Ten folk braved the March snow to look at lichens near Hutton Roof this week. And there were half a dozen for the bryo option: this looking at small things is getting popular! Right on the wall by the meeting point in the village was Diploschistes muscorum, a crusty species that has the white-with-a-yellow-tinge crust of its commoner cousin Diploschistes scruposus, and the hollowed out apothecia too. But D. muscorum is parasitic on Cladonias (particularly on limestone in my experience). It seems to smother them, covering the podetia in a white blanket. And then eat them up before moving on to the mosses.
A short distance up the lane we found a limestone wall to occupy us for half an hour or so: Caloplaca flavescens, Diploicia canescens, Acrocordia conoidea and other typical species. The odd silicious rock had Parmelia saxatilis, Rhizocarpon geographicum and Opegrapha gyrocarpa to make them stand out. And then it was on to the Ash trees: with a lot of Physcia adscendens and Lecidella elaeochroma to discuss. Adjacent Punctelia subrudecta and Parmelia sulcata thalli gave good illustrations of their different pseudocyphellae: points versus lines. Bubbling Curlews and screeching Jays provided an interesting soundtrack.
And then there was an outcrop: Dermatocarpon miniatum as big as (small) elephants’ ears; bubbling thalli of Collema (now Lathagrium) auriforme and an unfamiliar tiny jelly lichen whose proportionally long extended lobes were pruinose at the tips. We discovered later that it is Scytinium (was Collema) fragile, confirmed by Brian Coppins. A well camouflaged moth was disturbed- initial investigations suggest Ectropis crepescularia – The Engrailed. Nearby walls had frilly Peltigera praetextata; the ash tree above had Pertusaria leioplaca and a couple of specimens – intriguing white apothecia, and one that turned out to be Gyalecta truncigena.
We pushed on through the Hazel woods. A real-life Coenognium (was Dimerella) lutea was compared with the front of Dobson. Pseudoschismatomma (was Opegrapha) rufescens was seen on an ash. We lunched on the limestone pavement of the Rakes, with Blue Moor Grass (Sesleria caerulea) at our feet and a snowy Ingleborough in view. Typical limestone outcrop species were quickly found: Squamarina cartilaginea; Petractis clausa; Collema cristatum etc. Protoblastenias were discussed. Was that a colour change with K or not? Could it be P. lilacina?
Higher up on the outcrops we found some beautiful rosettes of Caloplaca aurantia, the flat lobe ends contrasting nicely with the nearby convex ones of Caloplaca flavescens. We debated saxicolous Opegraphas, found Dermatocarpon luridum in a karren (non-geomorphologists might call it a runnel) and demonstrated the K/UV purple reaction of Porpidia tuberculosa on an erratic. We failed to find Solorina saccata. Maybe next time.
It began to rain, so headed down, though were delayed for a while by a wall with Lecidella scabra, Baeomyces rufus, Leptogium gelatinosum and a mysterious greeny C+ red crust with small white features. Is it young Trapelia coarctata? Somewhat eerily, we emerged onto the road just as the bryo party arrived from the other direction: perfect timing for a post-trip debrief. We found 90 or so species, all learnt at least something, and there’s samples to occupy us over the next few days. But we have barely scratched the surface of Hutton Roof…
Text: Pete Martin. Photos: Caz Walker, Chris Cant, Geoffrey Haigh, Pete Martin
Christmas was wet, too wet for doing much outside other than getting damper, so I made a good start on the book pile. Environmental campaigner Guy Shrubsole’s “ The Lost Rainforests of Britain” had a lot of publicity in the autumn: so lots more folk must now be aware of Britain’s rainforests. Job done? Well that must be part of his purpose. The paperback version will tell yet more people about them. And that must be a good thing.
Basically the book is a series of visits to woods, each one an opportunity for Guy to display his growing awareness and to raise issues. I can’t fault his enthusiasm. Indeed, I share it. Once he has discovered rainforests he visits lots; they obviously have a great effect upon him; he becomes a passionate advocate. There are suggested proposals for increasing their area. I can’t really fault them.
I could be picky: what makes something a temperate rainforest?; the species he describes are all too often the same; some of his claims about species and woods and discoveries may be disputed by some; there’s insufficient (to my mind) discussion of the variety of different Atlantic woods. There’s a preponderance (unsurprisingly) of woods near where he lives in south-west England: there’s relatively little about Scottish, Welsh and Cumbrian sites. But, as I said, I’m being picky.
