Something Pacific

It's Snowing in Seattle

2012-01-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

Here in Western Washington slightly to the North of Seattle it's been snowing, off and on, since the 12th, though today was the day we got the most snow.

Yesterday we shoveled the walk in front of our house and the sidewalk for the second time. The day before a casual passerby pointed out that it was still snowing and asked "Isn't that a little premature?" My partner pointed out that it would make it a lot more likely that we'd get our mail, and that fire trucks and ambulances could get where they needed to be.

Now, I'm from N.H. My partner is from Montana. We know what real snow is. They're really not used to snow here, I mean really not used to it. I think we got four inches today. It was pretty, but not what I'd call overwhelming.

Or it wasn't until I saw people in small cars going way too fast and sashshaying all over.

We shoveled again yesterday. Now, I can see people from the window stopping and marveling at the sidewalk and walk-way. (I really want to tell them it was snow angels, and that the silhouettes on the lawn across the way are the proof). Our mail delivery person was effusive and looked at me and said "You guys aren't from around here, are you."

My partner, sharing Pacific Northwest wisdom, explained that liberals shovel their own walks, conservatives hire someone who's a recent emigrant and libertarians just use snowshoes to get around.

These two videos kinda explain the way Seattle folk view snow:

The same day I took the picture above, they were selling locally grown tulips and daffodils in the grocery store:

Hummingbirds in Washington State

2012-01-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

The other day, while admiring a Steller's Jay who was giving us merry hell for staring at his beautiful plumage from the outer branches of a rather tall Douglas fir, I noticed a hummingbird zipping around the fir tree, from one side to another. I suspect the hummer was actually interested in the nearby blooming Witch hazel.

But I am now absolutely determined to set up a Hummingbird feeder. If you're not familiar with them, these are clear plastic containers that often have red highlights to make them more attractive to hummers. Some are like hanging bottles, others more like flying saucers with feeing areas for several hummers. You fill them with a solution of sugar water (1 part sugar to four parts water; don't mess with this ratio, and don't use honey).

The hummer I saw was much too far away to identify visually, and was uncharacteristically quiet, so I couldn't identify it based on its ~~squawking~~ song. But chances are, it was an Anna's Hummingbird, Calypte anna. Not only have I seen Anna's hummingbirds in Washington before, they're the most common hummer around Puget Sound. People in Whatcom and Skagit do sometimes see the tiny Calliope Hummingbird, mostly during breeding season, as well as the Rufous Hummingbird (a species I've not seen—yet).

We Got Snow!

2012-01-14T18:33:00.000-08:00

We really did! Look:

It started out as rain, but slowly turned sleet, then to mixed-rain-with snow, and by about 2:45 it was genuine, actual snow in large wet clumping flakes.

And here's a jeeep with snow, real actual snow:

We went to visit the pasture, and inside the chicken coop, was this cold little Golden Crowned Sparrow.

If the snow continues, as various weather prediction services claim it will, I'll try to get a picture of a Giant Holly Tree with Berries, in the snow. I've located a suitable model already.

Witch Hazel

2012-01-12T22:54:00.000-08:00

We went for a short walk today; the sun was partly out, and the mountains looked lovely. We noticed a faint but definitely pleasant odor; something sweet. It was a shrub about five feet or so tall, in full bloom. The blossoms were yellow strands, with slightly darker maroon cup like strands of the calyx in their center. I couldn't think what it might be; it reminded me a little of certain Australian mimosas I'd seen in Southern California. It was a bright, cheery yellow on a somewhat grey day, and I noticed I could see a few others in nearby yards. There's a larger picture here, but this one shows the typical "vase like" form of the shrub; tall, with branches on either side, in fairly even order.

It turns out that the shrub was a witch hazel, or more specifically, Hamamelis x intermedia "Arnold Promise." This particular variety, which thrives in the Pacific Northwest, blooming from January to March, and subsequently bearing golden yellow leaves, was an inadvertent cross discovered at the Arnold Arboretum. In 1928 botanist William Judd collected seeds from one of the arboretum's Hamamelis mollis varieties of witch hazel, and planted them. In quick order, it became clear that the young plants were hybrids of Hamamelis mollis pollinated by a Hamamelis japonica which grew nearby in the arboretum. One of the offspring in particular stood out, with fragrant vivid yellow blossoms. 1944, Alfred Redder named the new hybrid Hamamelis x intermedia, and in a few years, the arboretum began releasing plants to retail nurseries. For the curious, the gory details are here in a 1981 .pdf from the Arnold Aboretum's journal.

