Fecund May

     Like Annie Dillard said, it's an ugly word.
     But the month just won't stop reproducing, regardless the language we attach to it, regardless the assault on our sensibilities, and absolutely regardless of our presence.  (If a fish spawns in a creek and nobody hears it, does . . . ?  Of course!)  
     We saw last month about this time the male bluegill standing, as it were, on his tail and sweeping out a pebbled nest area with its caudal fin, anticipating a female's acceptance of himself and his preparations.  As the female approaches the nest, the male launches into his "rim circling" until the female accepts him and his handiwork.  When the right female enters the nest area, the male and her will sidle up against one another as she deposits the eggs and he the milt.  Then in two to five days, up to 18,000 fry hatch out.  Females tend to leave the nest after spawning, leaving the offspring in the care of the male.
     Our bluegill appear to be much smaller than most mature fish of this kind, and the reason is probably that The Pool in which ours live is just too small of an area.  The food supply may be minimal, and competition within and among species may be great.  Overpopulation and stunted growth extend to most living things.
     Most people who know bluegills are probably used to the larger, browner version.  Our clear but small creek waters may be responsible for the increased colors (blues, greens, and white) and decreased size.  Season and sex are other factors in determining what this fish looks like.
     These bluegill (Lepomis macrochirus) parents below were observed at the north end of The Pool, just after lunchtime. 

     Other names for bluegill include gills, bluegill sunfish, northern bluegill sunfish, common bluegill, blue sunfish, bream, blue bream, or bluegill bream.

     Here we see what appear to be two parents nervously guarding the hundreds of young fry.  Typically only the male will guard the fry, and then only for several days.  The adults do not so much guide the cloud of young fry as follow along.  Once while watching these particular ones, I saw several larger fish approach, apparently to eat the fry, and the water surface roiled in a frenzied fight that resulted in the retreat of the hunters.

Fish Fry

[Please also see the entry "Guard-Daddy" (Sunday, April 24, 2011) for the video of the male bluegill jealously guarding its nest.]

Kingdom:	Animalia
Phylum:	Chordata
Class:	Actinopterygii
Order:	Perciformes
Family:	Centrarchidae
Genus:	Lepomis
Species:	L. macrochirus

(In Greek, Lepomis means “scaled gill cover,” and macrochirus means “large hand,” thought to refer to the fish's body shape.)

     The whole time the bluegills were spawning or defending, pool life continued.  Bass rose to the warm surface to snatch insects, a blotched water snake slowly crawled across the bottom of the pool, a single large dragonfly paced back and forth through the air, and the canyon wren sang its descending-octave up the bluff.

River Walnut (Juglans microcarpa)
Low-growing in the stones near the creek.

Same and Not

     The purpose of a meditation is not to be profound.  Rather, you take a simple image or thought or process and stay with it for awhile.  The results can be profound in ways unimaginable, though.

     So this is a short meditation on something we all know.

     Differences are discovered because similarities are known. 
     No difference in two leaves would be significant if we didn’t first begin with a profound similarity between the two.  Only when we first have established what the two leaves share in common with one another (ex: photosynthetic capabilities, entire margin, lobed) are we able to conceptualize the differences (ex: length of petiole, pubescence). 

     Or, we might take the two riparian grasses we have down at The Creek and which have been featured in earlier blog entries.  Rabbit Foot Grass (Polypogon monspeliensis) and Canary Grass (Phalaris-caroiniana) are interesting to view with respect to their differences only because they are so similar that even the nature-lover slowly making his way down a streamside would probably mistake the two for the same.

      Dyspepsia (from the Greek δυσ- dys- and πέψις -pepsis "digestion") refers to an upset stomach.  In the previous entry we confessed having suffered several hours of dyspepsia following the consumption of minuscule amounts of a red berry (Solanum triquetrum) we had confused with another red berry (Capsicum annuum, var. glabriusculum).

            

Familia: Solanaceae
Species: Solanum triquetrum
  (the Texas nightshade)
               vs.
Familia:     Solanaceae
Species:     Capsicum annuum 

 (the chiltepin hot pepper)

     In most ways, these two plants appear identical.  One of the key differences is that the former causes dyspepsia without any Scoville scale-tipping flavor.

