See your specimens afresh using the amazing microscope

Student B and I have spent a very interesting afternoon photographing his wasps and bees using the lovely microscope and its camera. We tried to identify some but I fear my brain is starting to succumb to lack of sunshine - despite taking a walk at lunchtime. We did discover, however, that this amazing creature is one of the Chrysidoidea or Ruby-tailed wasps. There are 31 species in the UK! Who would have thought it. It makes me regret not spending more time searching for insects in the summer.

Look at the iridescence (don't look at the pin, which was a bit of a poor choice, being so enormous compared to the wasp). My boss suggested the vivid metallic colours might be a result of interference. The body is also quite bumpy, which must scatter the light even more and improve the effect? We were wondering why it should be so attractive, when it actually sneaks about parasitising other types of wasp. Who knows.

I haven't got many classes from now until Christmas, so if you want some help with your own samples, or to take some pictures, please do send an email or drop by. A few interesting photos would be great stuck into your notebook and annotated. I'm here until the bitter end, i.e. the week after the end of term.

Scientific names and their derivations

I have been busy over the last few weeks, and I imagine you've been working hard too. However, I seem to have fewer practicals to worry about between now and the end of term. So if you do want to come in to look at your plants or creatures, I can offer you both some time. Just send me an email (or turn up on spec if you prefer to live more on the edge).

I hope you are still managing to find things here and there, even if other assignments are taking precendence at the moment. I think it's good if you can go for a wander somewhere (as we did on the field trip to Lower Woods the other week) because you never know what you might find, and also it's beneficial to periodically relax your brain.

Andrena fulva, CC image by Sarah.

I was having a cup of tea outside the lab the other day and saw a small bee struggling on the ground. It was super furry and had a very orange bum - very striking. I looked it up and I think it was Andrena fulva, the Tawny mining bee. I can't imagine what an adult would be doing out at this time of year - they're more of a spring/early summer species. But it was rather nice.

Today I found something else you might like, a dictionary of scientific names. I've posted links to such things before, but this book is actually less than 100 years old, whatever next (it's not like Latin changes, does it). But this book is very clearly set out and I like it. So I thought I'd look up 'Andrena fulva', as quite often the translations can be quirky - plus it gives one an air of knowlegeability when you can translate a bit of Latin. However, it seems that 'Andrena' actually means 'bee', which is a bit of an unimaginative choice. And 'fulvus' means reddish yellow... you've guessed it, 'tawny'. Never mind. You may have more interesting results with your own species.
A link to the pdf: Dictionary of Word Roots and Combining Forms by Donald J Borrer.

Some field notebooks from last year

Only part of Student T's excellent snail collection.

 I thought you might like to see some of the notebooks that were submitted last year.

They're called "field notebooks" because you're supposed to write in them in the field - so don't be precious about keeping yours all neat and tidy. Obviously you can't help bearing in mind that someone's going to look at it and mark it. But remember it's also there to aid your quest for knowledge. If you develop a habit of scribbling in it every time you pick up a specimen, you won't have to entrust your brain with all the details of where, when and what was about. The information will all be there, ready to help you with identification and labelling.

I admit it, I'm not too good at this habit myself. But it is one to cultivate. My favourite collection last year was Student T's snails. He got 13/15 for his notebook - the marker wrote "Excellent detail and diagrams - good note taking discipline". He found a lot of snails. He got very, very into it (he deserved his exceptional mark of 87% without a doubt). I admit, I found myself with Shell Envy when he brought in species I'd never seen before.

To jolly up your field notes, remember that "a picture paints a thousand words" - take a photo and annotate it. The pages above are from Student H's moss notebook. (She's just been in to collect her mosses and told me all about her ongoing moss-related placement in the Pennines. It sounds Amazing. She already has moss plans for her final year project. This is so gratifying to hear. I do hope some of you will similarly want to take your new skill further).

What's really lovely is if you can sketch a little diagram in the field (the markers love that) to give some similar context - the relative position of your seaweed on the beach, or the distinctive outline of your tree, or the way your mushroom was growing out of some rotten logs. This is detail and information that will be lost once you've spirited your specimen out of its habitat, but relatively easy to show with an annotated photo or diagram.