For Cumbrian sites he goes to Johnny’s Wood in Borrowdale and Young Wood near Mungrisdale. I’m not sure those are the best places to go. But that’s from my local lichen perspective and it’s hard to disparage a book where Sticta,Lobaria and others get regular mentions. And maybe we don’t want to encourage too many folk to go near the very special places…
Did it enthuse me? No, but I’m grabbed already. Did it make me want to go to new places? Yes, it’s 30 years since I went to a wood in south west England, so it must be time for a visit soon. Do I recommend it? Well it depends on who you are. If you know a lot about lichens/ bryophytes/ wet woods it may disappoint. And you may be picky. But if you want to broaden the interest, then it may be a good one to suggest for people.
And so to Eoghan Daltun’s “An Irish Atlantic rainforest”. There’s a story here: rebuilding an old house in Dublin; learning about sculpture in Italy; buying a fascinating property in County Cork; fencing it to stop overgrazing killing the woodland. There’s little detail about the wildlife, but great local landscape and social history. The power of a good rainforest to enthuse and interest is revealed. But there’s a series of (to me) blander, less interesting chapters on rewilding and the impoverished state of Ireland’s ecosystems. I knew about that anyway, and maybe I’m spoilt by Tim Robinson’s detailed stories. So I ended up a little disappointed. Not by what Eoghan is doing, which is great, or by what he wants to happen, but by the book. Ho hum.
And then it was Vincent Zonca’s “Lichens: Towards a minimal resistance”, recently translated from the French. It’s a wide ranging tour of art, thought, poetry, prose, biology, ecology, symbiosis, mutualism, philosophy and just about everything else that lichens touch on, or that touch on lichens. The index includes, among those I’ve heard of, John Cage, William Wordsworth, Peter Kropotkin, Salvador Dali, David Hawksworth, Barry Lopez and Rosa Parks. And then there’s all the others.
At times the book is almost unreadable, at times inspiring, at times revealing, at times just pointing at rabbit holes (have a look at: https://www.oscarfurbacken.se/works/urbanlichen). Rather appropriately, there’s a lot going on, and it’s time consuming to deal with it, even superficially. Have I thought a bit more about things and linkages? Yes. Do I understand it all? No. Does it make me want to know more? Yes. Will I come back to it? Surely, on many occasions. If only to find suitable quotes and inspiration: “Thinking like lichen allows us to know our ecosystem better, and the everyday environments of our wanderings”(p213). It’s time to go outside in the rain.
Autumns are always wet in the Lakes, and our trip to Baysbrown Wood was no exception to the seasonal rule. We postponed the first date because of the forecast and folk were asking about whether we’d go ahead with the second date…
We met at Elterwater, on a relatively dry morning, and walked up along moss and Peltigera lined walls. Both the bryophyte and lichen parties did very well at not getting distracted. Once in the wood proper though, the bryo party were off like a rocket: headed for a fixed monitoring point where there’s a rare-in-the-Lakes species called Plagiochila heterophylla. We ambled along in the same direction: it was an Atlantic woodland species they were excited about, so maybe there would be lichens worth looking at nearby.
And there were: we quickly found Thelotrema lepadinum on the first ash we looked at, together with copious Normandina pulchella and the pointy pycnidia of Anisomeridium polypori. Heading up towards the top of the wood we found lots of Hypogymnia physodes and Parmelia saxatilis on the larches. And even though the oaks weren’t that old, we quickly found some Micarea alabastrites too. It has white apothecia and is an indicator of acid bark in oceanic woodlands.
We navigated our way through the tumbledown victims of Storm Arwen from almost exactly a year ago, to look at hazels below the encroaching quarry spoil tips. They felt very old and very mossy, and there was an almost timeless feeling about them. The charcoal pitsteads and slate waste heaps told a story of past industrial activity though, and beyond Graphis scripta, G. elegans and Pertusaria leioplaca there was relatively little in the way of interesting crusts. We did find fertile Normandina pulchella: perithecia immersed in elongated squamules. I can’t remember seeing that before.
A little lower down, and the bryo party showed us their target species: and a fine, blueish, toothed thing it was too. There were some little cliffs with interesting (basic-rock loving) mosses, but nothing in the way of more basic-rock loving lichens, though it was all so wet they could have been hidden by water. There were Peltigera praetextata, P. hymenina and P. membranacea on moss on the slate waste. We edged our way down, and started to descend into a zone of ashes and oaks and birches; the latter had our first Hypotrachyna species of the day.
