The Undead of Winter

 By Jan Thornhill

Ruby LOVES to "play dead" so we can will bury her in snow!

I love early spring! And no – I’m not talking about tulips and the return of migratory birds, though I have nothing against those things. I’m talking about earlier, in the first weeks of March, when there’s still plenty of snow on the ground, when, for all intents and purposes, it’s still the dead of winter.

Except it’s not dead.

Minute snow fleas appear on warm days in late winter.

In fact, there’s a surprising amount of life in the late winter forest here in Ontario – especially when the temperature squeaks a few degrees above the freezing mark. By early March, tree sap has begun to flow. Within a few days, deciduous crowns in the distance have taken on a haze, as if someone has smeared wet watercolour across the tips of their sharp branches. Their leaf buds are plumping. Male chickadees start using their “Hey, sweetie,” song, which, I think, is self-explanatory. Skunks wake from their winter torpor and amble about briefly – possibly just to stretch their legs – before returning to their dens to wait for real spring to come. On sun-warmed snow patches at the base of trees, snow fleas congregate, sometimes by the tens of thousands (see my post about snow fleas here).

This perennial Red-belted Polypore (Fomitopsis pinicola)
will drop spores on warm winter days.

And, all over the forest—believe it or not—fungi are procreating like crazy.

Amanita frostiana has a mycorrhizal relationship
with oaks and conifers.

These are not your basic ground mushrooms with caps and stems that you see in summer and fall. Most of those are mycorrhizal, and have a mutualistic relationship with trees, trading underground water and nutrients for the sugars that trees produce. But trees shut down sugar production in the late fall, so the underground networks of mycelia of mycorrhizal fungi also shut down during the frozen months.

The Violet-toothed polypore (Trichaptum biforme) is an annual saprobe.

But there are all kinds of other fungi that have a different kind of relationship to trees. They rot them. Many of these tree decayers, or saprobes, are polypores. Polypores develop their spores inside tiny tubes instead of on gills like store-bought mushrooms. 

The Hexagonal-pored Polypore (Neofavolus alveolaris)
 has—surprise!—hexagonal pores.

The most commonly noticed polypores are shelf fungi or conks. Many are perennial – they have skeletal hyphae—tissue than can withstand freezing and thawing—and just keep growing and growing, sometimes for 70 years or more. And during that time, whenever the temperature goes above freezing for a couple of days, these fungi produce spores. 

Yearly growth layers are obvious on this Phellinus that grows
new spore-producing tubes on its underside each year. 

But, why, you might wonder would they send out spores so much earlier than the birds start doing it and the bees start doing it—when the forest is still, in effect, asleep?

The Gilled Polypore, Lenzites betulina, has elongated tubes that almost look like gills.

They do it early because polypores, like all fungi, are opportunistic. Polypores that grow on living trees usually inhabit the heartwood that runs up the core of a tree trunk. To set up shop in this deadwood, a polypore has to get past a tree’s sapwood, the living layer below the tree’s bark. In the winter, deep freezes cause fractures in tree bark. These frost cracks are perfect for catching passing spores. When spring rains moisten the crevices, and before the tree has time to seal these cracks, the spores germinate and their mycelia work their way into the core. Once past the tree's defences, the fungus sets up shop, spreading its mycelia up and down and around. A fungus can secretly live inside a tree—gradually breaking down lignin and cellulose—for many years before it gives us humans a clue of its presence—by producing reproductive organs (shelf fungi, or conks) on the tree’s exterior.

Fomes fomentarius, is commonly called the Hoof Fungus
 (its shape)  or Tinder Fungus (used to carry fire from place to place
before matches were invented; Ötzi was carrying some).

The Cinnabar Polypore (Pycnoporus cinnabarinus) is the colour of dragon's blood!

The common name for Trametes versicolor is Turkey tails—for good reason

Chicken-of-the-Woods is an excellent edible polypore
 that has the unmistakable texture of overcooked
chicken if you miss its succulent stage.

