Crazy About Yew

 

Fox Squirrel Savoring a Yew Cone

I never paid this tree any mind until I saw a squirrel zipping all over it this morning. I was intrigued by the little red fruits it was eating, so I took some pictures that would help me identify it when I got home. But even while I was still out walking I realized I could just search for "conifer with red berries," which led me to the European Yew (Taxus baccata). 

This is a different species than our Pacific Yew, from which the cancer-fighting medicine Taxol is extracted. Both yews produce good wood for archery bows (such as Robin Hood's legendary longbow), although the ones near McLaren Lodge in Golden Gate Park are probably too twisty to produce a good bow stave.

The squirrel was so fond of the fruits (which are modified seed cones; the fleshy red scale is call an aril) that I decided to try one myself. It was surprisingly sweet. I had just eaten a different red berry from the fruiting Autumn Olive bush that I pass on the way to the yew trees, which are near an entrance to the Oak Woodlands. 

After enjoying the flavor I spit out the pulp and seed since I didn't know what it was. Turns out the yew's generic epithet, Taxus, has the same linguistic root as "toxic." The whole plant -- except for the red aril -- contains a poisonous alkaloid called taxine, which is toxic even to squirrels. Presumably they just eat the fleshy aril and leave the seed uneaten, thereby avoiding a potentially fatal heart attack.

It's a clever trick of nature to create the delicious outer aril around a poisonous seed. Some birds can safely consume the fruit for its tasty aril while letting the seed pass through their digestive systems intact, thereby aiding in seed dispersal. The trick for birds and mammals is to leave the seed coat intact to avoid being poisoned.

A sprig of European yew with the berry-like cone attached.

Saw my first Townsend's warbler of the season, but this was the only photo I could get. Nothing like the nice views I got almost exactly one year ago.

This was one of several Anna's hummingbirds stationed around the perimeter of the Fuchsia Dell, which has many plants in bloom right now.

According to the Merlin app, this is a female Western tanager. With so little yellow coloration in her feathers, I'd never have guessed.

A honeybee emerges from a flower at Lily Lake.

Water Lilies in Bloom

I liked the reflections on the water with this one.

Probably a Four Spot Orb Weaver (Araneus quadratus) in an appropriate Halloween color. I like that it makes the sign (which is about not feeding wild animals) seem quite sinister. I'd hope the spider was going to work on its snare, but it found a warm spot on the sign and curled up to take a nap.

This cabbage white butterfly flew in while I was watching the orb weaver.

A few skippers were acting frisky, fluttering around each other and even prodding each other with their legs. 

Frisky Skippers

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Still Coming Home

 

Dazzling Rays at Golden Gate Heights Park

It's been two weeks since I returned from my "Midwest Interlude," and I'm feeling a little more at home each day, especially since I've finally returned to my former routine of daily walks and bike rides. I would never haved guessed that refamiliarizing myself would be a thing. Today was the first time I did my usual bike ride, and for just a second there I couldn't remember the route. I can't imagine what it'll be like for my wife when she finally gets to come home.

I've been thinking that I will not continue the blog in its previous format, photographing the nature I encounter on my daily outings, but who knows. I'm kind of a photography addict. If I see something that strikes me as even a little bit interesting, I can't help reaching for a camera. But that doesn't mean I need to create a blog post around it all.

Or does it? ;)

Western Flycatcher, Mallard Lake

Red-shouldered Hawk, Mallard Lake

Yellow Warbler, Elk Glen Lake

Red-tailed Hawk, Grandview Park

Lesser Goldfinch, Forest Hill

Black Phoebe, West Portal

Anna's Hummingbird, West Portal

This yellow warbler faked me out with that dark patch on its head.

I didn't think it was another yellow warbler at first, and I was pretty sure it wasn't a Wilson's warbler either, so I thought I'd made an interesting discovery of a new bird.

But the Merlin app came up with yellow warbler for all three shots, so my guess is the bird, perhaps while feeding on nectar, got eucalyptus sap on its feathers. The sap, also called kino, turns black when it dries.

Of everything new that I've noticed since I've been back, this dragon in Golden Gate Park has been the biggest surprise. Sometimes it has bubbles coming out of its nostrils.

Pygmy Nuthatch, Bison Paddock

I've been wondering what this tree at North Lake is for a long time, and when I finally saw that it was in fruit I figured I could ID it through an app. The app was clear that it was a chestnut, but it took a little more digging to land on Chinese chestnut (Castanea mollisima) as my tentative answer until I can collect and taste the nuts.

Snowy, the surf egret, nabs a mole crab.

Once again, the egret crushes the crab in its beak before swallowing it.

Soon after eating the crab, the egret took off and landed near this flopping fish, presumably tossed there by a nearby fisherman. The egret stared at the fish for a few moments before deciding not to take a stab at it, then flew a short ways over to Sutro Baths to hang out with the cormorants. I was surprised that no other birds -- not the gulls, the cormorants, or the pelicans -- took any interest in the fish. The fisherman eventually threw it back in the ocean.

