Falling Brook with Evelyn, Emily & Bob

It wasn't a beautiful day to be out, what with the chilly, spritzing weather, but it was an afternoon botanizing with friends and visiting a new location, so that more than made up for the less-than-ideal weather. The good news, weather-wise, was that the cool weather kept the blackflies at bay, even if the mosquitoes were oblivious.

So, I drove to Minerva to meet Evelyn, who'd invited me to join her, Emily DeBolt (who, it turns out, is one of the owners of Fiddlehead Creek Nursery, the native plant nursery I wrote about a week or so ago), and Evelyn's friend Bob for an excursion in search of showy orchis, which we suspected would be past blooming.

The great thing about going out on these forays with Evelyn is that I get to explore new locations, places that I'd probably never visit otherwise. Today's destination was a private trail that connects to state land, which leads to Stony Pond. It was all uphill going in, but at a leisurely botanizing and photographing pace, the incline was barely noticeable.

Running through this property, and more or less paralleling our walk, was this incredibly lovely stream, called Falling Brook. It cascades down the hill across bare rock that in some places was flat as a pancake, causing the water to sheet across.


Our first crossing of the stream was via this bridge, which was built for the snowmobiles that use this trail in winter.

Emily and I were determined to photograph everything that caught our eye. One of the first plants was Indian cucumber root (Medeola virginiana), which has wonderful flowers that are practically inconspicuous as they dangle beneath the umbrella-like leaves.

Sweet cicely (Osmorhiza claytoni) was blooming, too. This plant, with its tiny, strange flowers, threw us all for a loop. Three plant people, and not a field guide among us! Good thing Bob had his book, when we found him, and he quickly identified sweet cicely for us. The flowers are less than a 1/4" across - likely less than 1/8"; very very small, making the plant seem quite delicate.

As we gained elevation, Canada violets (V. canadensis) became almost prolific.

We found a robust patch of sanicle, or black snakeroot (Sanicula marilandica), about which I previously wrote.

Ferns were, of course, all around us. Some, like this broad beech fern (Phegopteris/Thelypteris/Dryopteris hexagonoptera), were easy to identify. Others, because they didn't have their fertile fronds, were more difficult. Emily was most taken by the rattlesnake ferns, were were growing here in fairly good quantity.

If you look around, leaf galls are really quite common. I have no idea which ones these are, but Emily found a really nice witch hazel leaf with three witch hazel cone galls, which are made by the witch hazel cone gall aphid (Hormaphis hamamelidis).

As we suspected, the showy orchis (Orchis spectabilis) were all past blooming. Still, now that we know where they are, and what the plants look like, we can return next year, around the end of May, and look for them again.

On the way back downhill towards our cars, Evelyn wanted us to take a detour to see the falls. I'm glad she did, for they were spectacular:

You can't really get an idea of their height here, but they were quite tall. I took some video, which I would post, but I held the camera vertically to take it, and the program insists on posting it horizontally, so the water would look like it's falling to your left. I decided that was just a bit too odd, so you are stuck with the above still photo instead.

Many thanks to Evelyn for another great trip!

Another New Plant for Me

While wrapping up part one of an aquatic insects program yesterday, my eyes were caught by some small yellow flowers blooming at the edge of the woods. I didn't have my camera with me because it looked like rain, but I came back later that afternoon to get some shots.

It turns out this is northern bush honeysuckle, Diervilla lonicera. While in the honeysuckle family (Caprifoliaceae), it is not considered a "true" honeysuckle because it is not in the genus Lonicera. The genus Diervilla, named after a 17th century French surgeon who introduced these plants to Europe around 1700, consists of three species, all bush honeysuckles.

The flowers are just getting going here, and, according to Newcomb's, will continue to bloom throughout the summer. They are said to be fragrant, but I didn't take a sniff - I was in a rush to meet someone for a botanical foray (which I shall write about in the next post).