Another thing you could do is shown below - someone has plotted their finds on an aerial photograph. They've also given some reasons for why they tried the different locations (that they believed they would find different species living in woodlands, grasslands, and places with different types of soil).

Another important use for your notebook is to show the thinking behind your identifications. The writer of the  book below (it's snails again, you'll be thinking I'm obsessed) has carefully included
- the location and habitat
- the date
- a little sketch with measurements and whorl count
- a description of the snail's features
- and a run-through (with key couplet numbers) of a suitable snail key.
They've also got a little photo they've evidently taken through a microscope or lens.
Plus of course, they've recorded their eventual decision on the name of the creature at hand.
This is all very good.

The booklet below was kept by someone collecting spiders. It's quite interesting that they've stuck in a little aide-memoire table that reminds them to note different features like size, eye arrangement, type of web, etc. It's also useful that they mention what the spider was up to when they found it (in an orb web, wrapping up their dinner) - you really will forget this sort of thing unless you write it down in the field. I think maybe the page I've photographed is a bit thin on detail! But maybe it helps you get the idea. Overall they got a first. Considering you can get 15% on the notebook, making a bit of effort here really can make the difference to your overall mark.

Here's another appallingly out-of-focus photo from a more detailed spider notebook (apologies).  Hopefully you can see how a notebook can be both a bit messy and still contain lots of information. There's no need to spend time carefully copying stuff up neatly, or making it all mistake-free. Just record the things you find useful and interesting - the person marking it will recognise your effort.

Finally, below is a similar page from someone who did Hymenoptera (ants, wasps and bees). They've gone even fancier with coloured pencil. You might say, why not take a photo? But often you will find that a drawing is the best way to bring out the details that are important. We're used to seeing amazing photos on the internet and in nature documentaries. But taking them is actually very difficult. With a drawing you can focus attention on particular shapes, colours or patterns. Why faff about trying to photograph the claws on your beetle's tarsi (feet) if you can quickly sketch them? Don't be scared. This isn't the art class and there aren't extra points for... (whatever it is they hand out points for - I still don't really know even after being awarded a few over the years). Just try to make your drawing clear. And annotate it to make it even clearer. The markers will love it, and it'll help you absorb more information about your subject, in what I hope is turning out to be an enjoyable learning experience.

Mushroom season is definitely here.

Such a strange colour: surely Chlorociboria. You can read about it on Tom Volk's pages.  It stains the wood green - this was used for designs in 17th century inlaid boxes (Tunbridge Ware).

I went for a nice walk with my sister in Lower Woods this weekend. It's a lovely ancient woodland owned by the Gloucestershire Wildlife Trust. You'll probably get a trip out there on your course at some point. We were idiotically intending to go to Westonbirt (the national tree zoo nearby) but I freaked out at the vast numbers of people flocking towards it (very slowly, the jams went back miles). It was like trying to get into some massive festival. No-one much was at Lower Woods though. I felt calm again.

I don't know what these lovely peachy furry brackets are yet.

I thought you might like to see a few of the things we saw. We stuck to the paths and were only looking at Things On Logs so I imagine there'd be many more traditionally mushroom-shaped species about. But we mostly saw the freaky things on decaying wood.

Maybe Ascocoryne sarcoides. (Some convincing likenesses at First Nature.)

So if you find anything interesting, please do bring it in to be frozen, and I will pop it in the queue for the freeze drier. I've already done some mushrooms for several students and it seems to be working well.

Dave found some Hedgehog fungi on a walk at the weekend. Imagine the excitement. They have spines instead of gills. Whatever next.

Hypnum repandum, Hedgehog fungus. Image D J Kelly.

And speaking of strange things,  I also found this, which turns out to be not a fungus at all, but a slime mould, namely Lycogala epidendrum. It was squishy to the touch. I do have a habit of investigating the relatively squishiness of all the peculiar mushroomy things I find. It's helpful with identification (and if you get unsuspecting accompanying friends to try too, you get a range of squealing noises).

These are very strange things. There are some more species on the First Nature website. Apparently some can solve mazes. I'm not kidding. Read more at the UBC Botanical Garden.

I'm supposed to be packing the field trip. But all this is a rabbit hole of interesting and distracting weirdness.

