alexmichel's Journal

Tree 1 : black tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica)
Keying Steps: 1', 2', 3', 5', 8', 9', 13 --> Group 8 : Trees with alternate, simple, smooth leaves
Group 8 --> 1', 3', 4', 16', 18', 19', 23', 24', 27', 29', 30', 31', 32', 33', 34', 35', 26', 40', 41', 42

I almost lost hope trying to key this tree after I reached the group. The longer the chain of keying steps grew, the more I wondered if I had gone wrong somewhere along the way and if I was standing in front of this person's house for too long for no reason. However, those fidgety feelings were probably just due to the immediate gratification I've become used to for so many things. I think it's correct, but even if it's not, it was exciting to finally come to an answer.

Tree 2: Monterey cypress (Hesperocyparis macrocarpa)
Keying steps: 1', 2', 3, 4 --> Group 2 : Trees with scale-like, awl-like, or apparently absent leaves
Group 2 --> 1', 4', 6', 8', 9', 11

The genus of this tree was different in the keying manual than on iNat, which confused me for a minute. Nothing google couldn't answer.

On this day, I added one of my roommate-approved hiking pals to my bubble. It's always fun hanging out-of-doors together because we're just a couple of nerds that feed off each other's interests. This spot was really sweet because it was new to me and I could see the effects of different types of management in the surrounding landscape (partially due to my friend's background knowledge stemming from her thesis work in the PG&E land adjacent to the trail).

I really enjoyed looking at the beautiful stands of Bishop Pine and hearing about their small range of habitation. Learning that Bishop Pines are usually only found in coastal areas with maritime influence and cooler temperatures and that the man who gave them their name first discovered one near the mission in downtown San Luis Obispo made me wonder what climate conditions further inland must've been like back then to be able to support the species. As I watched the wall of fog whither away, I thought about what our current climate change rates might mean for the habitation range of this pine in years to come.

I also wondered how the serotinous cones would open up if these pines only stuck to cooler temperatures. Would fire be necessary, or would a warm day do? Either way, I thought it was pretty neat to see the effects of the prescribed burns on the steep hillsides, including all the young bishop pines that probably benefited from that.

Parts of the trail positioned us in a way that boasted beautiful panoramic vistas of wide green valleys backed by blue, while other parts wrapped around us in a cool, wet microclimate, surrounding our peripherals with lush ferns and thimbleberry. We only went out about 4-5 miles before we turned back, led by our rumbling stomachs.

Throughout the entire hike, we kept coming across Twinberry Honeysuckle, which we thought we knew and continuously misidentified way too many times. When I was home later that day, I got a call. As soon as I answered, my friend (an ex-professor, assumed to be my mother earlier that day) blurted "TWINBERRY- JUST THINK OF BALLS!" I don't know that plants have ever made me laugh so much.

Tree 1: Cedrus spp.
Keying Steps: 1', 2' 3, 4' --> Group 3 (trees with needle-like leaves)-->1', 2, 3'

Tree 2: Parkinsonia aculeata
Keying steps: 1', 2', 3', 5, 6', 7' --> Group 6 (trees with pinnately and bipinnately compound, alternate leaves)--> 1', 3, 4, 5

I had some trouble with the second tree. At first, I thought it was apart of group 5, having what I thought were opposite leaves. I didn't realize they were alternate. The term "forked" in 6:5 helped me identify it.

Walk prep: turmeric ginger latte, Mountain & Prairie Podcast, dog, "Trees Among Us" (Ritter).

1. Cook Pine (Araucaria columnaris) - pg. 25
   Keying steps: 1', 2', 3, 4 --> Group 2 (Trees with scale-like, awl-like, or apparently absent leaves) --> 1', 4, 5
   Where I almost went wrong: I forgot that each little "scale" is a leaf, rather than the whole "tassel" or branchlet (step 4). When I got to Group 2, I didn't think the tree was "distinctly columnar" (step 4), but I did think the branchlets were rope-like and saw Auracaria as an option, so I followed that path.

