Scoping Out
April 25, 2013
It had been a long time since I had used my scopes. In fact, I think it was years ago when my
daughter and I used them for home school Science. I enjoyed bringing my old friends out from
their dark storage cabinet. I had spent
many content hours with scopes in college, peering at rotifers, insect tarsi,
the bristles on seeds, and figuring out how many ovules a certain flower
had.
First, I used my compound microscope to examine water samples. The first thing I discovered was that my
slide-making skills had slipped over time, but I was glad to practice making
them again.
I needed to look at the samples of water I had taken back on
March 27. The jar had been sitting on my
desk since then (needless to say, April had been a full and tedious
month). I knew that if there had been
anything alive in there, it was likely dead by now. So, mostly I saw broken bits of dead stuff –
strands, blobs, and all sorts of old cellular debris. If it was larger, I could have done an
interesting collage. I found these bits
to be hard to recognize, though a more currently skilled person could, no
doubt, discern something from it. It was
interesting, nonetheless.
Then it was on to a fresh, live sample.
I made three slides from the jar of fresh water, and
eventually used increasing magnification on each one.
I found cellular debris, but also bright blue-green strands
of algae cells. Color, at last!
Then I found many Paramecia darting about,
their many cilia moving as something between fluttering and undulation. Movement, at last! I could also see their nuclei and other parts
within their unicellular bodies, and recalled the first time I was able to view
these through a microscope in high school Biology.
Drawing from The Observer's Book of Pond Life by John Clegg; Frederick Warne and Co., Ltd.; 1972
There were other things I did not recognize, but they were
not moving or colorful.
Next, I got out my beloved dissecting scope to
look at the mud samples. I put a sample
of mud inside a white jar lid (an improvisation, since my examination disk
seemed to be missing) and spread it around.
I added a little water to thin it out, but that may have been
unscientific of me. I really do need to
get myself a fresh supply of distilled water.
Under the stereoscope and my watchful eye, I used a probe to
move things around.
What I saw was:
sediment. Grains of
sediment. And water, of course. And some debris such as bits of dead leaves
and sticks – but no evidence of anything breaking them down.
Not much action here.
So, what are my conclusions after my first adventure with
Cottonwood Pond water and mud, and the microscopes?
1.
I am impatient.
I want things to happen before they really can. I want to see things munching, scraping,
moving about, breaking down matter, contributing to the development of this pond. But, it takes more time than what it has
had. Isn't is similar to this
wheelbarrow full of rain water?
The wheelbarrow filled up from successive rains. Inside the water are a couple of corn husks
that blew in from a nearby compost pile.
I don't expect the husks, the water, or the bottom of the wheelbarrow to
be exhibiting life yet, so I shouldn't expect so much from my little pond just
yet, either.
2.
Life is, indeed, starting up. There are, at least, Paramecia and
blue-green algae in the water, and probably more things that I didn't
recognize. With so much going on around
the pond, and with increasing temperatures, as well as well as increasing
numbers of daylight hours, things will be happening. The frogs have told me so.
3.
I need to do some things in the near future:
a. make a fabric scoop
net to sweep through the water and see what I find that way.
b. gather or make
sieves for examining mud.
c. make a viewer for
peering into water (and something to lie on top of while doing so)
d. learn more about
how ponds develop, cycles in a pond, the progression and web of life in a pond
e. locate my
information and pictures of fresh water organisms (from unicellular on up) or
locate other sources to use
f. examine the
detritus more closely
g. examine the algae more closely
h. examine stuff from
the seep
I. get thermometers
for measuring air and water temperature, and take the temperatures every time I
visit the pond.
I hope the frogs
that visit Cottonwood Pond will start calling so that I can recognize them
(since they jump into the water too quickly).
I hope I even find frog eggs, or tadpoles. I hope I find more squiggly things. I hope something nests in the root ball.
Oops – there I go again – being impatient!!
Sounds like an interesting afternoon. You have quite the equipment. We gardeners/naturalists are full of hope.
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