Because this isn't a European plant, there isn't a lot of folklore associated with it (at least not that I could find). Historically, though, it was used by a number of native peoples for a variety of things: diuretic, eyewash, constipation, stomach pain, a treatment for a prolapsed uterus, a venereal aid, and to treat vertigo. How effective it was for any of these ailments, however, my sources do not say.

Lethal Beauty

Toby and I had just started on our walk yesterday evening and were not too far from the house. We were at a standstill while he checked out the roadside grafitti, so I was playing with the tree leaves. There on the leaves of a mountain ash was a beautiful beetle.

I dragged the dog back to the house to get the camera, then back again to get the camera battery. When I got back to the approximate location, it took a bit of searching, but the insect was still there. I snapped a few frames and we finished our walk.


This morning I looked it up. It's a beetle, I knew that much. Turns out, its a round-headed appletree borer, Saperda candida. This didn't sound good, so I did a little research.

As attractive as this striped, blue-legged beetle is, its presence does not bode well for my apple trees. The striking adults are nocturnal, feeding on leaves and sometimes fruit. That's not a problem. It's when they set about reproducing that they become "dangerous," for they seek out apple trees (crab and regular) in which to lay their eggs. They make a slit in the bark at the base of the trunk and lay the eggs there (June is peak egg laying time). Soon the eggs hatch and for about a year the young larvae feed just under the bark.

When winter comes, the larvae go dormant. Summer #2 rolls around, and the larvae start to bore into the tree. Here they will tunnel and feed for the next 1-3 years, each winter going dormant. Afterwards they emerge as adults, mate, and the cycle begins again.

Trees that are weak are usually the target. While apples are preferred, mountain ash, hawthorn, service berry, cottoneaster, Saskatoon are also hosts.

What is an apple grower to do?!? The base of trees can be painted with a schmezz made from white latex paint and water. This apparently discourages the adults from laying eggs, and makes the sawdust-like frass from the larvae more apparent if they are present. Shallow larvae can be cut out with a knife, while those that are already tunnelling can be chased with a stiff whire shoved up their tunnels.

An important factor in avoiding these insects is to keep your trees healthy. When they are newly planted, be sure to keep them well-watered to promote good root growth. This means for 2-3 years, not just a week or so after planting.

Because I have an apple tree that is in poor health, I'm going to have to do an inspection when I get home. Check out the base of all my trees for suspicious activity. If I see anything, steps will have to be taken.

Up Close with a Fly

It was 5:00 and time to go home. All the staff were headed up the walkway for their cars when my eyes were caught by the actions at a daisy - another flower fly?

When I got up close to it, the coloration struck me as different from any other flower fly I had seen. Must be yet another species, I thought, so out came the camera to record the insect and send it off for ID.



And then I saw the mouthpart(s). Flies have sponging mouthparts - this rather thick protruding part with a flat, rounded "sponging" bit at the end. I really really wanted to get a good photo of this mouth part, so I shot frame after frame in pursuit of the perfect shot as the fly made its way around the center of the daisy dabbing up pollen (and nectar?).

If you look closely, you can see that the sponging bit is covered with coarse hairs, which serve to help the fly taste its food. In fact, most of the hairs on the fly's feet and mouth are used for tasting. A fly will walk across food to taste it, and then, if it is interested, it will taste it again with its mouth.



Some flies "spit" on their food before eating it. The special enzymes in their saliva liquify, or pre-digest, the food for them, making it easier for the fly to consume.

The good folks over at BugGuide.net belive this is some kind of soldier fly (Stratiomyidae), but so far none of them recognizes it. Will keep you posted.

Feeding Frenzy

What a glorious morning it was! Clear blue sky, a touch of rain during the wee hours, a cool and gentle breeze. I wasn't the only one out enjoying it. The butterfly garden was full of hungry insects, each targeting the blossoms that were being warmed by the early sun. The chives were very popular, with the columbine and roses coming in second.