Witch hazel isn't related to witches specifically, alas; it's a fairly common European shrub (and there are, of cours Asian varieties, especially in Japan); it is not cognate with wicce/wicce which gives us "witch." Rather, the witch of witch hazel is related to the Old English verb wican meaning "to bend," cognate with wicker. Infusions of Witch hazel bark and leaves, typically in an isopropyl alcohol solution, are often used to treat cuts, bruises, and minor abrasions since it has some ability to constrict blood vessels.

It's All New Again

2012-01-06T13:00:00.000-08:00

We moved in December; we're still in Western Washington, but we've moved south a bit, closer to Seattle. This is an older, industrial and blue-collar town, and I'm already very fond of it. Lots of older Victorian houses, both mansions, and those that I think were built as multi-unit boarding houses or apartment buildings even in the early 1900s. We're still near the water, though it's not as obvious based on the bird life. I've seen two giant 100-plus flocks of snow geese though, which was pretty cool, especially when they all decide to stop feeding and take to flight. But there are chickadees here, I've both seen and heard them, and I have been contemplating the appropriate placement of a bird feeder, given the neighborhood cats, the squirrels, and the exceedingly well-fed and very large crows and pigeons.

Ring-Necked Pheasant

2011-11-11T14:08:00.001-08:00

I've seen pheasants three times now at the field. Mostly, I've seen the male; the female appears to be shyer and with her more subtle coloring is a lot harder for me to spot. The male is easier for me to see because of his rich red breast, and the very visible white band around his neck. (There really is a pheasant in the picture; click for a larger version.)
The Ring-Necked pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) is not a native species; they were introduced from Eurasia. In fact, the very first pheasants officially introduced to the U.S. were introduced in Port Townsend, Washington, from the ship Otago on March 13, 1881.
They sound rather like a chicken, and behave quite a lot like a Ruffled Grouse. The particular male in the picture above (really that is a pheasant, I swear!) wasn't even a little shy; if I'd been able to cross the ditch fast enough I think I could have gotten within a foot or so. I'll bring my camera next time; I took the photo at the top with my iPhone. Just so you know what they look like, here's a much better picture of a pheasant from Wikimedia Commons (click for a larger version):

Lake Whatcom, Washington

2011-11-11T13:57:00.001-08:00

Great Blue Heron

2011-10-22T15:25:00.001-07:00

heron1, a photo by macallister.stone on Flickr.

My pictures from my phone were less than stellar, but this one by MacAllister is quite lovely.

We think this particular heron is a regular at the hatchery. We've seen him several times, and he can be downright flirtatious.

River Otters

2011-10-20T16:57:00.000-07:00

River Otter in a boat via MacAllister Stone

We walked to Boulevard Park today. It was one of those days that started out cloudy and overcast, with rain threatening on the horizon, but by 11 am it was mostly clear with intermittent sun. Once we arrived at the park another visitor alerted us to the presence of river otters in one of the small boats tied up just off the board walk. The otters were clearly eating something, and once they had finished with one boat, they moved to another. We could clearly see their tails when they jumped off the side of the boat and back into the bay. There were at least three; two larger otters and one smaller, which suggests that they were a family.

River otters are not uncommon in the Puget Sound area, but it's the first time I've ever seen any variety of otters at all. Otters are common enough in the area that more than thirty river otters were relocated to first nation tribal lands in New Mexico, where river otters had become extinct.

The North American river otter (Lontra canadensis), also known as the northern river otter or the common otter, is a native of North America, and was once fairly common. They are members of the weasel family, and are known for their curiosity, clever paws and playfulness. They have tiny ears, close to their heads, and their ears and nostrils shut while the otter is underwater. They're perfectly happy to steal fish from fishermen, but they're adept at catching fish on their own, and are fond of salmon, shellfish and crayfish. They're easily differentiated from harbor seals, even at a distance, by their tails.

We're not the only ones to see river otters locally; this video was taken on the 7th at Lake Padden.

