Why then, this must beClammy Everlasting (G. macounii), also called Macoun's Cudweed. It has another Latin name, too: Pseudognaphalium macounii. Does that make it a false everlasting? These changing Latin names are kind of puzzling. I hope Newcomb's Wildflower Guide comes out with an updated edition soon. (This picture is turned sideways. I could fix it but it would take an hour and the plant is not that pretty.)

Then here's another puzzle: Who knows what this plant is? It has many resemblances to the common vacant-lot weed, Three Seeded Mercury (Acalypha rhomboidea), except it's much smaller and daintier, with narrower leaves and thinner stems. It was only about six inches tall. Here's what it looks like from above:

And here are the distinctive fringed bracts that supposedly look like the winged shoes of the Roman god Mercury.

And here is the cluster of seeds (buds?), three of them, that nestle inside those bracts. But what is that red puffy thing? Is that the staminate part of the flower and the green buds are the pistillate part? Boy, I hope somebody knows and lets me in on the secret. Could it be A. virginica, which my Peterson's guide seems to indicate would grow further south?

Every day, something new to learn.

Update: I heard from New York Natural Heritage botanist Steve Young, who helped me ID that plant with the winged bracts. It's Slender Three Seeded Mercury (Acalypha gracelens), which is distinguished by the glandular hairs on the bracts (click on the photo and you can see each tiny hair is topped with a drop of fluid), as well as by the shape of the bracts and their size in relation to the leaf petioles. As I said, something new to learn every day.

Steve also told me those tiny red leaves among the mosses are baby Red Maple leaves and that the fine grass is most likely a Panicum species.

A Walk Through the Photo Files

Grandbabies are grand! I truly adore them. It's just that each time they visit, I seem to catch their colds. I suppose that's because I refuse to refrain from kissing them, no matter how runny their noses. Three were here last weekend, so by Wednesday I started sniffling and today I'm really miserable. Plus it's raining. No trips to the woods or the waterways today. So back to my photo files I went, to see what in other years was growing out there this week. Lots of good stuff. Here's just a sampling.

Winterberries (Ilex verticillata) are turning a brilliant red. And they'll stay that red way into the winter, which is how they got their name. Birds and other critters won't eat them until they've been frozen solid. Maybe the freezing sweetens them or maybe it deadens their bad taste or maybe the animals are starving by then and will eat anything. Who knows? Anybody?

Spicebush (Lindera benzoin) has such pretty berries that ripen at different times, so some will still be green while others are orange or bright red. The twigs of this shrub are delightfully fragrant when bruised, but I haven't tried the berries. According to "Wildman" Steve Brill, a renowned wild foods forager, the berries taste a bit like allspice, and can be chopped up fine and used much like that spice. But I'd rather look at them on the bush. So pretty.

Now, here's a plant I've only seen this color once, and never again. Usually Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora) is a ghostly white or maybe tinged with pink before it blackens with age. But bright red?! Is this a special species of Indian Pipe, or does the soil it's growing in contain some special nutrients? The woods is just full of surprises, isn't it?

Mmm! Grapes! But don't eat them yet. We haven't yet had a frost, so these are really, really sour. The freezing seems to concentrate their sugars. Then they make a nice snack on an autumn hike. If the foxes haven't snagged them all.

I took this photo of Common Dodder (Cuscuta gronovii) late last week, because I had never seen this plant in fruit. Those bright orange vines twine around other plants and suck their juices out. It's been such a rainy summer, I'll bet those fruits are extra juicy. I don't know much about this fruit, how it tastes, who eats it, etc. Always something new to learn about.

This is Indian Cucumber Root (Medeola virginiana), and yes, its roots taste a little like cucumber. But don't pull them up to eat. Let them grow and you can enjoy the lovely color they develop each fall. Looks like some critter's already eaten the dark purple berries that formed from its spidery greenish-yellow flowers. (Sorry this photo's blurry. This plant grows in dark, dark woods, with consequent camera shake. At least it captured the colors.)

These two tan-colored mushrooms are boletes, but I don't know which species. To properly identify a mushroom I'd have to take it apart, check the size and shape and arrangement of the pores (boletes have tubular pores instead of gills), see if the flesh stains when I crush it and what color it turns, maybe even make a spore print. But I didn't want to destroy these two, or mess up such a pretty arrangement, with the soft moss and the wintergreen sprig. (And yes, I know what they look like a pair of, fellas. They were smooth and velvety, too.)