But that’s when the heavens opened, and it wasn’t a day to be arguing with the weather. So we sidled away, via a couple of trees alongside the path that held Cetrelia olivetorum and Peltigera horizontalis. We’ll have to come again another time to see the Bryorias I’d noticed on a quick recce last month and find what else the site holds.
Unforecast snatches of sun welcomed us at Mungrisdale. And, once again, we were barely distracted on a long walk in along a good track. Barely distracted I said. There was Trapeliopsis gelatinosa on a soil underhang, but that was it. Apart from several caterpillars and what must have been an oddly plumaged juvenile Kestrel.
But all changed once we rounded the corner of the moraine and were by the tarn. The wind got up. The temperature dropped by several degrees. The cloud thickened. There was no sign of the immortal trout legends say live in the waters. But there were lichens.
A big boulder at the water’s edge occupied us for quite a while, providing a good range of acid rock species: Lecanora intricata and L. soralifera; Parmelia omphalodes, Ochrolechia androgyna, Ionaspis lacustris and Scoliciosporum umbrinum to name a few. A sorediate and fertile crust proved to be Tephromela grumosa. Chris ventured out to an island and found Protoparmelia badia. The stepping stones and gusty wind didn’t make for a relaxed journey when others followed!
Lunch was taken in a hollow where the wind was a little less gusty. There were plentiful Cladonia species amongst the mosses, and Stereocaulons on the glacial boulders: both varieties of S. vesuvianum, S. evolutum and S. dactylophyllum. Presumably the boulders were metal rich. A small Cetraria remained unidentified to species: were the podetia rounded or flattened? Were there any psuedocyphellae and where were they? It seemed best to leave it where it was.
We headed up towards the north-facing back wall of the corrie, where damp little cliffs held the odd tree out of reach of the sheep. Rusty nodules suggested the rocks were metal rich. Caz found the small brown squamules of Massalongia carnosa growing among mosses on a damp face. Beneath a Rowan tree was a Peltigera, the only one we’d found all day. Much discussion ensued. It was glossy, with upturned edges. A slash in its upper surface revealed a white medulla. There was a bit of pruina to the end of one of the lobes at least. Underneath, the centre was dark and there were white patches between flat, spreading veins. The rhizines were pretty pathetic. It went C+ red. So we tentatively thought it was Peltigera neckeri. If it is, it’s the first record for the Lake District, although there are 36 records in the Cumbrian Pennines.
Just yards further on, we found the greeny cracked-mud thallus of Myriospora smaragdula. On a nearby ledge, Chris pointed out a rusty patch. Was it a lichen? Nearby were some small, scattered squamules. Their rims were thicker and paler than the centres, and they looked for all the world like Stereocaulon vesuvianum phyllocladia that are sometimes described as “button-like”. But without the pseudopodetia. Dobson was consulted. K was applied: it went yellow. But so do all the Stereocaulons. UV produced a white reaction. We think we have Stereocaulon leucophaeopsis. Of which not a lot has been found in the Lakes.
After all that excitement, things were bound to slow down. We ambled along the cliffs a bit, but didn’t make it very far before deciding to call it a day, and descend. In fact, we’d barely started to make it along that corrie wall. There’s some interesting looking scree (which might be mine spoil), some interesting looking cliffs and who knows what those trees will have? So we’ll have to come back another time…
It was a small but select band of five who met at High Row above Matterdale on a cool, and at times damp, July morning. Layers (including overtrousers!) were put on, and in a break with tradition the lichen folk and bryophyte folk set off along the track together. Within half a mile, layers were being shed. But in a further break with tradition it was more than a mile before the pleas to “just have a look at this boulder” were agreed to by the trip leader.
But what a boulder it was: a big lump of Borrowdale volcanics perched by the side of the path. It had the “usual” Parmelia saxatilis and P.omphalodes, Rhizocarpon geographicum, Ophioparma ventosa and so forth. But we found Cetraria muricata (and the more common C. aculeata); a small greeny lobe of Tuckermanopsis chlorophylla amongst grey Platismatia glauca; abundant Ochrolechia tartarea; the black squiggles of Lithographa tesserata; brown squamules of Schaereria cinerorufa. In total, we identified over 35 species. We thought an expert might have got 50.