Bittersweet Nightshade

2011-08-30T00:14:00.000-07:00

I was picking blackberries Sunday, and admiring some truly amazing blackberry vines and canes that went up over my head for a total of oh, perhaps twenty feet of height, heavy with ripe berries, when I noticed a lovely delicate purple and yellow flower:

That's Bittersweet Nightshade, Solanum dulcamara. It's a vine, though it can look very shrub like; it's also known as Woody Nightshade or European Bittersweet. Bittersweet Nightshade is an invasive plant, and regarded officially as a noxious weed. Some of the plants already have slightly translucent red berries.; they're not perfectly round, and a vine can have flowers, green berries, and red ones, all at once. The Official .pdf Bittersweet Nightshade Fact Sheet from Washington's King County agricultural department

Bittersweet Nightshade is toxic to humans and animals. It's difficult to eradicate without herbicides; you can hand-pull it up and destroy the roots (be aware that it has a foul odor), but small fragments of roots will continue to sprout. Bittersweet Nightshade isn't the same species as either Deadly Nightshade or Belladonna, though Bittersweet Nightshade belongs to the same general Solanum family as the other Nightshades, as do a lot of other plants, including tomatos, potatoes, and eggplant.

The Nightshade was growing intermingled with the blackberries. I note, for the curious, that this is the first time since I moved here in 2008 that the blackberries were worth picking:

Elderberries

2011-08-27T21:13:00.000-07:00

There are two sorts. The red Elderberry, or Sambucus racemosa, and the bluish-purple variety, Sambucus caerule. It's a native of Washington, and fairly common in the Puget Sound area.

Both of these were taken on the same day, about ten feet from each other. First, the Purple Elderberry, Sambucus caerule. This is the Purple Elderberry page at Burke Museum of Natural History (part of the University of Washington) Web site.

Next, the red variety; Sambucus racemosa. This variety seems to be quite aggressive; I expected to find that it was on a list of invasive plants, but no, it's a native of the area. You can read more about Red Elderberry at the Burke Museum Web site.

My local informants tell me the red berries are edible, but nasty. The purple variety have been used for food, wine and medicinal properties for a very long time, though most typically the variety known as the Common Elderberry, which is not a Washington native. European fairy folklore has a number of references to various properties of the Elderberry. This page has some suggestions for ways of using Elderberries and flowers.

Poor Man's Orchid

2011-08-05T14:27:00.000-07:00

Impatiens glandulifera or Himalayan Balsam

These are completely new to me; they've just started to bloom in the last week or so. Known locally as "Poorman's Orchids," better known as Himalayan balsam, the botanical name is Impatiens glandulifera. They're a succulent, and spread via these odd little red buds that send out runners for surprisingly long distances, as well as seeds. They're capable of growing very tall indeed; as in five or six feet. They really do resemble orchids, though they are, unfortunately, considered a noxious week. They appear to have been first introduced to Europe from Asia in the 1800s. There's a record of them being introduced to Kew Gardens in 1838.

They're an annual, and can also propagate by seeds. They have small seed capsules, packed with tiny seeds. When the pods ripen, they become explosively brittle, and a slight touch spreads the seeds far and wide. They are aggressive growers and their seed dispersal and rapid growth means that they are likely to overwhelm native plants; hence many places, including British Columbia, regard them as an invasive species.

Fortunately, they are easy to eradicate; even the large plants are simply to pull up by the roots, it's trivial to remove the seedlings and smaller plants, and deadheading the flowers or removing the seedpods while yet green stops the seeds from spreading.

Ruminations on the Weather

2011-07-20T19:39:00.000-07:00

Before I moved to Western Washington from sunny Southern California, my partner told me that it was frequently rainy, but that they often had stretches of sunshine in the summer that lasted hours.

She was exaggerating, of course, but there was some reason to be concerned; it does rain rather a lot here, compared to the desserts of Southern California, and Seasonal Affective Disorder is a serious issue for a lot of people.

Fortunately, for someone whose perception of weather good and bad is based on New Hampshire, I found the weather here mild, even the winter of 2008, which was a serious issue in terms of snow fall for a lot of people. It's often rainy, misty, and foggy here, but it's always beautiful. I've seen incredible rainbows, and even now, I can see snow on the mountains.

But honestly, this summer has been a cheat. We've had a single summer day—on July 4th—when the temperatures went up to 78 F, and the sun was bright and durable. It's essentially fall already; we've had cold fall rain, and the leaves are turning. The Maple seeds are already red. Watermelons are already past, before they've even had a chance to ripe, and the local corn doesn't seem to be happning this year.

Meanwhile, everywhere else in the U. S. is apparently suffering a record heatwave, as evinced by this image circulating via Twitter.