A quick fungi link: you can read all about Kew Gardens' "Fungarium" here.

30.10 Another mushroom update: I can't help myself so have bought a new book. It's by Peter Marren.  Its beautifully designed cover didn't help stop the money flying out of my account. It's supposed to be very engagingly written, and I hope it will fill me with interesting information to trot out to fellow mushroom hunters on field trips. I also read a very interesting article by him on A New Nature Blog in which he refutes the Forestry Commission's idea that picking fungi is Bad (for the fungi, that is).

You too may well find something interesting

Student B's exotic arachnid friend

This time last year I reported on an ex-taxonomic collectioner who had found a very rare and lovely lichen. You see, how many people are actually looking for these things? Not many. Most are watching ITV2 and playing games on their phones. And even the ones who are interested, are generally happy enough to leave their identification at "lichen" or maybe "some sort of Usnea lichen". But (unless it's really difficult to tell and drives you mad) there's much satisfaction to be had from being able to pin down the exact species.

This week, Student B brought in a cute little jumping spider (family Salticidae) which he'd found living somewhere at the zoo. There are 38 species in this country. But it wasn't any of those - it had very distinctive white pedipalps (which it was waving about) and lovely little spots on its abdomen. Not really knowing where to begin as there are a lot of jumping spiders in the world, we both asked on internet forums (I don't think this counts as cheating in this case). And it seems to be Hasarius adansoni, a common-enough creature in warmer parts of the world like Australia and Japan.

Come and use the lovely microscope camera with your finds- drop me an email.

I looked it up on the Spider and Harvestman Recording Scheme website, and they only have 3 records of it in this country (ever), so I am urging Student B to send in his sighting. Maybe it's living everywhere and nobody's noticed - but maybe it's not. Certainly nobody else has ever reported it from Bristol Zoo. So be encouraged - you really can add to the knowledge we have about the species in this country. You don't have to find anything so exotic of course - even reporting common species is important to provide data about how their numbers and distribution might be changing, or the times of the year that they're active. It's all useful and feeds into a bigger picture.


Meanwhile - I had word from an ex collector of bryophytes, Student H. She's currently on a Bog Conservation placement in the Pennines. She's become so enamoured with the mosses there, that she's set up her own Instagram moss page. How cool is that. It makes me feel very happy. Fluffy and feathered creatures already have a lot of supporters. You can make a difference for the more weird and wonderful plants and animals of this country.

The lovely Sphagnum fimbriatum, CC James Lindsay.

I feel like I don't know anything (but that's alright)

A barkfly. Who'd have thought it. CC image S. Rae

 This morning I have been decanting some Tullgren funnel samples into pots for another class. I'm never fully convinced by whether they work, and also the leaf litter that was collected for them was pretty crispy - so the pots aren't exactly overflowing with creatures. But even so, I've spotted things in there that are going to make me look ignorant if someone asks me what they are.

Last year I spent a considerable amount of time swotting up about little soil creatures and making a guide: I learnt about things I had no idea existed (Protura, Symphyla) and realised I knew close to nothing about the groups I did recognise (Millipedes, Centipedes). And then today I ruefully realised that there are many many more things I don't know about that might be in those pots (Barkflies, Thrips... who knows) and I'm not going to become an expert before next week's class. Much as I'd like to be, for the students' sake as well as my own.

But this is not a reason to give up, is it. It's a reason to start. The world is full of amazing things. You can go and look for them and dip your toe into understanding how the world works. Knowing what's out there and where it is, underpins any scientific research in ecology and conservation.

Polyxenus lagurus, a perfectly common UK millipede. Who knew. CC image Andy Murray.

I also find it quite good for existential angst, as all those plants and creatures are out there doing their thing regardless. That's quite reassuring when you get depressed by the absurdity of your own species (from international politics, to celebrity 'culture', to daft things happening in your own social sphere, to your own behaviour).

So my point is, don't be daunted by feeling you don't know anything at the start of this assignment. Ok, maybe some people know a little. You might fear they know a lot. But it's not a 'zero sum game' as they say - their knowledge isn't going to make yours less, and in fact I can tell you from experience that people are very generous in sharing their skills. Pick something you think you'll find interesting, and dive in. Rome wasn't built in a day (and all that). Remember that all those admirable experts started with a single beetle, or wild flower, or barkfly, once upon a time. Begin now.

