Underfoot and Unnoticed
Bridget Molnar
Bridget Molnar
Taking time to walk or hike in nature has always been a sacred time for me. Scheduled time to meditate on the expanses of nature and the meanings of life, while moving my body in a way that was a form of release. Forming plans and goals for the week, year, and the rest of my life, mentally confronting lifelong fears, and meditating on my place in the universe filled my consciousness as I walk. I only began to understand the nature around me as science my senior year of high school through a project collecting leaves for a class. A passion ignited for all things environmental science and I began to notice the nature around me as more than the backdrop to my thoughts and meditations. This newly developed scientific observation continued to develop in my time at Kenyon and learning more about the mechanics of nature through biology and ecology classes. The fascination with leaves was supplemented with fascinations with lichen, soil bacteria, and freshwater availability. With every class, my hiking pace dropped due to the number of times I would stop, to note the interest decomposition of a leaf or the composition of a rock.
View of entryway to my site from the Kokosing Gap Trail
It was on one of these stop-and-go hikes in spring 2021 that I first met my lovely bench, right off of the Kokosing Gap Trail. A small sign stands at the entryway, welcoming Gap Trail visitors to explore beyond the paved path to the hidden gem. The bench where I sit to observe this site was placed strategically. I face the Kokosing and its slow-moving waters with a small dirt path and young trees in front of me while behind me there is a paved, well-traveled path.
Despite the sign’s invitation, I only encountered passersby twice throughout my collected hours of observation. This dichotomy of being so close to a busy path while also being almost completely alone during my time of observation sparked me to look closer at what else might be being overlooked at my site, eventually leading me to lichen.
It grows in all sorts of places; bare rock, trees, living or dead, and on exposed soil, but somehow, lichen goes relatively unnoticed to the common viewer due to its ability to blend in so seamlessly into the wooded landscape. Its mossy green allows it to blend into the sticks and rocks among the decomposing leaves which it calls home. The bark of massive hardwood trees they inhabit seems to somehow camouflage their vividly colored bodies and they fade into their surroundings. Lichen seemingly is only visible to those who are intrigued by it, an unnoticed background feature to those that are unaware. Throughout the Ohio woodlands, lichens make all these substrates their home and through observing them, I am inspired to zoom in on the complexities of the ecological processes taking place.
Sketch of a stick found at my site with multiple kinds of lichen with notes describing initial observations of their appearances.
Lichen, despite their mossy appearance, is not a plant at all, but a partnership between an alga or cyanobacteria and one or two fungi species that manifests in a unique physical appearance. In this association, the fungus acts as the primary host body and protects the photobiont partner which provides food for the fungus through photosynthesis. This complex relationship is still not fully understood as the re-creation of this partnership in labs is largely unsuccessful to the extent to which lichen forms in nature. Papers are continually released discussion more aspects of lichens that were previously unknown. These complications make the classification of lichens in taxonomic groups difficult. Generally, the body of the lichen, the thallus, has three primary forms; crustose (crust-like), foliose (leafy), or fruticose (stalked). Crustose forms attach very closely to the substrate appearing painted onto the surface. The foliose type resembles a leaf structure with overlapping portions and can be loosely or tightly adhered to the surface. Fruticose lichens have portions that significantly distance themselves from the substrate. This can appear as upright stem-like portions or long hanging branches in a variety of shapes such as cup-like or hair-like.
Primarily pale green crustose lichen with a darker green at the tops of mound formations.
Blue-green foliose lichen with white edges and spots and lighter coloration in the center.
Green foliose lichen with overlapping sections and minimal cream and tan coloration.
Lichens are present throughout much of the world and are therefore integral to their ecosystems. Lichen aid in the breakdown of rocks into soil, and those that contain cyanobacteria as their photobiont can fertilize the environment through the ability to fix nitrogen. They are also utilized by birds as nesting material and by insects for shelter. In arctic and boreal forest biomes, lichen serves as the major winter season food source. For caribou and reindeer, in particular, lichen makes up two-thirds of their diet.
Lichens have historically been utilized as a rainy-day food source for humans and domestic animals and have anthropogenic uses as well. Lichens have been traditionally used in making dyes for the earth tones in Navajo weavings and can make other dyes of colors such as yellow, brown, green, orange, purple, and red. They are used experimentally to study particular uses of their unique compounds such as the antibiotic quality present in lichen with a cyanobacteria partner, potential anti-mildew properties in paint, and as fixing agents in perfumes. Likely lichens’ most important service to humans is their ability to act as environmental indicators. Due to their sensitivity to air pollution, especially sulfur dioxide, reduced presence of lichens in particular locations can be used to study air pollution patterns surrounding cities or manufacturing.
Lichen themselves are a testament to the importance of the unnoticed in the natural world. They blend so seamlessly into their environments but yet hold so much value. Much of nature goes unseen, unheard, for example, lichen is seen but not understood, sounds are heard but unidentified, smells are smelled, but remain indescribable. Another one of these ambiguous events took place on my walk to my site along the Gap Trail. The walks are normally filled with noises of sorts, nearby traffic, people passing by, wind rustling the trees, and bird calls but the latter was louder than usual. I was intrigued as I listened closely to follow the sounds, assuming they were coming from a bird of sorts. As I continued walking the sounds became louder and seemed to be coming from ground level. It continued to grow until I seemed to be on top of its source. Surprisingly to my left, I saw that the calls were not coming from a bird, but rather a tiny chipmunk perched in a shrub. On this busy bike path, a chipmunk has decided to stay near incredibly near to call. My mind is filled with questions. Is it their mating season? Is there another chipmunk they are communicating to? Why has it chosen a spot so close to human activity? How is this call unique in comparison to others?
As these questions bubble up, I realize that it is these phenomena that I previously would have missed or overlooked due to self-reflection. Now, I see these chances encounters as opportunities to familiarize myself with the natural environment. This class has allowed me to discover my site and advance my scientific curiosity in how the natural world functions. From meditative hikes throughout a background landscape to the stop-and-go curiosity walks with ample photography, I am eager to see where my next phase in observing the natural world will take me.
“About Lichens.” U.S. Forest Service, U.S. Department of Agriculture, https://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/beauty/lichens/about.shtml.
“Form and Function of Lichens.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., https://www.britannica.com/science/fungus/Form-and-function-of-lichens.
Showman, Ray. “Lichenology 101.” Ohio Moss and Lichen Association, Ohio Moss and Lichen Association, 2001, https://ohiomosslichen.org/lichenology-101/.