OMG It's Nature: Walnut Ink, Locally Produced and Manufactured

I’m being used by a Southern California Black Walnut (Juglans californica[1]). I don’t particularly mind since I’m using the walnut tree, too. Our relationship is based on me taking its babies (i.e., seeds) and giving them a safe place to sprout—more on that later. In exchange, I get walnut husks full of juglone, rendered below.

Juglone, the molecule, in its oxidized form. Gray atoms are carbon, red are oxygen, and hydrogens aren't shown to make for a clearer picture. Making this made me miss chem class[2]. Don't you dare judge me!

Juglone is a rather useful chemical; walnuts manufacture it to kill their neighbors. Indeed, a host of plants from birches to chrysanthemums to tomatoes are sensitive to the juglone that may leach from walnut roots, leaves, or fruits. When planted beneath a walnut, these vulnerable species wither and waste away. There’s no need to share precious water and nutrients when a tree kills its neighbors. Reducing competition—it’s the wisdom of the walnut and the reason for juglone.

Us humans, however, have found many uses for juglone never anticipated by the tree that makes it. When it oxidizes, juglone turns a deep brown. Juglone based inks/dyes are permanent and lightfast, so they are great for hair dye and food coloring[3]. It was even used to embellish the margins of bibles when the good book was handwritten. And that’s what I use juglone for--ink.

Southern California Black Walnut, our local species, excretes less juglone than the walnut trees native to the eastern United States. However, the husks (the green, fleshy tissue that surrounds what is commonly called an unshelled walnut) do produce the chemical in fair concentrations. As proof, you’ll find that if you rip through the husk to reach the walnut inside, your hands will be stained brown for days. I find this a small price to pay for the end product, though. Here’s a summary of how I made said product:

(1) Gather walnuts—10 husks can produce a cup of ink. Juglans californica is listed as “uncommon” in the Jepson Manual (the California plant bible). The best place to find one is along the Santa Clara River or in canyons, anyplace the roots can tap groundwater. Once you’ve found the tree, expect walnut fruits in late summer. They’re peaking right about now. I usually gather the husks left on the ground after ravens and squirrels pillage the nuts inside.

These are ripe walnut fruits. The nut that lies within is small but edible.

(2) Find a metal pot to which you are thoroughly unattached, as you are about to ruin it. Juglone stains metal.

(3) Add the husks and a few rusty nails. The nails are really optional, but the iron they release will bind with tannins in the walnut husks to produce another, blacker compound that will darken the final product.[4]

(4) Barely cover with water. Bring to a boil, then simmer the walnut husk/rusty nail soup for about three to four hours. During this time, add additional water if necessary to keep contents from burning. The liquid will darken rapidly, but you need to boil it for a long time to get out plenty of color.

Hungry?

(5) Let cool. Boiling ink isn’t much fun to play with.

(6) Strain contents through a nylon stocking into a glass jar. You may want to reserve the boiled husks as they help future batches of ink get off to a good start.

(7) Feel slightly ashamed that you spent several hours making walnut ink, not widely regarded as a necessity to modern life.

(8) Use the ink to write, paint, stain wood, or dye textiles.

The pitchy brew shows as a nice sepia tone on paper. Since it was derived from a tree growing right here in SCV, you shouldn’t be surprised that the ink looks pretty but lacks depth.

WANTED: Walnuts

There’s an Indian riddle that asks: If acorns roll downhill, how can there be oaks growing on hilltops? The answer, of course, is squirrels, which are more than happy to run uphill to bury their acorns. They forget about a few of these cached treats and, voila, oak trees sprout on hilltops.

It’s a charming reminder that plants and animals have been helping each other out for a very long time. Plants help animals get food, animals help plants move around. People tend to exclude themselves from these relationships. Troublingly, this most natural of acts—give and take with a plant--feels distinctly unnatural to most with suburban sensibilities.

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As I mentioned before, walnuts are somewhat rare in California. Development has reduced their numbers so that the Southern California Black Walnut is listed as a "4" by the California Native Plant Society: "Plants of Limited Distribution--A Watchlist"[5]. My favorite tree in Santa Clarita happens to be a lonely walnut growing in the field near Old Orchard Road and Hart High School. It’s in the uplands next to the Santa Clara river, a big stately tree that likely outdates the powerlines that run overhead. Birds and rodents eat most of the walnuts, and those that survive and sprout will be mowed down to reduce the risk of fire in the field where the parent tree stands. This is precisely the sort of situation where people can help a plant out and probably ought to help a plant out since we contributed to its predicament.