Here are some of the garden's patrons:

This red-legged fly is one of the many flower flies grabbing some breakfast. It is from the genus Chalcosyrphus, which has many members that resemble wasps not only in looks but behavior. I was relieved when I read this, for my first impression when I saw this insect was that it was indeed a wasp! The tiny paired antennae, however, are typical of flies. A trip to http://www.bugguide.net/ confirmed it was indeed a fly.

Tiger swallowtail, enjoying a chive cocktail.

I caught this Syrphid fly in the midst of a bath - note the foot cleaning the eye.

This yellow-jacket-mimicking fly is from the genus Temnostoma. It may be T. vespiforme, which is a highly successful species found not only in North America, but also in Asia and Europe.


I suspect this fly is the same species as the one above. It was totally focused on the white rose in which it had buried itself. As I watched, it was using its front two feet to scrape pollen from the anthers into its mouth at such a speed one would think it had been starving. Still photos couldn't capture its frenzy, so I tried a video.

Afterwards, it faced outwards while it cleaned up.

I almost expected to hear it belch.

This little skipper, which I think is a Hobomok skipper, was flitting about in a rather nervous way. Fortunately it finally found a good pocket of nectar and sat still long enough for me to get a shot.

A tarnished plant bug (Lygus lineolaris). This strikingly colored insect apparently exhibits a lot of diversity in its coloration. It's fairly common and feeds on upwards of 400 different species of plants, including conifer seedlings, which is distressng to conifer nurseries. Many agricultural plants are also targets, including apples, strawberries, beans and alfalfa. In other words, it is not a well-loved insect. Still, it is rather attractive.

Mystery Carex

Last night Toby and I walked 28N up to the wetland. I was hoping for turtles, but I think it was a bit too cool for them to be out. So, instead, I found myself captivated by some of the roadside plants, like this one:


I was pretty sure it wasn't a grass and was most likely a sedge, but since I am now committed to learning a few of these plants this summer, I took a sample home so I could bring it to work for ID today.

One of the things that stands out about this plant (at least to me) is the sideways jutting leaf emerging from the base of the female spike. Another thing that stood out is the brown bit sticking up above the spikelets - this is the male spike. I was hoping these would be good enough clues for an ID.

Sadly, they aren't. According to Lauren Brown's Grasses - an Identification Guide, the sedges (genus Carex) are a huge worldwide genus. In the landmark botany book "Gray's Manual of Botany" (my copy is from the late 1800s), Asa Gray documented over 250 species in eastern North America alone. Brown writes "Unfortunately for the lay person, many of these species look very similar. Fortunately, many of them are relatively uncommon and not often seen." HM...this wasn't boding well for my quest.

Still, I paged through Brown's guide, hoping to find an answer. Carex flava looked promising - the illustration was almost a dead-on match. But in the text it said "grows in clumps in wet meadows and shores..." Rats - mine was along the sandy roadside. The same held true for C. lupulina, C. intumescens, and C. lurida.

So next I turned to Edward Knobel's Field Guide to the Grasses, Sedges, and Rushes of the United States, a volume that is so small (only 83 pages, including the index) that my hopes were not raised.

Before I could really get into the ID, I had to learn the names of all the parts, otherwise I was going to be lost. Brown's book has a few labelled illustrations, but they weren't enough for use with Knobel's book. I finally found this website: http://fm2.fieldmuseum.org/plantguides/guide_pdfs/CW4-07.pdf , which has pretty good diagrams of Carex anatomy.

Here is a breakdown of some of the terminology:

• The plump, green spikey bit is the female spike. Each little spikey bit that makes it up is a perigynium.
• On the outside of each perigynium, like a sepal, is the scale. Brown calls this the glume.
• The brown male bit that sticks out above the green female spike, is the male spike.
• The inflorescence is the whole flowering bit, from the bottom of the bottom-most green spikey female bit to the top of the brown male spike.
• The green "leaf" that is sticking out to the side is a bract.
  