Eventually, we prised ourselves away and headed along to Wolf Crags. If you’ve never been, it’s a cracking north-facing corrie at the end of the Helvellyn range, with views over the moorland to the A66, Blencathra and Scotland. There’s crags, with trees and other vegetation: some of it quite rich and out of reach of the grazers. There’s a lovely moraine dating from the last glaciation: the Loch Lomond Stadial (or Younger Dryas if you prefer to think of it that way).
We wandered across the corrie floor, examined gravels and boulders, and after lunch, headed up to explore the crags. We were hoping for a bit of more basic rock, though didn’t find any. There were lush ledges of Wood Rush, Golden Rod and Foxgloves; a good selection of acid rock lichens including Protopannaria pezizoides. A rowan overhanging a cliff had an unexpected colony of Dimerella lutea, and as we moved along the cliff face the ground became more tricky and time-consuming.
Our aim was to refind the previously recorded Peltigera britannica, and Solorina saccata. We had grid references, and made it to one of the Peltigera sites at the base of a mossy cliff. Usually, it would be damper there, but it was July, and we had to wet the lichen to turn it green. Close examination showed the differences from P. leucophlebia, the other Peltigera that contains green algae: more concave cephalodia; much less obvious veins underneath; few and sparse rhizines. But we didn’t find the second Peltigera britannica site as we ascended a gully. Or perhaps I should say we did find the grid reference, but didn’t find the lichen. It didn’t really seem like the right habitat. And nor did we find the Solorina: this prefers more basic rocks and we didn’t find anything that looked suitable. Ho hum, we’ll have to come back another time…
… the journey back from the top of the crags was straightforward, though we did find a lovely example of Lichenomphalia umbellifera to detain us. The Lichenomphalias are basidiomycetes (rather than ascomycetes like most lichens) and have what appears to be a mushroom (maybe it is a “mushroom”!) rising from the thallus below. A rather other worldly thing to record as the last species of the day!
I’d not heard of Helbeck Wood until recently, though I knew the silhouette of Fox Tower and the haze of trees beneath it from journeys over the A66. The SSSI citation describes it as “considered by some to be the best ash-elm wood left on limestone in England”. Access has always been difficult or strictly limited, and yet it stands out on the species maps as one of only 4 grid squares in Westmorland with over 140 species found (most of the records date from the 1970s). One member of the CLBG knows the family who own it, so we had a way in…
… but first I had to do a reconnaissance (health and safety you know). I had a grid reference on the GPS for Lobaria pulmonaria found in 2015, and headed for that. I followed the one track through thick woodland; lots of young ash trees; drifts of bluebells and ramsons. It was too dark for much lichen growth on the young trees, but the bigger, older ones had lots of Thelotrema lepadinum which seemed promising. The path narrowed, led to a mire and stopped. Machine guns rattled on the military range next door. The bearing led me up onto a block scree studded with flowers: woodruff, early purple orchids and hairy rock cress stand out in the memory. I never made it to the grid reference. Because before I got there I found 3 other trees with Lobaria pulmonaria and one with Nephroma laevigatum. A pied flycatcher lured me up to an easier return route via another Lobaria tree. Things augured well for the proper group trip.
And so it was that eight of us formed the lichen party on a dry and sunny – if cool – morning. We moved more slowly through the lower woods: there was lots of regeneration, even if much of it was ash and suffering from obvious dieback. We found lots of Thelotrema lepadinum (again), and more Cliostomum griffithii than I’m used to, together with the usual Cumbrian woodland species. A young waxy thallus caused some confusion – but turned out to be Pyrenula chlorospila. We don’t see a lot of Pyrenulas. A green isidiate species is thought to be Bacidina sulphurella, or modesta as it has been renamed. There was plentiful Lecanactis abietina on the drier side of trees. Normandina pulchella was found growing on the same piece of liverwort as Micarea lignaria. The flowers were a frequent distraction. Today’s artillery sound was a series of deep “crumps”.
Slowly, we moved uphill from bluebell patch to bluebell patch. And then came out into more open rocky terrain and sunshine. The first Lobaria pulmonaria tree was found: Peltigera horizontalis and Bilimbia sabuletorum kept it company. Together with a lovely clump of wood sorrel. The more open landscape gave some limestone species, and then the party split: some went in search of more Lobaria, some returned the easier way.
