The Bulrush is Back! (And sadly, so too is the algae.)

It sure was quiet up at Moreau Lake State Park today.  Yes, a thunderstorm threatened, so that would keep many beachgoers and picnickers away. But ALL of them?  And the calm before the storm was just that: remarkably calm.  But I never saw even a dog-walker along the trails or out on the beach  today, and I ALWAYS see dog-walkers at Moreau Lake State Park.  Ah, but then I saw the sign:  "BEACH CLOSED: HARMFUL ALGAL BLOOM.  No swimming or wading.  Keep people and pets away from blooms."

No wonder I had the place all to myself! Except for a few ducks, that is.  (Does an algal bloom hurt ducks?)

I had come to Moreau today to meet with park staff about the rare Pringle's Autumn Coralroot that was newly identified as growing in the park (see my previous post).  A large population of them had been buried under heaps of leaves and hadn't bloomed for several years.  Since these orchids are perennial, as well as parasitic on soil fungi for their nutrients and not so dependent on sunlight for their survival, our hope is that the orchids might reassert themselves, once the dense heaps have been removed.  So that's the plan! Let's hope it works.  And even if it does, we won't know until mid September. Or maybe not for several years.

In the meantime, a big patch of Earth Star fungi had sprouted atop the leaves that buried the orchids. At first, I though that someone had dropped a bunch of thumbprint cookies on the forest floor. But a closer look revealed these remarkable mushrooms.

Close by, I found a leafy stand of Solomon's Seal (Polygonatum sp.), each plant dangling pairs of blue-black frosted fruits.  I don't know how to tell the difference between P. biflorum and P, pubescens without examining the under-leaf veins with a magnifier, but at least I was sure this was one of those two species.

A nearby Round-leaved Dogwood (Cornus rugosa) had already dropped its white berries, but the remarkably red pedicels of its fruit clusters still were tipped with red berry-like orbs.

Dense patches of Fringed Loosestrife (Lysimachia ciliata) were clustered under the shrubbery, a few still bearing their dangling-down yellow flowers. But most had produced these seed pods that look like tiny brass balls centered in green stars. I think these seed pods rival their flowers for beauty.

Along the path that leads between the lake and its back bay, a number of Maple-leaved Viburnum shrubs (Viburnum acerifolium) were sporting clusters of yellowish fruits, which later into the fall will turn a deep blue black and persist well into the winter.

A few of the Buttonbush shrubs (Cephalanthus occidentalis) were still bearing their spiky orbs of tiny white florets.

I finally reached the only little stretch of sandy shore that remains this summer on the lake (not counting the swimming beach).  For several years, the water had fallen so low in the lake, we worried that it would disappear. But then came a rainy autumn, winter, spring, and summer.  And since Moreau is a "kettle lake" with no significant outlet, all the rain and snowmelt that entered the lake this past year has simply stayed here.  I have missed being able to walk around the lake on a sandy shore, so finding even this short stretch of sand was a treat.

And here was another treat -- and quite a surprise!  An ample patch of the very rare little flatsedge called Small-flowered Dwarf Bulrush (Cyperus subsquarrosus)! This is an Endangered species we had only just discovered at Moreau Lake last September.  But when we found thousands of these tiny little plants last year, they had been growing close to the edge of the water, which at that time was probably 15 feet, at least, from where the water's edge was this year.  I had assumed that all of this flatsedge was under water now, with the lake having risen so high.  But here was a whole bunch of it, higher up on the sand.

At first, I questioned my judgment about these tiny plants being our little rare flatsedge, but a closer look revealed the wee little nubbins of spikelets that distinguish this species, along with its long skinny leaves that appear to swirl around the center.

Here's a closer look at those tiny fruits, much rounder and chubbier than are the fruits of other flatsedge species.

And here's a photo of Small-flowered Dwarf Bulrush I took last fall, when we first discovered it here on the shore of Moreau Lake.  It's fruits were riper then, browner and more open.  But comparing this photo with ones I took today convinces me that the little flatsedges I found today are the same as the ones we found last fall.

Hurray! The Dwarf Bulrush is back!

UPDATE:  And last I heard, the beach is once-more algae-free and open for swimming again.  Hurray!

Super-Rare Orchid Revealed at Moreau Lake State Park !!!

 Pringle's Autumn Coralroot, a very rare orchid that's happily at home in Moreau Lake State Park

OK. Just give me a minute to catch my breath! I've had some exciting news.

