In our last blog, we published excursion notes by two team members, side by side, creating an experimental duet of ideas and impressions. This week, we’re taking a similar approach, only the subject is lichens. Two authors, two points of view, side by side. 

The Super-organism

by Doug Pope

To appreciate the strangeness of lichens, we need to compare them to humans. As most people know, lichens are super-organisms, with at least 3 different species fusing and reproducing together. Could a human baby have more than two biological parents? According to the Associated Press, British doctors have created the first test tube human babies using eggs from two mothers and the sperm from a single father.  (AP, May 10, 2023) As reporter Maria Cheng notes : “Britain’s fertility regulator on Wednesday confirmed the births of the U.K.’s first babies created using an experimental technique combining DNA from three people, an effort to prevent the children from inheriting rare genetic diseases.” 

Have we entered some strange realm of science fiction here? No, it’s a true story. Combining three sets of human DNA is rare now, but as we try to prevent birth defects it may become more and more common. 

Now let’s consider the case of lichen. Also three sets of DNA. But rather than having donors all of the same species, here we have three separate species. Two fungus, one algae. It would be like sprouting a baby from an oak tree, a giraffe and a zebra. Yeast making love to a mushroom making love to seaweed. No wonder it took scientists 150 years to figure it out!

However, when it comes to mixing and swapping DNA, bacteria are the true genetic marvels. It took the world’s greatest microbiologist, Carl Woese a lifetime to prove it and to give the phenomena a name: horizontal gene transfer. Bacteria swim in crowded pools and when they touch or bump another body, they may add or subtract a gene. They reproduce asexually, but their genes are always changing. This allows them to be the most adaptable and biodiverse creatures on the planet. Also the oldest and longest surviving. 

Can people transfer genes horizontally, that is, without sex? Yes, but it’s not as much fun. Seriously, how does a baby acquire its microbiome? By passing through the birth canal, through breast-feeding and nurture—human touch and diet, the child will pick up more bacterial DNA than the human DNA he or she was born with. It’s horizontal gene transfer, human style.  

Scientists have only begum to look for these extra-species gene transfers in other organisms. We know trees and wasps combine genes to form galls. We know that ocean coral has properties and DNA of both plants and animals. Algae infiltrate the eggs of salamanders, providing extra energy (momentarily turning an unborn amphibian into a plant) and giving the eggs a greenish colour. Fungi infiltrate cells in the roots of trees. Nitrogen-fixing pea plants form nodules in their roots to accommodate rhizobia bacteria. 

In 1991, American microbiologist Lynn Margulis coined the word holobiont to describe an assemblage of a host and the many other species living in or around it, which together form a discrete ecological unit. A holobiont relationship exists when the host and its collective microbial community perform functions that cannot be accomplished by the partners separately.

Holobionts are sometimes referred to as metaorganisms. By the above definition, human beings are clearly holobionts, as we depend on mitochondria for energy and on bacteria to digest our food, to assist the immune system, to control our moods and to move iron and other essential elements into our blood. We could not exist without the microbiota living inside us. 

As I look at the strangeness of lichens, exemplars of the mutual cooperation of unlike things, I think how this is not the exception in nature, but closer to the rule.

A Reexamination of Assumptions: Looking at Lichens

by Tegan McMahon

I know that we have probably all seen lichen before, but how many do you think have actually looked? Teachers have been using lichens to teach symbiotic relationships for years, but it turns out that they didn’t even know how many organisms are involved in the creation of lichens…

The first person who realized that lichen was created by a symbiotic relationship between at least two different organisms was Simon Schwendener, a Swiss botanist who suggested over 150 years ago, that the fungi get nutrients from the algae and/or cyanobacteria in return from the protection and structure that the fungi provides. Since then everyone seemed to take it as fact that the relationship only happens between one fungus and one algae and/or cyanobacteria in any given lichen. 

Recently researchers have been looking at lichens with fresh eyes after they realized that many of our fundamental assumptions about lichens are wrong. For example, multiple studies have found that lichens commonly have up to three different types of fungi! Though research is still being done to figure out what each partner contributes to the relationship. 

Most of these studies were undertaken by Toby Spribille, as well as a multitude of individuals that helped during the different studies. The first of his studies focusing on this topic happened in 2016, he was studying two lichens that were supposedly genetically identical but were different colours and while one had been eaten for centuries the other was poisonous, the Brown Wila Horsehair and Yellow Tortured Horsehair lichen; he was sure that the previous study had been too coarse and had missed something in the genetic sequence, so he ran it again. To his shock, he found that their results were correct, so he started to look at some of the other results he had written off as contamination. He found that both of the lichens constantly had a third DNA sequence, a type of yeast from the basidiomycetes group, but that the poisonous type of lichen had it in much higher quantities. Once he found this second type of fungi in both these lichens he started looking at others and found that almost all structurally complex lichens had at least a second type of fungi and that some had three.

Another assumption about lichens that is being challenged right now, is the assumption that the fungi get all of its sugar from their algae partner. It was expected that the relationship would resemble the symbiotic relationships between fungi and plants where the fungi lose the enzymes that allow them to break down raw carbohydrates. However, it seems that both the fungi and the algae can supply sugars, though there are some theories that one of them supplies sugar when the lichen is active while the other supplies it when the lichen is dormant due to lack of water.

This was another study spearheaded by Toby Spribille where he looked at the DNA sequence as well as other evidence, such as the existence of optional lichens (some fungi have the ability to switch between a solitary lifestyle as a fungi, and being a lichen if they find the right algae partners). He likened the existence of these enzymes in the fungal partners to being similar to seeing butcher equipment in the kitchen of your vegetarian friend, where it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are eating meat but it does beg some questions.

