Tuesday: 9 March 2010
Just about everyone east of the Rockies will be reporting memories of a particularly cold winter this year. But I have numbers.
In honor of our breaking 70 degF yesterday, for the first time since Nov 15 2009, here is how I know it was cold.
Since Dec 1 we have gone below 32 degF a total of 59 times, compared to 47 times last winter during the same period. (Even so, only twice out of those 59 times did wetness coincide to produce a measureable amount of snow. However often it may get cold enough, or wet enough for snow, that’s how rare it is for both to appear at once.)
How many times have we gone above 60 degF? This winter, since Dec 1, 14 times. Last winter? 35 times.
And what about that 70 degF benchmark? This winter, 0 times up until yesterday. Last winter, 14 times.
On Sunday afternoon I was reading on the back steps and caught a glint of light from way out in the fairy ring. I moved my head one way and the other to find the glint appeared only in a small range of movement.
 | I marked the location in my mind, and went to take a look. I found this cute little jar, converted into a tiny terrarium. It was winking at me! I guess it was just under the surface and was exposed sufficiently by the heavy rains we’ve had this past autumn and winter. It doesn’t look all that special, although there is something special about it winking at me. It’s a screw capped jar, and it has two seams that go all the way up to the rim, so it’s post 1910 and machine made. It’s 4.0 cm up to the bottom of the neck, and 6.1 cm overall height. The inside diameter is 4.0 cm, and the i.d. of the neck is 3.0 cm. The glass is 0.25 cm thick. So it would hold about 50 mL, or just under a quarter cup. |
| It does have five characters on the bottom, but they’re not very distinguishable. Depending on which way I look at them, or what the focused light on the soil inside looks like, they could be 2?6?2 where the first ? might be a 7 or lower case f, and the second ? might be a 6 or a 4. In any event nothing comes up with any combination on a search. |  |
This isn’t the first time I’ve found little artefacts here and there. I detailed some of them here, and here. Sometimes I find them in SBS creek after a rain (I always watch for these on my walks), and sometimes on the ground, partially unburied. I don’t expect much from anything I find in Goulding Creek, for it might have been thrown into the creek upstream at any time. But when I find something on the property, or in SBS Creek, there’s practically no other way for it to have gotten there other than to have been left long ago.
Monday: 8 March 2010
During my walk a couple of days ago I came upon this little scene. As you know, I occasionally find such reminders of strife in the world.
At first I thought, poor Woody, but pileated woodpeckers do not have feathers like this, as the Feather Atlas clearly shows. (Yes, I know Woody wasn’t a pileated, either!) Yet they are of a size - the ones that I’ve so artfully arranged below are a foot long.
It turned out to be an easy identification.
Sunday: 7 March 2010
Actually Witch’s Broom - but the captcha doesn’t like apostrophes.
I’ve been walking a little farther afield, west and south into the 300 acres owned by nonresidents. The walk takes me a quarter mile farther down Goulding Creek, and then south up the next feeder creek, which is analogous to our own SBS Creek. More about this later, perhaps.
About halfway up the feeder creek I came upon this area in which odd balls of intricate growths popped up in the canopy. They look like bird nests, but they’re not.
We’ve seen this before, toward the end of April a couple of years ago, in the State Botanical Gardens. At that time in the season it was clear that the growths produced greenery as well as mere twiggery. Bev suggested then that they were tumors, and it seems I let the matter slide.
I think that diagnosis is about right, though. What you see here is an insane proliferation of shoots emanating from a point on the branch of this hornbeam. It wasn’t just hornbeams - white oaks were also involved.
This seems to be a syndrome called Witch’s Broom. This can have multiple causes, but one common one is infection by a fungus, Taphrina betulina, and related species. The fungus seems to alter plant hormone levels to cause a proliferation of shoots from the point of infection.
In the tips of plants, and trees too, the plant hormone auxin reigns. As with most plant hormones, auxin has a lot of effects, but one is to inhibit the production of shoots, that is, branches from the buds that form next to each leaf. Auxin is produced at the tips, so its effect is strongest there and declines as you move down a twig. This is known as apical dominance - it demands that a plant put its energy into reaching for the sky. Pruning the tips of a plant to encourage branching is just a way of removing the influence of auxin.
The plant hormone cytokinin acts in a lot of ways, but here it acts in opposition to auxin - cytokinins encourage shoot formation. Cytokinins are produced, at least in bulk, from the roots, though, so their effect is negligible at the tips of a plant, normally.
Apparently what this fungus does is to produce cytokinins, or to encourage the production of cytokinins near the tips of a tree, and apparently it does so very effectively. It wakes up just about every possible shoot-producing meristem, nullifying the soporific effects of auxin and causing a massive production of shoots. And so you see the witch’s broom.
There is a multitude of amazing things you can do with plant hormones, and a lot of what we call pathogens know how to do it.
I’ve been walking a little farther afield, west and south into the 300 acres owned by nonresidents. The walk takes me a quarter mile farther down Goulding Creek, and then south up the next feeder creek, which is analogous to our own SBS Creek. More about this later, perhaps.
