Popping up like Mushrooms

Well, they are mushrooms. And according to George Barron, the author of Mushrooms of Ontario and Eastern Canada, under optimal conditions a Stinkhorn can expand from its nascent "egg" stage to full size within thirty minutes, an impressively fast rate of growth that certainly qualifies as "popping up".

While looking around for something interesting to photograph at the Tweed Heritage Center gardens, I noticed a smell like rotten carrion and wondered if perhaps a hapless mouse or chipmunk had perished and was decomposing in the late season flower beds. This was how I discovered some Ravenel's Stinkhorns (Phallus ravenelii) peeking out of the grass mulch and sawdust. Stinkhorns are often smelled before they are seen, an attribute that some find less than endearing.

As with other fungi, the purpose of the Stinkhorn's fruitbody is obviously reproduction. Gilled fungi and Boletes simply drop their microscopic spores through their gills or pores, to be wafted away on the slightest breeze. Some Bird's Nest Fungi actively eject their spore packages. Truffles play it safe and hide underground, but when they're good and ready to be fruitful and multiply, they produce an odor that induces animals to eat them and spread their spores via their feces. Perhaps strangest of all, before sporulation, the mycelium of Entomophthora muscae grows into the fly's brain, taking over its behavior and making it crawl to the highest available location to maximize spore dispersal.

Stinkhorns exploit flies, and presumably other insect species attracted to carrion, in a more benign fashion to pass along their genes to the next generation. The sticky, vile smelling sludge at the tip of a Stinkhorn not only contains sugary compounds – a combination of scent and taste that flies find irresistible – it also contains the Stinkhorn's spores, and as the flies crawl around enjoying their dinner the goo sticks to their feet and the insects convey the fungus' spores to new sites.

Compared to the 10 cm of the Ravenel's Stinkhorns in the photos above, this Skirted Stinkhorn (Phallus duplicatus, however, in my field guide it's named Dictyophora duplicata) is a giant. It stood out like a ... hmmm, let's say like a proverbial sore thumb, from the darker background of woodland floor debris. It was easily 20 cm in length and I've included my hand in the photo to impart a sense of scale.

Unfortunately this specimen is past its peak. The depressions in the morel-like tip are reservoirs for the Skirted Stinkhorn's viscid spore mass, which is long gone, but the fetid scent still lingers on and continues to attract flies. This species of Stinkhorn also sports a doily-like "skirt" around the base of the cap, the frayed remnants of which can be seen in the photos.

Also growing amidst the leaf litter along the trans-Canada Trail, only a few feet away from the Skirted Stinkhorn, was a lone Dog Stinkhorn (Mutinus caninus). And sure enough, where there are Stinkhorns, there are flies – note the mating pair in the background. Dog Stinkhorns attain a length of about 10 cm.

Stinkhorns not only pop up out of nowhere, they can vanish almost as quickly. The shelf life of the Ravenel's Stinkhorns was about three days after their prime (albeit they were pretty rough around the edges), but the Dog Stinkhorn in the image above – its goal of spreading the fungus' genes having been served – was little more than a gooey mass by the following morning.

With such a limited "best before" date one is lucky to stumble across opportunities to photograph these fascinating fungi, so I was thrilled when a few days later I encountered a colorful group of about a dozen Dog Stinkhorns. Or so I assumed at the time ... having done some more research, I now think these masses of malodorous mushrooms might be Elegant Stinkhorns (Mutinus elegans). The fruitbodies are longer (about 12 to 15 cm in length), there's no distinct separation of the spore mass and stalk, and more of the fruitbody – one third to one half – is covered in slime.

A student of the natural world soon learns that evolution and natural selection proceed according to their own rules, that life adapts as it must in order to survive and perpetuate itself and doesn't care about our human sensibilities ... nonetheless, I was holding my breath whilst taking these photographs.

Stinkhorns belong to the family Phallaceae, and what these 'shrooms lack (from our human perspective) in the olfactory department they make up for with their vivid colors and bizarre – but not necessarily phallic – shapes. Check them out at The Stinkhorn Hall of Fame at MushroomExpert.Com.

