Moss Turned

I have always enjoyed the look of a thick carpet of bright green moss covering the ground in a shaded woodland. It’s now getting more difficult to find that scene at Blue Jay Barrens. Some animal has decided that these moss beds need to be disturbed. I’m still not certain as to what species of animal is making this mess.

It almost looks like a wild dance had gone on here. Chunks of moss have been torn up and scattered about. Other sections have just been rolled back to expose the soil.

Rolled pieces are not torn or mashed. It’s as if each section had been carefully pealed back.

The exposed ground shows no signs of being disturbed.

There are no tracks, marks or scratches left by the mysterious moss turner. I can’t imagine any mammal being able to accomplish this feat without leaving some sort of sign. It’s possible that some bird is peeling back the moss to get at worms or grubs. I can imagine a Crow laying back the moss in this manner.

The pieces easily fit back into place and show no signs of trauma from the turning. I guess I won’t know for sure what’s happening until I can catch the perpetrator in the act.

More Flying Moss

I’m always watching for something that looks out of place, because that often leads to interesting discoveries. When I caught sight of this dark patch, I thought it was evidence that errant cows had paid a visit to Blue Jay Barrens. I average a visit from either cows or horses about twice in every three years. Usually it happens at the wettest time of year and they concentrate their activities on the yard and walking trails. The deep tracks remain through the summer to aggravate me whenever I walk or mow. Horses visited a few weeks ago, so it seemed unfair that I also had to deal with cows.

Closer examination revealed that I had actually seen a clump of moss masquerading as a cow plop. Actually, I’ll have to admit that the moss was innocently laying there being moss and I was the one who assigned a false identification. In my defense I’ll have to stipulate that the moss was looking uncharacteristically dark and bore a patterning that was definitely unmosslike. What is that blue-gray mottling on the moss clump?

Decomposing leaf fragments. This is not the way a leaf looks when it decomposes on the surface of the soil. This is what you expect a leaf to look like when it has been decomposing in a buried condition. So how was it buried and why is it clinging to the top of this clump of moss?

Knowing what the answer had to be, I flipped the moss over and discovered the true top of the moss clump. The leaf had spent its time decomposing beneath the moss clump, but was now exposed.

The brown patches in the moss along with the fungus strands growing beneath the clump, lead me to believe that the moss has resided here for a couple of months. Apparently this is another case of flying moss. I’ve always thought of moss as something stationary. Now, within a matter of a few weeks, I’ve discovered two cases of moss colonies moving to new locations.

This clump has reversed its growth direction and is now growing upward from what was once the bottom side. I’m still wondering about that leaf. If a leaf fell to the ground, would it remain intact long enough for moss to overgrow it? Not likely. I believe that this moss may be a frequent flier that, on an earlier flight, landed atop the leaf. The leaf began its decomposition beneath the moss clump and then ended up on the upper surface after the last move. Maybe moss is like the tumbleweed that frequently changes location through the power of the wind. I’ll have to start calling it tumblemoss.

Moss Puzzle

While walking through a cedar thicket, I came across a clump of moss that had been torn from the ground and left soil side up. It’s not really uncommon to find moss in this condition. Deer often kick up pieces of moss as they run. Turkeys and other animals frequently turn over moss in search of food.

Two things made me stop and question this chunk of moss. First was its size of nearly a foot square. Second was the fact that I couldn’t find where it had originally been growing. Moss disturbed by animals is normally close to its original position and is easily fitted back into place. Where had this moss come from?

Nearby was a place where the edges of the moss had been rolled up, but the patch of bare ground wasn’t nearly large enough to accommodate the loose patch of moss. Strangely, the ground didn’t show any signs of animal activity. When animals disturb moss, there are always definite scratch marks or footprints left by the perpetrator.

The moss that had been covered by the lose clump showed some signs of discoloration which indicated its cover had been in place at least a week, but probably less than a month.

I made a wide sweep around the area and could not find the source of the moss. I’m certain that it didn’t originate any nearer than 50 feet of its final resting place.

