Author: Pete Martin

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!  

Pete Martin. Photos by Pete Martin and Chris Cant

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.  

Pete Martin and Caz Walker

Photos by Pete Martin and Chris Cant

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

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.

Pete Martin

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!

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!