Lattice Orbweaver (Araneus thaddeus)

At about 5 mm in length the Lattice Orbweaver is a relatively small spider, and in the field whilst taking these photographs I mistook it for a Six-spotted Orb Weaver. The two species do bear a superficial resemblance to one another, here are some images of Six-spotted Orb Weavers at BugGuide.Net for comparison.

Petite but fearless – driven by hunger and instinct – this little girl kept pressing the attack even though she had literally bitten off more than she could chew. It's unlikely her chelicerae were able to penetrate the ensnared prey's outer integument, and the bumblebee eventually managed to extricate herself and escape without any apparent ill effects.

The colors and patterns of many spiders may vary consideraly but their instincts do not, and one of the distinguishing characteristics of Araneus thaddeus is the lattice-like retreat it builds within a rolled up leaf above its web. This spider did have a redoubt inside a leaf as described, but, not knowing this at the time, I never thought note if the interior was "lattice-like" or take any pictures of it.

Views of the spider's ventral aspect, it definitely looks like a Lattice Orbweaver, the Six-spotted Orb Weaver isn't this boldly marked underneath.

Since the Lattice Orbweaver's retreat is one of the criteria for identifying this species, I returned a couple of days later to the site where the spider was last seen hanging out to take a few photos. The spider appears to have moved on, there was no sign of it anywhere nearby.

The Ferns of the East

If you're searching for exotic ferns of the Orient, you've come to the wrong place, the ferns featured in this post aren't from that far east. A little closer to home, within the first three kilometer stretch of the trans-Canada Trail running east of Tweed, one can find sixteen species of ferns without really looking too hard. In addition to the photos below, the list includes ...

Northern Lady Fern (Athyrium filix-femina)
Bulblet Fern (Cystopteris bulbifera)
Fragile Fern (Cystopteris fragilis)
Marginal Wood Fern (Dryopteris marginalis)
Intermediate Wood Fern (Dryopteris intermedia)
Spinulose Wood Fern (Dryopteris carthusiana)
Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris)
Sensitive Fern (Onoclea sensibilis)
Royal Fern (Osmunda regalis)
Common Polypody (Polypodium virginianum)
Bracken (Pteridium aquilinum)
Marsh Fern (Thelypteris palustris)

Wet, swampy woodlands are an excellent place to look for the Crested Wood Fern (Dryopteris cristata). This is a fertile tetraploid hybrid of the Southern Wood Fern (Dryopteris ludoviciana) and an unknown diploid parent. (I digress ... I keep reading about an "unknown parent" fern in my Peterson Field Guide. Having done some searching on the Internet, it appears that the aforementioned parent of several Dryopteris hybrids may be a hypothetical and no longer extant species dubbed Dryopteris semicristata.)

The fronds of the Crested Wood Fern grow in circular groups.

The sterile fronds (toward the back in the image above) are smaller, only about half the length of the fertile fronds.

A lateral view of a fertile frond showing the ladder-like twist of the pinnae, one of the key characteristics of this species.

The distribution of the sori on the underside of a fertile frond.

The lowest pinnae of the Crested Wood Fern are broadly triangular and smaller than the pinnae above. The pinnae in general are wider and much less frilly or lacy than other Dryopteris species.

More photos of the undersides of the fertile pinnae – note how the sori are neatly lined up in two rows.

The stipe bears a scattering of pale brown scales. It's not evident in the pictures above, but the stipes of the fertile fronds are quite long, over one-third the length of the blade.

Another inhabitant of cool moist woodlands – although I've called this a Northern Wood Fern (Dryopteris expansa), a couple of the characteristics don't quite conform to the species account in the Peterson Field Guide. The general growth form is the circular clumps so typical of Wood Ferns.

What caught my eye were the lower innermost pinnules of the basal pinnae – they are not only much longer and wider than, but also definitely not opposite, the pinnules on the other side of the costa. This is a strong indicator for either a Mountain Wood Fern (Dryopteris campyloptera), or its progenitor, the Northern Wood Fern (Dryopteris expansa).

The fertile blade – it's on the narrow side for this to be a Mountain Wood Fern, the blade of which is broadly triangular. I would also expect the blades of the Northern Wood Fern to be wider than this, although the other two blades in the first photo look to be about right.

The sori on the underside of the pinnae. I'm not an expert at this and still learning, but the sori seem sparse and don't appear to be well formed.