     Life itself might be defined according to the similarity(ies) present.  An appreciation for taxonomy and what we find by navigation through keys for plant or animal depends upon at least some small ability to comprehend the similarities of any given family or class.  But Life might also be defined according to what is termed biodiversity, an endlessly reiterated truth found mainly at the end of the keys where the trail ends at any given species.  Thus, any meaningful definition of nature will somehow incorporate both the concept of unity and diversity.

~

     Harlin spends time with the keys.  Below are some excerpts from some of his recent letters to me:

You are probably convinced that I am not kidding when I say that I think the puzzles provided by the inconpicuous wayside weeds are very interesting.  I mentioned before that people who identify plants for a living must have a completely different attitude than I do about finding a name.  When they fail it may be serious, and from what I've seen . . . they make it a team effort and do a lot of legwork back to the samples they have stored in the herbarium.  I don't think they get to quit and take it up later when they are back in the mood.

 

On the other hand I use keys as guided tours which take me to places I've never been before.  Having the internet makes the journeys even easier, since now I have scans of herbarium sheets, handy photographs, and even more words to read through.  Many times there are details that reassure me I got the right answer.  Now and then I don't get the extra details and sometimes--like this one--I am amazed the plant people say they are two different species.

 

Everything about distinguishing Lolium perenne from L. temulentum that I've found boils down to the length of the outward piece of chaff they call the second glume.

 

Darnel ryegrass -- Lolium temulentum

Lolium temulentum

Perennial ryegrass -- Lolium perenne

Lolium perenne

I would never have thought there were two kinds of grass just looking at them.  Not until I saw the [first picture] did I even know there was a look-alike to L. perenne which I've been seeing all over the place for years.  About a week ago I had just found the Lolium with the long glume.  I went to include the [first] picture thinking it was the same grass and there was the Lolium with the short glume.  Definitely the botanic version of the twilight zone.

 

So, if we take at least a hundred years years of botanists at their word, then I'm going to say you got both of 'em growing out at your creek.  If you look at the photo of the floret from the [second photo above] you can see that second glume is way long and this one is definitely shorter.

 

But hey, that's the point.  With the TV twilight zone, you are just watching someone else wander around lost.  With nature you can experience the twilight zone for yourself up close.

HH

Keys are made by experts.  When I think they are wrong, then most of the time I discover it is me and not the key.  However, that leaves some times when I check and double check and I still would bet that I am right and the key is wrong.  Of course, we are talking a bet in the range of about a dollar.

 

For two keys--the Gould book and the Shinners book--the genus Bromus is put into a category where the awn comes out of the end of the lemma, either from the tip or from between two teeth.  In the Shinners book the grass I'm looking at doesn't fit into any of the alternate choices.  In the photographs in this page, one can see that the awn is back from the tip.

http://calphotos.berkeley.edu/cgi/img_query?where-genre=Plant&where-taxon=Bromus+japonicus

 

     The FNA says the awn "arises 1.5 mm or more below the lemma apice".  Okay, the awn is not too far back, but 1.5 mm from the end could be thought of as coming out of the back in the opinion of any number of citizens who are a mind to look at such things.  I don't mind so much, but I did want to explain how I can get the idea I'm right and the key is, well, not clear.  I've included [below] my photos of glume tips and lemma tips.  This brings me back to my basic theory of nature watching.  I think there is a good chance I have a reasonable guess about this name.  But, there is some grass with tips like this and I wouldn't have really explored how they look unless I was struggling with concepts like "how far back is back?"

Bromus Japonicus

Bromus Japonicus

Bromus Japonicus

Bromus Japonicus

The next grass is easier--Limnodea arkansana (Ozark grass).  In the key to all the genera of grasses in Texas, Gould's book does not have a pointer to Limnodea.  He has an entry for it, and in fact it was the picture that made me start checking whether this was the grass I was working with.  Sometimes I miss things, but as long as I don't find that genus listed in the key I will be thinking I am right and Frank Gould left something important out.