In Knobel's book, much of the ID depends on what essentially amounts to dissection: I had to pull out a perigynium and learn as much as I could about its shape.

Just to give you an idea of how small the female spikes were, here is one next to my massive thumbnail. The lovely pink background is my finger. For science's sake, the whole spike measures about 3/8".

Not having any tweezers with me, I had to make dowith my abbreviated fingernails to try and grab a perigynium and pluck it out. It took several tugs. Here is the perigynium from one side...




...and from the other.



AND you have to have a good look at the glume, or scale, the part we might liken to the sepals on a "real" flower.

So, anyway, now I have close-ups of the essential plant parts and am thumbing through Knobel's key. The potential candidates are C. baileyi (found in bogs, so that's out), C. trichocarpa, and C. scabrata (in moist woods...maybe).

The thing with Knobel's key is that he keeps referring to a "seed pouch". I'm not sure (for he doesn't tell us), but I think this might be the perigynium. If I am correct, then using his measurements, I have a different set of potentials, but none of the illustrations match my samples.

HM...I'm having second thoughts about learning to ID these things.

Trolling for Invasives

Any day, from now until the snow flies, you might be driving down one of the many Adirondack roads and pass a car going very slowly along the roadside with its blinkers on. The person, or people, in the car may be staring at the roadside vegetation as they creep slowly along. Are they lost? Looking for a trailhead? Trying to find a dearly departed hubcap? No, the odds are, especially if they are wearing neon green t-shirts, these folks are volunteers for the Adirondack Park Invasive Plant Program (APIPP), out scanning the Park’s roadsides for undesirable vegetation.

Last week the APIPP staff held a training session for about thirty such volunteers. People from all walks of life were in attendance: Lake George Water Stewards, students from the Adirondack Ecological Center, retirees, wildlife rehabilitators, and other assorted outdoor enthusiasts. What we all had in common was a desire to learn more about the Park’s invasive plants and how to play a role in their eradication.

This summer APIPP is conducting a Rapid Assessment of the Park’s roadways and backcountry, reconstructing a similar survey conducted in the 1990s. Each time a specimen was spotted during the original survey, its location was recorded on a map. The current survey will follow the same routes, looking to determine if the original patches of invasives are still there and if they have spread.

I signed up for this program because I, like many of my fellow volunteers, want to learn more about these aliens that are elbowing out our native vegetation. What surprised me was the sheer number of species this encompassed. I expected to hear about garlic mustard, Japanese knotweed, phragmites, honeysuckle, burning bush, barberry, cup plant and Norway maple, but the list of targeted species went on to include a total of thirty plants! Some of these were entirely new to me, like cherry silverberry, false spiraea, wall-lettuce, and flowering rush; many are horticultural favorites that have escaped and gone wild.

As APIPP volunteers, we are helping conduct this rapid assessment for infestations; it is not our job to remove these plants. In fact, to do so, especially on state land, is technically illegal. One might think that yanking out a clump of garlic mustard while hiking up Big Slide would be considered a public service, but in truth, one needs special permits from state agencies to do so. The staff at APIPP have all the necessary permits and will follow up our surveys with hard-hitting actions wherever possible. Sometimes this requires back-breaking labor digging up plants, while other times applications of herbicides are in order.

What you can do as a member of the public is be aware of the vegetation around you and the vegetation you bring into the Park. If you are landscaping your home, you are best advised to seek out native plants. Not only have they evolved to survive our short growing seasons and harsh winters, but they have a centuries-old relationship with the local wildlife. Instead of planting burning bush for its stunning fall colors, plant red chokeberry (the birds will love you). Are you passionate about irises? Don’t plant the highly invasive yellow irises – plant native blue flag instead. Do you simply adore purple loosestrife? You can enjoy the same tall spires in Liatris.