The Lobaria party report that the steep upper slopes of the wood show the underlying limestone with many small outcrops. In one area, semi-vegetated scree, consisting of smaller loose rocks, changes to a jumble of huge blocks each the size of a van, presumably left by the action of ice on the limestone scar above. Deep shaded cavities between these boulders provide a damp mossy habitat. Thalli of Dermatocarpon miniatum 5+cm across were widespread growing directly on the rock, along with Caloplaca xantholyta, Lepraria nivalis and many jelly lichens. Here, there are scattered ancient ash trees, appearing significantly older than any seen lower down. We were heading to a good grid reference for an ash supporting Lobaria pulmonaria, reported in 2015. One tree at that location had split, with half now fallen, still with some L. pulmonaria on the bark. However the standing part had a larger patch. A healthy colony of Nephroma laevigatum was on an adjacent tree. Within 10m or so we found a total of five ash trees with L pulmonaria, four of which had not been previously reported, with a small amount fertile (not common in Cumbria). Also on ash in the vicinity were two instances of Mycobilimbia pilularis (pinky-brown convex fruit on a green-grey thallus) and Gyalecta flotowii (tiny semi-immersed pale orange discs with a thick margin) which was confirmed later by examining spores microscopically. One smooth-barked young ash had Pyrenula chlorospila (also seen lower in the wood), not common in Cumbria though more frequent in southern England, with a waxy pale brown-orange thallus and very small perithecia. This specimen also had an outer ring of pycnidia (minute dots where asexual spores are made) which are not mentioned in the literature for P chlorospila, though common in other Pyrenula species.
The “easy route” party found Strigula taylorii on Sycamore in the darker part of the wood, Normandina pulchella growing on Parmelia saxatilis, and picked up some species in the parkland trees. As a final shot, Diploicia canescens was found growing on an oak tree just by the hall. Whilst not a rare species, I’ve not sure I’ve seen it growing on trees in Cumbria before.
We made over 140 records, including I think over 15 new species for the site. And it felt as though there was plenty more ground to be explored. A big thank you to the owners for letting us visit. A concern, obviously, is that most of the rarer species are on ash trees. So far, the older ones seem to be surviving in the face of dieback, but it remains to be seen what the next few years will bring to this remarkable place.
I’ve often wondered about canopy lichens: are the same species found at the top of trees as on branches lower down? Are the sticks I pick up from the ground representative of what’s going on above?
It’s an ill wind
Storm Arwen gave an opportunity to find out. Strong winds (from the north!) barrelled down the Rydal Beck valley and caused mayhem with the trees around Ambleside. Woodland trees crashed like dominoes, many isolated veterans fell. Those on the roches moutonnées fared worst, especially the conifers. Local tree surgeons said there’d been nothing like it since 1989. Thankfully, I don’t think any of the special trees in Rydal Park succumbed. But it wasn’t just trees. Some were left without power for days; many houses needed roof work. Tragically, there was a fatality in Rothay Park.
Conifers were perhaps the worst affected
Things have changed at Loughrigg Brow
Rydal Park
But Arwen also brought the canopy within view. So a couple of weeks after the event I spent two days looking at twigs. In each of seven areas within a kilometre or so of the village I picked five fallen trees/ large boughs (in one area I miscounted and looked at a sixth tree!). For each of those trees I picked three “twigs”: the first I came to, the last I’d pass as I walked by, and the one in the middle that seemed to protrude furthest. For each “twig” I tried to identify (and count) the species of lichen that grew on the outermost 70cm (the length of my folded trekking pole). Each species was counted only once per twig. Those that were unidentifiable in the field were taken home for microscopy.
A lot of lichens came down with the trees
In total I obtained 540 records, from 108 twigs. I managed to give 45 names to lichen: some were only identifiable to genus/group, often because they were too young to have developed reproductive features. I made no attempt to identify beyond “ Lecanora chlarotera sensu latu”. A couple of “mystery” specimens remain unnamed. I’m sure I missed some, and a more experienced lichenologist would no doubt have found more.
The “top ten” species (by number of twigs) are in the table below:
Parmelia sulcata
51
( also 1 Parmelia unidentifiable to species)
Melanelixia subaurifera
48
Physcia tenella
36
(also 7 Physcia unidentifiable to species)
Physcia aipolia
34
Evernia prunastri
32
Lecanora “chlarotera” s.l.