Can you imagine what might make an amateur wildflower nerd like me ecstatic? How about learning that the orchids in photos I once posted on this blog turned out to be an extremely rare variety long thought to be extirpated in the state? That was my big news this week, when I was told that an orchid expert had identified those flowers as Pringle's Autumn Coralroot (Corallorhiza odontorhiza var. pringlei), a variety last reported from only one county (Monroe) in all of New York State. That was back in 1903. And this variety has never again been reported from there or anywhere else in the state, according to the New York Flora Association Plant Atlas. By now, the atlas had classified Pringle's Autumn Coralroot with an X. That means Extirpated. Not Endangered nor Threatened nor Rare, but simply Gone for Good.

Now, I find Autumn Coralroots at Moreau Lake State Park almost every year. And when I do, I take photos of them and post them here on my blog. I always assumed that all of the coralroots I photographed were the common variety, Corallorhiza odontorhiza var. odontorhiza, a good find because, hey, they were orchids, but nothing to get too excited about. But my friend Dan Wall is an orchid fanatic who is also an artist, which means he pays very close attention to every orchid he sees (or paints or photographs to include in a book about New York orchids he's working on). A careful observer, Dan notes every detail of petals, stems, and leaves. When he saw some of the orchids I had pictured on my blog and compared them to those he knew to be the common variety of Autumn Coralroot, he suspected "my" orchids could be the really rare ones, and he sought confirmation from New York State botanists, sending them my photographs to consider.

Of course, our state botanists had never had a chance to lay their eyes on a live Pringle's Autumn Coralroot (at least, not here in New York). But they knew of someone who probably had, a man who is nationally known as "the" expert on this particular taxon. So they sent my photos to Professor John Freudenstein, Chair of the Department of Evolution, Ecology, and Organismal Biology at Ohio State University, who is also director of the herbarium there. Professor Freudenstein confirmed my friend Dan's suspicions. Here's one of my photos Professor Freudenstein observed to reach his conclusion (another is posted above):

Here's what Professor Freudenstein concluded: "The photos . . . appear to me to be of what I would call var. pringlei. The [flowers] are clearly chasmogamous and fit within the circumscription of var. pringlei."

Thank you, Professor Freudenstein! I confess I will have to study up on what those botanical terms exactly mean, but first I have to come back down to earth. And then, when it's time (which should be mid-September), Dan and I must return to where I first found these orchids, ascertain that the plants are still there, and finally make sure they receive the protection they deserve as one of our state's rarest plants. The one location in Moreau Lake State Park where I once found more than 30 of them has been buried under several feet of leaves that were dumped atop them, and they haven't reappeared at that site for several years. It was that population I photographed for the photos above. Here's hoping the orchids revive there, once the leaf piles are removed, but I also know where some others appeared in the past. Now I can't wait to go find them!

I want to emphasize that Dan Wall is the one who deserves the credit for starting this investigation. Thanks a million, Dan! Thanks, too, to Steve Young, Chief Botanist for the NewYork Natural Heritage Program, and David Werier, author of the recently published Catalogue of the Vascular Plants of New York State, the botanists who knew whom to contact for expert opinion on this particular orchid and then shared the good news with me.

Whoo hoo!!!

A Botanical Hotspot Where Two Rivers Meet

Sometimes we Thursday Naturalists find a spot so rich in botanical bounty, we want to explore it more than once during the growing season.  That's why our group of botanizing buddies reconvened this week at Canal Park in Rensselaer County, near Lock 4 of the Champlain Canal, a site we had visited earlier this summer, in mid June.  Among our local flora, lots of changes will happen over the course of two summer months, and that's what we were there to discover this past Thursday. And we were not disappointed!

Canal Park is situated right where the Hoosic River enters the Hudson River, and it offers trails through the shady woods as well as along sunlit waterways and down onto an alluvial plain where many plants grow to remarkable size in the silt-enriched soil.  Eager to reach the sunnier parts of the park today,  we attempted to hurry ourselves along the shady first leg of the trail, where trees like this spreading Black Birch cling tenaciously to the steep banks along the canal, upstream from where the canal rejoins the Hudson.

Our pace was slowed, and occasionally halted, by our desire to enjoy such trailside sights as the abundance of mosses carpeting the banks. I was particularly delighted by this lovely mix of Brocade and Broom mosses (Hypnum imponens and Dicranum  scoparium). We were privileged to have our own bryophyte expert, Nancy Slack, along with us today to help us put some names to the wonderful variety of mosses we found.