Ozark grass -- Limnodea arkansana  

Limnodea arkansana

Limnodea arkansana

Ozark grass is one inconspicuous little plant.  I only saw it because I was trying to take a picture of something else and it was in the way.

HH

~

Carol saw three black-bellied whistling ducks yesterday in a tree up on the top part of Whitman's Rough.  Very jealous.

Poisonous Thinking

I remember when I first learned about the cochineal insect years ago because it was one of those events that represents a fundamental shift in the way a person's eyes open to the unknown-known.  We had seen prickly pear cactus pads since the earliest days of childhood, and though most of them had the obvious fuzzy white fungus-looking stuff growing on them, I had never thought that I was seeing it.  I didn't think that that I wasn't seeing it--I just didn't think that I was seeing it.  We often cannot see what we've been seeing until we know what it is we are seeing.  But I cannot see cactus of Opuntia, the genus of paddle cactus that include our common prickly pears which bloom here at the end of April and beginning of May, without seeing the cochineal.  (Similarly, our friend Harlin says that people often can't see the beauty of a thing unless someone tells them that the thing can be considered beautiful.  We'll continue this idea soon enough, but first a few more words about small insects and a thorny cactus, neither of which will rank high on lists of anything beautiful.)

Very likely Texas Prickly Pear (Opuntia lindheimeri)

Within the flower of Opuntia, we see the green stigma of the pistil

surrounded by numerous yellow-white anthers of the stamen.

Kingdom:	Plantae
(unranked):	Angiosperms
(unranked):	Eudicots
(unranked):	Core eudicots
Order:	Caryophyllales
Family:	Cactaceae
Subfamily:	Opuntioideae
Tribe:	Opuntieae
Genus:	Opuntia

Cochineal insect (white) thriving on a pad of Opuntia cactus that grows among

limestone boulders on Whitman's Rough above Priest Cave

     

Domain:	Eukaryota
Kingdom:	Animalia
Phylum:	Arthropoda
Class:	Insecta
Order:	Homoptera
Superfamily:	Coccoidea
Family:	Dactylopiidae
Genus:	Dactylopius
Species:	D. coccus

Cochineal farming using tiny baskets called Zapotec nests in which

the female insects live until they come out onto the cactus pads to

mate with males.  When they are about three months old, they are gathered

up by hand and smushed to make the valuable dye.  70,000 insects make a pound of dye.

The fruit of these prickly pears tastes like watermelon to me.  In Mexico the fruit is called tuna.

Mexico's coat of arms minus any cochineal insect.

On a similar subject, I thought my guts were going to explode either out my mouth or ass last week.  That's after I ate part of a beautifully poisonous berry under The Oak.  First, here it is.

Solanum triquetrum

One has to know that this plant and its tiny red fruit do look something like the famous chili pequin that is of the genus Capsicum in the Solanaceae family.  This is the famous nightshade family of plants, containing many poisonous plants or plant parts.  Potatoes, tomatoes, chilis, etc.  I wanted so badly for the fruit to be spicy hot.  But when I got the thing in my mouth, I knew instantly it wasn't what I wanted it to be.  Spitting and mouth-rinsing perhaps helped, but for several hours thereafter, I began to get hints at why it might be called nightshade.  The nausea and dizziness passed, and I was able to enjoy an evening of cold beer and grilled food around a fire and with good friends.  Fireflies and creek sounds resumed their lovely act. Now, we could go on about some "lesson" in look-alikes or how we so desperately want something to be what we want it to be and how poisonous this behavior turns out sometimes. But we won't go there.

Grass (Part One of Near-Infinity)

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
. . .
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
. . .
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg
of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.

I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits,
grains, esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
But call any thing back again when I desire it.

(a few lines from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass)


Remember the Rabbitfoot grass? (memory jogger below)

Well, here's another that closely resembles it.  This one is Canary grass, and as with its look-alike, it grows alongside The Creek now.

Canary Grass (Phalaris caroiniana)

And another . . .

Texas fluffgrass (Tridens texanus)

Tridens texanus

Earlier in the year we built a big brush fire and last year's growth on this specimen burnt low. But as evidenced in the first photograph, fires can be good for grasses.  