A closeup shot of the scattered pale brown scales on the stipe. According to the books the scales should have a dark central stripe, and I don't see any, the scales appear to be uniformly brown. Maybe it's best to just call this fern another unidentified Dryopteris hybrid ...

A couple of links to websites with a variety of good digital images of the various (and often baffling) Dryopteris species and hybrids:
A Digital Flora of Newfoundland and Labrador Vascular Plants
Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture

Many ferns are adept at eking out an existence in a harsh habitat. The Ebony Spleenwort (Asplenium platyneuron) makes do in small pockets of soil on rock faces and fissures, and it often has company. The long graceful fronds in the following photo are the fertile fronds of an Ebony Spleenwort. The smaller, more triangular fronds with the dissected leaflets belong to a Fragile Fern, and there's also a young Marginal Wood Fern in the picture. The plants with the rounded leaves (to the right of the photo) are the vernal rosettes of Early Saxifrage. An artistic arrangement tucked into a few square inches of soil lodged in a tiny crevice in the unyeilding granite, courtesy of Mother Nature.

The sterile fronds are smaller, a a paler shade of green, and prostrate.

On the other hand the striking deeper green fertile fronds stand upright and can attain lengths of up to 50 cm.

The fertile pinnae have distinctive lobes.

Mature sori crowd one another until they pretty much cover the ventral surfaces of the fertile pinnae.

The dark glossy rachis that earned this fern its name isn't really ebony, it's more a of deep, rich reddish-brown.

A closer look at a fertile pinna, with its "ears" or lobes.

The stipe is smooth and the same color as the rachis.

Another grouping of Ebony Spleenwort – this beautiful little fern is not very common and to date I've found only four sites on the rock cuts, not far from one another, where it seemed to find conditions suitable to its needs.

This is the scenic habitat of the Rusty Cliff Fern (Woodsia ilvensis). Ebony Spleenworts, Fragile Ferns and Marginal Wood Ferns also "hang out" on the granite faces where there's a bit of soil to support them, but the aptly named Cliff Ferns occupy the most challenging places of all and get first prize for being the aerialists of the local fern world. I can't see so much as an honest crack in the rocks where many of the ferns are growing, and a lot of the overhangs are angled well beyond vertical.

Growth from previous seasons accumulates around the bases of the clumps. These ferns are often called "Resurrection Ferns" – the entire plant dies down during a dry spell but sprouts new fronds when conditions improve.

Cliff Ferns a.k.a. Woodsias can often be identified as such by looking at the base of the plant under the dead fronds. The stipes of many Woodsia species have an abscission layer – they all shear or break off at about the same level.

The dorsal surfaces of a fertile frond.

The sori are distributed around the margins of the pinnae and are surrounded by whitish hairs that are actually a part of the indusia. Said hairs are barely visible because the entire underside of the frond is woolly; this wool turns rusty brown during an extended dry spell.

The rachis of the Rusty Cliff Fern is also profusely covered with hairs.

A couple more plants of interest to look at before taking leave of the realms of the not-so-far east. It's impossible to overlook the ubiquitous "mosses" tenaciously hanging on to life on the sun-baked surfaces of granite with little or no soil cover.

However, my assumption that the plants were some kind of moss turned out to be incorrect. Dwarf Spikemoss or Rock Spikemoss (Selaginella rupestris) is a cousin of Clubmosses, Firmosses and Quillworts. Unlike mosses, but like the aforesaid species and the ferns, Spikemosses have a vascular system.

The visibly square-sided strobilus – the spore-producing structure – of the Dwarf Spikemoss. Whereas Clubmosses only produce one type of spore, Spikemosses produce two types – female megaspores, and male microspores. The leaves of Dwarf Spikemoss bear a long, transparent bristle on their tips.

Another patch of Dwarf Spikemoss.

A closeup, with the sterile leaves in the foreground and the square-sided strobili toward the right and back.

Moving on from a hot, dry habitat to a damp shady haven, where we can find the aptly named Snakeskin Liverwort (Conocephalum conicum). Liverworts are non-vascular plants – they have no veins or roots to transport water and nutrients – and are more akin to true mosses in this respect.

How the Snakeskin Liverwort got its name ... a closer look at the thallus, composed of tissues that are not differentiated into distinct organs such as stem and leaves.