The cute little yellow flowers of Agrimony (Agrimonia gryposepela) were quite visible in the dimly lit woods, but I was drawn to peer at the wee little spiky seedpods along the arching stems.

I admit I was totally puzzled by what these fine-leaved budding plants could be, until I remembered finding lots of the small purple flowers of Slender Gerardia (Agalinus tenuifolia) blooming here later in the summer.  Aha!  Of course!

We remembered seeing pretty white flowers on the Deerberry shrubs (Vaccinium stamineum) in June, so now we looked for the equally pretty pale-aqua fruits that are dotted with white.  And we found them in abundance!

Here was a genuine puzzler!  I recognized the frosted-green leaves of Pussytoes rosettes (Antennaria sp.), even though I was not sure of the particular species.  But I WAS sure that Pussytoes bloomed in early spring, so I knew that those pale, greenish-white, cone-shaped growths were not new flower buds.  They reminded me of the pine-cone galls that form on willow twigs, so I am going to assume that these growths are also galls.  And rather pretty galls, at that. They resemble tiny, frosted, pale-green roses.

With Google's help, I identified two insects whose larvae form galls on plants of the Antennaria genus. I wonder if one of them made these. The Everlasting Bud Midge (Asphondylia antennariae) or the Everlasting Tebenna Moth (Rhopalomyia antennariae)? Anybody know?



Here's where we emerged from the woods and stepped out onto the sunlit shore.  From this distance one would never guess how many interesting plants were blooming among all this greenery.

Canal Park is known to be home to at least three species of Bush Clover (Lespedeza spp.), but this Hairy Bush Clover (L. hirta) was the only one blooming today.  You have to look close to see its wee little rose-splashed white flowers.

Here's another flower it would be easy to miss if you weren't searching for it among the surrounding grasses.  This is Whorled Milkwort (Polygala verticillata var. ambigua). Despite this flower's common name, many of the plants we found here had alternate leaves as well as whorled ones, which is why we believe it is the variety called ambigua, which is known to have alternate leaves.

We found several species of Tick Trefoils today, but only this Showy Tick Trefoil (Desmodium canadense) was sporting these beautiful purple flowers.

Damp riverbanks will almost always be home to a number of Lycopus species, Mint-family plants that grow wreathes of tiny whitish flowers along the stem in the leaf axils.  The sharply toothed and lobed leaves of the one pictured here convinced us that this was L. americanus, known by one of its common names as Water Horehound.  I like that common name because I can associate sharp teeth with the word "hound."  Whatever helps!

Here's another Lycopus species, L. virginicus, distinguished by its toothed but not lobed leaves and the dark purple tinge of its leaves.  Its common name is Virginia Bugleweed.

This looks like one of our native sunflowers, doesn't it? But strictly speaking, it's not.   False Sunflower is one of its common names, while Oxeye is another.  Heliopsis  helianthoides is its scientific name.

The most distinctive feature of Oxeye that distinguishes it from a true sunflower is the presence of fertile rayflowers, in addition to fertile disc flowers. At this stage of the plant's maturity, we had to dislodge one of the ray flowers (what most folks would call petals) in order to discover both the seedpod attached and the tiny pistil, withered almost beyond recognition by now.

Here's another plant that prefers the damp soil along waterways or in wetlands.  It's called Ditch Stonecrop (Penthorum sedoides), and it has the cutest little chubby flowers that are ringed by their anthers, giving them a kind of spiky look.

If peered at closely, the individual florets of Narrow-leaved Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum tenuifolium) are pretty little white flowers dotted with purple.  But I will admit that, from this distance, the plant has a rather untidy look to it.

The bright-purple flowers of this Monkey Flower (Mimulus ringens) looked pretty from any distance.

But again, you had to peer really close to appreciate the cute little dangly flowers of Turkeyfoot Grass (Andropogon gerardi).  Also known as Big Bluestem, this is a Great Plains grass that also makes its home on eastern savannas and sunlit river shores like this one.

Of the three native Bush Clovers known to grow in this park, this low-growing weak-stemmed species called Creeping Bush Clover (Lespedeza repens) is the one I'd most hoped to find in bloom, since this one is classified as a Rare species in the state.  I will just have to come back again, to see its pretty purple flowers.

There was lots more to see at this sunlit junction of the two rivers, but we still wanted to visit the low alluvial site upstream on the Hoosic before the day was much further along. When we got there, we were surprised to see how much of the rocky river bottom was now exposed by low water.

Back under the towering Cottonwoods and Sycamores that thrive in this floodplain, the Ostrich Ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) had grown to gigantic size in the rich alluvial soil.

