And now, I really must go and pay those bills.
Click on this one to see them close-up. Aren't they beautiful?
These are cellular slimes, but I couldn't identify them confidently. They look more or less like Comatricha to me; what species, I can't tell. Or alternately, they could be Japanese lantern slime, Dictydium.
"In honor of National Wildlife Week, April 21 - 29, I am inviting bloggers from all walks to participate in the First Annual Blogger Bioblitz, where bloggers from across the country will choose a wild or not-so-wild area and find how many of each different species - plant, animal, fungi and anything in between - live in a certain area within a certain time.I joined up, since he opens it to individuals with a backyard. Now, I just hope it doesn't pour rain all that week.
Pick a neat little area that you are relatively familiar with and is small enough that you or the group can handle - a small thicket, a pond, a section of stream, or even your backyard - and bring along some taxonomic keys or an Audubon guide, or if you're lucky enough, an expert in local flora and fauna. Set a time limit. Try to identify the different species of organisms that you find as well as the number of each species that you find. Take pictures if you have a digital camera, compile your numbers, make observations, set up your post however you wish as long as you include your numbers in a digestible fashion (I'll have more details on that later) - then submit it to me and I'll include it on the list. We will also be tallying total numbers of each species found, and then a grand total."
The park takes advantage of a widening in Cougar Creek, at the upper end of Cougar Canyon, which is a quite deep gorge with a creek and a trail of sorts at the bottom; here, it is tamed, fenced and bridged. There are signs up announcing a "Releafing Project" and salmon enhancement. Good stuff.
And the ducks were there, floating idly in the center. Mallards, buffleheads, wigeons, mostly. But at the far end, while Laurie was in the bushes photographing fungus on a decaying log, I saw, on the opposite shore, a pair of wood ducks.
Never mind; now I know they're there. And we'll be back.
Sticky leaf buds.
Salmonberry leaves.
And a bud.
Osoberry, or Indian plum. Good bird food later this summer.
And flowering currant. I love these plants; I had one in a previous home. They are not especially edible, but they make such a cheerful showing in the spring undergrowth!
A website mentioned feathery feet. Time to open up the microscope. The nice thing about the hand microscope is that I can look at things in situ. I'm glad I did, this time. On the piece of paper towel where my nebalia were drying, I could see, at full power (40x) long, ostrich-feather plumes at the end of the tail, almost transparent. But so delicate! When I moved the nebalia to a better viewing base (a white plastic lid), using the tip of the paintbrush at the thick of the thorax as a lift, and looked again, the delicate fronds were broken off, leaving ragged stumps.
"This world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings."
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote that, long ago. In my books, he has a point. But I doubt that he was referring to nebalia, which made me happy this weekend.
It was a bright, sunny day, and we were in Boundary Bay Park . So was half the population of Surrey, with their kites and kids, umbrellas and sunscreen. The tide was out; it looked like we could almost walk to Mud Bay, just beyond. And 'way out at the edge of the water there was a white line that, on examining it through the binoculars, looked like a seagull convention. We decided to walk out.
Mount Baker was ahead, seemingly floating on a haze of grey cloud; MN (Laurie) had to keep stopping to take photos. I was watching where I stepped. The sand was covered completely, carpeted so that it looked almost black, with small needle snails*. Looking closely, I could distinguish 4 different types; 3 smaller ones, up to about 1/2 inch long, one dark brown and two with spiralling bands of white and brown. And a larger snail, paler brown and over an inch long. I wished I could float, like Mount Baker, over the sand; I could hear the shells crunching under my sandals. Couldn't be helped.
It was a long walk. I picked up a crab shell or two, and discarded them when I found them broken. Other than that, there were just the snails for a while, then empty sand with an occasional open clam shell, seagull dinner. We reached the water's edge just in time for the seagulls to rise with a great clamour and move back, behind us. They knew something we didn't.
We turned back. I confess it was a bit of a letdown; there was nothing more to see at water's edge than there had been half-way back down the beach. MN found a seagull to photograph. I waited, walking slowly, looking at the sand.
Then I saw them. First, it was the dead crabs. Small crabs. Smaller than any I had seen, almost paper-thin and transparent. I bent and picked one up on a fingertip. And saw another, and another.
How do you collect delicate shells when you forgot to bring a container? MN was back from his photoshoot; he found me a medium-sized clamshell half full of sand. Perfect! I stored the crabs safely, went to look for another. And found something I had never seen before: a half-dozen or so of tiny golden animacules, half the size of the crabs, with a little tail the length of the body. Four of them went into the clamshell before we realized why the seagulls had left.
The tide was coming in. And the beach is so flat, it ran like a river. So did we.
Next: What are these beasties?
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*The snails were probably some variety of bittium.
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And a muffin at Tim Hortons. Blueberry. Laurie's favourite.
"... hole-punched sign posts could be inadvertently deadly to perching raptors.
... the owl was suspended by a single talon that had apparently gotten caught in the top hole of the post. Clearly the bird flew in and perched on top of the post. Then, when it tried to leave, found itself caught by a talon through the hole. It had struggled to free itself, and likely starved to death.