This Artist's Conk (Ganoderma applanatum) is exhibiting geotropism
— the fungus first grew while the tree was still standing, then, after the tree 
fell, added new growth with its pore surface—once again—facing down.

The Ghost Plant: Monotropa uniflora

Jan Thornhill

Any day now—if it ever rains here in Ontario—a most peculiar character will start poking out of the ground in the forest beside my house. The Ghost Plant or Indian Pipes, known as Monotropa uniflora to the scientific community, confuses people every year. No part of it is green, which means it has no chlorophyll, so obviously it's not a plant, right? 

Wrong.

Monotropa uniflora flower close up. (Walter Siegmund)

Monotropa uniflora is, indeed a plant, but it has evolved into an entity that no longer needs chlorophyll to produce energy for itself. Instead, it steals energy from other plants—specifically from trees. It does this in a tricky, roundabout way by joining its roots with the mycelia of mushrooms that, in turn, are networking symbiotically with the roots of nearby trees. The Ghost Plant is a parasite. The mushrooms involved, are not.

This Russula could unwittingly be aiding a parasitic Ghost Plant.

Many species of forest fungi have symbiotic relationships with trees. Their mycelia—networks of root-like threads—intertwine with a tree's roots, helping the tree obtain water and essential minerals from the soil. In return, the fungus receives the energy it needs to grow in the form of sugars from the trees. Both parties benefit. 

The Ghost Plant, which can't provide food for itself through photosynthesis the way chlorophyll-producing plants can, sneakily takes advantage of the relationship between a mushroom (usually a Russula species) and a tree by tricking the mushroom into forming a mycorrhizal relationship with its own roots. In this way, the Ghost Plant receives photosynthetic energy without doing anything at all. It's a total freeloader. The mushroom gets nothing in return, nor does the tree, but no one is harmed in the process, so feel free to enjoy this spooky looking oddity next time you come across one in the woods.

A pink Ghost Plant grows in western North America. (Stephanie Searle)

References:

The Ghost Plant as Tom Volk's "Fungus" of the Month

Mycorrhizas on Tree of Life

I like lichens!

By Claire Eamer

Lichens add colour to a stone wall.

Have you ever noticed big splotches of white, green, or even red and orange on rocks and tree trunks? The white ones look a bit like bird poop, but they aren’t. (Well, actually, they might be – so look closely!)

Mostly, those splotches are lichens. And they’re actually pretty amazing.

To begin with, lichens aren’t one thing, but two. As the excellent guidebook Plants of Northern British Columbia puts it, lichens are fungi that have discovered agriculture. The basic structure of the lichen is provided by a fungus, a relative of mushrooms and puffballs. That structure is a kind of factory, filled with willing workers. Inside each fungus factory is a colony of algae, and that’s what creates the lichens’ sometimes-garish colours.

Lichens on an ancient standing stone.

Colour isn’t all the algae contribute. Safe inside their fungus, the algae work away at what they do best: converting sunlight into carbohydrates, vitamins, and proteins through photosynthesis, the same process plants use. The fungus, which can’t produce its own food, takes a share of what the algae produce as a kind of rent.

The arrangement works so well that the fungi and algae are inseparable, so they go under the single name of lichen. The kind of relationship the two partners have is called symbiotic, which means neither partner dominates the other and the arrangement benefits both of them.

The splotchy lichens (like the lichens on this ancient standing stone in northern Scotland) are just one form, called crustose or crust lichens. There are also lichens shaped like overlapping scales, and others shaped like curling dried leaves, miniature bushes, tiny clubs, or even fine hair. The floor of the boreal forest, which stretches across much of Canada, is so littered with lichens of all shapes and sizes that it’s sometimes called a lichen forest.

Lichens in the Yukon forest.