30
Punctelia subrudecta
27
Hypotrachyna revoluta sensu strictu
24
(also 36 Hypotrachyna revoluta s.l)
Lecidella elaechroma
24
Hypotrachyna afrorevoluta
21
(also 36 Hypotrachyna revoluta s.l.)
Perhaps there are no really big surprises. But I wasn’t expecting Parmelia sulcata to be the “most common” species. I was surprised at how frequent Melanelixia subaurifera was, and also how much Physcia aioplia there was. Young lobes of H. revoluta/afrorevoluta that didn’t display soredia mean they feature lower down in the top ten. Parmelia saxatilis wasn’t anything like as common as I was expecting: I’d never noticed its relative scarcity on twigs compared to branches/trunks.
The next table shows the species that were “bubbling under”, with between 10 and 20 records.
Ramalina farinacea
16
Hypogymnia tubulosa
15
(also 12 to Hypogymnia genus)
Arthopyrenia punctiformis
15
Parmelia saxatilis
15
Caloplaca cerinella
13
Usnea subfloridana
11
Xanthoria parietina
10
It was pleasing to note that Xanthoria parietina was not that common, but Caloplaca cerinella (also thought to favour nutrient enrichment) seemed very widespread.
And it’s here that absences/“rarities” begin to show up. Hypogymnia physodes was only found once (though maybe some of the young Hypogymnias were that species). Platismatia glauca was only found once, though was common enough further down twigs and on branches: it obviously doesn’t develop on the younger, thinner stems. Physcia adscendens, which I see relatively rarely in my home square, wasn’t found at all (though some of the young Physcia without soredia might have been that species).
Many foliose species commonly seen on tree trunks/larger branches only appeared once or twice, for example: Flavopermelia caperata, Normandina pulchella, Parmotrema perlatum, Hypotrachyna laevigata and Melanelixia glabratula. Melanelixia exasperata, which I’d previously thought of as being rare, occurred 5 times. Maybe it’s more common that I had thought. I found Arthopyrenia cineropruinosa for the first time and found one specimen of Eopyrenula grandicula, a species not recorded in Westmorland until last year but that I’m beginning to think is relatively common in South Lakeland.
The mean number of species found per twig was 5. Eight twigs has no lichen visible on them, the most on any one twig was 12. Most of the trees looked at (26/36) were oaks. These proved to have a higher mean number of species per twig (oak mean: 5.53, non-oak mean: 3.6). No non-oak twig managed more than 9 species, though an impressive old cherry did manage 9, 8 and 8 species on its 3 twigs.
Whilst the mean species per twig was 5, it differed between twigs: that for both the first and third twig per tree was 4.7, for the middle twig it was 5.58. Perhaps the twig that sticks out the furthest gets more species of lichen on it than those lower down.
Examining trees in distinct areas enabled comparisons between the number of species found in each area. The two woodlands surveyed produced two of the three lowest mean number of species per twig, 2.5 and 4.66. Trees surveyed in woodlands were more likely to be “not oaks”, but discounting non-oaks still gave woods the lowest and third lowest means. So there would appear to be fewer species on woodland trees than those in parks/ farmland/ wood pasture.
Overall, there did not appear to be a relationship between the number of species and distance from the village. However, for particular species there may well be: Usnea subfloridana was not found in Rothay Park or on Stoney Lane, the areas nearest the village. As for nitrogen loving/tolerant species, plotting total of Physcia/Xanthoria species against distance from the village centre suggested an inverse relationship, though it was not significant at 95% level. It would appear that they are more common nearer the village and Rydal Farm, and less common further away and in woodlands. Whilst 7/10 Xanthoria records were near the village or farm, the widespread occurrence of Physcia species suggests nitrogen pollution is beginning to have an effect across a wider area: it may be worth exploring this further.
As ever, a simple study like this has thrown up more questions than it answered, as well as getting me looking at twigs more carefully. I’ve learnt something new about which lichens grow where on a tree; that some lichens I think are common are maybe less so and vice versa. It would be interesting to compare these results with trees from other areas, particularly further away from built up areas and in the Cumbrian lowlands. Roll on the next storm? No, I’m not asking for another one.
The morning mists melted away as a select foursome met by the Fell End Clouds quarry. Previous visits by lichen recorders had concentrated on the area nearest the road, so we decided to aim high; to head for the old metal mines and eastward squares with few or no records.