After gathering husks, I’ll take a few good walnut fruits too, ones still on the tree but with brown mottling on the green flesh. I soak them a few hours at room temperature, peel off the husks and add them to the ink pot (payment from the tree!). Then, I toss the walnuts in the fridge until February to simulate winter. I remove them, and the warmth triggers germination. The resultant seedlings can be given to friends with room for such a tree, and walnuts can spread again through our valley[6].

Maybe one day Santa Clarita will have a new riddle: If walnuts roll downhill, how can there be walnut trees on hilltops? And the answer, of course, will be Santa Claritans.

[1]Sometimes Julgans californica ssp. californica.
[2]Do you miss O-chem too? Draw some organic molecules yourself by clicking here!
[3]Here's the juglone Wikipedia entry
[4]This website gave me the rusty nail tip and a general sense of how to proceed; it also contains some goo d links if you are overcome with the urge to make ink
[5]CNPS
[6] If you know of any walnut trees, please alert me as I’d like to preserve a little more genetic diversity than that inherent in the handful of tress I know of. And if you’d like to grow a walnut tree, email me and I’ll be happy to refer you to a seed source. They'll hurt or kill certain plants growing beneath them, but there are many juglone-resistant species as well.

OMG It's Nature: Im in Ur Valley, Killin Ur Bearz

I’m disappointed. SCV Bear Watch 2008: The Invasion is over. After a certain Ashley Harrison killed the bear in a collision on Monday night, all of my plans are ruined. There’s no longer any point guessing which household’s pet will be the first one devoured by the wayward ursid. It’s moot to even speculate about whether a group called Santa Claritans Against Black Bears In Our Neighborhoods (SCABBION) will materialize. The bear is gone.

Here's a map/timeline, based on June 14th report by Stephen Peeples and reports on June 16th and June 17th by Parimal Rohit[1].
*Friday morning, the bear was reported at Placerview Trail/North High Ridge Drive.
*Friday night, the bear was seen near Kathleen Avenue.
*Early Sunday morning, the bear was at Park Woodland Place.
*Late Monday night, a bear (if not the bear) was run over north of Sand Canyon/Highway 14.

The circumstances surrounding its death are still rather vague. Based on The Signal's coverage, we know:

Ashley Harris was driving northbound in the carpool lane of Highway 14 at 11:59 on a Monday night[2]. She struck a black bear and thought it was a dog.

She’s also from Palmdale [insert knowing nod here].

Oh, I know, that’s not fair. Don’t worry. I’m delighted that Harris is OK and I know that it’s easy for even the most alert drivers to hit an animal that goes bounding across a dark road at night. Still, it would be only fair for us to go run over one of Palmdale’s black bears—you know, an eye for an eye. Any volunteers?

The only thing left to speculate about is what drove the bear to visit the 'burbs. Predictably, we heard Ian Swift's take on things. When not describing new species of beetles, Swifty runs Placerita Canyon Park[3] and fields calls from reporters who have questions about Mother Nature. This time, he chalked the transgression up to the need to hydrate. The bear simply wanted an easy source of water.

I think we need to explore two alternative hypotheses. (1)Are we making Santa Clarita too attractive? Revitalizing Old Town Newhall and adding new bus stops and public art is fine, but not if it draws bears with a penchant for cultural appreciation into our neighborhoods. (2)Was this a grand stunt perpetrated by the City Council? The bear wandered all through the area near Benz Road and Kathleen Avenue. This is the site of a major traffic flow controversy (see last City Council meeting). Perhaps, thought some on C.C., releasing a bear would distract homeowners from traffic gripes and make them focus on more dire, immediate threats to safety.

Regardless of why it came and how it went, the bear reminded us that Santa Clarita has a wild side. As we move forward in preserving open space and expanding parkland, perhaps more of these big predators will find a hope near SCV. I hope they fare better than this bear.

[1]All of these in The Signal, of course. And Rohit seemed fond of using the word “bruin” as a synonym for bear in his article. As a UCLA Bruin (’06—woohoo!) myself, I take deep offense.
[2]A single person can drive in the carpool lane of the 14 during non-peak hours, right?
[3]Placerita aqui

OMG It's Nature: Spotted Owls and Dachshund-eating Coyotes

Today, let's visit two of Santa Clarita's top predators: Spotted Owls and coyotes. One eats Dusky-footed Woodrats; the other eats, well...

The Spotted Owl Fan Club

Northern Spotted Owls are high-maintenance drama queens. The endangered fowl demand old growth forests, the kind with trees too big to see all at once, the kind that swirl with ethereal coastal mists and attract people who hike barefoot and weep at the sight of particularly beautiful fungi. These forests aren’t exactly everywhere—essentially just the Pacific Northwest and pricey bits of coastal real estate, like Marin County. They also take a very, very long time to grow. Worse, these are the sort of forests that loggers love to log and stake their livelihoods on. Unsurprisingly, the persnickety habitat demands of the Northern Spotted Owl have made them a controversial bird (especially back in the 90s), dear friend to treehuggers and much-despised foe of loggers and developers.