All those shapes, sizes, and colours have led to some pretty entertaining names. Spraypaint lichen, dog’s tongue lichen, chocolate chip lichen, and toad pelt are just a few. And there are plenty more. About 14,000 species of lichen have been identified so far, and there are still thousands more to find and describe.

Interested? Here are a few links:

A general online guide to lichens.
Ebook guide to lichens in Canada’s west coast forest. 
Ebook guide to lichens in Canada’s mixed hardwood forests.
And for lots of information about lichens, as well as some beautiful photos, The Lichen Guide.

Alien Super Powers Are on Earth!

A headline like this in the National Inquirer might actually be the truth. In my book Amazing Animals, I included a short paragraph of information on the strength of ants. As one of the most numerous life forms on earth, ants have developed truly mind boggling features. Did you know that, annually, ant colonies consume more meat than lions? Did you realize that ant societies are as complex, but perhaps fundamentally smarter, than human societies? Ants have developed into workers that each have specific tasks aimed at the general welfare of the colony. Not one ant acts in its own best interest. Communication and cooperation are there secret weapons to thriving societies. Some ants are destined to be shepherds and actually herd small bugs, mealy bugs, which they have domesticated, much like humans herd and tend cattle. Scientists have studied ants in elaborate laboratories and made staggering discoveries. They tested the ants under circumstances similar to astronauts and athletes. In the process they have discovered complex structures such as a democratic society in which each ant is valued, and even discovered that ants have been using sperm banks, probably for much longer than humans have. By studying huge subterranean structures, they discovered that ants control their environment by creating chimneys that transport toxic air out of the chambers, bring in fresh air and regular temperatures like air conditioning systems. They separate food from waste, keep their homes clean and even use disinfectants to keep the colony from getting sick. Do yourself a favour - sit back and relax, to watch this extraordinary documentary. It’s nearly an hour - shorter than a feature film but every bit as intriguing and amazing as a sci-fi movie: http://tv.naturalnews.com/v.asp?v=a4e23a5c65f22bdf4a72b3a9cc34d1f6 The Ant

Painting from the book Amazing Animals by Margriet Ruurs, illustrated by W. Allan Hancock

Trees covered in webs

Sci/Whyer Margriet Ruurs forwarded these photos of trees in Pakistan shrouded in silken webs after flood waters receded.

Seek Animal Signs Instead of Animals

Alone or with children, when it comes to enjoying nature, it’s natural to hope you might spot animals, especially big game. Depending where you live and how safe your surroundings are, you might hope to see a bear, moose, or deer. It’s always fun to catch a glimpse of wildlife but I challenge you to explore nature with a different plan in mind. Next time you walk a trail, make it your goal to look for animal signs instead of animals.

Use as many senses as you can. Close your eyes and listen. Can you hear birds, insects, or frogs? Sniff the air. You’re sure to notice if a skunk is nearby. You might also smell a stinkbug! These winged insects release a nasty smell when defending their homes. More pleasant nature smells to seek include wild mint, wild roses, or the scents that accompany fresh water. I’ve noticed wild cranberries waft a wonderful scent through the woods after an autumn frost.

Now look up into the trees! Can you see a bird nest or woodpecker hole? Perhaps you notice signs of insect life. You may spot leaves full of holes or eggs on vegetation. Look on willow trees for pale-green pine-cone willow galls. These odd growths form when midge larvae secrete a chemical that causes a part of the host tree to grow differently. The gall becomes a home for the midge which must chew its way out when it becomes an adult! Some insect galls look like small warts, spindles, or round growths on leaves. Others form bulbous growths along plant stems. Many different kinds exist.

If you come across spruce, pine, or other evergreens, check beneath the branches for signs of squirrels. Where I live in Alberta, red squirrels drop scales from cones as they feed from the branches above. They drop so many scales, great piles form into a midden. You may see tunnel entrances in a midden and even hear the chattering squirrel start to scold if you get too close! You will also know squirrels are nearby if you see small branches of needles on the ground. And if you glimpse a mushroom in a tree, you know a squirrel is saving a snack for later.

