There is only one – only one species that is mine. I mean, I belong to species is Homo sapiens, just like you do (I imagine, unless you are a dolphin who has managed to spy into a nearby computer screen in which case I am very happy that your trainer is reading my blog – please give him an extra fish for that). But there is another species that I call my own (although I share it – that’s OK).
We are all “unique” in that we have our own set of DNA that shapes us as individuals. How we look, and how our bodies function, is called our “phenotype”. And here is one thing that is unique about me, not a direct function of my DNA (my “genotype”) – I have a species named after me. It’s true. OK, it’s also true that I share this honor with my ex-husband Skip Walker. Here’s the funny part. It’s a fungus! I mean – not exactly warm and fuzzy! Fungi include such lovable groups as the Slime Molds. Fungus is the fluffy white stuff that kills your goldfish.
But “my” fungus is benign. It won’t hurt you or your goldfish, and it doesn’t grow in your refrigerator (well, unless you happen to have certain arctic lichen species growing in there as well, in which case you deserve whatever happens to you). It’s called Pronectria walkerorum Zhurb. My friend and colleague Mikhail Zhurbenko discovered the species and named it after us in honor of our years spent describing and studying the arctic tundra.
Mikhail Zhurbenko of the Komarov Botanical Institute, Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg, Russia
I met Misha on a 6-week expedition to the Taimyr Peninsula in northern Siberia in the summer of 1991. With 12 others, mostly Russians, we visited three areas, spending 7-10 days at each area. Misha was the lichenologist on the team, and we struck up an immediate friendship because of our common interest in these fascinating organisms that represent a symbiotic (=mutually beneficial) relationship between a fungus and an algae.
I consider myself to be a “manifester”. I have noticed that often, if I think of something that I would like to happen, it happens. It might take many years, and often it’s not exactly how I thought it would be. In fact, the manifestation may have some… let’s call them “side effects”… that weren’t at all what I meant. Often these thoughts are fleeting, but they are generally clear and rather intense. Many many years ago, as a graduate student, I was sitting in a lecture hall at the University of Colorado, Dept. of Environmental, Population, and Organismic Biology, attending the weekly departmental seminar. The week’s speaker was Dr. Mason Hale, internationally known botanist and lichenologist of the Smithsonian Institution. I had recently completed my first-ever lichenology course with Dr. Sam Shushan, who had opened my eyes to the fascination and beauty of these unusual organisms.
As Dr. Shushan made the introductions, he told the funny story of being on a collecting expedition with Dr. Hale, and how Dr. Hale had a bag of specimens flung over his shoulder that outdid Santa Claus many times over. I still have that image in my mind, of Mason Hale with his giant bag. I could relate to that. I could love a man like that. And here’s the other thing that is crystal clear from that day. It was making the mental statement to myself, “To really have made it as a biologist, you will have a species named after you.”
(You will note that I never once thought, “To really have made it as a BRYologist, you will have a fungus named after you.” But perhaps the Universe had its hearing aid turned down that day. One never knows.)
Dr. Mason Hale has more than a species named after him – he has an entire genus. True, the genus has only one species in it, but it’s a real beauty – Masonhalea richardsonii:
Masonhalea richardsonii - Photo by Brendan Hodkinson
This lovely species is extremely abundant in the Arctic and Subarctic. It lives completely detached from any substrate – it truly goes where the wind blows. Lichens must get all their nutrients and moisture from rainfall. M. richardsonii has a fascinating way of doing this. When it’s dry, it curls into a ball and does essentially nothing (physiologically speaking – I don’t think that lichens ever dance or write blogs). But when it’s moist from rain or mist, it fully opens and spreads out flat on the ground, photosynthesizing and growing.
So, back to that little thought bubble… “I would be so incredibly honored if someone named a species after me. That would be the moment I’d become a true Biologist.” Fast forward 10 years or so, an email pops up in front of me. It is Misha telling me that has named a species after me. At that time, I was discovering just how much work it is trying to run a retail store, so I just laughed. I mean, getting an email from a dear friend, halfway around the planet, telling you that he has named a fungus after you, does tickle the funny bone. I decided that my current claim to fame was to be the only toy store owner in the galaxy to have a fungus named after her.
Pronectria walkerorum is tiny. It’s a microscopic fungus that grows on arctic lichens (“lichenicolous fungi”). But I’m proud of it. I wrote this page as my public thank you and acknowledgement to Misha for his years of research and love of the Arctic.
The moral of this story is… OK no real moral. I could say something snarky like “Be careful what you wish for.” But it always gets a laugh (often accompanied by very strange looks) at parties when I’ve had enough wine that I dare admit I have a fungus named after me. Thank you, Misha. You are a great friend and I’m glad our paths have crossed.
Pronectria walkerorum links:
New and rare lichenicolous fungi and lichens from the North American Arctic
Consortium of North American lichen herbaria – Pronectria walkerorum
New and interesting lichenicolous hypocrealean fungi from the Northern Hemisphere
Pronectria walkerorum: Reference
Nomenclatural novelties proposed in Mycotaxon, Volume 92
The Bryologist – Recent Literature on Lichens
Mycotaxon: Index to Fungous and Lichen Taxa, Volumes 91-100