Flora & Fauna of the Sylvan State

A celebration of the flora, fauna, and terrain of Pennsylvania. "Sylvan-veins" is a term I created to identify the devotion I feel for the forests, fields, and hidden away places that fill my heart, flowing through my veins. I'm a Pennsylvanian, born and raised -- but first & foremost; I'm sylvan-veined.

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Berries of the Chinese Privet Ligustrum sinense Originally introduced to North America for landscaping purposes; it is now considered a threatening invasive.

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Boxwood Buxus sp. I could never forget the scent of this shrub—I probably should like to. A lot of people seem to describe the scent as cat urine, though I never made that direct connection. Not a native to Pennsylvania, but prevalent, especially in historic cemeteries. Symbolically, I’ve read that the boxwood shrub (an evergreen) symbolizes immortality, endurance, and Stoicism.

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Wild Bergamot, Bee Balm, Horsemint Monarda fistulosa A comely (and abundant) native of Eastern North America. The genus name is a tribute to the Spanish physician Nicholas Monardes (1493-1588). Medicinally, this herb has been used to treat colds, headaches, abdominal pain, sore eyes, colic, vomiting, et cetera. Bee balm is also a natural source of the antiseptic compound thymol (the same compound used by Ancient Egyptians in the mummification process), which also happens to be the active ingredient in some commercial mouthwashes. The plant has a spicy, basil-like aroma (and taste) in my opinion. The flowers are incredibly fragrant when dried, by season, or human intervention. The leaves can be used to make a minty tea—best served with a spoonful of honey. There is no mention of wild bergamot in any language of flowers that I could find, so I shall rise to the occasion (yet again): “Permit me to balm your pain.” (Note: Monarda fistulosa is not the source of oil of bergamot.)

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Gyspy Moth female (European Gypsy Moth, North American Gypsy Moth) Lymantria dispar dispar Moth-mother and her clutch of eggs under wing. Lymantria is Latin for destroyer; a fitting name for a creature considered to be one of the most destructive adversaries against hardwood trees in the eastern United States.  The gypsy moth is a vagabond of Eurasian origin that arrived in the United States in the year 1869.  Étienne Léopold Trouvelot, a French astronomer, artist, and amateur entomologist imported the gypsy moth to Medford, Massachusetts -- an attempt to breed the prolific destroyers with silkworms, thus bolstering the silk industry with innovation; alas, he was an amateur in the field of entomology and is primarily known for this folly, above all else.  After the Lymantria dispar dispar diaspora that he commandeered, he spent the remainder of his life studying the stars.

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Orange Pinwheel Marasmius siccus Dainty by design with a sunny visage; these always catch my eye.  They conjure thoughts of jellyfish frozen in time, or tethered lanterns made of orange silk. Their appearance is short-lived, even for a fungus, and they have an unknown edibility.

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The Fruit of the Carolina Horsenettle (Sand Briar, Radical Weed, Bull Nettle, Tread-Softly, Apple of Sodom, Devil’s Tomato, Wild Tomato) Solanum carolinense The entire plant is poisonous due to the presence of solanine, a toxic alkaloid.  The immature fruit is pictured here, yellowing & wrinkling as it matures.

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Selected scenes from an October stroll.

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The last living insects and fruiting bodies I saw in the year 2015.  After an autumn rain, this stinkhorn appeared to be reduced to a porous skeleton of sorts. These photos were taken in December, odd as it was.  The weather was unseasonably temperate.

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Calocera cornea (a jelly fungus) & Tubifera ferruginosa (a slime mold) sharing a stage.

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Red Velvet Mites (Rain Bugs) Trombidiidae Aristocratic arachnids swathed in crimson coats of the plushest velvet.  In the warmer months, wander around the wood after it rains and you’re sure to see more than a few of these crawling-carbuncles afoot.  They are harmless to humans. In India, an oil extracted from the giant red velvet mite has been used to treat paralysis.  They’ve also been implemented as an aphrodisiac (also in India).

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A troupe of “Pleasing Fungus Beetles” feasting on fresh oysters. Tritoma atriventris I didn’t contest their rights to the first oysters of the season.

