Tag: explore

  • Exploring Local Lichens

    Exploring Local Lichens

    Foliose lichen found on a Norway Maple tree

    Despite my interest in mushrooms, I know little about lichens. At the January Community Nature Journaling meeting, Stephen Bucklin introduced us to lichens. I learned a little on their ecology, physiology, and reproductive systems. Since then, I’m noticing lichens a lot more, especially in my own backyard.

    I first noticed some lichens growing on the Norway Maple tree in my front yard. On the eastward side of the tree were many lichens, and I took a couple of snaps of the largest ones. The majority of them appear to be at least be Parmelioideae; typical shield lichens. To the touch, the lichens were cold and a little leathery.

    The Norway Maple also had many small yellow lichens, which my camera and I struggled to capture. They grew in many small spots, some smaller than a pencil tip. Most were between the size of a pencil eraser to bottle cap. If I touched them, they brushed right off the tree. In the picture above, you can see the abundance of the yellow lichen all around the big shield lichen.

    Crustose lichen found on a post

    On the post that holds my CoCoRaHS rain gauge, a crustose lichen appears on all sides. It didn’t brush off using my finger pad or nails- the medulla of the lichen anchors it to the substrate. In this case, the substrate is a post of unknown origin. Looking close, I could see little black dots- the mycobiont’s reproductive structures.

    Foliose lichen found on same post

    Near the ground, the post had another species, a foliose lichen. Yet again, iNaturalist suggested that it hailed from the typical shield lichen family. I’m waiting for more species suggestions from experts now. These felt cold and leathery to the touch, too. I liked how bright and green they were in comparison to the grey-green of the crustose lichen at the top of the post.

    Foliose lichen and Ulota crispa competing for habitat

    On a dead snag in my yard, I found an example of a lichen and a moss competing for habitat. The foliose lichen spread all over the trunk of the snag, in groups roughly the size of my hand. In one spot, Ulota crispa, crisped pincushion moss, was growing over and up through the lichen. Lichens take anywhere from tens to hundreds of years to grow and develop. On the flip side, a moss can grow in spread in a year and a half or less. The moss is out-competing the lichen on this tree. I’m going to keep an eye on its development in the future.

    I’m surprised that my yard had so many examples of lichens. I only have three trees, a snag, a forsythia bush, and a single post. I didn’t see any lichens growing on my house or garage. With such little habitat, the lichen has found its niche and is growing. Considering how long it takes for a lichen to develop, I can say that they may have been “born” at the same time as me. Thinking about it, some of these lichen may be older than me!

  • Green Linings

    Green Linings

    Snow floated down around me as I walked across the parking lot to Lakeside Trail. The trail, a 5.6 mile loop at the base of Bald Eagle Mountain, is a favorite of mine. American Robins chittered in the trees overhead, flying off when I whistled in return. The trail was snowy and undisturbed, perfect for some time alone in the winter woods.

    Along the trail ranged a dense, berry-dotted shrub, obscuring my view of the lake. Little grey-blue berries clustered on branches… privet. Privet renders any habitat into a tangle of branches with its reproductive cycle. The invasive plant species will out-shade low-lying native plants. Once established, privet is an aggressive enemy, and here, the battle is already lost.

    Interspersed throughout the privet is multiflora rose, another invasive species in Pennsylvania. Multiflora rose is a “Class B” noxious weed, as it is very prolific and difficult to control. An established plant will produce up to 500,000 seeds in a single year. Shade-tolerant and hardy, it’s taking over the base of Bald Eagle Mountain.

    I can’t help but feel sad watching these species consume my favorite places. Japanese stiltgrass threatens my yard. Shrubs like privet edge out the mountain laurel, and English Ivy coats the ground in thick waves. These are not the scenes we should be seeing in Pennsylvania, but they are our reality.

    As I continued my walk, the dense shrubs gave way to a small clearing- the remains of an apple orchard. A bench sits near the trail, and I stopped for a moment to admire a common greenshield lichen on the bench. This native fungi species shone bright lime-green against the white snow. Typically found on bark, this lichen will grow on wood products if conditions are right. Upon my touch, it was not warm, but wet and floppy like lettuce leaves. After dwelling on invasive species, I felt better to know a native one was thriving here.

    This orchard is one of my favorite places at Bald Eagle State Park. In my first year of living here, I would bring a book here to read on the bench or lay on a blanket in the meadow. I wondered what this meadow would look like if the privet or multiflora rose took over. The thought was too depressing- how could I only imagine a bad outcome for this scene?

    A term popped into my mind as I strolled around- recency bias. Witnessing the fires in Los Angeles, and knowing the role invasive species had in them, had been on my mind all week. Our minds will often overemphasize recent experiences when thinking about the future.. Combating recency bias takes a concentrated effort, as all pessimistic thoughts do.

