CORMORANT-A-MY-HOUSE

There was a recent, unusual sighting of Double-crested Cormorants in the Upper Deckers Creek watershed in Preston County, West Virginia. This is sort of like seeing a Prairie Chicken in Memphis, but anything is possible, I suppose.

A Cormorant is quite a bird, actually, and there are six species recorded for North America, the Double-crested one being by far the most common and is the only one you could expect to see inland around fresh water. I have seen four of these species.

The fish-eating Double-crested Cormorant lives in and around water and can be distinguished by its large, greenish-black plumage, a slender hooked-tip bill, orange facial skin, and webbed feet set well back on its body. It is named for the two small tufts of feathers on either side of its head, which appear on the adults in spring plumage. The bird can frequently be observed standing erect on rocks or posts, sometimes in a spread-eagle posture drying its feathers; or swimming low in the water, often with only its head and neck exposed. On the water, it can be distinguished from loons by the distinct upward angle of its head and bill.

This species has had its ups and down in the US interior. Although present in Lake of the Woods, Ontario for a long time, no individuals were seen in the Great Lakes until they began to colonize the western end of Lake Superior around 1913. This habitat was successful and the species spread eastward through the Great Lakes even to Lake Ontario. By 1950 everyone agreed that there had been a population explosion.

Initially there was a large outpouring of complaints from fisherfolk who felt these birds were competing for the desirable harvest species of fish, however wildlife studies on pellets and what not failed to support this claim. The preferred foods of these birds were alewife, perch, and rainbow smelt.

Still, control measures were instituted, some official and some not, and nesting success was greatly decreased. Soon though, natural nesting failure primarily due to eggshell thinning took over in the 60's and 70's and the Double-crested Cormorant population crashed. As with other fish eating birds, egg shell thinning was due to contamination of DDT breakdown products and PCBs.

Once DDT was banned and the toxicity and sources of PCBs identified and controlled, this species rebounded smartly. Oh boy did they rebound! Today we see another crest in populations of Double-crested Cormorants and the West Virginia sighting may have been a part of that.

As before, fisherfolk are complaining, but most of their concerns are not justified (the birds eat very few salmon fry for instance), but there is a great concern remaining that the populations are decimating pan fry species such as yellow perch and small-mouthed bass. It takes about a pound a day to feed EACH adult cormorant during nesting season.

Another documented problem caused by the nesting birds is the vegetative destruction caused by their nesting habits. These birds are colonial nesters and the combined weight of their nests result in breaking of limbs and even entire trees. Add to that the tons of excrement that befouls and kills herbaceous plants and you can see a huge environmental effect. This is especially a problem on small islands and this leads to subsequent erosion.

I lived for 8 years on the North Carolina Outer Banks and in that time I could detect annual increases in this species during the winter. Huge, huge numbers of birds spend the winter in the Pamlico Sound where they spend the night. In the morning they fly out and raft up in the ocean. Towards the end of my tenure there (early 00's), I would marvel on my morning trip south along the coastal highway and as I began my climb onto the lengthy Oregon Inlet bridge to Pea Island I could see enormous numbers of cormorants leaving their nightly habitat, flying east over the bridge to the ocean side. The flocks filled the sky in continuous lines from one horizon to the other.

Now something has to be feeding those enormous numbers of fish eaters and I do not know if the salt water species that feed them have been as well studied as the Great Lakes species. Also, what do you suppose the effects of all that poop has on the estuary? It is already assaulted enough with pig farm run off (a big lobby in NC).

So what is the next stop in cormorant natural history? Huge populations of these birds would not be welcomed in WV habitats like New River, Ohio River Islands, or Cheat Lake.

Stay tuned.

