When hunting lichens, it’s important to blend in. Stalking wild Lecanoromycetes is made all the easier by wearing appropriate camouflage. Lichens are slow, but they can see you coming.
Glad to see the professionals agree!
Back in December, my partner Molly and I discovered a very rare-for-the-city Usnea lichen. When another Usnea genus lichen was found in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx not so long ago, it was worthy of being written up in the Journal of the Torrey Botanical Society. This was because it was the first record of the species here in NYC in almost two centuries.
So we contacted the proper authorities, in this case Dr. James Lendemer at NYBG. This week James and one of his PhD students, Carly R. Anderson, came to collect a sample of this tiny beard lichen.
(Like the famous flag-raising at Iwo Jima, this is actually a re-posed picture because snipping a bit of lichen is a pretty quick operation…).
The reason for the sampling: there are two possible species this could be, and you can only really tell via DNA analysis. At least for specimens in the city, which don’t seem to get larger and more characteristic as they might elsewhere. (I wrote about lichens and their nemesis, air pollution, here.)
Since the specimen is located on private property, we contacted more proper authorities. Always get permission for taking samples, kids. In this case, Sara Evans, Green-Wood’s Manager of Horticulture Operations and Projects, gave James the OK and joined our expedition.
Also along for the ride were some of my hazelnut flour brownies (this recipe, but with a touch of salt) for snacks. Excellent moral support for a rainy day expedition by the BEF, or Brownie Expeditionary Force. This trio of rich Nutella-y squares didn’t make it back…
Stay tuned for the Species Reveal Party!
The third edition of the New York State Breeding Bird Atlas project is underway. So far I’ve submitted observations to ebird of American Kestrels mating and Common Ravens carrying nesting material.
One of them, anyway.
I almost always hear these big corvids before I see them. One of their most common calls is a “ha-rupp” grunt-like noise that makes me thinks of pigs (admittedly, I haven’t been around too many pigs). Then I’m all ears, looking all around. 