    Instead, as I walked back home, I imagined what Lakeside Trail would be like if the invasives were managed. Reducing the invasive shrubs would open the understory, helping low-lying plants grow. Promoting the growth of native berry-bearing species would provide forage for wildlife. This type of project is intense, and in some cases, impossible. Yet, I didn’t feel daunted. The lichen gave me hope, proof that even in a space troubled with invasive species, with a little help, native ones may find a way.

  • Nature Walk Diary, 1-11-25

    Nature Walk Diary, 1-11-25

    Saturday dawned with three-quarters of an inch of fresh, new snow. After my coffee, I bundled up to take a walk to the dock and do some birding. At 28 degrees with a soft breeze, the day felt warmer than the week before. A blue, sunny sky stretched overhead as I set off, first noticing some bird tracks on my front stoop.

    A light wind pushed at me while I noted the birds in a neighbor’s yard: Dark-eyed Juncos, House Finches, and a Blue Jay. The dulcet tones of Lick Run overpowered any bird song. The groundwater-fed stream was free-flowing and ultra clear. I love the look of the creek flowing under the railroad bridge… I swear I have a thousand shots of that sight alone!

    I continued on my walk, ambling up the hill. To my left, the thick briars on the steep hillside was full of birds. I let some cars pass and sidled up the guardrail to take a sound recording with Merlin. Merlin recognized Carolina Wrens, Tufted Titmice, Northern Cardinals, and American Robins. Before I turned off the recording, a new call broke out, one I was not familiar with.

    A high, sharp repeating cheep rung out and paused before starting over. Merlin claimed it was a Golden-Crowned Kinglet. It continued to call after I closed Merlin and started looking for the bird in the thicket. Near the top of a bush was a small, darting bird with a shock of yellow on its head. A bright dark eye flashed under a white stripe… the Kinglet! The bird was here and gone before I could raise my camera. Dejected, I continued on my walk to the dock.

    The closer I approached the lake, the more quiet the brush became. I ended my checklist with 12 species, the typical bunch of feeder birds plus the Kinglet. Once in the dock’s parking lot, I appreciated the beauty of the frozen lake. From my spot, I could see all the way to the breast of the dam, complete with a white velvet carpet of snow.

    Rabbit tracks crossed the path to the dock platform. At least two rabbits had been dashing back and forth in the new snow. One rabbit had ventured out on the ice, crossing from the peninsula to the shore once. I had heard the ice was almost 3 inches thick at the Hunter Run Cut, but I wasn’t stupid enough to step out. Ice ought to be 4 inches or more thick before it’s acceptable to walk upon.

    I dawdled a little longer, collecting two seed pods and a mushroom to draw back at home. I had seen the mushroom earlier this fall and wanted to explore its shape on paper. One of the seed pods was from the sycamore tree near the shore. I suspect a rushing squirrel broke the brittle tip of the branch.

    As a cloud floated across the sun, I turned for home. The walk back to the house was slow- I stopped a few times to take more Merlin recordings. I strained to listen for the Kinglet back along the hillside, but I didn’t catch a single note or feather. Despite my disappointment, I did feel pleased at heart- I started off the new year with a new bird on my life list!

  • Recounting the Christmas Bird Count

    Recounting the Christmas Bird Count

    Black Vultures

    On December 29th, I participated in my first Audubon Christmas Bird Count. Armed with my binoculars and camera, I loaded up in my friend’s Subaru. Four of us set off into the morning mists to cruise through a variety of habitat to find as many species as we could. We had no goals- our only expectation was to explore our corner of the circle and hope for species diversity.

    At our first pull-off, a huge flock of thrush-sized birds flew overhead. At first, we thought they were European Starlings, but they didn’t seem quite right. Their flight calls were too cheerful to be the omnipresent nuisances. A long Merlin recording determined them to be American Robins. Throughout the morning we sighted one large flock after another. The Robins were taking advantage of the warm, rainy weather to hunt for earthworms.

    In a small development, we crept towards a small group of vultures sunning on a tree branch. At first, we thought they were Turkey Vultures. As our position was okay, we snapped some pictures and realized the birds were Black Vultures. While my photograph is poor, I could see their white primaries spread for the sun. Their behavior was a little ironic- at this point in the day, the mists hung heavy over the fields… a great day for a goth bird!

    Hermit Thrush

    As our morning wore on, we noted plenty of “standard” winter feeder birds. At almost every stop a Carolina Wren or Northern Cardinal would call out. While we didn’t always see them- there were plenty of Paridae. Black-Capped Chickadees and Tufted Titmice often flock together in the winter. Tufted Titmice are my favorite feeder bird, and I took on the role of counting them at our stops.