2. Coral Trees (Erythrina spp.) - pg. 26
   Keying steps: 1', 2', 3', 5, 6 --> Group 4 (Trees with palmately compound leaves)--> 1, 2, 3
   Where I almost went wrong: I had trouble deciding how the leaves were attached. I didn't think they were palmately compound (step 6), so I almost went with 6' (leaves pinnately or pinnately compound), but then decided they might be palmately compound, after all.

As mentioned previously, I've used this key before in my landscape architecture classes but I haven't had consistent practice with it, so it can be a bit of a challenge for me each time I pick it up again. I knew the first tree was from the genus Araucaria, so I had a bit of an advantage there, but I had some trouble differentiating the species from similar species. I just knew it definitely wasn't Araucaria bidwillii.

The coral tree was new to me. I thought the phyllotaxy was interesting because the leaflet attachment wasn't like other palmately compound attachments I've seen. I'm still unsure if it's even palmately compound.

Locality: USA, California, San Luis Obispo County, San Luis Obispo, Cerro San Luis/Laguna Lake Open Sapce.

I visited the Laguna Lake Park for the first time with a friend yesterday for a hike. It's pretty close to my house, but I had never really made an effort to go because I thought it was just a park with a small murky body of water. There was a park and small murky body of water, but I was surprised (although I shouldn't have been) to find out that it's an actual natural open space area with a trail system that connects with the Cerro San Luis hiking trails. The main trail leading out towards the seemingly more "natural" area and away from the people was around 8 feet wide, very straight, and with very little variance in elevation that I could see. As expected, soils were clayey and so compacted you could probably sweep the dust off like a hardwood floor. And people moan about cows... (jk...kind of). Mooving on.

At first, I asked my friend if he had directional preferences, but I felt like I was interrupting every time I did, so I decided to just lead the way, knowing he'd probably follow. As I listened to a live podcast about the chemistry of coffee (he's a new coffee shop owner), my eyes were scanning and jumping everywhere, not realizing that cool things like fluffy orange ants and pretty mariposa lilies were luring me off the main cow trail and into the calf-high grasses. I did wonder what the disturbance level and type might be. The Podcast followed, I think unknowingly. Poor Podcast.

I started to feel a bit self-conscious because every time I'd stoop down and interrupt The Podcast and exclaim something like, "WHOAH, look (at this tiny pinkish-red spikey flower's color next to the blues of the serpentine)!", I was met with glazed parental eyes that so obviously were trying to emit a relateable level of intrigue, and a slightly higher-pitched, "aw yeah...so anyway". I made up my mind to return the next morning on my own.

Glad I did! Noticed some more cool stuff.

There was yellow starthistle everywhere (not cool)! To my knowledge, it's an extremely invasive pioneer species that's difficult to control. It was especially present near areas with significant disturbance, like the edges of the main pathways. I remembered that cows I've worked with are more adventurous than others and like the taste of milk thistle. But I've always wondered how the seeds spread. If cows were to eat yellow starthistle, would they help eradicate or exacerbate the problem? What happens to the seeds when they're ingested and end up in a cow patty? Is there some kind of neutralization that goes on? Would it be better to address it with an Rx burn? Herbicide? Mechanical removal?.... Is it edible?

I also loved spotting all the mariposa lilies. I know there are other types of Calochortus around, like Calochortus obispoensis, which I have yet to see, so it took me a while to attempt to figure out what the specific epithet was for type I was looking at. It'd be fun to find all the different types in SLO and lay them down, side by side, to differentiate them. I'm not really sure where I'd go to find them, though. (Update: That's probably a good thing, as I've been reminded I'm not supposed to pick them. Oops.)

I had to get back in time for bio lecture, so I headed home, but plan to return soon. On my way out, I saw a bald eagle. Definitely didn't expect that.