Of course, things didn’t quite work as planned: limestone boulders immediately grabbed our attention. Caloplaca flavescens, Squamarina cartilaginea, Acarospora cervina, Placynthium nigrum and Dermatocarpon miniatum were expected but no less lovely for that. The lack of corticolous species in the previous lists suggested the sycamore standing above the pavement had not been previously investigated so that detained us for a while. Beneath it, Acrocordia conoidea glowed pink on the shady rock, and Bilimbia sabuletorum was there on the adjacent mosses.
A short distance uphill and we found ourselves by Harry Hope’s Land; enclosed fields with an old barn/house. The Helga Frankland guide suggested Harry lived here up to 1820, but the barn seemed to be dated 1832. We couldn’t resist a look at the pollard ash, and found sheets of Pertusaria albescens and some P. pertusa. Back on the limestone, we edged around the enclosure and made it up onto pavements where heavy pebbles and green-coloured splashes indicated mineralization and mining waste. A party of skylarks headed north, four grey wagtails headed south. There was a record of Solorina saccata here, though we couldn’t find it: but there was plenty of Peltigera leucophlebia about.
We headed east: Chris found some squamulose species on a low cliff including Romjularia lurida adjacent to Acaraspora cervina. Finally, we reached the unrecorded square and set to busily. There were lovely fossils, Peltigeras and common limestone species including the inset jewels of Protoblastenia incrustans. Chris and Caz picked up Farnoldia jaurana: it handily lived up to its name of “the cover slip breaker”. Eagle-eyed Caz found an Agonimia, now confirmed as A. globulifera. The only previous Cumbria record for this is far away at Askam-in-Furness! A short distance on and we were onto siliceous rocks, with Parmelias saxatilis and omphalodes;Pertusaria pseudocorallina; Cladonia portentosa and C. uncialis biuncialis among the bryophyte and sphagnum mounds.
Further on still we found a swallow hole/ limestone outcrop bearing signs of caver activity. Among the rocks we found Peltigera rufescens and Solorina saccata on the north facing slope. Opegrapha dolomitica was revealed in a little gully. The swallow hole area demanded more time, but the afternoon was slipping away. We headed back towards the road via another sycamore amidst bigger mining trenches, dating presumably from the Napoleonic Wars: Phaeophyscia orbicularis and Normandina pulchella were perhaps the highlights.
It was time to go, but on the way back down we found consolation Felwort (autumn gentian) and Carline thistle. It’s predictable, and we say it every time, but it felt as though we had merely scratched the surface of Fell End Clouds: another visit would be well worthwhile.
2020 was a difficult year. Covid disrupted the usual routines; courses and face-to-face meetings were cancelled; injury affected lots of things too. Thank goodness for lichens! Shortly before the first lockdown began, Chris Cant produced maps of lichen records in Cumbria, including the number of records for each square. So many squares had no records…
… and even in my relatively well-surveyed home 10km square (NY30- Ambleside area) nearly half the monads seemed unvisited. Shortly beforehand, I had started sending in lichen records to Janet Simkin at the British Lichen Society (BLS). So it seemed like a challenge was being laid down: I’d try to record from all the 1km squares in my home hectad.
Needless to say, I failed in my attempt to visit all the squares in 2020: recurrent injury put paid to that. But by summer 2021 the project was complete. There’s over 3000 records on the BLS database and I can safely say that local square recording is a great way to explore an area’s lichens and habitats. I have moved out of the woods and spend more time looking at rocks and walls and buildings. And that desire to get to grips with what I can find locally has significantly improved my identification skills.
Partly because of this, comparisons of the numbers of species found in different squares (and so on) don’t really bear scrutiny: I made no attempt to make visits comparative. But a quick glance at the records shows the only lichen found in every square was Parmelia saxatilis, though Rhizocarpon geographicum (91 records) wasn’t far behind. I was fairly pleased by the “rarity” of Xanthoria parietina (53 squares): maybe nitrogen pollution isn’t quite as overwhelming as I sometimes fear. I found Normandina pulchella in a perhaps surprising 74 squares. That can’t just be because it’s very recognisable: there must be a lot of suitable habitat for it.
