ZOUNDS, WHAT SOUNDS!

It is a pity that today's culture is polluted with so much noise. Radios and TVs turned up, noisy machines to do trivial labors, even loud conversation between people seated around a small table, and much more serve to anesthetize us to concurrent, but more subtle sounds. Young people actually do not seem to abide silence and feel they must fill it with racket. As one who is approaching another decade, one appreciates hearing much more because that sense, I fear, is declining in me for purely aging reasons.

As I walk through a park or on nearby trails through a forest, I encounter people plugged into their iPods apparently preferring to hear electronic noise rather than the myriad songs of birds, wind rustling through the leaves, or water trickling through in a nearby creek. Workers show up for a construction job and the first thing they do is to turn on their radio tuned of course to the local rock station broadcasting uninterrupted noise. And of course its volume has to be increased so that the radio can be heard over the noise of the saws and hammers.

What ever happened to listening? Some sounds are meant to be heard of course as a warning: a car horn, a loud dinging bell when a train is coming, or an unfriendly rattlesnake. Other sounds are a part of every day life and have been recorded in our collective memory, their meanings clear: a baby's cry, an approaching thunder storm, an exaggerated sigh from your host when you have overstayed your welcome, or the drip of leaky faucet. Other sounds we associate with past experiences, either pleasant or not so.

Not many people can stand the screech of a fingernail accidentally scratching a blackboard, a memento from school days of yore. I personally do not like to hear the noise made by the bristles on a stiff wire brush being flexed. But getting back to the finger nail on the blackboard, I suppose this is becoming an antique sound owing to the fact that modern schools are equipped with other types of visual education materials. Other antique sounds might include the sound of a buggy whip, milk bottles clinking together, steam whistles, and the sharp whack of a wooden driver hitting a golf ball cleanly. Sadly, that latter sound has been replaced by a metallic clink.

The sounds of nature have always intrigued me. The avian world alone contains many, mostly pleasant sounds. From my travels in the North, I especially relish the lonely wail of Loons calling down a distant lake at twilight. The whole setting is mesmerizing, but nothing can compare to that wonderful sound. Speaking of the Great North Woods, what can compare with be awakened by the sweet song of a White-throated Sparrow singing outside your tent or cabin? The timbre or tonal quality of those notes are so distinctive, I can identify the bird even if I don't hear the whole song; just one note is all that I need. The Baltimore Oriole is another bird with such a distinctive timbre. Not all birds have such dulcet tones for me, but I associate their calls with pleasant memories, e.g., the squawking of Herring Gulls which used to accommodate me on my walks to work when I was living in Sweden or the unmelodious racket of Robins singing at dusk and after evokes memories of my childhood recalling the first nights going to bed in the spring with the windows open. And although they are so commonplace now, the calls of Canada Geese in flight always stir me.

Not all nature sounds come from birds. Who can not delight at the sound of a chorus of Spring Peepers, the tiny frogs that first herald the coming of spring? Have you ever heard the call of wolves in the North or in the Smokies? That sound will evoke stirring in your latent genes for sure. It reassures me that nature can survive if we only let it. Not all animal sounds come from wildlife. Pastoral sounds of cattle lowing, the whinny of a horse, or the soft bleats of sheep are sure to be associated with those of us with a more rural background.

Many of my favorite sounds are those that I associate with going to bed in weather warm enough to have the windows open. Chief among these from my boyhood is the far away whistle from a steam locomotive chugging through a distant valley on the edge of town where I grew up. I also cherish the sound of an approaching thunder storm on a summer evening. first heard far away and then the sounds come closer with louder and louder claps. Soon a gentle rainfall begins and may intensify- not a storm, but a gentle shower and then the sounds move off into the distance. The air is refreshed and life is rejuvenated.

Weather sounds are also encountered in travels and are readily identifiable. The squish-squish of the windshield wipers in the rain as the family car heads somewhere. I don't think the wipers make any noise today. The rain on a tin roof certainly is distinctive and a sound I pleasantly associate with crude lodgings I have weathered in the past. Or how about the crunch-crunch of your footsteps through frozen snow? We used to say that Midwestern summer nights were so hot you could hear the corn grow, but as attractive as that regional aphorism was, I don't think I actually ever heard it.

