Colourful, Part II

 Continuing with the many colours of a dim, rainy afternoon near Big Tree Creek ...

Starting with a frond of that red bracken.

Cladonia lichens on a stump, bright green in the rain. With a dead cedar leaf, rust brown. And Douglas-fir needles.

Dallasite rock and Douglas-fir cones on yellow-green moss. The cone on the right still halfway hides one of the "mice". Rather skinny, this little grey one.

Dallasite is "unique to Vancouver Island. ... It is thought to have been formed as pillow lava underwater." (BC Rockhound)

The bright greens of Douglas-fir.

Buds of red elderberry. One of the first shrubs to leaf out in the spring.

Evergreen sword ferns. With yellowish roadside grasses.

Warm tan blades of a large grass or reed, unidentified for now.

More Cladonia lichens.

Young Douglas-fir trunk, with white lichen patches.

And there are still more! Some interesting lichens, white and a very pale blue. I'll process those photos tomorrow.

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Sigo con los colores vistos en una tarde gris ...

    1. Una fronda de esos helechos águila.

    2. Líquenes Cladonia sp., muy verdes bajo la lluvia. Con una hoja muerta de cedro rojo y hojitas de abeto de Douglas.

    3. Una piedra "Dallasite" y conos de abeto de Douglas sobre musgo verde-amarillo. En el cono a la derecha uno de los ratoncitos de leyenda todavía trata de esconderse.

Dallasite is "único en la Isla de Vancouver. ... Se cree que fue formado como lava almohadillada sumergida." (BC Rockhound)

     4. Una rama verde de abeto de Douglas.

    5. Un botón nuevo de saúco rojo, Sambuca racemosa. Estos son uno de los arbustos que producen sus hojas y flores al principio de la primavera.

    6. Un helecho perenne, Polystichum munitum.

    7. Las hojas grandes, bronceadas, de un pasto o caña. Sin identificación por el momento.

    8. Otros líquenes Cladonia sp.

    9. El tronco de un abeto de Douglas joven, con manchas blancas de liquen.

Y todavía hay más. Unos líquenes interesantes, blancos y casi, apenas azules. Mañana me dedico a procesar esas fotos.

Clouds, water, birds.

A brief stop at the mouth of the Campbell River estuary on a winter afternoon. Daylight colours at this time of year are subdued, leaning heavily towards the blues, mixed with grey. As I arrived at the Tyee Spit bird blind, a couple stopped to tell me a pair of swans had been there a few minutes earlier. "They're gone now." the woman said. But there were sleepy mallards and hurrying gulls, so that was ok.

3:15 PM. Sunset is just after 4.

Against the light. Mallard male, not quite a silhouette.

The far shore, with the tail end of a flock of gulls heading back to their evening roosts.

The same gulls, 20 seconds later, overhead.

The gulls crossed the Spit, 150 m. across at this point and headed out over the strait. Next stop, Quadra Island, 3 km. away. Is this where they spend the night, or do they veer south to Mitlenatch Island, 20 km. over empty water, where thousands of them breed? I wonder.

Another Skywatch post.

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Mientras no llovía, hice una parada breve en el estuario del rio Campbell. Eran las 3 de la tarde, una tarde invernal; los colores en esta temporada del año se inclinan hacia los azules, siempre mezclados con gris. A brief stop at the mouth of the Campbell River estuary on a winter afternoon. Daylight colours at this time of year are subdued, leaning heavily towards the blues, mixed with grey. Cuando iba llegando al observatorio de aves, una pareja se detuvo para decirme que habían visto allí, hace unos minutos, dos cisnes. "Pero ya se fueron," añadió la señora. Pero había patos durmientes y gaviotas; era suficiente.

1. La vista desde el observatorio. El sol se pondría en una hora, un poco después de las 4.
2. La luz sobre el agua, con un pato ánade macho, casi en silueta.
3. La orilla opuesta, con las últimas gaviotas de su bandada, camino a donde pasarían la noche.
4. 20 segundos más tarde, las mismas gaviotas cruzaron la lengua de tierra. Aquí solo hay 150 metros de tierra firme; siguieron adelante, cruzando el estrecho. La próxima tierra en esa dirección es la isla Quadra, a 3 km. de distancia. ¿Será aquí donde pasan las noches? ¿O se desviarán hacia el sur, para llegar a la isla Mitlenatch, a unos 20 km, donde miles de gaviotas pasan el verano y hacen sus nidos? No lo sé, y las gaviotas no nos dicen.