Along the way I found lots of interesting lichens: a new site for Sticta fuliginosa s.l. (in a quarry used by outdoor activity centres); the first Bunodophoron melanocarpum and Micarea alabastrites in the South Lakes, the first Gyalecta derivata in Westmorland. And “just outside the square” were a new crag with Umbilicaria crustulosa and a new site for Lobaria virens in Langdale. But more importantly I have learnt a great deal about the lichens of the area and their habitats. I might not have found any “new” woods overflowing with Lobarion, but I’ve discovered hitherto unsuspected basic crags in acid-rocked valleys, and developed an interest in old barns. Peltigera leucophlebia turns out (to my surprise) to be not uncommon on the fells; once I got my eye in Anisomeridium polypori is often to be found on older trees.
There have also, of course, been memorable human interactions: the potential Samaritan who saw me lying by a rock and stopped their car in the middle of a usually busy road to check I was Ok; the young man from Wuhan touring Britain in the midst of the first lockdown (!); the man who was delighted when I showed him Stenocybe septata on an old holly and taught me the Gaelic word “Eolas”, knowledge gained by experience. An apt word for lichen hunting?
As an obsessive walker, cyclist and explorer I thought after nearly 20 years that I knew my local area pretty well. But the need to visit each square kilometre has had me visiting paths and tributary valleys I never knew existed; exploring the little grove of oaks I can see from my window that has never been on the way to anywhere (a nice patch of Sphaerophorus globosus since you ask). And then there’s what I call the lichen by-catch: the first wood warbler of 2020, migrating whooper swans crossing the fells and purple hairstreaks in Langdale.
Questions have been thrown up: whilst so many woodlands have Hypotrachyna laevigata, why is it often on just the one tree? Why is Physcia adscendens so relatively (only 5 squares) rare here? And realisations have been made made: the lichens of basic rocks are pretty widespread thanks to lime mortar creating suitable little “cliffs”. How woodland rocks must have been a vital refuge over the centuries of coppicing and clear felling: Ochrolechia androgyna, Sphaerophorus globosus and Mycoblastus sanguinarius (amongst others) could survive on boulders and cliffs when there were no trees.
So what’s the next project? Shall I go south to SD39, or south east to SD49? Or maybe I should follow the example of peak baggers and do another round? For if the year and a bit of monad recording has taught me one thing, it’s that there is an almost limitless scope for getting out and exploring the many and varied habitats of my local area, learning about its species and trying to understand their ecology. And how a relatively small area, albeit a very varied one, can hold my interest.
Many of the lichens you see up on the fells are hard to tell apart. But one that is easy to identify is Ophoparma ventosa, the blood spot lichen. Once you’ve seen it, you’ll remember it. And you might not even need a hand lens!
Ophioparma ventosa showing red spots middle-bottom
It’s a crusty, cracked and rough (sometimes warty) splodge on the rocks with big (up to about 3mm!), flat, red fruiting bodies (apothecia to give them their proper name) that stand out from quite a distance. They look like blood spots: sometimes dried blood, sometimes a bit fresher. Young fruits can have a paler margin.
Funnily enough, there are two different types of Ophioparma ventosa, which can be found next to each other if you’re lucky. One has a grey coloured thallus (main body of the lichen) with a bit of a pinky tinge, the other is a yellowy-grey. The difference is that the yellow one contains Usnic acid (which gives it the colour).
If you’re in any doubt about whether it’s Ophioparma, you can put some K (caustic soda) on it: the thallus goes a yellow-orange colour, the apothecia a purplish-blue.
You’ll find it on rough-grained acid rocks (boulders, outcrops, cliffs and walls) across Cumbria: British Lichen Society records show it from the Duddon Valley; near Beetham; towards Tan Hill and in Bowness on Solway as well as on the Lake District Fells, where it’s most common. But, at the time of looking, there were only 68 records across the county.
The distribution seems really patchy. Sometimes you see loads of it: on a recent day up one side of Red Screes it seemed to be on almost every rock. But then a few days later, on the other side of Red Screes, I didn’t find any at all. The difference is probably to do with rock type.
If you look at Ophioparma ventosa very carefully through a hand lens, you’ll maybe see some black blobs on the surface as well. Now sometimes these are the lichen’s pycnidia, from where asexual spores are released. But they might also be a lichenicolous fungus called Muellerella ventosicola. This has recently been seen for the first time in England (Devon) and was then found almost immediately in Cumbria. I haven’t yet found it myself, but I’ve started looking at the black dots just a bit more closely!
We’d like to know more about where Ophioparma ventosa is in Cumbria. Next time you see some, take a photo on your phone, grab a grid reference for it (https://gridreferencefinder.com/) …and then let us know! Together we can track the blood spots!