Lichens have been long known to be one of the dominating pioneer species in primary succession. In areas where only rock is exposed, lichens manage to gain a foothold and start producing soil and organic materials. They have many different methods of doing this: by breaking down the rocks into fine particles with threadlike growths (similar to roots but they seem to have no functions other than anchoring the lichen to where it is growing) that expand and contract up to 300% depending on the level of water available to the lichen. They also break down the rocks using chemical commands such as Oxalic acid, which is known to be one of the most effective agents for rock degradation. Lichens also trap airborne particles and accumulate nutrients that decompose once the lichen dies. Thus lichens are very important in areas such as the tundra and in areas after a disaster such as a volcano eruption.

Lichens, though until recently long overlooked when it comes to being used by humans, used to be used by many cultures all over the world. Lichens were used as a food source in winter by many peoples when very little else was available as they seem to be rich in nutrition. However, they were mostly eaten in emergency situations as they are not very appealing… 

Lichens have also been used to make dyes by many different cultures, for example, the Scots often used lichens to dye their kilts. Lichens can make a wide range of brilliant colours, from oranges and yellows to blues and pinks as well as bright purple dyes. The purple dye is notable as there are very few natural methods of creating a purple dye and at certain points in time this colour was so prized its use was restricted to royalty.

More recently lichens have been used as low-tech air quality monitors. As lichens have little to no roots they need to acquire almost all their nutrients and water from the air. Lichens are very sensitive to nitrogen and sulphur dioxide concentrations in the atmosphere, though different species have different levels of tolerance to the pollutants so depending on what lichens are surviving in an area one can tell the level of pollution. Lichens also absorb heavy metals and toxic trace elements which is a problem as animals such as caribou and reindeer graze on the lichen during the winter which can cause the meat to be too radioactive for human consumption during certain seasons. 

Lichens are also being studied as a potential source of medicines as they have unique chemical compounds that might be useful as antibacterial, antimicrobial, or anticancer drugs!

  

Recently the team visited a beautiful set of rapids and falls along the East river on the trail leading to Castle Rock, Lunenburg County. Here are two impressions.

Cloud Forest   

By Doug Pope  

Driving to the site, my mind drifted onto a news story from the night before. A report on the Hajj—pilgrimage to Mecca—this July, first since the Covid lock-downs. Two million visitors pouring into the holy city all at once, while temperatures in Saudi Arabia soared to 48 degrees C. Here in Nova Scotia, it was barely 20 degrees and entering a second week of rain. Fogbound towards East River and Barry’s Brook. Not ideal weather for a hike! Tegan, who was driving, asked if I knew what a cloud forest was? No, I said, what is it? It’s a mountainous rain forest continually shrouded in fog, mist and cloud, she said.   

We met the others and started on the trail, soon leaving the damp gravel path for the sodden forest floor. Everywhere we turned there was water. Wash-outs, ponds, and streams accosted us on all sides. We crossed a broken bridge, through more sodden woods, nearing a roar of rushing water.   

 The falls were a modest and glorious affair. Water sped over a chaotic cluster of erratics—spilling into the fern forest in three directions. We used a rope line to balance beam our way to a second falls. The logs could not have been more slippery!

All safely across, we looked at the two falls and the strip of land between and wondered: was it an island in the midst of a single river or two rivers divided? Only one way to find out. We fought our way upstream. The water was too loud for conversation so we rock-hopped and balance-beamed and ducked beneath branches. Then came the answer: one river. We were perched on an island, inches above a falls. It wasn’t raining, but you could tell, this place was rarely dry. Cloud forest Nova Scotia.   

Misty Falls

By Lenka Tomlinson 

By East River and Barry’s Brook the team found themselves this past Wednesday, after days of foggy weather in Nova Scotia, with no sign of letting up – we decided to make the most of it.   

Passing by a noisy factory- where thousands of trees are converted into compressed construction material, the sweet smell of softwood and chemicals wafted through the air. With a mild South-Easterly breeze, the noise and smell follow us as we hike along the East River Trail. Along patches of previously developed land, foundations gather moss, reclaimed after decades by nature once again.  

The weather is bleak – heavy fog, and wet all around. From the middle of the forest we hear the rush of water from a series of rapids and waterfalls. Following the sound, we find ropes atop slippery wet logs that aid us as we traverse into the water system.   

We cross mossy rocks and boulders, and hike along the wide river, up to the rapids. There are tight squeezes and slight tumbles but we all make it up to a giant nest of rocks to sit upon. We take our time here to admire the natural beauty. The urge to identify surrounding species tests our collective knowledge: toad’s skin lichen, rock tripe, British soldier and pixie cup, turkey tail and bracket fungus, witches’ hair and lungwort, as well as many types of moss.  

A few species look alike, such as the tiny British soldier lichen and red-tipped pixie cup. Closer inspection reveals the former has twisting branches while the latter is straight and single-stalked like a miniature match stick.   

Taking photos of the unique species, I discover a grasshopper crystalized in sticky, slowly-running sap from a coniferous tree. It makes me think of fossils preserved in amber.

On our way out, we are more confident and pass the trunk bridges with roped assists with ease. Continuing back into the park, the fog starts to lift. The main trail has become far more populated. We greet families walking their dogs, brisk morning walkers, kids running ahead of wheeled strollers–we’ve entered a different universe from the rush of the rapids and isolation of the misty waterfall.  