Down here in Santa Clarita, our Spotted Owls are made of tougher stuff. Indeed, our owls—California Spotted Owls, to be precise; one of three sub-species[1]--have weathered fire after fire, 115-degree summers, and the insipid banter of SCV hikers for years. The Signal has been reporting on them every once in a while since at least 2006[2]. And not only are the owls getting by, they’re making babies! This year’s baby left its nest earlier in the month. It won’t be adept at flight for at least a couple of weeks to come, so its parents are forced to remain in the spot where their spawn perches. The cute, fuzzy baby and predictably-placed parents proved to be all that was needed for the formation of an (unofficial) Spotted Owl fan club.

Birders and bird watchers from all over LA and Orange Counties are driving to Placerita Canyon Park to catch a glimpse of the Spotted Owls. There may be fewer California Spotted Owls in the world than there are students at Valencia High School[3], so an all but guaranteed chance to see them is a real boon for the feather-inclined. On nearly any morning, hike the Waterfall Trail of PNC to its terminus and you’ll find yourself three Spotted Owls and perhaps as many birders. The rarity and high visibility is the real draw as Spotted Owls don’t have much in the way of personality. But there’s still a definite Spotted Owl aura that is—pardon my diction—neat to experience.

Few things should motivate the typical Santa Claritan to leave their air-conditioned abode, and Spotted Owls are not likely one of them. But if you’re an unusual Santa Claritan, visiting this family is an opportunity you’re privileged to have in your own backyard and one you may wish to act on.

Photos not by me but by a friend who is a big old fan of Spotted Owls. And yes, these are the very birds in SCV. Don't let the thoughtful expression of the parent (above) fool you; Spotted Owls aren't exactly the brightest crayons in the box.

The Coyote Not-Fan Club

Katie-Mae is the name of Kathi Beadle's beloved dachshund. Her dog was recently eaten by coyotes that apparently jumped a wall into the backyard. Beadle's letter to The Signal was featured on the 25th, and can be read here.

A few excerpts:

"No bark, no howl, no warning, only the treacherous scowl of the coyote staring back at me from over the block wall as I searched for my pet in futility."

"Stories of small dogs and cats snatched by the heinous creatures seem to be more prevalent this year than in the past."

Now, I feel really bad for Ms./Mrs. Beadle. I lost my dog last year (to cancer, not coyotes), and it sucks. There is no way around this.

Beadle's letter is a very useful reminder for dog-owners to be on alert, but are we really still villainizing coyotes (e.g., "heinous creatures")? We live in Santa Clarita and cherish our undeveloped wildands. But it's a lively, vibrant wilderness, one that still rustles with foxes, coyotes, cougars (not just the kind desperately trawling at Elephant Bar), and even the occasional black bear. Putting dogs outside is a risk, but I'd rather live in a valley where that risk is present than one devoid of any animals with a killer instinct.

[1]The other is the Mexican Spotted Owl, which lives in both Mexico and parts of the US--plus there are two additional sub-species found only in Mexico. It's confusing, isn't it? But all of these sub-species can potentially interbreed and are still very much "Spotted Owls." They just look a bit different from one another and are geographically separated.
[2]I can't prove this as the Signal's archive isn't searching for me right now; suffice it to say they've been talked about for a while, usually when they're refound after Placerita's most recent fire.
[3]Again, this is complicated. But based on Cornell's Birds of North America account on the species (by R.J. Gutierrez et al.):
"A minimum of 3,050 individuals detected between 1970 and 1992 (Gutiérrez 1994a). One thousand eight pairs and 436 single birds known to occur in the Sierra Nevada; 598 individuals known from 15 other populations (range 6–270 individuals/population; Beck and Gould 1992, LaHaye et al. 1994)."

OMG It’s Nature: Of Lizards & Lyme Disease

This is the first in a new series of post-headings: "OMG It's Nature". Originally, it was "OMG It's Freakin' Nature", but I withheld the "Freakin'" for those with more delicate sensibilities. These posts will focus on the natural goings-on in Santa Clarita.

I've decided to start with fence lizards, an oft overlooked but profoundly important part of SCV's native fauna. And they're scurrying around all over in the recent warm weather, so why not give them a shout-out? The story isn't a new one (the research I reference is nearly 10 years old), but it's one I like very much. In any case, I present to you the fence lizard (and ticks, bacteria, and rodents, too) and hope that the next time you see one, you'll exclaim "OMG It's Nature!"--in a good way.