Scott Sistek, the meteorologist for Seattle's KOMO News, decided to look back at the temperature records for Seattle's current summer. Sistek was looking for "warm summer" temperatures—meaning any time the temperature reached at least 80 degrees.

Seattle has had 78 minutes of summer ;thus far. 12 minutes of summer on July 2, and another 66 minutes on July 6. Everett hasn't reached 75 yet this year.< I take some comfort in the fact that I still find the mist on the hills, and the rain, and yes, the rainbows, all lovely, even while I'm glad to be drinking red wine from Sicily and enjoying hearty bean and sausage soup, that it's worse in Portland, Oregon.

From B. C. Comics on Tuesday January 22, 2000.

Horse Board and Pasture in Snohomish County, WA

2011-07-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

My friend Oly has a few more openings for horse boarding. It's a nice setup, with private pasture and several board options to suit your needs. He's close to Everett, and about ten minutes from Snohomish, Lake Stevens, or Marysville. You can read more about his Snohomish Horse pasture and boarding.

Towhees

2011-07-05T15:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we spent most of the day at a Puget Sound state park. The Blackberries are thriving there, and so were the birds. I heard and saw lots of Goldfinches on the wing, but didn't see any of them close-up.

We saw a number of small green birds that puzzled me enormously. We saw several different individuals; they seemed about finch or sparrow size, and they appeared to be feeding in the Blackberry brambles and on the ground just beneath them. They were mostly an olive green to vibrant green in color, with a rusty area on the very top of their heads. They weren't Goldfinches, since they didn't fly with the zig-zag flight of a Gold Finch. They weren't Pine Siskins either. I thought they were possibly some sort of Pacific Northwest warbler or a variety of finch I hadn't seen before.

I had no luck looking for these small green birds on Google, so I emailed my brother the birder. He suggested that perhaps we had seen Green-tailed Towhees. He notes that they've been seen in the area recently, that they like to eat Blackberries, and that they're about the size of a large Sparrow. I think he's right.

The picture to the left was taken by Ned Harris. It looks very much like what we saw. There's a lot of variation in the shade of green with Green-tailed Towhees, as you can see from this Green-tailed Towhee slideshow.

We also saw a Spotted Towhee, the second time I've seen this Pacific Northwest species. Just in case you're curious, on the left there's a picture of a Spotted Towhee by Alan D. Wilson. It's similar to, but not identical to the Eastern Towhee of my New England past. The second picture below is of an Eastern Towhee by Ken Thomas.

Ken Thomas

Pacific Northwest Blackberries

2011-07-02T23:24:00.000-07:00

Giant Blackberry Thicket

I am quite genuinely suspicious that Western Washington state is held together by a single giant massive "Himalayan" Blackberry vine that criss-crosses the state. We had blackberries, both wild and cultivated, in N.H. but not like these. Washington Blackberry vines can have canes as thick as broom handles, and they climb aggressively up trees, telephone poles, and hillsides. Any uncultivated ground or roadside is likely to be an unwilling host to the Himalayan Blackberry. They are seemingly ravenous in their desire to conquer new ground; any patch of otherwise unclaimed soil is likely to erupt with an incipient army of Blackberry vines.

In truth, the ubiquitous Pacific Northwest blackberry is not Himalayan at all. It was originally introduced by Luther Burbank at the the end of the nineteenth century. He thought it was from the Himalayan mountains in Asia; in actuality the common Blackberry vines of Washington are Rubus procerus from Germany (also known as Rubus discolor and Rubus armeniacus).

Rubus procerus is a pest, an invasive plant that, despite its edible berries, is generally loathed by gardeners everywhere because it's such an efficient invader. It aggressively chokes and crowds out other plants, especially the native Trailing Blackberry, Rubus procerus. Rubus procerus is officially listed as a noxious invader, and the state encourages fairly harsh methods of removing the Himalayan Blackberry/Rubus procerus. I note that while the berries are often delicious, and the vines fecund, Rubus procerus brings a mighty armor of thorns that defeats all but the most persistant.

One of my preferred ways of enjoying Blackberries, other than straight from vine to mouth, is as a topping for, yogurt, ice cream or oatmeal. Blackberries are fabulous in pies and cobblers, or converted into ice cream and sorbet, and, most especially, Blackberries are especially spectacular rendered into wine or blackberry infused vodka.

