OCR Text |
Show PAGE 28 THE ZEPHYR AUGUST 1994 chanting, parts of the stratigraphic sequence when, like a detective, I identify the rock layers of a new place through the windshield. Sometimes the chant goes up the sequence (flNavajoi Down to Earth sometimes down OKayentaifingateiChiided CaimeU3EntradaCurtisflSummerviUeJMonisonJ9), Entrada-Dewe- y Details like Bridge for Carmel, or Morrison-Tidwe- ll Moenkopii Cutlenfl). substituting for Summerville, can be filled in when protocol requires. The parts of Utah and surrounding states where these rocks are absent are places to which I feel no particular personal attachment; basically, those places are not home. Seeing and beginning to understand relationships between these two major themes of my interest plants and their growth medium has probably been the driving force behind my great appreciation for the Colorado Plateau. There are numerous examples here of plants that are associated with certain geologic layers or soil conditions, some much more narrowly restricted than others. Let me occupy the remainder of this month's space by taking you on a mental journey to see three closely-relate- d examples. - The genus of plants named Atripkx has many members, ranging from annual herbs to woody shrubs. My two minutes of research showed that its representatives grow on all continents except Antarctica. I don't know what the name Atripla means; my usual source for such information said merely that it was the "Latin name for the plant". What it does mean is that this group of plants has been known to Bdence for centuries. Most Atripla species grow on soils (high silt or day component) with relatively high salt content Hence, "saltbush" is an often-use- d common name for shrubby members of this group. Focusing closer to home now, almost everyone who drives into Moab from the northwest or northeast sees three different Atripkx shrubs. Those who don't see them are either (a) driving at night (though all three can be seen by headlight if you know what to look for); or (b) asleep (hopefully not while driving). These three are Atripla corrugata (mat saltbush), Atripkx gardneri var. cuneata (Castle Valley saltbush), and Atripla confcrtifolia (shadscale). They all have dull leaves and drab, inconspicuous flowers that are not likely to make the pages, much grayish-gree- n less the covers, of wildflower picture books. But let's not be shallow by focusing only on their outward appearance. I personally find the mat saltbush to be the most intriguing among these three because it represents extremes of habitat and stature. It grows in some of the harshest, most inhospitable sites for plantlife on the entire Colorado Plateau: raw shale badlands of the Mancos and Monison Formations, and the Trope Shale of the Kaiparowits country. On many of these shale sites the mat saltbush is the only plant present I don't know if it requires sudi dry, salty conditions or if it is the only plant that can tolerate them. However, where a little bit of sandstone or granitic gravel covers the shale surface the mat saltbush is usually accompanied or replaced by a dozen or so more familiar desert plants. Mat saltbush is also near the lower extreme of stature for a perennial shrub; heights of 3 inches are common, though robust specimens will pierce the sky at a lofty 6 inches. Its short narrow leaves provide abundant shade from the scorching summer sun for animals up to about the size of ants. Among the three Atripla shrubs mentioned above, the mat saltbush is probably the most restricted in terms of the soils and geologic layers on which it grows. This does not mean that it is rare and therefore about to join the spotted owl as an Endangered spedes. Everyone who pays even minimal attention to their surroundings while driving the Colorado Plateau knows that raw shale landforms (perhaps mostly viewed as "boring gray hills") cover large expanses of the region. Mat saltbush occupies many of these expanses, and is thus in no imminent danger of extinction. Watch for it appearing as low, gray-grerounded mats plastered on the gray shale hills along between Green River and Crescent Junction, or east of Cisco on the old two-- . lane highway. The Castle Valley saltbush is a bit less distinctive in appearance and habitat compared to the mat saltbush. It's taller, up to maybe 12 inches on average, and its leaves are larger. It does grow on the gray Mancos shales, but also can be found an the red soils of the Moenkopi and similar substrates, usually accompanied by a few other characteristic plants adapted to such conditions. In general its growth medium seems to be a bit less harsh and extreme compared to the mat saltbush. Watch for Castle Valley saltbush on the reddish, crust covered hills on both sides of the road into Castle Valley off of Highway 128 (but be careful, shadscale grows there too). What I find most interesting