Green Grow the Mosses, Oh

There are about 700 species of moss in this area. That's true moss, not counting the peat mosses, about 40 species. (So says my guide book, covering the west coast from Oregon to Alaska. More mayprobably have been found since the book was published 30 years ago. *) "Abundant," add the authors, "showy ... in coastal rain forests."

In simple terms, that means that thick, glowing, green blankets cover the ground, the logs, the rocks, even the trees. Greener and glowier still, on wet days.

At nose height on a stump completely enveloped in several species of moss.

Log blanket.

3 species of moss on the side of a stump.

The dreaded Pacific crocodile.

(Ok, ok, I'll be sensible. Just moss on logging slash.

Two species of moss and a bunch of sporophytes produced by the smaller moss.

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Hay unas 700 especies de musgo en esta región. Eso sin contar los musgos de turbera, otras 40 especies. (Así dice mi libro guía, que cubre el area desde Oregón hasta Alaska. Como este libro fue publicado ya hace 30 años, probablemente ya se habrán hallado aun más especies.) "Abundantes" —añaden los autores —"llamativos ... en los bosques pluviales de la costa."

En términos sencillos, se puede decir que una cobija gruesa, verde, resplandeciente cubre el suelo, los troncones, las piedras y hasta los árboles. Más verde, más resplandeciente, en estos dias húmedos.

1. Musgos a la altura de mis ojos encima de un tocón completamente envuelto en musgos.
2. Un cobertor para un tronco.
3. 3 especies de musgo en el costado de un tocón.
4. El amenazante cocodrilo Pacífico común. (Disculpas.)
5. Dos especies de musgo y un montón de esporofitos producidos por el musgo más pequeño.

Microclimate, with moss

 It's always dark in the little wood at Oyster Bay. Out in the meadow or on the dunes on the far side, the sun may be blazing down; behind the barrier of the trees, only a few stray rays penetrate. This small bit of land (about 1/2 hectare) has its own microclimate. The other day, there was ice on the puddles outside and the wind was vicious. Down the trail into the wood, there was no wind, and it felt warmer. (It wasn't, but without the wind chill, it felt better.) On a hot summer day, it's cool under its shade. And darker still, with all the deciduous trees in full leaf.

It's a quiet place, a secret place. In summer, birds chatter on the outside edges; in the shade, nothing moves. The ground is a burial place for ancient logs, some still intact, many just crumbled brown shards. Here and there, a bit of ancient metal surfaces, a rusty spike, a thick cable, leftovers from its history as a logging camp, a century ago.

It's a good place to look at moss and lichens. And mushrooms, too. And maybe, hopefully, some day again, some slime molds. The camera isn't happy about them; it's too dark, it says. But some of the moss catches a bit of sunlight in the afternoon, when the sun is low enough to filter through the branches.

An open area near the edge of the wood receives a bit of sunlight.

Moss on a log at the edge of the woods, with its sporophytes.

And on another log.

A closer look. The tall sporophytes produce spores, which will become the next generation of moss.

Moss and Cladonia lichens on the cut end of an old log. And an old spider web.

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El bosquecito de Oyster Bay siempre está en penumbra. Allá afuera en la pradera, o en las dunas del otro lado, la luz del sol puede estar fulgurante; pocos rayos penetran la cerca de árboles. Este trocito de tierra — más o menos media hectaria — tiene su propio microclima. Hace unos dias, había hielo en los charcos afuera, y el viento era despiadado. El viento no entraba al bosque, y se sentía menos el frio. Y en un dia caluroso de verano, bajo la protección de las hojas hay alivio. También es más oscuro en esa temporada, cuando las hojas de los árboles de hoja caduca cubren todo.

Es un sitio callado, un sitio secreto. En el verano, los pajaritos cantan entre los arbustos en sus bordes; adentro, en la sombra, nada se mueve. En el suelo, viejos troncos están esparcidos o enterrados, algunos todavía intactos, otros desmoronados hasta dejar solo pequeños trozos de color café oscuro. A veces se asoman de la tierra piezas de metal, tal vez un grueso cable torcido, o un clavo grande, dejado aquí hace cien años, cuando el sitio era un campo de madereros.

Es un buen lugar para observar los musgos y los líquenes. Y también los hongos. Y tal vez, espero, algún moho mucilanigoso otra vez. Mi cámara no está tan contenta con el sitio; demasiado oscuro, me dice. Pero en la tarde, cuando el sol ha bajado suficientemente como para colarse entre las ramas, baña un musgo u otro con un rayo pasajero.