Rachel Kendall is a person who gets excited about swamps; and about bogs, fens and marshes! She’s a biologist who specializes in soil science, particularly in wetland environments. When we met her, her curiosity and enthusiasm for wild spaces made us feel quite at home. She greeted our summer team at Cherry Hill Beach, Lunenburg County. It was low tide, but we didn’t linger on the breath-taking expanses of sand. Instead we headed inland for the not-so-well-known salt marshes.   

            We’d been planning the trip for weeks. Originally, we’d intended to visit a bog to celebrate International Bog Day. However due to the catastrophic wild fires that consumed parts of the province in early June, we rerouted to a safer option. Trails, parks and woodlands were closed, but beaches remained open.  

            After an early start, we drove along the South Shore, past Broad Cove. Entering the local community, we passed signs boldly stating “Say NO to the Cherry Hill RV Park!” – a warning that our destination, a nature reserve, lay under a cloud of contentious development.   

            Upon arrival, we piled out of the cars to a refreshing brace of sea-spray and bayberry. We passed a cluster of rolling dunes, held together by the distinctive Marram grass, whose matted roots gather and hold the shifting sands. Rachel noted to the group that the beauty of these natural structures is their ability to shift and absorb storm impact. In PEI, a group tried to preserve a dune by building a rigid structure around it. The dune ended up deteriorating further! These special structures are meant to change shape and move, paradoxically, loose sand that flows in the wind and gathers with new generations of grass is what gives them their stability and permanence.

We avoided a roped off area – protected nesting site for endangered Piping Plovers. Rachel informed us the protected area was an initiative started by local environmentalists and surfers. The voice of ordinary people can make a difference.  

            Further along, we climbed a hill, and gazed over miles of curved beach shore. Behind us lay the marshes. Immediate impressions were rather bleak. The ecosystem appeared barren, almost desert-like (ironic for a wetland!) Apart from a few scraggly White Spruce trees (which we later learned are among the hardiest trees in Nova Scotia, able to withstand strong storms and salty environments), there was a surprising lack of life. Or rather, as Rachel noted, lack of biodiversity. Then again, we were following the appropriately named crest of Hell Bay.   

            The first wetland we encountered was an inland salt swamp, closed off from the ocean tide. Rachel helped identify the plants growing along the brackish shore: beach pea, Marram grass, and two species of cordgrass. Also silver brocade with its whitish leaves (often found in gardens). This plant, Artemesia stellariana is not native, but does not compete with the other species in the area – it is naturalized.   

            Further along, a high rock wall separates the beach from the watery shore. The wall is entirely natural, created by wave action in the crescent-shaped bay. Venturing over this wall, we encountered a second wetland. This tidal saltwater swamp stretched far away to open sea and an estuary fed by the Medway River. Among the wetland vegetation, Rachel helped us identify sea lavender, milkwort, pickleweed, and eelgrass. Bladderwrack made the stones slippery. Rachel lamented the invasive Common periwinkle, and its disruptive role in the ecosystem in front of us. There are three native species of periwinkle, smooth, rough, and striped, which occupy different strata of salt marshes, and do not compete with one another for resources. The Common, brought over in the ballast water from international ships, has taken over every tidal zone. Geography influences biology, but here we were in a wild space, a nature preserve, amid undeniable signs of human intervention.     

            On our journey in, the team came across some bones. We ended up taking about 20 minutes to uncover the skeleton of an unidentified creature. Great mystery as we dug into the wet earth with our hands, uncovering small spinal discs. We were thinking it was a fox, or mammalian predator at first, noting the shorebirds (prey) in the distance. However a flat and elongated pelvic bone raised questions. The discovery of feathers was another clue. Next we uncovered long straight bones, tibia, fibula and femur. When we put them together, they were two feet long—that’s when we realized it was a large bird – perhaps a heron?   

            This is when Rachel told us her theory. There’s more carbon capture in the soil of wetlands than in the soil of forests. The presence of water in the soil makes it a difficult environment for oxygen-breathing microbes and for decomposers. The bodies of the dead are preserved longer. Carbon stays in the ground.   

            We took soil samples and photos. Walking back I gathered a few isolated bones to make into jewelry. Souvenir of our journey. We stopped for lunch and asked Rachel what’s next for her. Her plan is to go back to school to get her PhD. She had a wetland site in mind for an extended study, but unfortunately, the area was destroyed by the fires in Shelburne County. We commiserated. On the news driving home, we heard the whole country was fighting fires—the most ever for this time of year. We all knew people who had been evacuated from their homes. The situation was far from settled. Helicopters dangling water buckets and relief planes circled the highway, commuting from lake to fire. We tried to get off, but the exits were closed. Our new reality. I said to Rachel perhaps she could study wilderness areas recovering from the damage of the fire. That’s what she’ll be doing at the research centre where she works. Does she need any help from citizen scientists? Yes, she said, she’d like that. That’s how we parted.  

In the following days, the team met to discuss the characteristics of the area, and look at some aerial photographs. We looked at the different water patterns, and discovered where the fresh and saltwater led to a brackish mix. We also were able to discuss the main differences between the salt marshes we encountered with Rachel, to the wetland at the Centre. We noted the Centre had a layer of upper grassland, but not lower. It is also a far more protected environment from the elements at the Centre.

The barrier that the layers of shore, dunes, wetlands, and tree cover at Cherry Hill beach protected the community and residents from destruction during storms. This is part of the natural protection that preserved environments offer as an ecosystem service. The implementation of an RV park in Cherry Hill would destroy this, and risk endangerment of many species, as well as the destruction of human space. The effects of humans upon different environments is so strong we noticed, through the influence upon space, habitat destruction, introduction of naturalized and invasive species. It is inevitable the considerations of human impact on environment.   

