Another Currant at Moon Point
A painted lady drinks from an upturned glacier lily (Erythronium grandiflorum). Painted ladies are very common this spring, much more so than the last few years.
Still wanting to check out more populations of glacier lilies (Erythronium grandiflorum) to see how they have been affected by the lack of snow, I decided to go to Moon Point on Friday, May 8. Happily, there were still plenty of snowmelt species in bloom in the meadows. This area is moister and less exposed than Grasshopper Meadows, and the small creeks that cross the trail were still running, although not as much as there would be in a normal year. It was certainly far drier than it was on my early trip in 2011 after a winter of heavy snow pack (see Moon Point Melting Out). There were many short, upturned glacier lilies, as I had seen recently at Grasshopper Meadows and Bristow Prairie. It seemed like there was a higher percentage of “normal” flowers with reflexed tepals, maybe half and half. Perhaps that was from the additional moisture. There were also quite a few western springbeauty (Claytonia lanceolata) and Lyall’s anemone (Anemone lyallii), although they still seemed to be less floriferous than I remember them. A number of steer’s head (Dicentra uniflora) were evident, but I only found a few remaining flowers.
An unusual 4-lobed green-flowered wild ginger.
Moon Point is home to a rare early-blooming flower that was at its best on this trip. Green-flowered wild ginger (Asarum wagneri) is an Oregon endemic found only in the southwestern part of the state. Moon Point is the most northerly site for this species, so it is somewhat surprising how abundant it is in the area. While Flora of North America describes its habitat as “Understory of Abies forests and open boulder fields in Tsuga forests near timberline,” at Moon Point, it grows in the meadows and small grassy openings—not in the forest. Quite a bit of it grows along the trail on some grassy banks before you reach the intersection of the Youngs Rock trail. There is more in the meadow at the intersection. What surprised me was how much I saw as I headed down through the long sloping meadow after the intersection. I didn’t remember it being so plentiful here. This is the route I take to reach a wetland at the bottom as I do an off-trail loop to Moon Lake. There were large patches all the way down the meadow, but they didn’t continue along the more level area at the bottom. Perhaps the better drainage of the slope is more to their liking. They seemed quite floriferous and unaffected by lack of snow cover. My guess is their thick, deep rhizomes protect them from the vagrancies of weather much better than many of the other plants.
Green-flowered wild ginger growing in a bare patch in the open meadow. Note its wide, rather floppy leaves and pale flowers with much shorter “tails” than our common wild ginger (Asarum caudatum).
From the bottom of the meadow, I turned right and headed over to where you can start to see the tall orange poles that were placed there a few years ago to guide cross country skiers. Following them over a small rise, I was not at all surprised to see the vernal pool almost dried up. In the photo I posted in 2011, it looked like a small pond early in the season. The silver lining to the lack of moisture is that it won’t provide habitat for mosquito larvae like it often does. Rather than following the poles back up to the trail, I headed left toward the off-trail lake. This first meadow is home to both Nevada lewisia (Lewisia nevadensis) and threeleaf lewisia (L. triphylla). I found two of the former species and a number of the latter in some bare patches of ground. Both were budded up, and there were even a few very inconspicuous flowers on the threeleaf lewisia. Clearly they could use some more moisture.
The pool on the way to the lake was almost dried out. Compare this to the photo from July 6, 2011, two months later, but in a year at the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of winter precipitation.
While the lake looked fine, the wetland along its borders seemed quite dry. It is usually difficult to get close to the lake in any season but especially early on. There is a beautiful spread of marsh marigolds (Caltha leptosepala) and mountain shooting stars (Dodecatheon jeffreyi), and they were coming into bloom, but they both seemed shorter than normal, and there was dry grass (or perhaps sedge) surrounding them. Usually during their bloom period, it is quite soupy here. With the help of a log, I was able to walk right up to the thick thicket of Geyer’s willows (Salix geyeriana), which were in bloom. Unable to go farther without boots, I took out the binoculars to see the first pink flowers of alpine laurel (Kalmia microphylla). I was discouraged with my record-keeping when I discovered it wasn’t on my list although I had known it was there for quite some time.
The small wetland hidden within a ring of alders had a lovely and pleasant-smelling display of skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus).
Beetles presumably nibbling on pollen from the tiny flowers on the spadix of skunk cabbage.
Once I’d returned to the trail, I headed back toward the car, thinking that it had been a pleasant and informative day but not particularly exciting. The orange trail markers take you back up to the trail just by a large patch of Sitka alder (Alnus viridis var. sinuata). I had peered into that gnarly thicket many times, wondering what plants might hide under there. Without any leaves (or flowers) out yet on the alders, I was able to spot the yellow spathes of skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) in full flower. It almost seemed like they were in an opening. I hesitated for only a moment before my curiosity got the better of me. Since I was alone, I didn’t have to worry about dragging someone else into the tangle of shrubs, or I might not have gone in. I’ve made the mistake of cutting through these areas before, and have a particularly bad memory of bushwhacking through one at Moon Point years ago in one of my early attempts at getting to the lake (pre-GoogleEarth for sure!). This one turned out to be surprisingly easy, and there was indeed an opening in the middle—sort of a “donut-hole” wetland. Along with skunk cabbage were marsh marigolds, shooting stars, and lots of heartleaf springbeauty (Claytonia cordifolia) just beginning to flower. I tried in vain to photograph a pretty male Sara’s orangetip alighting on some of its flowers.
American red currant (Ribes triste) running around under the alder thicket.
Ribes triste
There was a small creek running through this wetland and down into more alders. After another slight hesitation, my curiosity once again got the better of me. Who knows when I would have time to go back in here on another occasion. As I followed the creek trickling down into the alders, I immediately spotted something red. It hit me quickly—this might be the Ribes I’ve been looking out for the last few years—American red currant (Ribes triste). It was indeed! Suddenly my day got exciting. After 20 trips to Moon Point, I thought I might have seen it all. Funny how often new discoveries happen just as I’m winding down my day.
I wandered around under the alders for a while longer, trying to establish the extent of the population and photographing it. It was in perfect bloom, and a lucky thing that was, or I might not even have noticed it. The plants were shorter and less showy than some of the few populations I’ve seen. Still, that makes six sites I’ve found it at in the Western Cascades, and the Oregon Flora Project Atlas currently only has 12 records for it in the entire state, including multiple records from a small area around Mt. Hood but not including several of mine. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so surprised since Moon Point and the area in general has a large variety of currants and gooseberries (Ribes spp.). In fact, I’d seen 8 out of the 10 species I know of in the Western Cascades over the course of the day. I headed back home feeling very pleased that I’d finally explored the alder thicket, Robert Frost’s famous lines popping into my head, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Rove beetles?