Fotos:

1. Un espacio abierto cerca de la orilla del bosquecito.
2. Un musgo en un tronco con sus esporofitos.
3. En otro tronco.
4. Acercándome más al mismo tronco. Los esporofitos que se alzan arriba de las hojas del musgo producen esporas que darán lugar a la próxima generación.
5. En el extremo cortado de un tronco viejos, hay musgo y líquenes Cladonia. Y una vieja telaraña.

Piece of cake. Not.

I found this patch of moss growing on old, crumbly pavement behind an equally crumbly log in a vacant lot.

Miniature palm trees and striped poles.

Mosses are difficult to identify, but this one looked easy. A forest of tiny, spiky trees, and those distinctive, long, multicoloured sporophytes, growing on a mineral base. I looked through all my saved photos. Not there. Those sporophytes weren't in my guide book. I carefully plowed through all 206 E-Flora species. No luck.

I pondered the Juniper Haircap moss, but the sporophytes didn't match. And the photos showed little red-brown crowns on the "trees".

I Googled until my eyes were watering. And finally found it.

Juniper Haircap, after all.

UBC Botanical Garden photo, by Daniel Mosquin. Creative Commons.

It all depends on the time of year. And whether its male or female. And how old the sporophytes are.

It grows in two phases; the first phase has no sporophytes. The sporophytes grow only on the female plants. Male and female plants may grow in separate clumps. (USDA). The males have those reddish crowns; the females don't.

Male Juniper Haircap stems. Photo by Ian Sutton.

Then the sporophytes, growing on female plants, show up in the second stage. At first, they are upright and slender, but as they age, they bend over and fatten up. Most of the photos I found showed the older sporophytes.

Nothing is ever easy, is it?

Well-dressed moss

Still down with my nose to the ground ...

Underneath all the other plants, a layer of mosses seals in the little moisture remaining in the sandy soil of the meadow. And from ground height, the stems bearing sporophytes stand tall.

Haircap moss, Polytrichum sp.

This genus (the name means "many hairs") gets its common name, "haircap", from the elegant, finely hairy sheath, or calyptra, that covers developing spore cases. When they are ripe, the cap drops off, and the spores are released.

Nose to the ground

At the clearing near Nimpkish Lake, the soil is shallow, mostly made up of dust from the cliffs above and gravel from road-building activity. This far north, the growing season is short and dry, the winters long, dark, and sopping wet. It's good country for evergreen trees; not so nurturing for smaller, short-lived plants. The tallest plants in the clearing were the grasses near the edge, mostly less than a foot tall.

Towards the centre, away from the shelter of cliffs and trees, most of the vegetation hugs the ground, staying out of the wind, close to any dampness available. I got down on my knees and elbows to look at the lichen and found much more.

Cladonia lichen*, moss sporophytes, Alpine azalea**, and a miniature flower with interesting leaves***.

If you look closely, you can (barely) see the moss; dark, yellowish-brown clusters. I think the green shrub is the Alpine azalea, Loisleleuria procumbens, which has leaves from 3 to 8 mm long (about 1/8 to just over 1/4 inch).  I can't identify the tiny plant on the far left; I didn't even see it while I was there, so didn't aim the camera at it.

Update #2: In the comments, Matt Goff, of Sitka Nature, identified the lichen (*) as a Stereocaulon. I found one of these growing in this area, on E-Flora; the Stereocaulon alpinum, Alpine foam. (I like the name.)

** Matt says he doesn't think the green shrub is Alpine azalea, but has no suggestions.

*** And the tiniest flower, up in the top left corner is an Euphrasia, aka eyebright. E-Flora has two on Vancouver Island; E. nemorosa, common eyebright; one of those records is of a find beside the road near Port Hardy, a bit north of where I found this one. And the Arctic eyebright, E. subarctica, was found also beside the road; at Keta Lake, a bit to the south.

Moss sporophytes, standing tall (ish) on brown stalks, encased in pointed wrappings. A few have shed the covering.

On the right, the lichen has dark brown spots, reproductive structures. And on the left, an intriguing spotted, hairy plant. If the azalea leaves are 1/4 inch long, the leaves of the spotted plant would be about 1/2 inch.

I couldn't identify this plant. I think it may be the same as the one I found near Heckman Pass (on the Bella Coola road) a couple of years ago.

Not quite so spotty, but otherwise similar. Somewhat larger.

I couldn't identify it then, either. Any ideas?

Update: It's one of the hawkweeds, either Mouse-ear hawkweed, Hieracium pilosella, or White-flowered hawkweed, Hieracium albiflorum. Here are the white-flowered ones just across the water in Powell River, on Powell River Books Blog.

Update # 3: It's been definitely identified as the White-flowered hawkweed.

Nimkish Lake area and Heckman Pass, more or less.