To cultivate or to rewild? To hand-pick optimal plants for each micro-environment, giving them the best chance for success, or to stand back and let nature take its course? These are the choices facing property owners, Carol Goodwin and Janet Pope. In both instances, controlled environments, starting with house, lawn and garden, co-exist with wild spaces. 

The team at the Centre by the Sea had the opportunity  to visit Carol and Janet in spring of 2023, a week before a series of devastating forest fires engulfed the province and threw us into a state of emergency – a reminder of how crucial issues of stewardship can be. As we toured Carol and Janet’s properties, both rich with flowering trees, meadows and wetlands, we observed a stark contrast between the two women’s land and management styles.

Retired botany professor, Carol Goodwin, has created her own private arboretum in the suburbs of Kentville. The property is managed with love, and guided to optimize maximal biodiversity amidst many different environments. On 13 acres of land, nestled on a hillside surprisingly close to the urban core, the natural beauty of Nova Scotia’s native plants and animals is showcased through zones of progressive wilderness. Six of the 13 acres of land is wrapped in a high, light metal fence to keep deer from eating young flora. The remaining seven acres are left to forest themselves naturally, without the pruning of invasive species such as the high-volume, self-seeding Norway Maple, or the fast-growing, canopy-forming walnut trees.

 

Carol Goodwin’s residence, and surrounding garden

Within the fence, there are two zones. Closest to the residence, a meticulously pruned botanical garden, featuring endangered Wood poppy, beds of tyme, and bonsai-tending Jack pine trees, all intentionally planted and kept free of invasive species, allowing blossoms to flourish. Further along, a path threads through tall Norway spruce to an open meadow. Catering to birds, bees, and other pollinators, the varied landscape hosts a concentrated abundance of biodiversity. Wire birch grows next to hemlock, hawthorne, Aronia, and Rosa Virginiana. Songbirds nest among the tangled bushes and tall grasses. Wilderness flourishes here, though under the careful watch of Carol’s trained eye. Saplings, weeds, and other species that would detract from the health of the native plants are removed.

Carol tours the team through the walking trails around her property, the dividing fence pictured on the right

Less than an hour away, in Hants County, lies Janet’s 50-acre riverside property, a former homestead of retired British officer Colonel Henry Denson. According to the Hantsport and Area Historical Society, Colonel Denson was an influential man:

“It was said that he was very strict. Colonel Denson supposedly asked to be buried in an upright position when he died so that he could continue to watch over. But, as the story goes, these orders were not followed. Worried he would come back to life, after his forehead was noticed breaking into a sweat three days after death, he was buried in the typical manner and placed 10 feet of soil and rocks on top of his grave.” 

Archaeologists have visited the property and found it steeped in history. Research and local stories have uncovered a rich and varied past. On our walk, Janet points out evidence of shoreline Acadian settlement (cellar remains with stone walls built without mortar), sunken graves in the Burial Ground, and the site of Col. Denson’s original home with its hill top view of the Avon River and distant Blomidon. In the 1940s, the land was planted in apple orchard, part of entrepreneur Roy Jodrey’s large holdings in the fruit and produce business. Later, under Jodrey, a spruce tree stand was started with the hope of supplying his nearby mill, Minas Basin Pulp and Paper. In the mid 1970s, the property of young spruce and aging apple trees was purchased by Janet’s parents, where they ran their publishing business, Lancelot Press. Like Carol, Janet has recently inherited the family property and now shapes it according to her own interests in ecology and healthy living.  Her aim is to preserve and rewild the natural Nova Scotia landscape.

In a brisk 20-minute walk, manicured paths wind through meadow and forest to the saltmarsh shore.  The separation of each environment is a partial function of natural origin, partially the remnants of a monoculture that proliferated the area. Surrounding the residence, Janet keeps a managed tall grass meadow under careful watch, trimming seasonally, and maintaining a perfect environment for fox, deer and pheasant. Janet is a keen observer of these animals and happily points to their dens and middens. As a reminder of the land’s past, enormous run away apple trees blossom at the bottom of the hill. It’s unusual to see apple trees this size, unpruned – allowed to exist freely and foster habitats and food for the creatures of the forest.

Like the escaped survivors of the former  orchard, the abandoned pulp forest has been left by Janet to revert to a more natural state, giving freedom for many other species to move in. Hurricanes have assisted this process. Felled giants–mostly conifers–create breaks in the canopy, allowing the forest floor to bloom with ferns and wildflowers as not seen in decades. Nestled in the border of the forest, four towering elm trees remain on the land, untouched by the Dutch Elm disease endemic of the 1980s. 

For Janet, this is a hopeful sign, as is the abundance of wildlife on her property. Janet tells stories of walking among foxes and deer, who have little fear of her, and letting the monoculture forest rewild in a fairly laissez-faire approach, permitting nature to take its course. However, Janet’s property is part of a larger system. The causeway in Windsor, cuts the Avon River from its source. This has led to a glacier-like deposit of silt that’s 7 miles long and growing steadily. The silt causes the river to widen its banks, eroding neighboring land and flooding the shore. This is most evident on Janet’s property, Enormous oak trees may be lost in the next 10-20 years as the bank collapses and marsh takes over. There are erosion problems elsewhere in the forest, located on a steep hillside. As soft earth moves–loss of ground cover bares roots and makes trees vulnerable to storms– and subterranean gypsum collapses into sinkholes. The landscape changes. Janet watches and takes comfort in the resiliency of natural systems to adjust and rebound. 