Some neat sounds are purely domestic, such as the sound of popping corn in a hot kettle from the kitchen especially when it gets to the frenzied stage. Or the sound of fries or onion rings dropped into the hot batter, the symphonic chorus of the myriad squeaks, rhythmic rumbles, and groans of an old-fashioned washing machine. Or the banging of hot water pipes when the weather turned cold. Or the swish-swish of the oscillating electric fan in the summer time. So many of these sounds are antique now. People pop corn in a microwave, not a kettle; they heat their fries up similarly from a bag of a frozen substitute, and their washing machine just hums!

I have my own personal library of sonic memories, probably not shared by most of you: a studio organ always evokes memories of Hodges Brothers Roller Rink, a scene of many hours on enjoyment from Junior High even into college, the rusty squeak of oar locks in a row boat from old trips to a nearby pond, the relentless pounding of the Atlantic surf, the warming up chords of a good, full symphony chorus, and so on. Why don't you turn off the noise and tune into the sounds? Make your own list. You might be surprised at the things you no longer hear.

BE SURE TO SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF

The last frontier of natural history for many of us might be to tackle the common plants that cover the ground rocks, and trees in the various habitats we travel in our quest to find birds, trees, ferns, and wildflowers. Who has not wondered what names the abundant mosses and liverworts, lichens, and even slime molds go by. Are these mysterious living things learnable? When it comes to birds, trees, flowers, and ferns, there has always been a good deal of expertise about. Moreover, there are strong minorities quite knowledgeable about mammals, herps, and butterflies, moths, and odonata. In recent years there have even been more and more people who have developed quite an interest in mushrooms and other fungi. The knowledge of these folks’ presence at forays and field trips, rubs off on many of the rest of us and this is one of the strongest attributes of the wildlife buffs, the sharing of knowledge about natural history.

In addition to native inquisitiveness, learning about these various types of biota has been greatly advanced by the wide availability of first rate guide books and identification manuals. Roger Tory Peterson set a high standard with his introduction of highly informative field guides and this tradition has continued with the Kauffmans, Sibleys, Stokes, and others. The growing knowledge about mushrooms has been greatly enhanced by the publication of first rate field guides.

But there has been a conspicuous lack of public information for the naturalist when it comes to learning something about the mosses and liverworts (bryophytes). We have all seen these beautiful plants on just about any field trip we take and who has not wondered what the individual types might be called or how they reproduce and eke out a living amongst so many other forms of life? There is very little in the way of field guides available for mosses and none in the Peterson mode. An older field guide of the W.C. Brown How To Know series, by Henry S. Conrad (and later with Paul S. Redfearn, Jr.), has been available for many years, but anyone trying to use it quickly finds out that this is not for the field naturalist in that so many of the details, even at the genus level, requires the use of a compound microscope.

This puts the game at an entirely different level. Nature lovers who are used to making IDs based upon such easily observable characteristics as wing bars, flight patterns, mating calls, etc. will be put off if they have to take the specimen home to dissect it in preparation for microscopic examination. Identifying wild flowers and even ferns based on an overall gestalt impression of the plant seen while driving by in an automobile is completely out of the question regarding bryophytes. Most of us know a few by sight, for instance, the very common Sphagnum species which are so much a part of terrain we love to explore, e.g., Dolly Sods, Cranberry Glades, etc. Did you know that there were 20 species of Sphagnum in WV? Many of us might also be familiar with common Polytrichum mosses, but rare is the individual who can differentiate a true moss from a liverwort.

Fortunately, help is available although not yet at the level of the Peterson guides, mostly for the technical reasons alluded to previously. A wonderful little guide entitled, Outstanding Mosses and Liverworts of Pennsylvania and Nearby States (which would include Ohio and WV), written by Susan Munch can go a long way towards whetting your appetite and curiosity for these beautiful plants. Lavishly illustrated with color photographs, the spiral bound volume lies flat on the table while you work with your collection, something that would be nice to see with other guide books. Munch introduces the naturalist to about 50 different types of bryophytes, most to the genus level, but some even to species. She has picked the most common plants as well as those identifiable without a microscope. Technobabble is kept to a minimum although there is a glossary to explain the few technical words necessary to describe the unique characteristics.