Trying to understand

Mosses are confusing enough. But Ma Nature likes to have us completely bewildered. So we have liverworts, which look like mosses, act like mosses, and grow intermingled with mosses. Our guide on the moss walk kept pointing out bits of green that looked like all the other bits of green, and calling them liverworts. Even with the hand lens I was carrying, I couldn't see the difference.

"And what is that one?"

Everything's somewhere on the web, if you look long enough. I found a site from Australia that explains the difference so clearly that even I can see it.

First, look for sporophytes, the spore-bearing capsules.

The green or red capsules are sporophytes, growing spores.

It's always possible, and very easy, to determine whether you have a moss, liverwort or hornwort if sporophytes are present. Remember that a sporophyte consists of a spore capsule, with or without a supporting stalk or seta.

Are groups of spore capsules held aloft on complex structures?
The bryophyte is a liverwort.

A fuzzy head, like a pussy willow or a grass ear, would be a complex structure. If the "moss" has those, it's a liverwort.

If the stem is translucent (and often colourless) the bryophyte in question is almost certainly a liverwort.

If the stalk supporting the capsule is opaque and coloured green, brown or red the bryophyte in question is a moss.

 If sporophytes are absent you'll naturally need to look at some gametophyte features, the first step being to see whether you have a thallose or a leafy bryophyte. A thallose bryophyte is either a liverwort or a hornwort. A leafy bryophyte is either a moss or a liverwort.

(Hornworts are aquatic; we can ignore them for now.)

If the plant has no clear stems or leaves, it is thallose, and therefore a liverwort.

The first thing to do is to see whether you have a thallose or a leafy bryophyte. The almost leathery thallus of a robust thallose bryophyte is fairly easy to pick. Similarly, in some leafy species the leaves-on-stems growth habit is very easy to see. 

For this, with some of the plants, we need a lens; some liverwort thalli look like stems and leaves to the naked eye.

So the photo above is clearly a moss. The sporophytes are simple, held on a tall stalk, with red tints. The leaves grow attached to the stems, not as continuations of the stem. (Look at the stem below the red sporophyte on the right.)

In the great majority of moss species the mature spore capsule opens by means of a well-defined mouth. Remember that a liverwort spore capsule never has a well-defined mouth.

To see that, a lens is probably needed. And being there at the right time, when the spores are mature, or already released.

There is much more info on the page I'm quoting, details on how to distinguish thallose from leafy structures, photos, and exceptions to the rules. (Aren't there always?) But the sporophyte detail is enough for a rough guide, for now, for me.

The moss is green and leafy; even in this photo, the stems are visible as a separate structure from the leaves. The liverwort is one of the leafy ones; the leaves are short and stubby. Luckily, it's red.

Hungry spider, playful lichen

A month ago, I was looking at a handful of tiny spiders on a mossy, licheny twig. Afterwards, I left the works outside on a potting shelf and forgot about it. This afternoon, curious as to what would still be living in the dry moss, I brought it in again.

Still alive, and loaded with sporophytes.

Zooming in on that heart-shaped* moss clump:

Almost ripe sporophytes, most still closed over the developing spores.

Here it is, last month, for comparison:

No orange capsules; just green moss leaves.

I found only one spider this time, and one springtail. The larger (but still tiny) spiders have moved on.

Spider hoping for fat springtail lunch. She wasn't fast enough, though.

The springtail, checking out my foam mat. I moved him back to the moss later on.

Interesting pattern of wood cells in the broken twig.

And my imagination often runs away with me; here's a happy green dog, playing some sort of net-ball game.

A tiny web, built by a tiny spider, holding a tiny drop of water.

*Makes a nice heart wreath for Clytie's Valentine post.

In a clump of moss

Seven years ago, my daughter gave me a miniature iron birdbath, suitable for a miniature succulent. I left it in a corner until I could buy a plant for it, but when I looked next, it had a lush, green mound of native moss growing, so I let it be. The moss grew there happily until this very dry summer, when it turned brown, shrivelled, and finally blew away in a lump when the fall winds came. It came to rest behind some plant pots and I left it again, until I do the final fall clean-up in the garden.

I noticed it again today; it was full size and bright green again.

I brought it in to look it over in the light. It's in full leaf, and the fruiting bodies are standing tall above it. And climbing on a stem was a bright, white spark.

Sporophytes on red stalks. With the light spots, they look like long-necked, long-beaked birds.

A mini-aphid. With the flash, it was pure, burnt-out white; here I am using the flash at 1/16 normal strength, with a diffuser added.

It has something clinging to one antenna. The two up-pointing "tails" are  little tubes, called siphunuculi. They may help with defense.

Heading down into the moss jungle.

Rear view.

The moss (and aphid) is now outside again. Tomorrow, I'll replant it in the birdbath.