about Castle Valley saltbush are its names, both common and scientific First of all, I believe that its geographical namesake is not the Castle Valley a few miles northeast of Moab, but the Castle Valley at the base of the Wasatch Plateau, from Price southwestward down past Emery. I say this because the type specimen (basically, the "first discovery") of this plant came from Emery. I have also heard this plant called Castle Valley clover. I never knew if this reference to clover was applied seriously or in jest. These plants are reported to be a good source of food for wildlife or livestock, although this could be partly by default because there is usually so little else to eat where they grow. And as those who have driven the length of Utah Highway 10 can in-dep- th fine-textur- By Joel Tuhy In this my inaugural column for the Zephyr, I thought I would take a bit of space at first to tell how this column came to be. I had the fortune of "winning Robert Fulghum's contest in the November 1993 Zephyr by explaining how several plant spedes might have gotten their weird names. Hie contest results came out at about the time that several regular Zephyr columnists discontinued their contributions, so Mr. Stiles was looking for other writers. Would I be willing to write a column every other month? The answer, at least for August 1994, is here in front of you. Stiles (now that I have met him I guess I can drop the "Mr.") thought that this column should have a title. I balked slightly because that would demand creativity on my part, but it is his paper and therefore this column has a title. I looked through back issues to see what creative titles other contributors had chosen. I also tried thinking about what overall themes I could write about every other month for the foreseeable future. This is not necessarily an easy task, especially far someone who usually writes technical reports that the general public would find useful mainly as cures for insomnia. Now, I'm not a academic type and don't have a Ph.D. degree in anything. But if I do have a specialty I would say it would be plants. Not surprisingly, therefore, plants will be a major theme of these columns. So what to call this column? It soon became apparent that my mental efforts to find that perfect, catchy botanical title were bearing little fruit. At some point I pictured past walks I had taken with others who, unlike me, were not disposed to focus on the plants we were walking past And then the question struck me: When botanists go hiking, when art their eyes almost always looking? And the answer is ... the title of this column. Think about it. A hiker who watches for birds goes on a very different hike from one who scans the plants, even though the two hikers may be only a few feet apart the whole time. More than once I have been walking with someone who will exclaim about some pretty flower or interesting plant and I must bite my tongue, not having the heart to tell them that their discovery is about the seventeenth time I've seen that particular plant on the walk so far. What this also means is that I have probably walked unknowingly past enough prehistoric rock art to cover the walls of the Louvre. There are other reasons why this title, un glamorous as it sounds, seems to fit. Almost every plant is connected to the earth for at least part of its life cycle. Literally connected. Those that aren't are connected to water (like duckweeds) or to other plants dike Spanish moss), so they are not far removed from the earth. People talk about moving out of cities because they want to feel more "connected" to the earth. Plants have no choice; they are connected by virtue of their membership in the plant kingdom. Because of this connection, it is difficult to talk about plants without also considering their growth medium the soils and rock layers in which they are anchored (at least for part of their lives, as in the case of tumbleweeds). Therefore, a secondary interest of mine which will find its way into these columns from time to time is geology, the study of the earth. I am certainly no specialist, but I have formed an opinion over the years that I hope you don't find condescending, and that opinion is this; It would be difficult for a person who is interested in the natural world around them not to acquire an interest in geology, if they live on or travel through the Colorado Plateau for any length of time. The rock layers here are an open book waiting to be read. By accumulating a basic knowledge of the region's major rock formations, a person can travel throughout the Colorado Plateau and always be in familiar surroundings. To this day I find myself reciting, almost up-fro- nt high-power- ed wild-growi- ng - earth-scien- ce Breakfast Lunch ed Mancos-equivale- nt 2-- en 70 fine-textur-ed Dinner Corner of Center and Main Across from the Visitors Center 801-259-80- 04 |