Exploring Nature

On Thursday, April 25th, a visit to the canyon provided an opportunity to document the visible impacts of the drought on the landscape. The warm day presented clear skies and calm winds, seemingly ideal for observation.

The immediate indication of the severity of the situation was evident upon entering the Proctor parking lot: a “Very High” fire danger warning was prominently displayed. This is the equivalent of a local red flag warning, signaling heightened fire risk. It is a stark reminder of how brittle the landscape has become.

The initial walk along the Proctor Trail revealed a parched expanse of grasslands, underscoring the imminent threat of fire. The normally abundant wildflowers were notably absent, scattered sparsely across the dry terrain. The students never did see any of the usual Mexican gold poppies. Honeysuckles, typically a hallmark of the canyon’s springtime splendor, were difficult to locate.

Bird sightings were infrequent, though a Verdin was observed successfully foraging for a rare insect. The lack of insects likely contributes to the diminished bird population within the canyon, as they are forced to seek food elsewhere.

Madera Creek remains dry. Crossing Proctor Road led into the Oak & Juniper Woodland, where the effects of the drought were equally apparent. A venerable oak tree, estimated to be well over a century old and already mature during the White House era, exhibited widespread browning of its leaves.

This phenomenon is reminiscent of a two-year drought experienced in recent years. The continued dry conditions suggest that the oak is likely to shed most of its leaves by late June or early July, a condition that will persist until significant monsoon rain arrives.

Still, life persists. White-tailed deer were seen foraging quietly along the trail, and a Carpenter Bee, absent in recent weeks, made an appearance. Mexican Blue Jays, more often seen at higher altitudes were foraging for food. A female Black Beaded Grosbeak, just arriving for the summer, was also spotted and photographed. An Acorn Woodpecker also made its presence known, hammering at a distant tree.

While Madera Canyon remains a worthwhile destination for a walk or hike, visitors should temper their expectations. The canyon, usually vibrant with color and sound this time of year, is subdued—waiting, like the rest of us, for rain.

It is estimated that about 8% of the earth’s surface is covered by lichens and that there are at least 3,600 varieties of lichen just in North America. Lichens constitute the sole vegetation of extreme environments such as the Arctic tundra. They can live in hot dry deserts, and in coastal habitats where fog and water vapor abound. Lichens are successful in colonizing on rocks, on or inside the bark of woody plants, on wood, soil, mosses, leaves of vascular plants (especially in the tropics), and even on other lichens, as well as on man-made substrates such as concrete, glass, metals and plastics and slag heaps. Further, they are considered to be among the oldest living organism. An arctic species, has been dated as being about 8600 years old

Just what is a lichen?  Notice that we haven’t called it a plant; it’s not a plant.  The lichen does not have vascular tissue like a plant’s xylem and phloem to move nutrients and water around nor does it have the waxy cuticle like leaves on plants have.  The unique characteristic of a lichen is that its life depends on a combination of two organisms—the fungus and the alga.  The more numerous fungi cannot produce food but can provide moisture, fight off disease and provide growth functions.  Fungi are known for their role in decomposition of organic matter. The alga partner photosynthesizes and provides food for the fungus so it can grow and spread. They rely on each other to provide life.  It’s called a symbiotic relationship.   There are over13,500 kinds of fungi species in the world.  The name of the fungal species prevalent in a lichen serves as the name given that lichen. 

After an early morning hike into Madera Canyon, I (JCM) returned to the parking lot and waited for a couple of friends to come off the trail. A woman pulled in and parked near my Jeep. She exited her car and asked me, “How far do I have to walk?” My response was, “For what?” She replied, “To see the trogons.” The tone in her voice suggested that I should have intuitively known her goal. On the return hike to the parking lot, I passed eight birders watching several trogons. I replied, “They are a mile, maybe two, up the trail.” She responded with some vocalization, expressing her displeasure at walking that far, and proceeded up the trail.