A large tree toppled by recent storms on Janet’s property

Carol and Janet approach their properties in different ways. Carol restricts the movement of animals in order to create a tree garden enclosed within a wild space. For Janet, the movement of animals is key to her free-flowing rewilding project.  Both women respect and care for their environments. Both have enhanced their properties, and in the process of making trails and walking the land, they’ve brought themselves, their families and friends a joy of nature, and the benefits of physical health and wellness.

Does nature have anything to do with health? Is just being outdoors good for us in any measurable way?

These questions may seem preposterous, however they can be found in various forms through myths and stories, in philosophy, and, increasingly, in science and modern medicine.

Initially, I began writing this blog, as an informative piece on the scientifically sound benefits of being outdoors. However, I struggled to find articles which explored specific physiological benefits, outside of a few things. One being, health benefits of (safe and minimal) exposure to UVA and UVB rays from the sun (CDC, 2021). Benefits from this can include the production of vitamin D, which in turn is beneficial to a number of processes in the body, including: calcium absorption, and bone growth and development. Another biological benefit of spending time outdoors in nature, is that it lowers blood pressure and cortisol levels (a stress hormone in the body). This generally means that people will feel less anxious, and more calm after having spent time outdoors. 

I also came across a study by Li, et al. (2009) which looked at the effects of phytoncide on human natural killer cells, directly relating to our immunity. Phytoncides are antimicrobial organic compounds which are released by plants and trees. These particles protect trees from bacteria and certain fungi. This study looked at blood and urine samples of people after having been exposed to phytoncides periodically for three days. It was found that natural killer cell activity was increased, certain other immune cells concentration increased (ie. perforin, granulysin, etc), the concentration of T cells decreased, and there was a decrease in stress hormone levels (adrenaline and noradrenaline) (Li et al, 2009). These findings indicate that, in the presence of these chemicals released by plants and trees,  our immune systems were becoming stronger, effects which were found to last for at least seven days after exposure. The lowered levels of stress hormones demonstrate why most people feel more relaxed and less anxious being in nature. 

David Strayer argues that increased screen time has led to more multi-tasking, which overloads the prefrontal cortex of the brain (the region of the brain which is involved in critical thinking and problem solving). Walking outdoors in a natural setting allows the brain to “rest and recharge”. Professor Strayer has measured these effects in various studies. What he has found is that time in nature seems to lower blood pressure, lower blood cortisol levels (a stress hormone in the body), and also improves brain function. 

In an article written for Time magazine (2018), Dr. Qing Li describes himself as both a scientist, and an advocate for a form of healing called Shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing”. “This is not exercise, or hiking, or jogging,” Li commented. “It is simply being in nature, connecting with it through our senses… Shinrin-yoku is like a bridge. By opening our senses, it bridges the gap between us and the natural world.” Li mentions that the average person in North America spends 95% of their time indoors. Our rift with nature has become a problem. 

The Centre by the Sea looks for solutions to this rift. One strategy is “to be outdoors… to enjoy the health benefits of nature”. There’s no doubt that just being outdoors and surrounded by some sort of nature, whether that be in an urban garden, in a forest, at the ocean, or anything in between, generally makes people feel “better”. This is abundantly evident from the second I arrive at the Centre by the Sea. There is something about breathing in fresh, salty, and slightly cooler air in the morning that feels so much better than city air, or even stale air from being trapped in a car for an extended period of time. It’s this vision that pushes us to take breaks from sitting at our computers doing work, to get outside in the garden, work on trails, or even explore the surrounding bike routes for a short diversion. 

Outdoor time is something I will greatly miss when I am back in University as a full time student this fall. This focus on nature, and respect for the environment is a concern shared by others. Due to there being such a focus on being outdoors, in nature, and overall respecting the environment here at the Centre by the Sea, it is something we regularly take notice of and discuss. Just last week, we had a guest join us for lunch on our back deck, overlooking the cove and surrounded by forests. Our buildings are situated on top of a hill, providing an expansive view of the cove and beyond that, islands and open waters of the sea. 

Our guest, Teresa Newcombe, a yoga instructor with a background in biology, commented that “being in nature is like coming home. It’s our natural place. When we step into a forest or walk along the shore, it’s like we’ve triggered an ancestral memory.” This prompted the remark that we tend to think of nature as “background scenery” rather than as a process that we all participate in. Our food, water, the air we breathe all come from nature. As our group talked, we heard crickets in the field, and birds calling from the nearby trees. Miguel said nature excites the senses. Ogen reminded us that nature is challenging as well as rewarding. For example, when you walk through a forest, you have to pay attention to where you’re stepping. There are hills and turns, sudden drops, fallen obstacles, pools of water, crumbling rocks. As we navigate the landscape, we feel immersed in it. It’s alive and always changing, and demands our attention.

Biologist Edward Wilson said “the human brain evolved in a biocentric world.” The Japanese poet Basho, who was renowned for his travels, mostly long-distance walking, describes the inescapable influence of nature: “There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon. 

I live in the city and battle with crowds, and noise. We make unusual adjustments. For example, there is a reason why most whitenoise machines are filled with sounds of babbling brooks, rain falling, thunderstorms, and whales – not the sounds of urban life. The best escape of all, is getting out in nature. This summer, after trying to book camping sites, in the midst of the third lockdown, I noticed something else. It seems like everyone had the same idea. They just wanted to get away from their homes, apartments, subdivisions, and urban living in general. They wanted to be outdoors, where they could be mask free, and just enjoy the fresh air after having been locked in their homes, hidden behind masks for months on end. 