Trapped

Seen from the main path into Miracle Beach.

Bigleaf maple leaf catching a few rays, caught in winter-bare shrubbery.

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Una hoja de arce de hoja grande, Acer macrophyllum, capturada por los tallos de arbustos desnudados por el invierno.

Vista desde la entrada principal a la playa Miracle Beach.

Brown yarrow

In the summer, the white flowers of yarrow brighten the meadow. In winter, they warm it up.

Dried yarrow heads, Achillea millefolium

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En el calor del verano, las flores blancas dan frescura al campo asoleado. En el invierno, las cabecitas de color café recuerdan el calor de verano. Milenrama, Achillea millefolium.

Winter decorations

When the deciduous trees have shed their last leaves, when their glorious reds and yellows have faded to brown on the ground, the understory puts up its bright winter lights.

Red. Wild rose hips.

Yellow. Blackberry leaves. The trees protect the plants from the first chilly nights, but once those leaves have fallen, the blackberries start to lose theirs. Some of the green leaves will persist until the first hard frost.

White. Waxberries, aka snowberries. These shrubs have lost all their leaves, but the berries are tough and will last all winter.

Common snowberry is an important browse for deer, antelope, and Bighorn Sheep; use by elk and moose varies.  The berries are an important food for grouse, grosbeaks, robins and thrushes.  Bears also eat the fruit. (Native plants, PNW)

And yes, green. The grass and next spring's flower seedlings will stay green all winter, even under the snow.

Another mushroom, like the one above, tipped over, showing its gills.

Why is it ...

That some Oregon grape leaves turn bright red in the winter, but not others?

Oregon grape, Mahonia nervosa*, Miracle Beach.

I always thought it was because of the cold. But here's a red Oregon grape plant; less than a metre away is a clump of green plants. No red to be seen. An effect of a mini-climate, with freezing winds blowing just here, and by-passing the cluster of plants a step away?

*I identify this as Mahonia nervosa, "Dull" Oregon grape, so called because it's not quite as shiny as the tall Oregon grape, Mahonia aquifolium. Both are common in this area, and at first glance look alike, but the "Dull" grows to about waist height, whereas the "tall" grape can be a couple of metres high.

And the leaves are different.** M. aquifolium's leaves have one central vein, with other veins branching out from it. M. nervosa, this one, has a strong central vein, and then fainter veins branching out from the base of the leaf. Look closely at the photo above; the secondary veins are visible. (See E-Flora's photo.)

**I didn't know this until I was poking around to see if I could find an explanation for the difference in colours.

Winter greys and tans, with a spot of purple

The sun came out and dried up the morning's rain. The wind died down; the waves forgot to pound the shores. Mallards chattered among the grasses at the edge of the Campbell River estuary.

At the bird blind, I met a couple of gulls.

Looking towards the city, hidden between the wetlands and the hills.

This gull allowed me to come up close. Gull guano feeds the abundant lichen on the rail.

And this gull kept his distance. He seemed to think I might try to steal his delicious crabmeat. I got the shell, and gave it to a duck.

Distant mergansers, against the light.

Beautiful purple-headed mallard.

Fading to yellow

Pink-tipped green anemone in winter colours.

Anthopleura elegantissima

Out on the shore, these anemones are green, with pink or very pink tips. In the tank, and especially over winter, they gradually lose the green algae that give them their colour. These algae need sunlight to grow. Indoors, there are only a few hours of filtered sunlight; in winter, in my apartment, they get only artificial light.

Most are olive to bright green (depending on the species of algal symbionts present) with tentacles tipped in pink. Individuals that live in microhabitats that are deficient in photosynthetically active radiation (PAR), such as under docks or in caves, lack symbionts and are pale yellow to white in color. (Wikipedia)

The anemones on our shores are a very bright green, unless they're hiding under deep rock overhangs.