Charles Darwin age 7. Painted by Ellen Sharples in 1816.

P.S. A ridiculous and authentic post script.
I spent some of the lesson staring down a microscope with student J, trying to work out what the tiny 4-winged, long-antennaed creature in the petri dish was. In retrospect I think it was a bark fly, though this definitely didn't occur to me at the time. It's a shame isn't it. I can only trust that your young flexible brains will cotton on to things much faster. Here's a gallery of them so I don't get confused next time.

Welcome, neophyte taxonomists

An adult Vallonia costata (only 2mm across). You'll discover things you didn't know existed. CC Nefronus.

  Heaps of people over the years have said to me this was their favourite assignment. I think it's because it gives you the opportunity to develop a genuine 'natural history' type skill - not only the sort of thing that will impress if you go for an ecological job, but also something you can get personal satisfaction from, when you start to recognise (and indeed, start to really See) the plants and animals around you. Maybe an interest in this sort of thing might have been behind you choosing an environmental course in the first place.

I always tell people to Begin Now - but it's really useful to take some time first to think what you might like to collect. If you find this difficult, think about what you might not want to do, and whittle away the options from the other end. Some people might have an existing interest, or a natural preference for animals or plants. (Not all animal-collecting necessitates death, by the way - you could choose snails and other molluscs and just collect empty shells). Some groups necessitate travel (don't choose seaweed if you can't easily get to the sea...) and most do benefit from visiting a range of habitats. But if you can't get far out of Bristol, some options are still very do-able.

Some nice maritime lichen I saw on the Cornwall field trip this year

Specimens of some groups are harder to find than others; some are seasonal (it's already too late really for grasses and Asteraceae). Some are easy enough to collect and preserve, but need more time to identify (like mosses, lichens and spiders). Some need identifying quickly before important features fade (like mushrooms) whereas others can be pored over at leisure (snails). Some need preserving quickly before they cause smells your housemates will complain about (seaweed). Don't waste your efforts - make sure you know the correct preservation technique for your group before you go out collecting!

If you like squinting down a microscope (and I do), then that's essential for some groups but not others. I enjoy the nerdy puzzle-solving of identifying a beetle from a key riddled with long words. I also enjoy looking at the amazing and unexpected detail of lichens, beetles, spiders, mosses (indeed anything) under the microscope.

Many ground beetles are still active over winter. Carabus violaceous CC by Monika Betley.

 Some groups (like beetles) have many many species in this country - and it's literally a lifetime's work to become an expert - but you can start with just a few. Other groups have a limited number of British options and you can soon feel like you're getting to grips with them, though you might find you have to go out of your way to get the less common specimens that will get you a distinguished mark (trees and ferns maybe).

I hope you'll feel motivated to discover more about the species you find, and go out of your way to find more than just the 'minimum required': I hope you enjoy learning something new, and get a good mark too. The 'useful overview' on the left explains the basic elements of the assignment, and you can pick through the list of options under it. The 'cloud' on the right has all my waffling thoughts (among which are helpful hints I hope). But please feel free to contact me - send me an email or drop by to OJ16.

Collecting marine molluscs

Don't forget your notebook. Image by William Strode.

 You've doubtless experience of finding shells on a beach. But bear in mind, that to score top marks, the quality of your specimens is very important. They have to clearly show all the characteristic features for identification (their presence will not only impress the markers, but also stop you tearing your own hair out). Ideally your bivalves should display both parts of their shell - which may have different shaped teeth and other features. Realistically, you might not end up exhibiting the two halves of an individual animal, but that's ok. Gastropods should also not be too worn, and retain their original shape at their tip and aperture (empty shells can get damaged as they roll about among stones on a beach). Patterns of colour can help identification sometimes, so a shell in good condition is important for observing those too.