A note about frogs:
As I was walking around, I came across a water tank, which people intended for cattle. As always, I looked in to see what was living inside. Just past the facade, a blinding reflection of passing clouds, was a blue-green world of depth that moved like a slow rhythmic whirlpool, carried by hundreds of little pollywogs. (Protein for the protein?) My shadow scattered them, so I picked a blade of oatgrass (Danthonia californica) and used it to encourage the path of one that had resurfaced, herding it around to different parts of the tank. I also noticed that when I was out of sight, the little tadpoles were coming up, almost vertically, sucking the surface of the water, I think for oxygen, but I'm not sure. I moved a careful finger over the reflection in a way that was probably a little deceptive. Out of overhead sight (but where the heck are their eyes?), I felt the suction of the little pollywogs. It's pretty neat how life springs into things that humans often intend for a specific and let's face it, often selfish, purpose.

I get distracted easily and tend to jump on exciting ideas that pop into my head with an "I'll figure it out when I get there" mentality. So when I thought it'd be fun to explore parts of the canyon I haven't seen, too excited to look at a map or think about time, a quick morning hike turned into a 12-mile hike (which may be quick for some people, but not me) and all I had was an irresponsible amount of water and half a granola bar.

At least I saw cool plants.

A lot of the plants that immediately caught my eye, I already knew, but made observations of some, anyway. It wasn't until I dropped down into the canyon from the ridge that I found plants I wasn't at least familiar with. One of these plants was the Pellaea mucronata. I hardly noticed it because it was so small and delicate. I also thought it was interesting seeing a single Clarkia amongst stands of other species. I'm still not sure what the specific epithet is but I didn't find another one throughout the rest of the hike.

I thought it was pretty neat seeing different developmental stages within the same species as I dropped and rose again in elevation and explored along different aspects of the mountain (hill?...berm?). For example, on the Lizzie St. side of the hill, there was a plant with a head that looked gummy and gross. When I crossed over the ridge and dropped down lower into the canyon, I saw the same gross, gummy center surrounded by small purple petals. I also noticed that some of the blue-eyed grass was white on the northern face, which I'd never seen before. I'm still not sure why that is, but I'm guessing it has to do with sun availability or maturity.

Now for a note about turkey vultures: I used to think they were nothing but gangly, disgusting creeps of nature. Especially after being actively intimidated by one as I passed it one day, sitting on a fence post. However, after sitting and watching a flock(? ... herd?...pod?) of 4, flying northeast through the canyon, I saw something else. As they glided and followed the canyon, dropping and rising above the ridgeline, they never flapped their long wings. I lost count of the seconds between flaps because I started counting mid-glide and never saw a flap at all. I watched them paint long ovals in the heat of the sky, moving independently but always circling back to a close proximity between themselves that made it seem like they were checking in, making sure they were all together. I thought it was a really beautiful blend of independence and unity. I could be wrong. Maybe they are just gross and weird.

In this assignment, I inspected trees in people's front yards. I crunched, smelled, felt, counted, and photographed parts of each tree, as well as made extremely awkward eye contact with people watching me from their windows.

I also spilled a lot of coffee on sidewalks because I decided that walking around the neighborhood and drinking coffee from a mug while looking at trees is much more rewarding and exciting than mindlessly sipping from a to-go cup, like a giant baby-adult.

To answer Ritter's question, if I had to pick one of these trees to use as toilet paper, I'd probably go with the silk oak...that or the yucca. I'm not going to lie- this prompt makes me think botany professors just sit around and ask these types of questions of their students so they can call each other and go, "Hey...guess what one of my students would use as toilet paper... Toxicodendron diversilobum."

Continuing with the prompt... I grew up in a city where Heat Island Effect was oppressive, partially because street trees were few and far between, especially along commonly-used pedestrian routes. So, yes, I think street trees definitely make a neighborhood more pleasant. They also add to the visual appeal. No one likes a naked street.

A pro to planting non-native trees in our cities is that they might be better suited to meet specific society-driven purposes, such as the ability to bear certain types of fruit for urban food forests. A con is that the tree will likely not be as well-suited for the given environment as a native tree would be, and may require more resources such as water. This need may cause some non-native trees to uptake more available water, limiting water for native species, which could result in aggressive growth and invasive tendencies in the non-native species.