Here, too, we found Green Dragon plants (Arisaema dracontium) that reached to our waists.

Way down beneath those gigantic Green Dragon leaves, we found clusters of green berries that will later turn red as the summer proceeds.

While we had to look DOWN to find the Green Dragon fruits, we had to look UP to see the super-tall Joe Pye Weeds (Eutrochium maculatum) that thrive along this shore.

And talk about BIG!  See how huge are the achenes (seedpods) that top the stems of Great St. Johnswort (Hypericum ascyron), each one about the size of a Chinese dumpling.  When in bloom, the flowers of this native species are also huge, for a wildflower.

Although the American Germander (Teucrium canadense) here was starting to go to seed, we could still find enough of its pretty pink florets to note the curving anthers and lack of an upper lip, features that distinguish this native Mint-family plant.

Hemp Nettle (Galeopsis tetrahit) is another Mint-family plant that thrives at this site.  An introduced species, it usually grows to about knee high, but here in this rich bottomland the plants grow shoulder high -- all the better to peer at its cute little flowers that look like a tiny ghost wearing a furry hood and a butterfly-wing breastplate.

Out on the shore, away from the shade of the trees, masses of the small Dogbane called Indian Hemp (Apocynum cannabinum) sprawled on the pebbles, bearing clusters of tiny greenish-white flowers.

Three different species of Smartweed also grew along this shore.  I would guess it is obvious how Nodding Smartweed came to acquire its common name.  Persicaria lapathifolia is its scientific name.

Common Smartweed (Persicaria hydropiper) can be immediately recognized by the intermittent blooms along its flower stalks, but an even more positive distinguishing feature is that those florets have only four petals. The other smartweeds growing here have five-petaled flowers.

Here's one more smartweed that populates this shore. This one is called Arrow-leaved Tearthumb (Persicaria sagittata), but my personal name for it is TearSHIN, suggested by my having once had to force my way through a thicket of it while wearing shorts.  Its sharply barbed stems really can tear your flesh, whether of thumb or anywhere else. And then your flesh will smart!  Keep your distance, but do peer closely to note the cute little clusters of closed and open flowers.

Okay, here is a real beauty of a flower, almost hidden among the shoreline grasses and sedges and cattails.  This is Great Blue Lobelia (Lobelia syphilitica), one of our loveliest native wildflowers.

Another blue native wildflower, called Mad Dog Skullcap (Scutellaria lateriflora), inhabits these damp shores.  This species is distinguished by its small flowers that grow on long, one-sided racemes extending from the leaf axils.

With so much of botanical interest to engage us here and for so long, I and my Thursday Naturalist friends decided to call it "lunchtime" and head back to the park's picnic area before we had a chance to explore these steep shale banks along the Hoosic.  But I had come here the day before to preview our walk, and I DID explore these banks then.

Probably the prettiest plant to populate these shale crevices was Harebell (Campanula rotundifolia).  It has very slender stems that allowed the flowers to wave in the breeze, so I had to hold it steady in order to take its picture.

Out on the sunny south-facing shore, masses of Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) had sprouted from the flat riverside rocks.  An escaped garden herb and not a native species, Tansy nevertheless attracts many pollinators, including this amorous pair of Goldenrod Soldier Beetles.  They didn't seem to care that these golden blooms were not really goldenrod. I guess they had other things on their mind!

Another insect drawn to the Tansy blooms was this tiny dun-colored moth, clouds of them flitting and fluttering about the flowers and only occasionally landing long enough for me to get a picture. But this was moth bonanza!  Look at them all!  I'm still waiting for BugGuide.net to answer my query about what species they are, but I think they might be one of the aquatic moths of the Petrophila genus.  Moths of this genus frequent riversides, since they lay their eggs in flowing water and their larvae feed on aquatic plants.  And as their genus name suggests (it means lover of rocks), they sure did appear to love this rocky shoreline of the Hoosic River.

To learn more about this fascinating moth, here's a link to the post where I got my information about it:  https://uwm.edu/field-station/two-banded-petrophila/



Here was a plant I was NOT happy to find:  A big patch of the terribly invasive European Water Chestnut (Trapa natans).  When I return to Canal Park in a couple of weeks, hoping to find those bush clovers in bloom, I think I will bring some big plastic bags and remove as much as I can.  As this photo reveals, the water is so shallow here I can easily wade out into the water and grab that nasty stuff. Hopefully, before it produces its sharp spines.