Lots of birds in the fog at Seal Rocks.

* * *

Honeycomb Slime

 

Honeycomb Slime Mold, Mt. Tamalpais

It's also called coral slime (Ceratiomyxa fruticulosa), as I learned thanks to iNaturalist. Until reading up on this species I hadn't realized there are three classes of slime molds. I thought they were all Myxomycetes, but there's also Dictyostelids and Protosteloids like the honeycomb slime. Most of the latter class are microscopic and are found almost by chance: You collect some substrate (dead plant matter), put in on an agar plate, and after a few days put the plate under a compound microscope to see what grew.

I found this slime during a short hike on Mt. Tam on Saturday. I'd forgotten that the Sound Summit (formerly the Mt. Tam Jam) was happening that day, so I had to park below Rock Spring and hope my car wouldn't get hemmed in. Thankfully it did not, and I finished my 2.5-hour hike well before the show got started.

In addition to bringing along the FZ80D, I also carried my D800E with a 105mm macro lens, which is how I got the slime mold photo. Instead of carrying a tripod I relied on the on-camera flash to get a workable shutter speed. I'd been thinking about switching to a mirrorless camera system for its lighter weight (than the DSLR), greater resolution (than the FZ), and other factors, but I was hesitant to spend the money even before the new tariffs went into effect. Now I'm just going to stick with what I've already got.

Honeycomb Slime on Douglas Fir Along the Mickey O'Brien Trail

Fog on the North Side from Laurel Dell Road Near Barth's Retreat

Island in the Fog

One of three does who spooked at my approach while they were browsing along the Laurel Dell fire road.

Poison Oak Turning Color at Potrero Camp

When this European mantis (Mantis religiosa) fluttered into view, it looked a lot like the katydid I recently saw in the Chicago area -- a gossamer, silent mystery on the wind. It took a minute to find where it landed, even with its green coloration on a background of dried grasses near Rifle Camp.

The smell of rosinweed is still strong and pleasant on the mountain, but the flowers are just about done for the season.

The fence lizard ducked into a hole along the Benstein Trail the first time I passed, so I waited for it to come back out. 

* * *

San Francisco Residents

 

Red-legged Frog, San Francisco Botanical Garden

Every time I read something new about cells, about their components and how they work together to provide a foundation for all of the life that surrounds us, and all of the life that is us, my mind is blown all over again. This time it was an article about microtubules in Quanta Magazine. 

What always happens when I'm reminded of the incomprehensible intricacy of life is that I go back to the sheer wonder and amazement that life even exists. I mean, maybe in another universe, with some tiny difference in one physical constant or another, stuff gets made in exploding stars much like it does here, but the stuff never consolidates into a life form. You get all the same elements of the periodic table, but it's all inert and lifeless. Boring universe!

And yet there is supposedly no such thing as a life force. There used to be an idea called vitalism, but what good is a life "force" that you can't measure? On the other hand, there is no great definition of life itself. One definition that a Google search turned up was that life "is an emergent phenomenon arising from the interaction of matter and energy." 

I don't know. Life just seems like a special case of emergent phenomena. One water molecule isn't wet, but if you get a half-dozen or so together you get the emergence of wetness. Isn't chemistry all about emergent phenomena? Isn't there a whole world of emergent phenomena arising from the interaction of matter and energy that isn't life? 

You can even have two molecules with the same structure, but only one of them supports life, due to something called chirality. Life is such a rabbit hole! 

Anyway, as you can see from the photo at the top of the post, the red-legged frogs are back in the little pond in the SFBG's Children's Garden, along with some fat ole pollywogs that wriggle up to the surface for a quick gulp of air before diving again for the bottom.

I walked through on Thursday morning to look for migrating birds, but mostly I just saw the usual residents -- who, being San Franciscans, are colorful enough to be of interest in their own right.

I couldn't recall if I've seen Datura in the California Garden before, but it's blooming there now.

The Anna's hummingbirds were all after each other to protect their patch of California fuchsia, a coveted late-blooming, nectar-bearing beauty.

I just liked the sort of disheveled look of this little one standing on a leaf.

Hovering in a Fuchsia Wonderland

If you look closely at some of these hummers, their throats are speckled with white pollen from the stamens of Epilobium canum (formerly Zauschneria californica).

Perched on a Matilija Poppy Stalk

"Do I need to attack?"

"Nope. At least, not yet."

Yellow Warbler in a Yellow Aloe

The second of three adult red-legged frogs I saw in the pond.

The third amigo.

This feather-fluffed red-shouldered hawk swooped onto a eucalyptus branch across the street that circles Blue Heron Lake. It was tucking a leg into its feathers as if planning to rest awhile, but it was also keeping an eye out for a passing opportunity.

A little farther along, this great blue heron was patiently waiting for a snack to swim within range. Also within range is probably the nest this heron was born in.

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