Below are some visions of a grass that most likely was an ancestor to our modern corn.  It's a tall and lovely thing called Gamma grass or Eastern gamma grass.

Later in the season this gramma grass will produce fruits that look remotely similar to corn kernals, suggesting again the close relationship between Tripsacum and Zea (corn).

Gamma Grass (Tripsacum Dactyloides)

Tripsacum Dactyloides

Tripsacum Dactyloides (female)

Tripsacum Dactyloides (male)

Kingdom:	Plantae
Division:	Magnoliophyta
Class:	Liliopsida
Order:	Cyperales
Family:	Poaceae
Subfamily:	Panicoideae
Tribe:	Maydeae
Genus:	Tripsacum
Species:	T. dactyloides

As Harlin points out, we have so many grasses with the name "gramma" because, as it turns out, the word means more than an alternate spelling for grandmother.  The Latin "gramen" suggests "grass" or "grass fodder."  The Proto-Indo-European *ghros- perhaps meant "young shoot, sprout," from base *ghre- which is related to grow and green.  


To "graze" comes from the Old English grasian, "to feed on grass," from græs "grass."  And a "swath" was the "space covered by the single cut of a scythe" cutting through a meadow of grass because "meadow" itself is from the Old English mædwe, originally referring to "land covered in grass which is mown for hay,"  itself derived from the Old English heawan "to cut."  And of little relation, some have suggested that our word "fog" comes from a Norwegian word fogg, meaning “long grass in moist hollow.”  Root words.


Hay.  The gramma grasses often find themselves cut and dried like so many others for so many years.


Of course, we aren't the only species to make hay and store the harvest of grass. All kinds of rodents do it. And insects. I've read about leaf cutter ants growing fungus gardens on hoards of shredded jungle cut and stored away under ground.  A few years ago I first watched the western leafcutter bee harvest half a morning glory vine as if it were so many leafy fields suspended in air and tied round a post. The small black and gray striped. Megachili perihirta of the Megachilid Family is half an inch long and could easily be overlooked for its close resemblance to any small gray fly you've ever almost seen flying about the yard or lying dead beneath a window screen. I do not even know how long I failed even to notice the chomps taken out of the morning glory leaves and the incredibly industrious insect responsible. The bee buzzes slowly onto the leaf, sets the edge of leaf between two bee- knives disguised as mandibles, and in three seconds it has cut out an oval or a round piece of leaf the size of your iris. Then the bee folds the piece of leaf like an enchilada between its two sets of legs, three on each side. Often it then flies with its harvests to a nearby leaf, rests there for ten or fifteen seconds before buzzing back to a small space between the boards of the porch. Almost every leaf of the morning glory plant has at least one oval or round cut-out on its edge, and most of the leaves have six or seven. So in what shape does the bee stack its round bales of drying leaf, or in what manner does it ensile its crop? I never did pry the wall boards from the studs to find out.



 In all, there are about fifty species of "gramma" mostly native to North America.  American gramma, Six-weeks gramma, Needle gramma, Gypsum gramma, Purple gramma, Texas gramma, Matted gramma, Blue  gramma, Nealley gramma, Kay's  gramma, Harry  gramma, etc. 


And compare the inflorescence of the "gramma" above with that of another one down at The Creek:

Sideoats Gramma

Love that sideoats gramma, our state grass.

Sideoats Gramma (Bouteloua curtipendula)

Zea mays

No sound replies but winds that whistling near

Sweep the thin grass and passing, wildly plain.

(Wordsworth, from Salisbury Plain)

All Lists Bright and Beautiful

     [All of the following high-quality photographs come from Harlin.  The miserable other ones at the end of this page are the work of somebody else.]

A fine drawing of sedge.

     Harlin has been doing the hard work of navigating the identification keys to help us arrive at a name for the plants out at The Creek.  Here is some of his work at identifying the sedge growing in and near the water.  This is a great link to a site that provides about as much detail as one could hope for:    http://www.efloras.org/florataxon.aspx?flora_id=1&taxon_id=242357940.