The Nuculidae family has elaborate hinge teeth. CC image by Shellnut

You can certainly find empty shells that will be in sufficiently good condition, so direct involvement with Death is not necessary for this group. However, if you find you want to take live specimens, and kill and clean them, then that's up to you (and some shell enthusiasts think this is the way to go). People have been boiling and eating shellfish for a very long time, so boiling's probably the method to go for. (I think I must officially recommend against the gastronomic part of the process - it's not always obvious whether 'effluents' are entering the water where filter-feeders live, and you'd need to keep them super-fresh even if not - or horrible gastric effects tend to result).

I've been looking at the website of the Conchological Society of Great Britain and Ireland, and I notice they have some detailed tips about where to seek out molluscs on rocky shores. You can look beyond the more obvious spots in rockpools and on boulders - you'll find other species lurking in crevices, in amongst seaweeds, under rocks, or specialised to live in areas with sediment or places where the receding water moves quickly. But do remember the Seashore Code (as set out by Buglife here) - and replace rocks and weeds if you move them to look underneath.

image by 27707

The 'Conchsoc' also has some good ideas about equipment you might like to take on your expedition. It's a bit of long list, though (as for many other groups) the most important things to take are waterproof label-able boxes or bags, and your notebook. As collecting environments go, you probably need to consider possible dangers more seriously, and take responsibility for your own safety (think about appropriate footwear and clothing, the times and directions of the tides, and which are safe / unsafe places to be collecting). I speak as someone who once broke their hand falling over on a rocky shore. I sat there pathetically in my rock pool until a kind soul hauled me out. Don't let this happen to you.

Hokusai's 'Shell gathering'

You can read my general remarks on collecting - and bear in mind the principles in the Joint Committee for the Conservation of British Invertebrates' code of conduct. Take empty shells where possible, don't take more specimens than you need, and do as little damage to the habitat as you can. Only a few mollusc species are protected under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981. They're rare and so you're unlikely to come across them - but it doesn't hurt to be aware of which they are.

Realistically, if you're on a beach where other people are wandering about, it's unlikely anyone's going to challenge you or haul you off to court for picking up a few seashells. But, I feel I ought to offer you some legally inexpert advice on where you can go and what you can do, and why seeking permission is not a bad thing, so I've written a page about that.

 Read on for information about identifying your specimens.

My improved offer for budding coleopterists

Dorcus parallelipipidus (Lesser stag beetle). CC image by Uwe W.

I have just been on a weekend course about beetles, at a Field Studies Council centre in Surrey. Yes, such things exist, and it's marvellous that they do. Imagine entering a room with a dozen other beetle fans and not having to explain yourself; being able to make enthusiastic gasping and squeaking noises about the creatures without restraint. It was great. One day I hope you will appreciate this sort of thing even if you don't now. You meet like-minded people who care about the environment and have a passion for a niche aspect of it: I'm very lucky in my job but a lot of people never experience this day-to-day. The enthusiasm of others inspires you to learn more and more. We were taught and guided by a very knowledgeable (yet very modest) expert - county recorder Steve Bolchover. Unlike when you're working alone, you don't have to sit in a limbo of not knowing if you're doing things and identifying things correctly or not. So that expert support helps you accept and absorb information much faster.

Obviously there's only so much you can take in over a weekend. There are a huge number of species in this country and most are not easy to identify for the beginner. In fact the enormity of the task seemed even more daunting at the end of the course than the beginning, ironically. But I now have more tools in my arsenal to draw on.

By Harde and Severa. It's old and it doesn't look 'serious' but it's the only book with so many illustrations.

I have a couple more strategies to share with you for identifying and displaying your specimens. I have bought a new book (I will never, ever have enough books I suspect - Steve had dozens, many obscure and some in other languages), and I have some other useful identification materials kindly shared by the tutor. I have a new appreciation and enthusiasm for card mounting small specimens, so can help you with that, and new advice about collecting techniques and despatching methods.

A willow flea beetle, one of my tiny finds (c2mm). CC image by Tristram Brelstaff.

 It's been very dry and hot as you know, so there weren't a huge number of beetles that could be easily found: most of the ones I found were tiny. They might have been tiny, but they were still really amazing under the microscope - they can have such superb colours and sculpturing of their bodies. I found and managed to identify the beetle above, Crepidodera aurata. 'Aurata' means 'golden'.