About halfway up the feeder creek I came upon this area in which odd balls of intricate growths popped up in the canopy. They look like bird nests, but they’re not.
We’ve seen this before, toward the end of April a couple of years ago, in the State Botanical Gardens. At that time in the season it was clear that the growths produced greenery as well as mere twiggery. Bev suggested then that they were tumors, and it seems I let the matter slide.
I think that diagnosis is about right, though. What you see here is an insane proliferation of shoots emanating from a point on the branch of this hornbeam. It wasn’t just hornbeams - white oaks were also involved.
This seems to be a syndrome called Witch’s Broom. This can have multiple causes, but one common one is infection by a fungus, Taphrina betulina, and related species. The fungus seems to alter plant hormone levels to cause a proliferation of shoots from the point of infection.
In the tips of plants, and trees too, the plant hormone auxin reigns. As with most plant hormones, auxin has a lot of effects, but one is to inhibit the production of shoots, that is, branches from the buds that form next to each leaf. Auxin is produced at the tips, so its effect is strongest there and declines as you move down a twig. This is known as apical dominance - it demands that a plant put its energy into reaching for the sky. Pruning the tips of a plant to encourage branching is just a way of removing the influence of auxin.
The plant hormone cytokinin acts in a lot of ways, but here it acts in opposition to auxin - cytokinins encourage shoot formation. Cytokinins are produced, at least in bulk, from the roots, though, so their effect is negligible at the tips of a plant, normally.
Apparently what this fungus does is to produce cytokinins, or to encourage the production of cytokinins near the tips of a tree, and apparently it does so very effectively. It wakes up just about every possible shoot-producing meristem, nullifying the soporific effects of auxin and causing a massive production of shoots. And so you see the witch’s broom.
There is a multitude of amazing things you can do with plant hormones, and a lot of what we call pathogens know how to do it.
Saturday: 6 March 2010
On Thursday night at training, Phyllis noted that she had read the latest entry on the shagbark hickory treefall. She suggested that we see if we could salvage some twigs and take a good look - a regular shagbark (Carya ovata would be uncommon around here, and a southern shagbark (C. carolinae-septentrionalis aka C. ovata var australis) would be even rarer. In one sense it doesn’t matter - the tree *isn't* anymore. But in another sense it’s of historical value and although I never saw it produce fruits, if it did those fruits could easily be distributed downstream from its position close to Goulding Creek and result in progeny all along the creek.
Just to get everything in one place, the first post here was a little over three years ago - two photos of a portion of the tree while it was still intact Dec 2006. At the time I had, on the basis of leaves on the ground at that time, decided it was not a shagbark, but rather an old specimen of our odd shaggy white oaks. It was also at that time that I detailed the puffball emergences from the base of the tree.
A few months later, May 2007, I photographed the green leaves from the ground, and concluded that it was indeed a shagbark hickory. And then in Jul 2008 the tree fell.
I was able to salvage some twigs, and used Ron Lance “Woody Plants of the Southeastern US - A Winter Guide” to ascertain that it was a hickory. Glenn took a close look at the twig key and along with photos here and here determined that it was C. ovata and not the Southern Shagbark.
So that takes care of that, except that I’ll be watching out a little more closely in the immediate area, and especially along the mile of Goulding downstream, for possible progeny.
Now on to something completely different, except that it too is a followup to an occasional interest that has never really taken - fish!
Now and then I’ve fantasized about cataloging the small fish that live in the little feeder creek, SBS Creek, that runs through the long hollow. I’ve even tried netting some but they’re too fast for me. I’ve made some crude minnow traps but that came to nothing too.
I was particularly excited to photograph these very handsome spawning fish in April of 2008, rutting along a gravel bottom in Goulding Creek. Jeff, Phyllis’s husband, identified them a few days later as yellowfin shiner Notropis lutipinnis (another photo here). He was quite pleased with the find, noted that he’d observed the spawning himself, and wrote a column about it along with the photo for the Oglethorpe Echo.
So yesterday I idly photographed a few resting fish in SBS Creek. The images are poor but I do think I could do better. I’ve added a lot of contrast to get rid of the cloudiness so the colors are not necessarily true, but the two longitudinal blue lines on either side of the back are. The first group image is a clickable link to an enlargement. The fish themselves are only two or three inches long - I’ve never seen anything larger in SBS Creek.
Just to get everything in one place, the first post here was a little over three years ago - two photos of a portion of the tree while it was still intact Dec 2006. At the time I had, on the basis of leaves on the ground at that time, decided it was not a shagbark, but rather an old specimen of our odd shaggy white oaks. It was also at that time that I detailed the puffball emergences from the base of the tree.
A few months later, May 2007, I photographed the green leaves from the ground, and concluded that it was indeed a shagbark hickory. And then in Jul 2008 the tree fell.