LET'S GO BOG SLOGGIN'

Well, another bog slog under my belt. For some reason, I have this proclivity to explore bogs, i.e., wetland habitats populated by unique plants and creatures adapted to living in a semi-aquatic or at least very wet environment. Several things are required to take part in a bog slog, chief of which is to try to find one. Bogs were anathema to our immediate ancestors, engineers, and realtors. Such a waste, in their eyes. Consequently much of what were former bogs, were drained and either plowed up or paved over with concrete. Sometimes a bog will disappear naturally and succumb to its own success. If there is no water outlet and no new water coming in, the growth of plants gradually matures and dies, paving the way for a new layer to take its place, and so on, layer upon layer, until finally the bog no longer exists. Consequently, bogs tend to be off the beaten path and you must work hard to find or get to one. One of my favorites, located in southwestern Pennsylvania, is reached by a long walk to a landmark, from which you must take off at a pre-determined compass heading to get there. So, if you know how to use a compass, getting there is half the fun.

Next, you must be prepared for wet feet. Taking a step in a bog often means sinking in over your shoe tops. Or higher! They don't call them bog slogs for nothing. Some sloggers wear boots which serves only to make the water line higher. Water can come in over boot tops as well and a water-filled boot is no fun. I prefer just to wear my grungiest tennies (n.b., all of my tennies are grungy so making such a choice is difficult). Many of the most interesting plants are low-growing in which case, you must get down on your knees to examine or photograph the beauty you just found. Remember what happened to your shoes? Well then, wet knees are de riguer as well. Occasionally you either stumble or sink well below expectation which can result in a backwards fall, so a wet bottom is a sign you have had some fun! Did I mention that the territory being explored was pretty wet? Well, pretty wet can mean pretty bugs. Lots of 'em. A little bug spray or a lot of resistance to being bugged are also helpful things to take along.

Approaching a bog usually means you are traveling through transition zones to get there. The edges of a bog were once part of the bog in previous times, but now support the growth of new flora which consists primarily of shrubby species. This means that although you have been proceeding nicely enough through open woods, now you are fighting thick underbrush and getting slapped in the face by branches bent forwards by the guy walking ahead of you. Sometime the approach is pleasant like walking through waist-high Cinnamon Ferns or it can be physically challenging like trying to find your way through a Rhododendron or Mountain Laurel jumble (they don't call them laurel hells for nothing). Like I say, getting there is half the fun.

In recent weeks I have had the opportunity to take part in two bog slogs, one to Chalk Hill Bog near Fort Necessity National Historic Park close to Farmington PA and more recently to Christner Bog near Pennsylvania's highest point, Mt. Davis. At 3,213 feet above sea level, Mt. Davis isn't terribly high for the Appalachians of which it is a part nor does it stand out either because the "peak" is but a bump in a long ridge of the Laurel Highlands in Forbes State Forest. Don't expect to find Christner Bog on any map; you have to go there with someone who has been there before. In fact, the official PA state map does not even clearly show how to find Mt. Davis! Our leader had a GPS thingy in which he had recorded co-ordinants obtained from some one else, but I consider this cheating and missing out on a lot of the stumbling around trying to find just where in the heck it was.

A date, time, and place were set to rally and off we went down the requisite back roads to the jumping off point. After briefly summiting Mt. Davis, our pull off was but a short distance further. Dense, mature forest completely surrounded the road as well as Mt. Davis and were it not for a sign proclaiming the 3,213 datum, you would not know you had achieved such a remarkable geographic experience! Since we were there for a botanic experience, you can start looking as soon as you get out of the car. On the roadside were two plants not in most people's floristic acumen, Poke Milkweed and Hogpeanut. I immediately recognized the distinctive seed pods of an Asclepias, but I was unfamiliar with this particular species. Our leader chose to take us on a dead reckoning course set by the GPS task master. This resulted in a lot of branch fighting, root tripping, ankle-twisting and what not, but a number of colorful mushrooms greeted us along the way, e.g. several colorful russulas, scads of amanitas, particularly the Blusher, and some small waxycaps. Check out the photo on the left of a Yellow Waxycap. Of particular interest to me was an otherwise undistinguished and often-overlooked species known as Slippery Caps.