I was very fortunate to get a last minute camping site booked at Kejimkujik National Park, located about 1.5 hours outside of Halifax. I spent the weekend on the ground, in a tent, in the pouring rain, and I loved every second of it. It felt so good to just be out of the city, surrounded by the sights, smells, and especially sounds of nature. My favourite part of the weekend was hiking and exploring various trails, as well as listening to the sounds of the rain hitting the tent in the middle of the night. I came away from the weekend muddy, wet, and smiling from ear to ear. It seems that everyone has their own way to derive pleasure and enjoyment from being outdoors. 

I challenge you to think about ways you get enjoyment from being outdoors, and notice how you feel when you’re surrounded by nature, even if it’s only for a few minutes each day.  

References

Florence Williams. The Nature Fix: Why nature makes us happier, healthier, and more

creative. (W.W. Norton: 2017)

Li Q, et al. (2009). Effect of phytonicide from trees on human natural killer cell function Int J Immunopathol Pharmacol 22(4): 951-959. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/20074458/

Nature vs Science.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/314001133_Understanding_Nature

Shifting baseline of nature. https://www.washington.edu/news/2017/11/15/what-counts-as-nature-it-all-%20depends/

Fungi was once viewed as a mystery species; in the future it may be regarded as a world-saving hero

The definition of a mystery is something that is either difficult or impossible to understand and explain.  That is how I used to feel about Fungi. Encountering wild mushrooms in the woods, I would wonder how safe or poisonous they might be. Yummy, poisonous, or possibly psychedelic? Adding to this mystery was the discovery that beneath the fruiting body (mushrooms), the organism occupied a complex underground network. That’s right, the world beneath the soil is even more mysterious and diverse than the world above. 

  As Merlin Sheldrake explains it in his book titled Entangled Life: “Fungi are everywhere but they are easy to miss. They are inside you and around you. They sustain you and all that you depend on.” Fungus is an essential part of our everyday life. Their underground network forms mutualistic relationships with plant roots, aiding in growth by providing nutrients as well as increasing absorption of nutrients already present. Fungi plays a role in the creation of the food you eat and purification of the air you breathe.  

The more I learn about Fungi the more intrigued I become.  Are they plants or are they animals?  The truth is they are neither.  They form their own kingdom. Fungi are poorly understood, though scientist suspect that they have been evolving on this planet for billions of years. They survive in extreme conditions, even in outer space.  The key to Fungi’s survival is their ability to partner with other organisms, such as algae (lichen), insects, and people. 

The first time I heard the term “Lichen” was in the 2003 horror movie “The Underworld”.  In this movie Lycans are a hybrid creature created when Vampires and Werewolves mate.  In the real world of biology, Lichens are an inner-kingdom collaboration between Algae and Fungi.  Lichens are believed to inhabit about 8 percent of the planet, which happens to be larger than that covered by tropical rain forests.  Lichen do not have roots and can endure long periods without water.  Where they are able to grow is quite astounding. They grow on rocks, fences, monuments (where they have literally changed the face of monuments such as Mount Rushmore) and many other difficult to inhabit locations. 

However, not all Fungi relationships are so benign. Fungi have also been observed in some rather nasty parasitic relationships. For example, a carpenter ant may be afflicted with zombie fungus, which induces the ant to climb high into the treetop. The Fungi will then burst through the body of the ant to consume it and send its spores out into the world for reproduction. Doesn’t that make you cringe? 

Yet Fungi can also be life-restoring. Penicillin, one of our most useful medicines, comes from fungus. Less well known, is the critical role Fungi play in healing diseased bees. 

Bees are in danger and if the planet loses these critical pollinators, crops and flowering plants will catastrophically be affected.  Bees have been in decline for many years due to the loss of habitat and pesticides, but did you know bees are also being threatened by a virus-bearing parasite?  This discovery was made by mycologist (Mycology is the scientific study of Fungi) and medical researcher Paul Staments. It all started when Staments noticed bees visiting a pile of rotting wood chips in his garden to feed on the mycelium underneath.  Staments became curious and discovered that the mycelium was curing the bees of their disease. Staments is now producing and distributing his “Mushroom Bee Feeder”, the fungal medicine that could save the lives of countless bees. The healthy bees, in turn, will continue to pollinate our crops. We feed bees, and the bees feed us, all with a major assist from fungi. While this web of inter-relationships is intricate and amazing, there is one more benefit from Fungi that could solve a problem in an entirely unexpected quarter. This is in the field of plastics. 

One of the most exciting prospects about Fungi is the potential to use them to recycle the waste of humanity into sustainable products.  Researchers at Yale University have discovered mushrooms that are capable of eating plastic, which could go a long way to solving the world’s pollution problem. Incredibly, many of the mushrooms that eat plastics, are then themselves edible. Fungi have the potential to turn plastics into food!

In another twist, researchers at the University of Utrecht in the Netherlands are experimenting with growing Fungi cells to mimic different textures and shapes. The results suggest that Fungi could serve as a replacement for plastic, but the new “fungal plastic” will be entirely organic and will naturally decompose. An ordinary family can use the fungal product, and when they’re done with it, toss it in the compose or add it to their garden. From underground helpers for plants to medicine for bees, from human pollution disposal to plastic replacement, Fungi are demonstrating their extraordinary powers. As we increase our understanding of Fungi, the possibility for further discoveries seems promising and hopeful.