... And they asked us at BWD to help spread the word about the unintentional danger these sign posts may pose to any raptor with talons that perches on top. This style of sign post or fence post is commonly used, so how can the danger be reduced?"
We were just lucky Laurie didn't get zapped by any of those death rays!!!
We had worked our way about half-way down the sea-ward side of the wood, when we heard a loud, indignant-sounding "Squawk!" I looked up, and there was a young eagle directly overhead. On more distant branches two mature eagles sat silently, ignoring us, as they do.
Laurie got an excellent shot of the young one, flying directly overhead. If you look closely, you can see how he was turning his head to look down at these rude intruders. Click on the photo; enlarged, you can even see the pupil of his eye.
We walked on, and the eagles returned to the roosts where we had first seen them. But when we got back to the road (through a narrow gap in the fence), I looked back again. Not a sign of them, nor of the big nest. They had chosen their spots carefully, where they could not be seen from anywhere along the street. No wonder the young one was perturbed when we "snuck around" from the fields.
Continued from yesterday: a walk along Boundary Bay.
I brought home a handful of dead eel-grass from the high-tide line, and a bit of plain sand. Looking at it through my hand microscope (40x), I discovered that it was full of worms, some large enough to see segments, the intestines and a whip-like tail, some so small that they seemed barely more than a lively thread."Sea Dragons are arguably the most spectacular and mysterious of all ocean fish. Though close relatives of sea horses, sea dragons have larger bodies and leaf-like appendages which enable them to hide among floating seaweed or kelp beds. ...He has many more photos; beautiful, all of them. Go over and browse.
...Leafy Sea Dragons are very interesting to watch-- the leafy appendages are not used for movement. The body of a sea dragon scarcely appears to move at all. Steering and turning is through movement of tiny, translucent fins along the sides of the head (pectoral fins, visible above) and propulsion derives from the dorsal fins (along the spine). Their movement is as though an invisible hand were helping, causing them to glide and tumble in peculiar but graceful patterns in slow-motion. This movement appears to mimic the swaying movements of the seaweed and kelp. Only close observation reveals movement of an eye or tiny fins."
The beach at Boundary Bay Park, at the south end, is mostly sandy, with muddy patches. It is a favourite place for picnics, wading, and occasional swimming. (It is a long, long way out to deeper water.) As we walk north, we run into muddy patches and lots of eelgrass. At the Mud Bay end, it is all -- you guessed it! -- mud.
On our first visit, I was astounded at the quantities of snails on the beach; millions upon millions of them. (I wrote about these on my former blog.) The sand, where it was clear of snails, was covered with the castings of lugworms.
That first day, I also discovered a Nebalia pugettensis, the first I had ever seen. On future visits, we found sand dollars and jellyfish umpteen crabs, and tiny clamshells.
Eyes on a stalk; now, that would be so useful! Even better than eyes in the back of my head. (Which I have; just ask my kids.)
... how this stays afloat.
A young seagull, tipping his head to see what Laurie was up to. Notice the barring on the underside of his tail. I hadn't been in a position to see that before.
Reflections on the water along the docks.
"To date, the Temple is the most exquisite example of traditional Chinese architecture in Canada. In many ways, it is like a piece of art straight out of the Chinese past, as it resembles any authentic temple that can be found along the banks of the Yangtze River in China, where one of the world's oldest civilizations originated.
The main focus of the exterior of the Temple is its palatial roof, which is similar in structure to that of any royal edifice within the Forbidden City of Beijing, China. The roof is covered entirely with red-orange porcelain tiles imported from China. As strikingly intriguing as the facade of the Temple is its artistic interior, which houses artifacts with superlative Chinese workmanship in sculpture, painting, carpentry and embroidery. Traditional Chinese art and culture are evident in the majestic Buddha/Bodhisattva statues, exquisite shrines, enormous silk paintings of the sixteen Arahats, and the spectacular ceramic murals."
They're not exaggerating. It was impressive the first time I saw it, some 20 years ago, and they have been constantly adding to it since then. And they haven't even mentioned the landscaping. Think Zen, think centuries of wind and water, think colour.
A rock. I have been told the symbolism or meaning of some of the rocks here, so I am fairly confident that this one means something, too. I have no idea what.
In a small open shelter, the 16 disciples of the Buddha (arahats), each displaying his trademark characteristic. I've forgotten which 2 these are.
Another rock, just outside the shelter.
A few steps further down, protected by a slatted roof that will support flowering vines in the summer, a Guan-Yin, larger than life-sized. She often is portrayed carrying this upside-down vase, as a sign that she is sprinkling blessings on all beings.
A closer look at her.
Past the first gate now; this is one corner of the pool outside the main courtyard.
And the outside of the courtyard gate.
Here's their photo of the "thousand-arm Guan-Yin". To get an idea of the size, the base is about chest-height to me, if I remember correctly. Camphor wood, covered with gold leaf. A thousand hands, so she can help all those who come to her, I have been told. And a thousand eyes, one in each palm. Many faces, looking in every direction; she sees, she knows. So they say, qualifying that with, "... if you believe."