I felt quite chuffed to pick up a Lesser stag beetle (Dorcus parallelipipedus) from under some wood (as the picture at the top) - but this was nothing compared to the female (not Lesser) Stag beetle (Lucanus cervus) that my course-mate found on our trip to a common. It was unmistakable and massive - it's this country's largest beetle (you'll be pleased to hear it was allowed to go on its way undisturbed). So that was an excellent moment and proved that you don't know what you're going to find - but you have to get stuck in and grub about to look.

Asteraceae: a good choice for summer collectors

Ox-eye daisy in the University of Neufchatel herbarium.

 Student K came in for a bit of support with her Asteraceae collection yesterday. I brought in my 20th-century collection to show her. As you will find out one day, it is slightly shocking how time flies. However, my pressed plants were still looking ok despite their advanced age. I had 35 species, and do you know what, I got a 2:1 for it (at least, that's my recollection)! Either my university had quite a different mark scheme. Or else it's an example of so-called grade inflation :)

Prickly lettuce and its spines. CC image by Harry Rose.

 But don't you worry about that - I reckon you'll get a first if you turn in 35 species. Student K made a good dent on that number yesterday: we had an amble round the scruffy parts of campus and found 19. This is definitely the moment to go collecting Asteraceae. Grasses seem to have faded in all this heat, but the Asteraceae don't seem to care so much. I think my favourite was the slyly spiny Prickly lettuce (Lactuca serriola). It's full of milky latex (a trait you'll know from Dandelions) and has skin-snagging prickles along the back vein of the leaves. Both things would be enough to put off potential nibblers (large and small).

Distinctive weirdness on Perennial sow thistle. CC TeunSpaans.

 My other favourite was Perennial sow thistle (Sonchus arvensis). It looks a bit like a dandelion to the uninitiated, but is much bigger and branchier, has nice leaves that clasp its stem, and most superbly it has weird blob-tipped glandular hairs (get out those hand lenses). I imagine they're to deter little insects.

Sea aster with its fleshy leaves. CC image Kristian Peters.

And remember, that although lots of species like tufty wasteground, if you expand your horizons you will find more species (and impress the markers). K lives near some saltmarsh: I suggested she might find Sea aster (Aster tripolium) there.

 Meanwhile there are other species that specialise on chalk grassland. I recently went to visit Student M on her marvellous placement looking after rare butterflies on a very steep calcareous grassland hill: she's noticed many lovely Asteraceae there including the Dwarf thistle (Cirsium acaule). I think I spotted the beautifully geometric Woolly thistle (Cirsium eriophorum) too.

Mmm so geometric. CC image Derek Harper

The picture at the top of the page shows a beautifully pressed Ox-eye daisy specimen in the University of Neufchatel herbarium - the sort of thing you could definitely emulate with your specimens. I think it's held onto the paper using this technique.

Now I have to go and squint at some mosses and lichens - first to identify them, and then to make something to help the new first years identify them as part of a new activity on Dartmoor. A nice job if it didn't require quite so much concentration in this heat. But do contact me if you'd like any help or advice about your botanical and entomological exploits. 

What a great day for football: all we need is some green grass and a ball.

CC image Rune Mathison / Bitjungle

I can't lie, I have no interest in football at all, but as it's the start of the world cup here's a topical Grass/Football quote for you from Bill Shankly. I discovered I was right in imagining most pitches use the ubiquitous dark green species Lolium perenne (Perennial ryegrass) - but I've been interested to learn that big grounds use an space-age interwoven hybrid of actual grass and artificial fibres. I know, you learn a new thing every day.

I'm now pleased to have 22 species of grass, virtually all from mundane, easily accessible habitats - imagine the variety if you went out and about. It being June I am aware virtually nobody is reading this, which is a shame as I wish I could persuade you to try collecting them too. Yesterday I went to the wood/grassland you much-frequented in your first year and found a few more. I'm still remarkably confused about a couple, but the more I look at, I think the more likely I'll realise what the mystery ones really are (and to realise if I've identified things incorrectly in the past). It starts making me wonder how my brain is picking this up - some of it must be rote learning and repetition, but there's an element of recognising and comparing little characteristics to those of species I already know. No doubt a psychology student could tell you more. I can feel strange things happening in my brain but I'm not sure what they are :)

I found the rather elegant Remote sedge (with spaced-out flowers and long terminal bract). CC image by P Verstichel.