Written by Lauren and Sara Bannerman-Maxwell.

On Wednesday, I attended a nature walk/gardening workshop arranged at the Centre By The Sea and presented by biologist Carol Goodwin, an expert in the field of Nova Scotian plants. Her knowledge was impressive, and clever questions from the participants brought her expertise to the fore. Among other things, I listened to how tree populations “talk” – it turns out they signal amongst each other, transferring nutrients across root webs; and how coniferous trees adapt to prevailing winds by shortening their wood fibres, which generates immense elastic tension and hoists the trees upright. Lumberjacks must look out for these tough spots in the wood where the fibers are taught and can withstand the blows of an axe. The most interesting of all was discovering the astonishing biodiversity in even a small area of woodland. White Pine, White Spruce, Black Spruce, Balsam Fir – who knew there are so many types of ‘Christmas tree’!

I’m Portuguese, as well as Canadian, and this nature walk got me thinking about how Portuguese forests are so different from Canadian ones, especially when it comes to biodiversity.

Portugal suffers from a severe wildfire problem. Like California, Portugal has wet, mild winters which favour the growth of dense brush, followed by hot, dry summers at which point the forest floor becomes a matchbox. Portugal is also a more densely populated country than Canada, and so these forest fires risk encroaching upon rural communities, like what happened in Fort McMurray in Northern Alberta in 2016. In 2017, to the north-east of the capital of Lisbon, in a single fire Portugal lost 111,000 acres of forest; hundreds of homes were destroyed, and 66 lives were lost. These fires repeat, year after year. Climate change ranks on the lists of factors, however there is a compelling argument that lack of biodiversity and forest management takes the lion’s share of responsibility. This becomes even clearer to me when I compare what I know and have learned about the Nova Scotian forest to the Portuguese forest.

Devastation follows from the lack of biodiversity. When you take Highway 103 from Halifax towards the Centre By The Sea, the roads are lined with birch, maple, spruce, oak, myriad flora – in fact, the human presence is hardly noticeable – my av  (grandfather) visited Canada one summer and described the country as “some houses in the middle of the bush”. Driving to my grandparents’ region of Portugal, the forests along the highway consist only of eucalyptus plantations. Since the 1980s, eucalyptus has been imported from Australia and now dominates the national forest. It is pretty, and it smells nice, but it is also terrifyingly flammable, few birds nest in it, and it outcompetes the native plants. Yet, it is a lucrative tree for the paper and pulp industry. It has the same economic value charred or alive. In Canada, the vast majority of woodland is Crown land; in Portugal, only 3% of forested land is owned by the state. All this means that commercial interests are able to exert far greater control over what is planted, and flammable eucalyptus is the cash crop. And whenever a tract of land burns in a wildfire, before any ecological succession can occur, it is promptly replanted with new eucalyptus! Over decades, this process depletes the soil, making it vulnerable to landslides and wind erosion, which blows from the Sahara.

Human factors relate in a complex way to this ecological wildfire problem. In the 1950s, 80% of Portuguese people lived in the countryside, mostly living off subsistence farming. At this time forests were carefully managed with mostly indigenous trees, and forestry practices were enforced so undergrowth was collected as firewood and forest floors were cleaned. Then, impoverished rural Portugal was drained by waves of emigration to the cities, and abroad. Today, many villages are entirely deserted. The falling population has allowed land to grow fallow, which means more flammable debris. Land ownership is also consolidated by big companies and absentee landlords who plant eucalyptus instead of farmers who use the older, more sustainable methods of forestry. So, the falling human footprint has actually made the land more vulnerable to fires! 

Portugal did not always have such a dearth of biodiversity. There once roamed wolves, lynx, boar, deer, and many of these are included in the local folklore; there is even a place near my home called praia da ursa (bear beach), though there have been no bears for centuries. The indigenous forest which once harboured abundant fauna has since been

farmed, developed, and in recent times replaced by monoculture eucalyptus. In contrast to eucalyptus, the indigenous forest is keenly adaptive to drought conditions and resistant to spread of fire. The native sobreiro, or cork oak, has developed evolutionary resistance thanks to its anti-thermal slow-smouldering outer bark layer, which is made out of the same cork we find in wine bottles, amongst many uses.

Largest cork oak specimen in the world located in Portugal. The orange trunk shows where the bark has been stripped.

There are more reasons why cork oak helps to stall fire. Cork oak has a broad, dense canopy which outshades undergrowth. This means less flammable debris.Populations of cork oak trees grow in spaced-out groves. Also, oak leaves, especially the deciduous varieties, decompose faster than eucalyptus leaves and therefore remain for less time on the ground. They tend to decompose in the winter, when debris isn’t a problem since it is too wet for fires. Cork oak acorns are edible to wild boar, among many animals, (and humans) which brings greater biodiversity in turn. The bark also regrows after damage, hence how cork is traditionally harvested as a renewable resource without cutting down any trees.

The region in which temperatures in Portugal are the hottest and driest is south of Lisbon, in the Alentejo. Here, the heat record is 47.4 degrees celsius, and it is common for the dry season to run from May to October. It is also a forested region. Portugal’s exports account for around 70% of world trade in cork, almost all in the dry Alentejo – this is an area far smaller than Nova Scotia, amply forested, not by eucalyptus, but by cork oak. One would expect the hot, dry, forested, southern region to be rife with wildfires, and yet there are virtually none! Instead, the wildfires are concentrated in the wetter and cooler north where eucalyptus is planted. If you look out across land recently ravaged by fire, you’ll occasionally find a lone native cork oak which predates the eucalyptus, and which will grow fresh buds after the rains, the only green amongst acres of black.