I decided to give the errant moss clump its own place in the cedar thicket. This is a very steep site. The topsoil may look dark and rich at first glance, but its depth is less than a quarter or an inch and very little besides moss grows here.

I’m always curious about how things colonize new areas. This moss is now prepared to expand into a new territory. I realize that my helping it find a secure place in which to grow is not a totally natural event, but if it had landed right side up upon arrival, there is a chance it could have survived and grown. There’s also the chance that the moss clump harbored viable seeds, insects or other soil organisms that can also establish themselves in this new territory.

As I continued with my walk, I came across another area of disturbed moss that lacked signs of any animal activity. The folded moss brought to mind the image of a throw rug on our front porch that folds over itself whenever there is a strong wind. Two weeks ago we had two separate storms with winds strong enough to shake the house and tear shingles from the barn roof. As I think back to images of shingles lifting up to disappear into the sky, I can imagine a clump of moss suffering the same fate. I wonder how many organisms travel on the wings of a storm to try their luck in a new location.

Moss Archipelago

When people think of forces that change the landscape, they usually think of large areas and unstoppable powers such as glaciers and volcanoes. I have to admit that Blue Jay Barrens was subject to that type of force millions of years ago in the form of a meteor strike, but when I think of landscape changing forces, I usually narrow my focus to those things that are confined within my property boundaries. I’m interested in how seemingly small factors determine the developmental course of an area.

Here we have a lumpy patch of moss. You might imagine that this is the result of mosses growing on lumpy ground. In this particular case, that’s not what happened. This is a rather level area that holds a lot of water during the winter and spring. Several factors have combined to produce this particular lumpy effect.

It all began when a cedar tree fell over onto a patch of grasses and blocked the sunlight. The grasses died and moss rapidly grew to carpet the area. The root and dead leaf masses of some of the grass clumps gave the mosses a less saturated substrate upon which to grow. The moss growing on the clumps prospered.

Each growing season has allowed the mosses to add to the foundation upon which they were established. The result reminds me of a cluster of South Seas Islands. Standing water seems to inhibit the moss growth, but growing conditions on the steep sided islands are ideal and the mosses flourish.

This is all because a tree fell. I always target sites of change as places that might hold something that I have not yet seen. Usually I’m rewarded and I embrace these areas as one more source of diversity for Blue Jay Barrens.

Antennae in the Snow

The snow continues to focus attention on those things that might have gone unnoticed. In this case, it appeared that there were little flags projecting from the snow.

Could these be tribal banners marking a tiny pixie encampment? At closer range, there appears to be a stalk that thickens near the end and then quickly narrows to a point. They look something like the antennae of a skipper. Maybe I’ve found the wintering grounds of the rare Polar Skipper.

No, it’s not animal. This is definitely a plant part. I’ll bet at least one of you has figured out what this is. Probably someone who recently had a couple of days intensive training on the subject.

Remove a little snow and we find the clump of moss to which these stalks belong. There’s nothing strange or exotic here at all. It’s just spore capsules from a moss plant. The snow gives a background that makes it easy to see some rarely noticed details.

It becomes harder to see the stalks and capsules as more of the moss is exposed. When the snow melts, this will all blend into the background of the forest floor.

Moss

This shot reminds me of flying above a stand of pines. Actually, we’re flying at an altitude of about six inches. This stand of pines is really a clump of moss.

From this angle it looks more like a collection of pine seedlings. I found a lot of this moss in the low areas of the field I mowed. It appears to be of the genus Polytrichum, most likely species commune.

The total height is about three inches and the color is a more vibrant green than indicated by the photos. It’s really thick in some places and displays a sparkly shine when reflecting the sunlight.

You can find it tucked down among the tall grass stems about any time of year, but it’s not until you mow that you can see how really wide spread it is. Its height puts it just below the cutting blade, so the mower effectively cleans everything off for an unobstructed view of the moss. I usually think of mosses as quite tiny plants and it’s really neat to find one this large.

The dark green moss is impossible to miss here. I really enjoy seeing groups of plants like this that I know little about. It means that I’m not likely to run out of things to study at Blue Jay Barrens.