Anemones, Edgewater beach, 2009

From a paper referenced in this Wikipedia post: " ... anemones display phototactic behavior and may  move to regions of the cave that produce the best physiological fit between host and symbiont species." (David Secord, 2005)

This may possibly hint at the reason all of the pink-tipped green anemones in my tank congregate along the front wall, where the light is stronger.

The internal algae, busily converting sunlight and carbon to carbohydrates, provide oxygen to the anemone hosts as a by-product. Without this, the anemones survive, but do not reproduce as quickly. However, in my tank, a year ago, there were 5 of these anemones. I counted this afternoon; now there are 19, and one is busy splitting in two, to make it 20.

Morning sunlight should be arriving at their window sometime in April. If it's strong enough (I may re-direct it with a mirror to be sure), some of the green colour may return.

Looking again at the first photo, I am reminded that a powdery green algae grows everywhere in the tank, on walls, shells, even on hermit crab carapaces. But not inside the anemones; it's obviously not the correct species. And it likes artificial light.

Red and blue-grey

Rose hips in the mist

This variety of roses, along the outer shore of Tyee Spit, produces very small hips.

Moody skies

Looking west over water on a winter afternoon, the view is rendered in blue, black, and grey, with sometimes a touch of orange. 

Jan. 29, 3:10 PM. Campbell River estuary.

Nov. 31, 2:53 PM, same location, with heavy rain on the way.

And the same location in a snowstorm. Feb. 3, 2:52 PM

Feb. 17. Sundown comes later now, and the light is warmer. 6:07 PM, over Oyster Bay.

A Skywatch post.

Fire and ice

January sunshine warms bare trees with their feet in frozen puddles.

Old leaves, drowned and frozen, feed new buds in the sunlight.

Sunlight blazing through a dead blackberry leaf.

Old and new.

Detail of last year's leaf.

Midwinter browns

More Blackie Spit photos. We left the river bank and walked back to the car over the fields and old farm country. It's very quiet at this time of year; all those rackety summer critters are sleeping under bark or duff, the shouting blackbirds have gone south; among the human Spit visitors, even the children walk along sedately, encased in puffy down jackets. And the weeds and trees are quiet in their way, toning down their riotous summer colours to cool browns.

Two berries. I don't know what they are. There were no others for comparison.

Dried weeds against an old fence

We sat on a bench by the path to rest Laurie's back. I entertained myself taking partial photos of the tree right in front of us, to build a composite once I got home. An alder, still carrying a few old leaves and its mature cones.

Unusually-shaped branches and buds. I don't know what this is. There were three in a row, as if planted.

Zooming in on those stubby finger-like branches. And two dead leaves.

A rotting log, with orange fungus. I didn't even see the spider until I got home. Can you find her and her web?

Just a dead branch. I was intrigued by the pattern of the thick bark. The whole branch is about 6 inches across at the widest point.

I moved to the far side of this branch, to get a photo with the sun on it, although the bark was rather bashed and broken.

Laurie sees a face here; a fish, he says. I see a skinny moose who's lost his rack. He's very sad about it.

Grasses protected from the winds by a tall fence.

Teasels against the sky.

And they're promising us snow for the morning! A few hours of whiteness, until the rain starts again. Back to grey.

Brown, black, green

The water is low at Cougar Creek Park; they've ripped out the beaver dams again. The creek runs between bare mud banks, and the little lake lies a good foot below the last bit of greenery.

They - whoever "they" are - have cut down the blackberry patch: good; it was invading the only path on the north side. Not so good; they've also cut down the tall grasses where the heron liked to hide, hunting frogs at the edge of the water; they've planted rose bushes instead. We saw no sign of the heron, on this visit.

February: a cold, cloudy day, with the sun occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at piercing the clouds. The shrubs are still just bare stems. What with the mud of the banks, the left-over tangle of felled branches and trees, the remaining dried grasses, all the colours are subdued.

Except for the brilliant green of the mallard males' heads.

Mallards and squiggly reflections

Light and dark

"Black"

And in spite of the low water, the cormorant is back. There must be some fish for him; some small fish that don't mind shallow, muddy water.

Cormorant and mallards