The great little book is available directly from the author for $18 (includes shipping). To order, contact Dr. Munch at 49 Water St., Oley, PA 19547.

One other publication may be of additional interest although it is not helpful in identifying unknowns and that is an annotated checklist of all the bryophyte species that have been found in West Virginia. It tells where each species has been found and in what kind of habitat it exists. The one for West Virginia was compiled by Susan Studlar, Stephen L. Stevenson, and Paul L. Harmon. Check on availability of this publication from Publications, West Virginia Division of Natural Resources, P.O. Box 67, Elkins, WV 26241.

And what about the primitive plants you see so often on your field trips; those which are among the hardiest organisms on the planet, capable of surviving in the most extreme habitats and weather conditions – the lichens? Ruggedly beautiful to the naked eye, they are even more intriguing when viewed with a hand lens. Many of us know Reindeer Moss, British Soldiers, and Rock Tripe, but what of the many other species so commonly encountered. Don’t fret – help has arrived in the form of a wonderful identification manual entitled, The Macrolichens in West Virginia by Don G. Flenniken. This wonderful manual defines the technical things to look for (many requiring the use of a hand lens) and includes a glossary. A key to the genera is fairly easy to use and after having arrived at the appropriate genus, additional keys help you try to arrive at a species ID. Each species is described in detail and information is given as to where one finds it and in what WV counties it has been found. The format is similar to that of Strausbaugh and Core’s manual for the vascular plants of West Virginia. The manual includes color plates illustrating each species described. It is available for $32.88 (includes tax and shipping) from: Publications, West Virginia Division of Natural Resources, P.O. Box 67, Elkins, WV 26241. You can also still obtain a 1979 guide to nationwide lichen identification written by Mason Hale (who did much of his collecting in WV). It is part of the How To Know nature series and is available from Amazon.com.

For the most puzzling organisms of all, the slime molds, there is even a little help to identify eighteen of the most common slime molds you are likely to notice. One of the most notable is seen early every summer by anyone who gardens and that is the brilliant yellow mass resembling scrambled eggs covering mulch or vegetative litter. Want to know more? By using the following web site: http://www.wvdnr.gov/Wildlife/PDFFiles/slimemolds.pdf, you are directed to a one page guide of 18 full-color images of commonly-encountered species in West Virginia. Simply run this off on your printer and if you have access to a laminator, you can “plasticize” it for permanent safe-keeping. More detailed information about slime mold identification can also be obtained from Amazon.com with a book entitled, Myxomycetes: A Handbook of Slime Molds, an illustrated paperback by Steven Stephenson ( a former Fairmont State prof) and Henry Stempen.

Armed with these publications, one can easily gain an appreciation and even some specifics about these intriguing parts of our natural world.

ONE MAN’S YARD BIRD IN ANOTHER ONE’S LIFE LISTER

A few years ago as I sat musing at the birds flitting about my house in Colington Harbour where we lived on one of the larger inlets in the conclave of the Harbour itself, I recollected that one man's rarity might be another's jaded commonness.

When we lived in Sweden in 1980, I would marvel as a Mew Gull strode by right outside my office window, not an unusual sight there at all, but I have yet to see one on this continent. Similarly, Fieldfares were hopping everywhere as I walked to work each day. They were as common as American Robins were back home and indeed Robins are the New World counterpart to the Fieldfare.

Then during another work-related sojourn in the Chicago suburbs in 1983, I used to take weekly field trips to a nearby wildlife preserve and I always could count on seeing a common, but noisy fellows on my ambles, Yellow-headed Blackbirds. To see one at Mattamuskeet would be the occasion of many postings on Carolina Birds and to be sure, several birders would drive great distances just to add this to their life lists.