 I was roaming the grassland because one of the lecturers wants an NVC (National Vegetation Classification) category for it: a method you may learn in your future classes. About half the species I found were grasses, and they're essential for an accurate NVC. So if you get good at identifying them, an ecological consultancy would probably be highly impressed at your usefulness (though the adverts I see seem to be obsessed with newts and bats - not that I don't like such charismatic creatures, but the law is highly species-ist, grrr).

Now I must attend to my new specimens and get them pressing.

Plant Detective

I deduce these are actually plastic leaves. Public Domain image.

 Sometimes people send me and Dave photos of mystery plants hoping we'll be able to identify them. Today's email from a student was marked "With High Importance" which made me inwardly groan a little bit. But actually I relish the challenge so I set about looking for clues.

It made me think of the importance of you recording good information in your Field Notebook - out in the field. Some things are really useful to note, and if you forget to, not only might you lose marks, but you're making your life difficult when it comes to identifying your specimens later.

It's a very good thing to take a photo of your specimen in situ - I would feel smug if I ever remembered to do such a thing on one of my lunchtime strolls (I haven't). But it can be hard to capture the habitat with a mere snap. Today's student's blurry plant might have been from the Mint Family (Lamiaceae) - I could just about make out a square furry stem amongst its opposite leaves. But to know whether it was in a damp habitat or a dry one would have been useful - I could have ruled out a number of possible species.  So it's really good if you can describe the habitat in your notebook - what other plants are around? Is it amongst rocks, or in a meadow, or next to a stream, or on the seashore? That would have helped me a lot, and could help you.

Plant with scale (insects, that is). Sorry. CC Gilles San Martin.

 The other thing that irritated me about the photos could have usefully been included was some indication of scale: just putting a pencil or foot in shot gives you a clue to the size of the leaves or other features.

Not always relevant (but sometimes very important) is your sense of smell. Plant-squeezing is one of my go-to clue-finding methods. A mint would be immediately obvious but many plants and flowers smell distinctive. So do some mushrooms (e.g. the ever memorable descriptions of  'wet washing' and 'crab' for certain Russulas). Even some insects exude strong smells which you might later find mentioned in an i-d book.

With "ordinary" plants my first stop is their flowers, and then to look at the shape of the leaves and the pattern they attach to the stem. I read this interesting article by Catherine Stewart describing her own process of identifying mystery plants. But with your own group you'll soon begin to realise their good early diagnostic features. Maybe that'll be behaviour for spiders (is it running across the ground or sitting in a web), or pinnateness for ferns, or general proportions for a snail, or type of fruiting body for a lichen.

This Oil beetle's kinky antennae are a clue to its species. But as with my own photo, there's not enough detail to be sure. CC0 image.

You'll be bringing your specimens home so don't have to worry to much about taking a super clear photo with every detail. Good photos and notes are even more important if you can't. The other week my sister and I found some amazing Oil beetles while out for a walk. I insisted she take some photos so we could report the sighting (there is a dedicated website you know), but I'd forgotten what the beetles' most important features were - so it turned out when I got home that the very bit of the beetle that needed to be in focus was the bit that was blurry. Well, you live and learn.

So when you're out and about collecting, really do take your notebook and note down some clues. Are those lichens only happy on the top of the wall? Are those snails anywhere else but on the tree trunks? Is that grass suspiciously present where dogs wee? (that'll be Wall barley then). Am I repeatedly seeing this seaweed at the same point up the beach? Observations. Think like a detective. You won't remember all this stuff unless you write it down. And the people marking your notebook will love to see it. Every year I read their plaintive calls for field notebooks written actually in the field. They will be desperate to give you some extra marks.

Wall barley (Hordeum murinum) in typically unsalubrious location. CC Stefan Iefnaer.

Gratifyingly, today's Student-with-mystery-plants has just emailed to call me a "bloody miracle worker" for my identifications (let's just hope I'm right).