Sedge (genus Schoenoplectus?)

     And a couple intimate views within the inflorescence of this sedge:

     

     And here's one of our favorite grasses . . .

Rabbitfoot Grass (Polypogon monspeliensis )

Floret of the Rabbit-foot Grass

     We've been admiring this grass within the riparian zone for a number of weeks now.  Turns out, it's not a native at all, but comes from Europe where the English call it "beardgrass."  In these United States, it grows as an annual mostly across the western half of the Union and nearly always around water.
     It's hard to imagine a more beautiful plant--especially in its juxtaposition to the many whitened stones around which it grows in thick bunches.
     And the white stones.  It would be nice to be able to say more about them because they represent something we see so much of in nature that we are tempted not to question them.  The white-covered stones of dry stream beds are like the assumptions of our prejudices.  But they can be studied and named like just about anything else.
     In our case, the white is probably the dried remains of diatoms and other algae.  In the water, the diatoms lay down a snotty film over submerged rocks and detritus.  And if floating on the surface, they form thick white, gray, or brown clumps of gelatinous snot.  The cell walls of diatoms contain high quantities of silica (silicon dioxide), the stuff of sand and quartz that is used to make glass.  So the expression "glass house" really does have an antecedent in nature.  Bits of chlorophyll color parts of each diatom with green or golden yellow.
     With over 100,000 species of diatom, we won't be too cocksure with our correct identification of any one of them, but we can locate some fairly common examples.  Here's a photographic sampling of some fresh-water diatoms found in The Creek and Wikipedia:

Domain:	Eukaryota
Kingdom:	Chromalveolata
Phylum:	Heterokontophyta
Class:         (Diatoms)	Bacillariophyceae

Nolina lindheimeriana

Nolina lindheimeriana

Range of Nolina lindheimeriana

Another really sorry photograph of two young and lovely olive trees (Mission and Arbequina)
that we hope to plant out at The Creek following next winter. Just for the record.

  Below is the Harlin List so far:

Genus	species	English name	Family	Location
Cheilanthes	tomentosa	Wooly lip fern	Polypodiaceae	across creek
Pellaea	ovata	Zigzag cliffbrake	Polypodiaceae	below cliff
Juniperus	ashei	Ashe Juniper	Cupressaceae	Everywhere
Siphonoglossa	pilosella	Tube Tongue	Acanthaceae	Creek bed; Below cliff
Yucca	treculeana	Spanish Dagger	Agavaceaea	cliff
Rhus	toxicodendron	Poison Ivy	Anacardiaceae	creek side
Chaerophyllum	tainturieri	Chervil	Apiaceae	below cliff
Hydrocotyle	umbellata	Water Pennywort	Apiaceae	creek side
Torilis	arvensis	Hedge Parsley	Apiaceae	various
Amblyolepis		Huisache Daisy	Asteraceae	Near bird blind
Calyptocarpus	vialis	Lawn flower	Asteraceae	near central oak
Chaptala		Silver Puff	Asteraceae	near garage
Cirsium	texanum	Texas Thistle	Asteraceae	Creek bed
Corepsis			Asteraceae	field
Gaillardia	pulchella	Firewheel, Indian Blanket	Asteraceae	Creek side, creek bed
Hymenoxys	scaposa	Bitterweed	Asteraceae	creek side
Hymenopappus	scabiosaeous	Old Plainsman	Asteraceae	field
Pinaropappus	roseus	White Rock Lettuce	Asteraceae	creek side
Ratibida		Mexican Hat	Asteraceae	field
Rudbeckia	hirta	Blackeyed Susan	Asteraceae	Creek bed
Sonchus	asper	Sow Thistle	Asteraceae	near central oak
Zexmenia (Wedelia)	hispida		Asteraceae	Creek bed
Xanthium	strumarium	Cocklebur	Asteraceae	creek side
Berberis	trifoliata	Agarita	Berberidacaea	below cliff
Buglossoides	arvensis		Boraginaceae	creek side
Onosmodium	bejariense	Flase Gromwell	Boraginaceae	outer field
Opuntia		Pickly Pear	Cactaceae	cliff
Opuntia		Pencil Cactus	Cactaceae	below cliff
Triodanis		Venus' Looking Glass	Campanulaceae
Tradescantia	gigantea	Giant Spiderwort	Commelinaceae	creek side
Convolvulus	equitans	Bindweed	Convolvulaceae	creek side
Cuscuta		Dodder	Convolvulaceae	creek side
Capsella	bursa-pastoris	Sheperd's Purse	Cruciferae	Near bird blind
Cucurbita	foetidissima	Stinking Gourd	Cucurbitaceae	Near bird blind
Schoenoplectus	pungens	common threesquare	Cyperaceae	creek side
Diospyros	texana	Texas Persimmon	Ebenaceae	below cliff
Cnidoscolus	texanus	Texas Bullnettle	Euphorbiaceae	field
Croton		Bush Croton	Euphorbiaceae	below cliff
Tragia		Noseburn	Euphorbiaceae	creek side
Sophora	secundiflora	Texas Mountain Laurel	Fabiaceae	cliff
Melilotus	indicus	Sour Clover	Fabiaceae	Creek bed
Lupinus		Bluebonnet	Fabaceae	Creek bed
Sesbania	drummondii	Rattlebush	Fabaceae	creek bed
Prosopis	glandulosa	Mesquite	Fabaceae	outer field
Vicia	ludoviciana	Deer Pea Vetch	Fabaceae	creek bed
Quercus		Live Oak	Fagaceae	central oak
Phaecelia	congesta	Blue Curls	Hydrophllaceae	near bird blind
Sisyrinchium	biforme (?)	Blue-Eyed Grass	Iridaceae	creek side
Juglans	microcarpa	River Walnut	Juglandaceae	creek bed
Salvia	farinacea	Mealy sage	Lamiaceae	creek side-north
Lamium	amplexicaule	Henbit	Lamiaceae	Near bird blind
Smilax	bona-nox	Greenbriar	Liliaceae	outer field
Alium		Wild Garlic	Liliaceae	near central oak
Nolina	lindheimeriana	Devil's Shoestring	Liliaceae	creek bed
Nothoscordium	bivalve	Crow Poison	Liliaceae
Sida	filicualis		Malvaceae	garden
Wissadula	holosericea	Velvetleaf Mallow	Malvaceae	near garage
Forestiera	pubescens	Elbow Bush	Oleaceae	below cliff
Oenothera	laciniata	Cutleaf Evening Primrose	Onagraceae	near central oak
Oxalis	Stricta	Yellow Wood Sorrel	Oxalidaceae	creek side
Plantago		Plantain	Plantaginaceae	creek bed
Plantanus	occidentalis	American Sycamore	Plantanaceae	creek side
Bromus	uniloides	Rescue Grass	Poaceae	near central oak
Polypogon	monspeliensis	Rabbitfoot grass	Poaceae	creek side
Phlox		Phlox	Polemoniaceae
Delphinium	carolinianum	Carolina Larkspur	Ranunculaceae	field
Ranunculus	sardous	Hairy Buttercup	Ranunculaceae	creek bed
Colubrina	texensis	Hog Plum	Rhamnaceae	below cliff
Ungnadia	speciosa	Mexican Buckeye	Sapindaceae	cliff
Mimulus	glabrata	Monkey Flower	Scrophulaceae	Creek bed
Veronica	anagallis-aquatica	Water Speedwell	Scrophulaceae	Creek bed
Solanum	triquetrum	Texas Nightshae	Solanaceae	central oak
Solanum			Solanaceae	creek side
Celtis	laevigata	Hackberry	Ulmaceae
Ulmus		Elm	Ulmaceae	creek side
Valerianella	stenocarpa	Corn salad	Valerianaceae	creek side
Lantana	horida	Lantana	Verbenaceae	creek side
Phyla	nodiflora	Frog Fruit	Verbenaceae	Creek bed
Verbena		Vervain	Verbenaceae	creek side
Cissus	incisa	Cow Itch	Vitaceae	below cliff
Vitis	mustangensis	Mustang Grape	Vitaceae	Creek bed