What occasioned these musings was the sight of a Double-Crested Cormorant sitting on my dock post, not uncommon here, but one I imagine not counted as a backyard bird by much of a percentage of American birders. At other times, I have had an Osprey sitting right outside my window on the porch railing feasting on a small bass freshly caught from the nearby Albemarle Sound. Once, during the big winter whiteout of ’03, I was entertained by Juncos at my feeder (the first in 7 years), a flock of about 80 Lesser Scaup right off my boat dock, and 7 Ruddy Ducks a little further out navigating amongst the ice floes.

BACKYARD BIRD ON OUR PORCH - COLINGTON HARBOUR MC

Now none of the Colington Harbour birds are considered unusual here on the OBX, but they might be considered great treats by an inlander not living around water. In West Virginia, my primary residence for 35 years, we would have Wild Turkeys in our front yard and depending on the time of year White-throated Sparrows and Wood Thrushes serenading us right outside the kitchen window. These are species that urbanites would drool over to have around their homes.

Now that we are back in West Virginia, it is not uncomonm to see Great Blue Herons, Green Herons, and Kingfishers in my backyard creek. A couple of seasons ago, we had a female Baltimore Oriole visit our back porch often to collect nest-building yarns Elaine would hang out. And who has Pileated Woodpeckers and a Yellow-throated Warbler visit their suet feeder regularly?

Yes, we have all the more common species as well, but I ask myself, just what is common? Depends on where you live.

HOW POISONOUS ARE POISONOUS MUSHROOMS?

Occasionally at the mushroom sorting tables of a foray I attend, I overhear someone say that they do not want to pick up any amanitas because there is no place to wash their hands. I have heard such expressions of fear from being poisoned at other times. Also, when I take a taste of a russula for ID purposes without explaining what I am doing, there are usually a few looks of horror from any onlookers who are present. Given our Anglo-saxon, mycophobic heritage in this country, I suppose it is natural for people to have such reactions, but some common sense based on a solid foundation of some chemical facts may help dispel some of the fear concerning poisonous mushrooms.

First of all we should consider the amount of toxin present in the mushroom and then its relative potency. Few substances in the natural world are so toxic and present in such high concentration (and these the layman is quite unlikely to encounter) that one need worry about getting it on your hands or even tasting a smidgeon. Incidentally, when I taste a mushroom, I literally do just that, not swallow it. Mushroom toxins work by being adsorbed through the intestinal tract, not through the skin. Then the toxins need to be transported to places like the liver or the central nervous system to hurt you. If you have just picked a few Amanita virosa for the sorting tables, you needn't worry about sitting down and eating a sandwich with your bare fingers because the lethal amanitin toxins are simply not present in that great of a concentration in the fungal tissue.

It is commonly accepted that A. phalloides is one our most toxic mushroom. It has been found that the lethal amanitins are present in only 3-5 parts per thousand and indeed, some specimens of A virosa and A. verna have no detectable levels. In other words one ounce of fresh death angel might have less than a fifth of a gram of toxin, an amount meaningless unless we know something about how potent the toxin is. Relative toxicity is often expressed as an estimation of the least amount of poison that would cause death, or the minimum lethal dose (MLD). A better method is to express the dose in a statistical way to minimize the fact that individual people will vary in their susceptibility to a poison. Such an expression is calculated on how much toxin would be needed to kill half of the people, if each person ate the same amount, each weighed the same, and none had any predisposing illnesses. That amount per person would be called the lethal dose 50 % or LD₅₀. Expressed in weight of toxin per weight of individual ingesting the toxin, the LD₅₀ for amanitoxins comes out to be in the neighborhood of about one 2 ounce mushroom for a 150 pound man (LD₅₀ = O.1 mg/kg). It would take 10 small Galerina autumnalis to equal this same dose. In other words, if you ate this much of one of these two mushrooms, you would have a 50-50 chance of succumbing. Much less would be needed of course to make you violently sick, but this would still be appreciably more than what trace amounts might stick to your fingers when handling A. phalloides.

Even so, I do not recommend tasting such species although I wouldn't hesitate to do so (BUT underline that word "taste"). IN SUMMARY: By all means exercise care in identifying, eating, and handling various mushrooms, but at the same time, use some common sense to avoid unwarranted fear of them. Simple handling of even the most toxic mushrooms won't hurt you.