Using Vernier calipers

You might recognise the contraption above as my self-designed Limpet Height Measurers from your first year trip to Dartmoor (patent still pending). But I also often thrust them upon people who are collecting snails, spiders, beetles and so on, because trying to measure these creatures can be a lot easier with Vernier callipers than grappling with a ruler. Sometimes that's because rulers don't easily fit in petri dishes, or because 3D objects don't easily sit against a ruler, or just because it saves you holding something small and fiddly while trying to squint at a tiny scale at the same time.

The distances between the red arrows above are all the same, though mostly you'll probably be using the bottom left gap (for snail width or spider body length for example). Most of the time you probably won't need the precision of the Vernier scale at all - millimeters being good enough for most things of this nature, but here's a quick reminder of the whole process.

Being a proper scientist you'll be working in mm or cm not inches, so use the scale on the lower side of the calipers. You want to read your distance off against the line above the O (some people get confused and want to read where the gap of the jaws ends).

So this is somewhere between 1.7 and 1.8cm (17 and 18mm), would you agree? That might be good enough for your purposes (if the question in your key is 'Over 15mm or Under 15mm, for example).

But if you did want to know how many bit-ths of a millimeter it was, you must now forget the main scale and scrutinise the 0, 1, 2, 3 etc Vernier scale.

You ask yourself, which of the lines in that scale matches up in a straight line with one of the lines above it? I would say all the ones at either end are quite askew, but the best choice is at 5 and a half - yes?

So that means after our aforemeasured 17mm, there is 0.55 more of a millimeter, making 17.55mm in total.

That would be a bit over the top for most things, but with some groups you might get a key that requires you to know the measurement to the nearest 0.5 of a millimeter (for example, the descriptions of sedges that I was looking at yesterday talk about the leaves being 1.5-2 mm wide, or the fruits being 3.5 to 5mm long).

 There are of course digital Vernier calipers these days, but I ask you, Where is the Fun in That? You wouldn't know if they were lying to you or not. Likewise their batteries are apt to die at the most inopportune moment (and they are always some obscure size of watch battery that you haven't got). It probably seems strange for a technician to be a Luddite (maybe I need to speak to a therapist). But I maintain this is borne of bitter experience: simplicity is often better. Besides, you will learn a skill which you can take satisfaction in. Here endeth the sermon. If you'd like to borrow some calipers do come and ask. I might even lend you the digital ones if you want.

CC image by Lookang

(If you want to know how a Vernier scale works, and who wouldn't, you could do worse than reading this anonymous blogger's website.  Mr Vernier himself was a French mathematician that lived c.1600.)

Sedge enthusiasm

Flea sedge (Carex pulicaris) - do those look like fleas? ew. CC Kristian Peters.

 Campus is deserted and it feels slightly pointless telling you this when you're not here. But on my lunchtime wanderings I found two lovely sedges today which I'm eager to share. My walk took me along the little drainage ditch near the tall student residence blocks. It turned out to be wider than I thought and I got a shoeful of water. Facilities have let swathes of grasses and emergent plants grow along it and it feels rather nice and wild.

These are common species but I hope you will agree, lovely. This is Carex otrubae, False fox sedge.

FFS with its sticky-out long bracts. CC Stefan.lefnaer

 It has very three-angled stems in typical sedge style. All the male and female flowers are together, so the chunky spikelets (the groups of flowers) all look the same.

CC BY-NC-SA Rhiannon

Here you can see the utricles (the nutlike fruits) in closeup - in this species they're greeny-brown.

But for something a little more striking you want the other Carex I found - Common sedge, or Carex nigra. 

CC BY-NC-SA Rhiannon. You too can borrow this super microscope camera.

If the super stripey utricles on this don't convert you to the cult of sedges, then nothing will. (I won't be offended, honestly, but what's not to like). There's another species called Carnation sedge which is said to have tempting-sounding fat 'chocolate and lime' fruits. But I think these nice flattened green and black fruits are even better.

The arrangement of the flowers is different in this species - the fluffier male flowers are all in a bunch and the top, and there are several all-female utricled inflorescences below.

CC image by Matti Vertala

I also found a 'Spike rush' (Eleocharis - they were everywhere, I had no idea) and a Rush. You need to be able to visit a variety of soils and habitats, but I think Sedges and friends would make a very nice if unusual collection. It's not one of the usual choices so I'd send Katy a message first if you choose it.