As you walk along, look into the underbrush to see if you can spot animal trails. Rabbits, deer, coyotes, and many other animals use these paths to travel through wooded areas. If you find a trail and look at the trees growing alongside, you may notice places where deer or moose have bitten shoots off tree branches. You may also see their scats on the ground.

In the fall, look for deer rubs and scrapes. Along trails, whitetail deer bucks rub their antlers on tree trunks, as well as break branches above the scrape. They paw at the ground until the soil is exposed and then leave their scent to mark their territory.

If your walk takes you along soft soil, sand, or a place where mud has dried or snow has fallen, look for animal tracks. But don’t just look for big prints from large animals! Look carefully for smaller prints from rabbits, squirrels, mice, and birds.

Other things to watch for on a nature walk:

·         acorns or other nuts with teeth marks

·         animal dens

·         anthills

·         antlers

·         bones

·         cocoons

·         egg shells

·         feathers

·         insect tunnels in fallen logs

·         porcupine quills

·         snail shells

·         tufts of fur

·         wasp nests

The better you get at searching for animal signs, the better you will become at spotting the animals themselves!

Harvest Time in the Forest

posted by Claire Eamer

It's harvest time here in the Yukon, at the northern edge of the boreal forest. The leaves on the aspen trees are beginning to turn sunshine-yellow, the fireweed is crimson, and the high alpine bushes are showing red. People are out in the bush every weekend, picking berries and gathering mushrooms.

So, I might add, are the bears, so the wise human berry-picker makes plenty of noise!

The forest here can look pretty sparse -- spindly trees and a forest floor covered with tiny plants, mosses, and lichens. You'd think that by the time the big two-footers and four-footers were done harvesting, there wouldn't be much left for anyone else.

But you'd be wrong. A lot of little creatures depend on the foods provided by the boreal forest to make it through the long winter, and they're out harvesting too. If you look closely at the tiny plants that flourish beneath the trees and along the forest's edge, you'll find plenty of goodies to gather.

In the alpine, where forest gradually gives way to alpine tundra, pikas are building up their haystacks. A small cousin of rabbits, a pika can stash away 20 kilograms of grasses, leaves, seeds, and flowers over the summer, much of it in large piles just outside the entrance to its burrow. When the winter wind whips across the bare mountainside, driving snow before it, a pika doesn't have to go far for a snack.

Down on the forest floor, the voles are also tucking away winter groceries. They're less ambitious than pikas, and a lot smaller -- like tiny, delicate mice. Still, a single northern red-backed vole might store up to 3 kilograms of seeds, berries, and fungi near its winter burrow.

But voles and many other creatures of the forest floor don't just depend on food hoards all winter. When snow covers all that autumn bounty and the forest looks barren, many of the forest's smallest creatures are still out there, awake and busy.

They scurry around all winter under the snow, in an area called the subnivean zone where the warmth of the ground partially melts the snow above it. There, tiny animals search the buried vegetation or scoot through tunnels in the snow above, still harvesting frozen blueberries, bearberries, cranberries, rosehips, seeds, kinnikinnick berries, fungi, and all the other tiny jewels of the boreal forest's treasure chest.

If you'd like to know more about what people and animals are harvesting in the Yukon forest, Jozien has a blog called Yukon Wild Berries.

To find out more about the physics of the subnivean world, the Cable Natural History Museum of Wisconsin has a nice online article about Subnivean Temperatures.

And here's a nice article in the St. Albert Gazette (Alberta) about subnivean life a little farther south in the boreal forest.

Or you can check out the chapter about life in the cold -- "Ice is Nice" -- in my book Lizards in the Sky: Animals Where You Least Expect Them.

Best of all, go for a walk in the autumn woods, with your local guidebook and a berry bucket. Happy harvest!

http://www.claireeamer.com/