At last, the bog appeared and we were greeted by an amazingly dense stand of Golden Club which must have been a spectacular sight when in bloom two months previously. This species has not been found often in West Virginia. My only experience with it has been in a backwater of the Cheat River near Holly Meadows in Tucker County. Cotton Grass here and there signaled what we were in store for a little later when we entered the larger glade and found it everywhere. I consider this species a friendly marker of other bogs and high places I have known. From this little sub-bog of the larger, we re-entered the laurel hell and proceeded further along our way. I periodically made note of my reverse compass heading as a precaution thinking that the leader's GPS thingy's battery might zonk out or else he could drop it in the water! My compass still works under water after repeated dunkings :) After a few slaps in the face by laurel boughs, we found the larger part of the bog (see photo above left) and I have never seen so many Pitcher Plants! They were everywhere. The lighter elements are either Cotton Grass heads or Pitcher Plant blooms mixed together - a wonderful sight. In the past, the only ones I had ever seen previously were single clumps here and there as they do in Chalk Hill Bog. It is an interesting species. You always find it in boggy situations and its nutritional requirements must be very exact. I have known this species to have been deliberately planted or introduced into other bogs nearby and they just held on for years before spreading and then only slightly. But here in Christner, it was Pitcher Plant heaven. It is an insectivorous plant that grows in nitrogen-poor soil. To supplement its nutrition for this essential element, it has evolved a curious method of trapping insects which it dissolves as nutritional supplements. The insect is attracted to the flower or to the sap secreted in water caught in the curious pitcher-shaped leaves forming a rosette at the base of the plant. Anyway, the bug falls into the soup held by the leaves, it drowns, it is dissolved, end of bug. See a close-up on the left.

Another neat insectivorous plant requires keen eyesight to find, Sundews. Each plant consists of a rosette of leaves on stems arising from a central point. On the tips of each leaf are tiny drops of a fluid that traps and dissolves tiny bugs. Notice that the plant is a light red color and this blends in so well with the surrounding sphagnum moss that it is often difficult to see them. There are three species of these interesting little plants, one of which and maybe two that have been introduced from elsewhere.

Other interesting flowers are found in these bogs, e.g., Rose Pogonia, Narrow-leaved Gentian, Grass Pinks, Clammy Azalea and many more have been seen on recent slogs. These are indicator plants, i.e., their distribution has declined markedly since records have begun to be kept and this signals an irretrievable loss that can not be sustained. Contrary to the U.S. Corps of Engineers' opinion, you can not create a wetland with a bulldozer. It takes decades if not centuries to evolve these habitats. It behooves us to take care of the few that we have remaining.

I'VE TAKEN A LIKIN' TO LICHENS

One of the most interesting subjects I took in the seventh grade was Geography. More than learning about exotic and foreign locations all over the globe, was an introduction to understanding how climate, physical forces, and the advent of biologic organisms have shaped our planet. I was especially intrigued about how solid rock, once it cooled, could be turned into the earth that I knew, the soil I planted seeds in, which grew the grass I had to mow, or which formed the basis of the playground we spent hours on. Freeze-thaw cycles that could rupture rocks seemed self-evident as did the enormous pressure exerted by roots from plants that had taken seed in cracks of the rocks. But what really seized my imagination was the effect of mysterious organisms called lichens that were able to colonize on bare rock surfaces and through their erosive action, reduce rock surfaces to soil.

It is the pioneering capacity of lichens which begins the laborious and time-consuming task of soil building. Thanks to the erosive effects of wind, temperature extremes, and things which break big rocks down into smaller and smaller rocks- i.e, lichens - we have an environment that can now be a host to an infinite array of other life forms. Where could a tropical forest grow without soil to say nothing of a dazzling array of orchids that grow on the plants of that forest? And where could the enormous quantity of wheat and other grains grow that have fed us since the dawn of civilization and even before? None of these would be possible without soil.