I was able to salvage some twigs, and used Ron Lance “Woody Plants of the Southeastern US - A Winter Guide” to ascertain that it was a hickory. Glenn took a close look at the twig key and along with photos here and here determined that it was C. ovata and not the Southern Shagbark.
 | From USDA Plants, the county distribution map of shagbark hickory (the regular one). Shagbarks occur through the eastern US and into Canada, but they become uncommon by the time we’re in the south Piedmont of Georgia. In these distribution maps absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, but the tree has been documented for Oglethorpe County (marked “O”) at least. |
So that takes care of that, except that I’ll be watching out a little more closely in the immediate area, and especially along the mile of Goulding downstream, for possible progeny.
Now on to something completely different, except that it too is a followup to an occasional interest that has never really taken - fish!
Now and then I’ve fantasized about cataloging the small fish that live in the little feeder creek, SBS Creek, that runs through the long hollow. I’ve even tried netting some but they’re too fast for me. I’ve made some crude minnow traps but that came to nothing too.
I was particularly excited to photograph these very handsome spawning fish in April of 2008, rutting along a gravel bottom in Goulding Creek. Jeff, Phyllis’s husband, identified them a few days later as yellowfin shiner Notropis lutipinnis (another photo here). He was quite pleased with the find, noted that he’d observed the spawning himself, and wrote a column about it along with the photo for the Oglethorpe Echo.
So yesterday I idly photographed a few resting fish in SBS Creek. The images are poor but I do think I could do better. I’ve added a lot of contrast to get rid of the cloudiness so the colors are not necessarily true, but the two longitudinal blue lines on either side of the back are. The first group image is a clickable link to an enlargement. The fish themselves are only two or three inches long - I’ve never seen anything larger in SBS Creek.
Thursday: 4 March 2010
Well, this is nice. I was suspecting this a week ago when I saw one leaf, but now there are several fine speckled leaves emerging:
It’s a little patch of dimpled trout-lily, Erythronium umbilicatum. I planted them late last March, in four patches, in several places that seemed to be likely habitat. Here’s the map I presented then, and the four blue dots are the patches. The open blue circles are the two patches that are showing half a dozen leaves at the moment. The blue stippling shows the location of the parent colony along Moss Creek, north of us:
I’ll be looking intensively in a couple of weeks along Goulding Creek, as the plants come into yellow flower but I’ve not yet found them in our little Goulding Creek valley before. The source of these plants is the Moss Creek watershed, just north and over the Black Snake Road ridge that separates us (erroneously marked here as Arnoldsville-Goulding Creek Road, but that’s another story). Former Fire Chief Phyllis gave Glenn a tour and permission to dig some up last year.
These plants are spring ephemerals, enjoying early bright but friendly sunshine before the above canopies fill out. They’ll flower, fruit, and be gone before May, I’d guess. I’m not sure what the fruiting status will be. It could be that they are clones and self-infertile, reproducing mainly by asexual stolon propagation. I run across a few internet references (here, and here, for instance. These are suspiciously similar to the extent that they both state the close relationship to Tulipa. So they probably amount to one cribbed source, as will then be my derivation (but at least I cite the references)) that suggests that populations with few flowers reproduce asexually; those with more flowers reproduce sexually. Word of mouth was that the Moss Creek population was flowering abundantly.
That’s ok, but it might also be nice to find some that have been isolated from the parent colony for awhile. Anything I find along Goulding Creek might fit the bill. Or, perhaps, across and south down the ridge upon which Wolfskin Road rides. Those would be Barrow Creek plants. If I found any such plants, I’d transplant them close to the Moss Creek plants, and the two sets might be interfertile.
It’s a little patch of dimpled trout-lily, Erythronium umbilicatum. I planted them late last March, in four patches, in several places that seemed to be likely habitat. Here’s the map I presented then, and the four blue dots are the patches. The open blue circles are the two patches that are showing half a dozen leaves at the moment. The blue stippling shows the location of the parent colony along Moss Creek, north of us:
I’ll be looking intensively in a couple of weeks along Goulding Creek, as the plants come into yellow flower but I’ve not yet found them in our little Goulding Creek valley before. The source of these plants is the Moss Creek watershed, just north and over the Black Snake Road ridge that separates us (erroneously marked here as Arnoldsville-Goulding Creek Road, but that’s another story). Former Fire Chief Phyllis gave Glenn a tour and permission to dig some up last year.
These plants are spring ephemerals, enjoying early bright but friendly sunshine before the above canopies fill out. They’ll flower, fruit, and be gone before May, I’d guess. I’m not sure what the fruiting status will be. It could be that they are clones and self-infertile, reproducing mainly by asexual stolon propagation. I run across a few internet references (here, and here, for instance. These are suspiciously similar to the extent that they both state the close relationship to Tulipa. So they probably amount to one cribbed source, as will then be my derivation (but at least I cite the references)) that suggests that populations with few flowers reproduce asexually; those with more flowers reproduce sexually. Word of mouth was that the Moss Creek population was flowering abundantly.
That’s ok, but it might also be nice to find some that have been isolated from the parent colony for awhile. Anything I find along Goulding Creek might fit the bill. Or, perhaps, across and south down the ridge upon which Wolfskin Road rides. Those would be Barrow Creek plants. If I found any such plants, I’d transplant them close to the Moss Creek plants, and the two sets might be interfertile.