Portugal’s wildfires tell a sobering tale of the devastating consequences of monoculture. Native species and biodiversity steward the land and stave off desertification. Subverting usual trends, the declining human presence in the countryside has actually endangered the ecosystem. Ecological commentary often pits humans against nature, suggesting that in order for our environment to thrive, we must give way and let things grow wild. Portugal’s wildfires show the benefits of a carefully managed indigenous forest. This is also a stark reminder to Nova Scotia not to go the way of the monoculture cash crop.

That’s right, I am a Sponge Enthusiast. I started out like everybody else, watching SpongeBob square pants as a kid, as well as The Little Mermaid, and I loved going to the beach on family vacations. 

Okay…maybe it was a little bit more intense than that. My mom called me a fish, any chance I had to be in the water I would take it no matter how cold the water was. Even now as an adult, I often find myself the first of my friends to go swimming for the season. 

My constant desire to be in the water led me to become a scuba diver. Every time I went diving I felt like a mermaid, like I had completely joined the underwater realm. During my summers off from university I traveled to Costa Rica for scuba instructor training. This is where I encountered my first Sponge. I was diving with my mentor Georgia King, when I spotted this coral like Sponge on the reef. At the time I had no idea what it was, I pointed to ask, and Georgia responded by pretending to pull off a piece and wash herself. I was absolutely amazed! My first Sponge!! I couldn’t believe that I had been diving with these amazing animals all summer and had no idea. Now that I knew what Sponges looked like I started spotting them everywhere. One time I encountered a Sponge that had a Jeweled Moray Eel wrapped around it. This made me wonder did the Eel with its limited sight know it was wrapped around a Sponge? Did it find comfort in the having something to hold onto while this visitor from above swam by? This experience really challenged me to think about the impact divers have on the underwater world. Had I scared the Eel? 

When guiding dive groups, I would always point out Sponges and some of their extraordinary abilities. People were always amazed to find out the scale in which Sponge’s filter feed. Clients’ eyes would light up as I told them that a Sponge roughly the size of a pineapple could filter through 1’000 liters of water a day. While filtering out nutrients for themselves they are also recycling minerals and nutrients in the water, making dissolved materials accessible to fish, crabs, squid, and other ocean life. The list of amazing features goes on and on. My client’s started to see the ocean floor in a new light. This encouraged me to take my passion for Sponges to the next step.

 Along with my dive mentor Georgia, I created a certified Sponge Ecology course, helping divers from all over the world learn about and study Sponges. I learned so much teaching this course and enjoyed converting casual Sponge watchers into engaged and curious Sponge Enthusiasts. 

I’m lucky to be in Nova Scotia, where at any point within the province, you’re never more than 67 km from the ocean. To me, that means I’m never more than 67 km from an adventure. This also means that once Nova Scotia’s hot, humid summers roll around, I have easy access to numerous beaches. Something I am quick to take advantage of. 

A typical day on the beach for me means packing snacks, plenty of water, and of course sunscreen (I like to say “I don’t tan I burn”). I then leave my house in the late morning/early afternoon, usually along with some friends, a good book, and a new playlist. The rest of the day consists of me laying on the beach to warm up after coming out of the cool ocean, eating snacks, and reapplying sunscreen – many times. I usually come away from it feeling relaxed, refreshed, and happy. How could you not be happy after sitting by this all day (figure 1)? 

• 

• 

Usually, my motivation in going to the beach is to just enjoy it by shutting my brain off and basking in its beauty and calming properties. It wasn’t until last week that I realized that by doing this, I was neglecting to really appreciate the beach and all of the living things which call it “home”. Maybe this was because 8 months of my year are spent either in a classroom or in a laboratory, in which I’m learning to make the most detailed observations, hypotheses and questions about the macroscopic and microscopic world around me. And maybe I just need a break from thinking of these things.

Our trip to Bayswater Beach

Last Thursday, Doug, Kathleen, Lauren and myself took a trip to Bayswater beach, with the goal to collect as many unique things (specimens) as we could, and to notice everything around us (using all of our senses). During this time, my scientific training and curiosity kicked in. I was actually thinking about the world around me, as a questioning, curious scientist. Intrigued by everything I heard, saw, smelled, touched, and even tasted. This is what my post-secondary education in Biology has been training me to do, and I loved it. 

We spent a couple hours that day scouring the beach, collecting anything we found in little bags and containers. We ended up collecting water samples, a sand sample, and a full table of specimens. These specimens included everything from different types of seaweed, sponge, algae, kelp, and garbage. Usually, if I were to come across any of these creatures on my day on the beach, I would either ignore it, or brush it off, followed by an “ew”.  Part of the afternoon was then spent identifying and making observations on our specimens, which was an interesting experience as we were identifying things that we actually noticed and collected ourselves. 

• 

• 

That day, I still went home feeling refreshed and happy, but I also felt accomplished and intrigued about the world around me. My mind raced on what interesting specimens I had collected in my bags that day. My phone was full of pictures, this time, however, the pictures weren’t just of the sand and the beautiful view, they also consisted of closeups of seaweed, barnacles, periwinkles, and a myriad of other things. My notebook was full of observations of anything from the temperature change, to the many coloured particles which made up the seemingly white sand. It is really amazing what you notice when you actually pay attention. The next time I am at the beach, I will definitely be taking note of everything which surrounds me, I never want to miss out on noticing those things again. 

•