Lichens are the most hardy pioneers you will find growing on the surface of the earth - the searing deserts of the Southwest, the frozen tundra of the far north, the wind-swept balds of the Appalachians at altitudes over 6,000', as well as the mostly barren skerries and reefs of the oceans. Owing to their unique construction and biochemical composition, one can find a lichen almost anywhere where there is fresh water except where man has fouled the environment with air pollution. As tolerant as they are for climatic extremes they are hypersensitive to sulfur dioxide, heavy metal precipitates, and fly ash. They are barometers for the prudent - when you see evidence of dying lichens or worse, no lichens at all, you had better start asking questions. (The lichen above was found out in the Arizona desert, surviving in the extreme aridity and heat.)

From the strictly utilitarian point of view, a whole culture of northern people, the Inuits, have often subsisted on eating lichens and indeed lichens have helped many survive such inhospitable climes in times of isolation, and without them, many an unlucky explorer, e.g., Scott, Lord Franklin, etc., did not. The whole food chain of the northern tundra depends on lichens for they serve as the basic food for caribou and reindeer. Various cultures around the world have used lichens as part of their diet as have a variety of rodents, herptiles, and insects.

Something vastly intriguing about lichens has to do with their cellular composition. Although they are given genus and species names, are recognized by their individual, constant morphology, have reproductive structures, etc., i.e., all the usual things characteristic of any living organism, they are the unique product of two vastly different biologic entities, a fungus and an alga! The fungus provides minerals, protection, and a fixed place in the environment while the alga provides oxygen, sugars, and other necessities of life. Quite a marriage, actually! You can separate the fungal and algal partners and grow each separately in the lab and, here is one of the great phantasmagoric happenings in biology, when you put them back together they do not grow as two separate entities, but rather they morph back into the habit of the lichen species from which they originally came! Some see this partnership as mutual symbiosis and others see it as parasitism, i.e., the fungus is parasitizing the alga. If that it parasitism, it has no other parallel in all of nature.

In addition to providing a soil-manufacturing mechanism and a food source, lichens also serve to colonize formerly barren wastelands, i.e., they are often the first pioneers in what will become a steady, but changing succession of flora. I live near a former artificial lake that had been drained when the dam(n) structures decayed past usefulness. This left a largely barren, clay base on which hardly anything grew. Among the hardy pioneers of Brookside Alder and "Poverty Grass" were of course lichens. Not only do the lichens help stabilize the soil from wind erosion, some species have the capacity to fix or add nitrogen back into the soil, thanks to the blue-green algae present in some species.

There are four major lichen types as well as a few lesser oddballs (isn't that always the case?). Those that are leafy and easily detached from the bark, soil, rocks, or whatever they are growing on are called Foliose lichens. The illustration at left is an example that is found growing on trees throughout most of the eastern U.S. and southern Canada. It is the Green Shield Lichen. Its characteristic yellow-green color and rosette shape is found commonly growing on tree bark. It is very sensitive to air pollution.

A very interesting group is the Fruticose lichens which consist of those that are tufted, pendant, or shrubby and consist of many branches, often with extremely fanciful fruiting bodies grossly visible. A good example of "fanciful" is the one pictured at the top, the Common Pixie Cup Lichen. The lichen at left is one of the most easily recognized of all lichens. It is called "British Soldiers" in references to the colorful red fruiting bodies' resemblance to the British Redcoats of colonial times. The most interesting thing about this lichen is that it does not grow in Britain! Love it.

A smaller, but very interesting group is the Umbilicate lichens, so called because they are attached to their substrate by a small (compared to their large size) holdfast or belly-button. Many are very easily recognized and are found in very shaded, moist locations. Some species were especially prized by pioneer women who extracted colorful dyes from their substance to dye home-spun fibers, like the one at left, Rock Tripe.