There are plenty of animals that no one but the most ardent of tree-huggers wants to see in their yard: ants, skunks, rabbits, wasps, American Coots, etc… The list of animals we welcome with open arms is decidedly shorter, usually just some smallish birds and butterflies. To this list of beasts gleefully greeted by homeowners I propose an addition: the Western Fence Lizard (Sceloporus occidentalis). No, they don’t sing or flit about flowers, but they do help in the fight against Lyme Disease.

Western Fence Lizards (also called Blue-bellies) are exceedingly common, even in our own backyards. In recent weeks you’ve probably noticed them getting active again and scampering over fences, rocks, and paths. At this same time of year ticks also grow more active. I've had a couple of ticks myself, and they’re thoroughly unpleasant. Apart from the gross-factor (who likes having an invertebrate parasite stick its head in your bloodstream?) public health officials point to a long list of tick-borne diseases[1]. There’s Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, Tularemia, Babesioisis, and--most infamously--Lyme Disease.

Lyme Disease is caused by a spirochete bacteria called Borrelia burgdorferi. Locally, it is the black-legged tick (Ixodes pacificus) that is responsible for passing on the spirochetes to the blood stream of their human hosts. When this happens, Lyme Disease follows.

Happily, we have Western Fence Lizards on our side. Not only do they eat ticks, but they cure the ticks that bite them of the Lyme Disease spirochete.

Indeed, when an immature tick (called a “nymph”) happens to bite onto a lizard for its blood meal, something remarkable happens. As the tick feeds, proteins in the lizard’s blood serum destroy spirochetes in the tick’s gut. Thus, when the tick is finished feeding and drops off the lizard, it is no longer a carrier of B. burgdorferi and won’t cause Lyme Disease in the next animal (including humans) that it bites.

The experimental support for this phenomenon is exceptionally strong. In a 1998 study by Robert Lane and Gary Quistad at UC Berkeley, 10 fence lizards were captured and brought into the lab[2]. The researchers placed 10 nymphs on each lizard. These nymphs were from a colony of ticks that were confirmed carriers of the Lyme Disease causing spirochete. After the ticks finished feeding on lizard blood, Lane and Quistad re-tested them for presence of the spirochete. Precisely 0% of the ticks were infected.

In a complementary experiment, the researchers dropped live spirochetes into blood serum drawn from lizards or mice. The spirochetes did just fine in the mouse blood, living for 2 or 3 days, but all of the spirochetes were destroyed after just one hour in culture with lizard blood serum. The protein responsible for destroying the spirochete seems to be present in other local lizard species as well, such as the alligator lizard[3].

Western Fence Lizards: not only are they fun to watch, their blood carries, in the words of Lane & Quistad, a "thermolabile Borreliacidal factor"! I'd look more excited if I had some of those.

As very common hosts of tick nymphs, Western fence lizards do us a great service in destroying the spirochetes responsible for Lyme Disease. Studies have begun to investigate how effectively lizards reduce the prevalence of the bacteria in ticks in the wild, and this work should be of great interest to those working in the fields of public health or epidemiology.

The Western Fence Lizard has a relatively small range—primarily just California, Oregon, and Nevada--so Santa Clarita is lucky to fall within this area. And since the lizards are doing so much for us, perhaps we should consider being a little more welcoming to the likable little reptiles. Rock piles for basking and abstaining from pesticides would be great. Keeping pet cats inside (have you ever noticed how many lizards cats take?) would be even better. I know that prioritizing wildlife over an exceptionally green lawn is decidedly unnatural for most Claritans, but it might be worth a try.

Now, just because we have lizards whose blood proteins destroy Lyme Disease spirochetes doesn’t mean we don’t have to worry about Lyme Disease. Infected nymphs and adult ticks will likely always be around, at least in small numbers. In California, there are new incidents of Lyme Disease every year, and it’s important to take the threat seriously. Still, it’s nice to know that our risk of the disease may be lessened by our friends, the fence lizards.


[1]Ticks, like mosquitoes, are shockingly good at spreading disease. Both of these bugs are essentially just biological syringes, and I’m sure mom warned you not to share syringes with your friends.
[2]Source: R.S. Lane & G.B. Quistad. 1998. Borreliacidal factor in the blood of the western fence lizard (Sceloperous occidentalis). Journal of Parasitology vol. 84, pp. 29-34.
[3]Source: M.M. Kuo, R.S. Lane & P.C. Giclas. 2000. A comparative study of mammalian and reptilian alternative pathway of complement-mediated killing of the Lyme Disease spirochete (Borrelia burgdorferi). Journal of Parasitology vol. 86, pp.1223-1228.