    A continual delight was the melody of White-Throated Sparrows. Too small and fast for my camera, they danced around the shrubs of every stop. For such a small bird, their voices are loud and carried wherever they went. At one stop, they were the only birds we could hear over an agitated Northern Cardinal. I hadn’t paid much attention to White-Throated Sparrows before, but now they are on my radar for the future.

    During an unrewarding trip up a wooded lane, a medium-sized brown bird popped out on a branch near my window. From the back, and through fogged glasses, it looked like a very fat wren. After wiping my glasses and picking up my camera, the bird turned and revealed itself to be a Hermit Thrush. This was my first one- and I was able to snap a half-decent shot!

    Eastern Bluebird

    As our day waned, we finally traded in the forests for edge habitat. Overgrown, mixed hedgerows rose high over the car as we sidled down a muddy country lane. A few winter feeder birds popped over us, and as we were turning we noticed a flash of blue further away. Hopping out, all four of us trained our binoculars on a flurry of activity on a berry bush- Eastern Bluebirds! On a high, we headed to the last part of our route.

    Construction blocked the usual route, so a quick detour got us back on track. We spotted another Red-Tailed Hawk and an American Kestrel surveying roadways for prey. The area we were birding was close to I-99, making it hard to hear birds over the roar of the road. A few more American Robins added to the list, and we closed up shop, heading back to our meeting place to disband.

    Our day was five and a half hours of pure birding- starting at 7:15am and ending at 12:45pm. On this trip, I was able to add to my life list and learn new camera tricks. Already I can say this trip was the highlight of my long holiday vacation!

  • My Favorite Place: Rattlesnake Rock

    My Favorite Place: Rattlesnake Rock

    When I was a little girl, my family often took day trips to Wellsboro, Pennsylvania. In truth, “day trip” is a misnomer- any time my Dad turned the family van left out of Avis, we started a pilgrimage. Dedicated worshipers we were, visiting the same places year after year. Pictures, picnics, and family memories dot the mountains around Rt. 44 and Rt. 414.

    The forests in the High Allegheny Plateau are gorgeous, and almost wild. Now, there is little in the way of industrial improvement, and the remnants of an agrarian past lie fallow. A handful of homes tucked between the small towns, and the woods are full of hunting camps. Hiking trails, fishing holes, and canoe launches are everywhere. The Pine Creek area is an outdoorsman’s dream.

    Between Cedar Run and Blackwell is my most favorite place in the world, Rattlesnake Rock. Tucked into a bend of Pine Creek, the rock juts out over the water, offering a beautiful 180 degree view. A short spur trail off the Pine Creek Rail Trail connects the Rattlesnake Rock Access Area and the rock.

    As a child, my parents would pack us snacks to have while sitting on the rock, dangling our feet over the edge. In all my life, I have never seen a snake at Rattlesnake Rock, but I have seen evidence of other wildlife. Once, while visiting in the winter, we found an otter slide down the hillside and into the water. Another time, a shift in the rocks revealed an owl’s nest full of feathers and pellets.

    In Philip Tome’s Thirty Years a Hunter, he shares a brief interlude at Rattlesnake Rock. He claims that the location was a stopover for traveling Native Americans. The high rock over the water would make a safe vantage point, being able to see upriver and downriver. He camped there overnight and moved on. The story led me to search for his fire ring- even though I was visiting in the early 2000s, almost 200 years after!

    Beauty and history aside, Rattlesnake Rock is a geological curiosity. A recent study from Mansfield University claims that Rattlesnake Rock originates elsewhere. Research shows that Rattlesnake Rock is not in aligned with nearby bedrock. This suggests translocation of a block rather than deposition of sediments. The authors believe this happened during the formation of the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon… making Rattlesnake Rock a periglacial feature!

    In college, I would drive to Rattlesnake Rock to retreat from the world. During periods of high stress or anxiety, I would leave a note for my friends and take off to unplug from the world. With the water swirling below me, and the sounds of bikers silenced by the thick trees, I could relax. Sometimes, I would take a book and bask in the sun while reading, and once, I took a nap. I have never felt alone at Rattlesnake Rock- instead, I felt immersed in the wild world and at peace.

    For the twenty years I have been visiting, I have changed, and so has Rattlesnake Rock. More flora has crept in, and the rock worn smooth from many exploring feet. Parts of the rock have sloughed off into Pine Creek, and the water fluctuates every season. Yet, the heart of the place is the same- wild and wonderful.

    Works Cited

    Murphy, K. (2022). EVALUATING THE ATTITUDE OF RATTLESNAKE ROCK FROM THE PINE CREEK GORGE, LYCOMING COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA. Confex.com; GSA. https://gsa.confex.com/gsa/2022NE/webprogram/Paper374904.html

    Tome, P. (1928). Pioneer Life; Or, Thirty Years a Hunter. Being Scenes and Adventures in the Life of Philip Tome.