The hardest group to work with is the Crustose lichens because they can not easily be removed from what they are growing on; you need a geologist's hammer to break off pieces of rock or what not and Rangers and Park Superintendents take a dim view of me taking a chip off of some historic monument :). Also, the identification requires more technical skill, more microscopy, and even biochemical testing. Nevertheless, they are intriguing and worth the effort. The specimen at left is an easily recognized Concentric Boulder Lichen.

Thanks to some time on my hands, the hankering to explore wild places, and the availability of some first class resources to help me, I have been endeavoring lately to learn the names of some of these fantastic organisms in my midst. Somewhat daunting is the need to acquaint myself with a lexicon of technical terms like isidia, soredia, squamules, podetia, etc. Also, it is extremely useful to acquire a dissecting microscope, that is one that provides clear enlargement 5-20 X. I have no excuse now, I've got to get busy - there are an estimated 3600 North American species of lichens north of Mexico. Speaking of excuses, please excuse me, I have some specimens collected yesterday in a wild outing I must now examine.

OSPREYS ARE WONDERFUL

Ospreys are some of the most amazing birds I have ever encountered. The first time I ever saw one was when I was a 12 year old kid on vacation way up in the Northwoods of Quebec. It happened the first time I ever took out Dad's 17' square-stern canoe with 3 hp motor. I headed up to the Narrows and parked near one of our lunch sites and soon became aware of a loud thwack on the other side of the lake and when I looked I saw an Osprey take off. It soared high, circled and then dove again with another loud thwack. It was awesome and although I have seen Ospreys many times since, nothing equaled the magic of that first moment.

Subsequent sightings of Ospreys were few and far between. For one thing, I did not live in Osprey habitat. In my present location, if I saw an Osprey at all, it would be during migration. I saw my first WV Osprey on a wonderful early spring canoe trip through Canaan Valley many years ago. But more than that, for much of my time, Ospreys were in serious decline and their populations tanked, largely due to pesticide accumulation and the effects of those chemicals on nesting success. That bugaboo is now behind us although there is still pressure from the agricultural community to reinstate the use of DDT.

For eight years, I lived on North Carolina's Outer Banks where Ospreys were alive and well. There was abundant opportunity to observe these magnificent birds. We lived in a boating community which consisted of numerous canals and land projections and I took an annual nest census each year of just our harborside community. My original count was 24 nests, but even in this community, that number declined; it was down to 17 at last count. New construction and hurricanes accounted for most of the loss, but incredibly, what did NOT affect nesting success was human activity. Boats were going in and out all day, people were mowing the grass right under the nesting platforms, loud construction was going on nearby, etc., but the Ospreys seemed to adapt to all of this human noise, more so than I perhaps.

Osprey watching became a major activity for me and I witnessed some of the most amazing things about them. We were lucky to have a tall nest platform in the vacant lot just next door to us. We could peer into each other's bedrooms, so to speak. Since Ospreys have been shown to mate for life, we could always count on the same pair returning each spring. I kept track of when our first Osprey would appear on nest and it was usually the last days of February or the first of March. After Osprey young have fledged and are on their own (in early to mid-August), the adults would depart for their leisurely migration to wintering grounds. Radio tracking data show that the pairs of Ospreys do not "cohabit" or even have anything to do with each other after nesting chores are finished. And why should they? They go on separate vacations. You and your spouse might want to give that a try :). The reasons for being together simply are no longer required. The tracking data show that the paths the birds quickly diverge. One partner may winter in Belize and the other hundreds of miles away in southern Mexico, for example.

Now here is the kicker. The female would show up on our next door nest platform within 24 ours of the male, How do they do that? How would two birds who spent the winter hundreds of miles apart arrive at their nesting site so close together at the same finite spot on the planet within 24 hours of each other? Remarkable. But then Ospreys are remarkable birds.