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Weeping Polypore (Oak Bracket, Warted Oak Polypore, Weeping Conk) Inonotus dryadeus Inedible.  An uncommon sight (in my experience), stumbled upon by happenstance whilst pursuing morels. The weeping polypore is a parasitic saprobic fungus.  The spores enter the wounds of the host tree (typically oak; this specimen was discovered on a long-lived maple) and manifest their unwholesome appetite on the trunk of the tree, closest to the earth.  I didn’t deign to smell the amber ooze.  I’ve read that this fungus has an unpleasant odor that shall remain enchained in the realm of my imagination -- for now.

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Western Scarlet Cup (Scarlet Cap) Sarcoscypha occidentalis Unknown edibility and incredibly petite.  There is mention of the Oneida tribe using a different species with the same genus as medicine, but nothing I could find specifically linked to the lesser known occidentalis. I came across these red-cups on the Appalachian trail.  I immediately thought of the stories of the Redcap; the malevolent imp of English folklore.  A murderer by trade, the Redcap must dip its vampire-cap in fresh blood, for if the blood should ever dry -- the Redcap dies. Of course, this fungus needn’t murder-blood to produce such a vivid hue!  Be soothed.

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Hyacinthus Cultivar of Hyacinthus orientalis There is a patch of forest near my residence, untenanted and untended, where this hyacinth appears, year after year.

The hyacinth is native to the eastern Mediterranean, Iraq, north-east Iran, and Turkmenistan.  In Pennsylvania, you’re sure to notice hyacinths in nearly every garden during early spring.  It isn’t too unusual to find strays growing in forgotten places (like this one) but they are typically well-cared for and a welcome sight. In the language of flowers, hyacinths symbolize game-play due to a Greek myth involving a divine hero named Hyacinthus; a victim of divine jealousy.  Hyacinthus was accidentally slain by Apollo when Zephyrus carried a discus -- thrown by Apollo -- with fateful force at the handsome youth, killing him where he stood.  A heartbroken Apollo wouldn’t allow Hades to claim the youth and instead honored the memory of his beauty by inspiring flowers to grow from the blood of Hyacinthus.  I must mention that is the general opinion that the larkspur is the blood-blossom of myth, not the hyacinth. The bulbs of the hyacinth are poisonous due to the oxalic acid they contain and should be handled with care. “And from the blood of the wound a flower sprang, lilylike, more brilliant than the purples of Tyre. Then the god wept: his vital grief flooded the earth.”

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A Gallery of Mist-shrouded Trees Observed on the Morning of March 16th, 2016. On a day that I was afforded the luxury of sleeping in; I woke early just for the sake of cavorting in the fog (“dream-drapery” -- as Henry David Thoreau refers to it) -- courtesy of a favorite local forest.  I do try to differentiate between fog and mist when I feel confident in my meteorological prowess, but on this day, patches of prowling fog and tendrils of meandering mist were waltzing all through the woods, challenging my obsession with differentiation.   You see -- the only difference between fog and mist is a matter of visibility. There is something about a shrouded forest that enchants me, entirely, and I never miss the opportunity -- schedule permitting -- to wander, obscured.  I am fortunate to have a forest within a brief walking distance -- especially when dealing with the cursory morning fog (a product of inversion in the valley that I live in) that shivers away, contrarily, as the sun reigns. A procession of cloven-hooves were the only other souls I happened across. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 08: By Conrad Aiken The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city, Over the pale grey tumbled towers, And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls. Along damp sinuous streets it crawls, Curls like a dream among the motionless trees And seems to freeze. The fog slips ghostlike into a thousand rooms, Whirls over sleeping faces, Spins in an atomy dance round misty street lamps; And blows in cloudy waves over open spaces . . . And one from his high window, looking down, Peers at the cloud-white town, And thinks its island towers are like a dream . . . It seems an enormous sleeper, within whose brain Laborious shadows revolve and break and gleam.

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Red Fox Vulpes vulpes The startled response to my approach -- this one was napping deep in the forest.

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Golden Bamboo Phyllostachys aurea Far away from its native land -- this invasive grass from Southeast China has made itself right at home in Pennsylvania.