During my first summer, I would occasionally see an Osprey flying low over the water, skimming it with its talons making a streak in the water. At first, I thought it was "fishing", but this did not jibe with my youthful observations in Quebec nor what I had read about their food-gathering methods. Well, when you want to find out something like this, none of the current guide books will help you - all they will do is point out in minute detail what the bird looks like all the way down to its innermost feathers and inter-molt appearances, etc. All very boring to this observer. There is only one place to go and that is the monumental multi-volume series published back in the 20's and 30's by Bent. In my copy, I found the answer. It seems that the Ospreys are "washing" their feet getting rid of the slimy fish parts wedged between their talons. Makes sense. After tearing up to five pounds of fish per day for the young and each adult, things would get a little gamey up in the nest. I have seen all manner of discarded fish parts below our platform so can only imagine how "ripe" it must be within the nest :). Not all the feeding takes place in the nest. The above pic shows one having breakfast on our back deck railing.

Speaking of which - our Ospreys did not live alone. Each summer, they had some pretty raucous neighbors which they seemed to tolerate if not encourage. Commensalism is a great word in biology and means "eating at the same table". A good example is the association of Ospreys with House Sparrows. These latter birds are the mice of the bird world who have adapted quite well to the refuse of civilization including the messes we leave behind. Voracious at the bird feeders put out to attract more interesting American birds, House Sparrows are considered as vermin by most bird watchers. Well they do just fine cleaning up the gunk in an Osprey nest. They build their nests right within the sticks and branches that the Ospreys have used to construct their own nest! All day long the House Sparrows fly in and out of the Osprey nest "basement" without so much as attracting a doleful eye from their landlords. The House Sparrow benefits from having a well-protected home already built for them as well as all the food they could possibly want. Hey, three squares and a roof. The Ospreys benefit from having these scavengers help tidy up the joint.

Do I like to watch Ospreys? You betcha - more fun than just counting them or checking them off on a list.

WAITER, THERE'S AN ANT IN MY MUSHROOMS

Let’s face it - mushroom hunting is a competitive activity. You have to find morels before your neighbor does or the turkeys scratch up your patch looking for acorns. But it goes further than that, too, because when you do locate some prized species, you have to get them before the “worms” (actually, larval stages of insects) chew them up from the inside. When you get right down to it, much of the protein you ingest from wild mushrooms is probably of such origin any way :).

Just as humans have learned how to cultivate mushrooms to avoid the vagaries of braving the wilds to find their own, so to have well known species of certain insects, namely a group of ants, the leaf cutters, which eat fungi that they purposefully cultivate or farm! Some white lab coat types from a lab in Germany have gone further afield, i.e., south east Asia, and have described other species of ants that simply eat mushrooms that they find in the wild, just like you! One species (Euprenolepis procera for those of you who just have to know these things) are keen mushroom hunters as they roam through the rain forests of Malaysia. Once that individual has been consumed, they move on in search of others.

In the lab, these critters can live entirely on mushrooms and can they stow them away! The report indicated that they can scarf down a 10 cm cap in about 3 hours. A typical colony can polish off several specimens per night. And they have nothing on you when it comes to preferring delectables. They even have their own list of preferred species.

Now try this on for size. What if some mushrooms whose toxins are poorly characterized are not innate with the fungal species, but rather are introduced by some other partner, in this case the ants? This idea is not so crazy when you consider the Central and South American species of so-called “Arrow Poison Frogs”. Some of these species have skin secretions so toxic, they can not even be safely handled when caught in the wild. Curiously, when specimens of certain of these skin-toxic species are taken to labs or zoos to be raised in captivity, they lose their toxicity. It turns out that the toxin is picked up from the environment from certain species of beetles, ants, etc. which constitutes the frogs’ normal diet obtained from their native environment!

It has long been known that certain fungal species are reportedly toxic to some individuals, but are eaten with relish and impunity by others. What accounts for the difference? Maybe to "toxic" ones are being goobered by some tricky ants or even the insect larvae infesting their innards!

Remember, you read it here first!

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.