If you are fortunate enough to have enough fresh Blackberries to freeze them, you can enjoy them all Winter long. If you want to freeze Blackberries (or Raspberries, or Thimbleberries, or Salmonberries) pick your berries and bring them straight home. Simply clean them, removing bits of leaves and twigs, rinse them lightly, let them drain (you may want to use a paper towel or rag to make sure there's no excess water), then freeze your berries in quart-size ziplock bags. Each bag easily holds two cups. Gently arrange the bags of berries so they lie flat, and stack them in your freezer. When you're ready for fresh hot, Blackberry cobbler (served with ice cream or heavy whipping cream), just reach for a bag.

And, if your harvest is particularly good, think about Blackberry jams and preserves, and Blackberry syrup. Or, for a special treat in late fall or during the holiday season, fill a sparkling clean Mason jar two-thirds with fresh gently macerated Blackberries, and then top it off with vodka or brandy. Add a couple of curls of lemon zest for a little something extra. Stash the tightly sealed jar in the back of your refrigerator and give it a gentle shake every couple of days to turn the fruit. In a month to six weeks, you'll have a lovely topping for ice cream, and a super flavoring for, well, all manner of things, including Blackberry cocktails.

If you've got some really amazingly flavorful Blackberries, you can make your own lovely but high-proof Blackberry liqueur following the instructions of the esteemed Tersa Nielsen Hayden.

Thimbleberries

2011-06-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

My first two years here, I kept seeing a berry plant that wasn't Salmonberry, and wasn't the invasive Blackberry that's everywhere in Western Washington and Oregon. No, this was a very different blossom, and the berries were a different shape, and a slightly pinker shade of red than a Raspberry.

I was puzzled, not only because of the large vaguely Maple-leaf looking leaves, the absence of thorns, but because of the lovely but unusual white blossoms, with a prominent and slightly raised yellow center. It was clearly a Rubus of some sort, a close relative of the native "Trailing Blackberry," the native Salmonberry, and even the intrusive Blackberry that dominates the landscape. But it was not any of them.

It was Rubus parviflorus,, better known as Thimbleberry. Thimbleberry grows in the same places you find Salmonberry and Blackberries, as a low shrub (not nearly as large or tall as the intrusive Blackberry) with much larger, less fragile-seeming white blossoms. The berries are quite edible. They first appear as tight green nodules, but then they turn a pale pinkish-orange, with the remainders of the petals making them vaguely like they are sitting in the middle of a star. Eventually, the petal remainders drop off and the berries turn red when they're ripe. They're similar to Raspberries, but not identical; they are slightly less sweet, but quite lovely nonetheless.

Because Thimbleberries are fragile, unless you're using them very soon after picking them, for instance as a dessert topping or in a salad, Thimbleberry jam might be the perfect way to use them and preserve them.

Salmonberry

2011-06-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

The Salmonberry is the first of the Raspberry/Blackberry sorts of fruit to ripen; I had my first of the season last week.

I should note first of all that the Salmonberry, Rubus spectabilis, is a native of the Pacific Northwest, including Northern California, Idaho, Oregon, and Montana, as well as Western Washington. It's most easily identified when it's in bloom; it has lovely salmon pink flowers, though presumably it's named for the indigenous peoples' use of salmonberry to accompany salmon and salmon roe. The berries are the first to ripen, but they are slightly sour and very fragile. They are tasty though. They're quite edible, but fragile, so it can be difficult to transport them. But they're good as a topping for yogurt or ice cream, or in jams and jellies, or made into wine. Alaskan Wilderness winery makes Salmonberry wine. Alternatively you can make your own Salmonberry wine, or Salmonberry jam.

Salmonberry Blossoms

Salmonberry Berries

Steller's Jay

2011-06-21T21:15:00.000-07:00

Steller's Jay

Last month I saw my very first ever Stellar's Jay. This is a Pacific Northwest native, Cyanocitta stelleri, related to the Eastern Blue Jay of my New England childhood, and recognizably so, though it's a different species (both are members of the very large and frequently raucous Corvidae family. Steller's Jay is a gorgeous bird. It's one of the crested jays, with a peaked head, the only such Jay west of the Rockies. Its coloration is mostly a striking deep blue with black highlights. The front and breast is mostly black, and the back and tail a vibrant deep blue. Click the small picture to the left to see the larger version on Wikipedia.

Steller Jays favor evergreen forests; the first one I saw was in a medium size pine tree,where it was deftly picking out the pine nuts and devouring them. It was much larger than I expected, and stunning. I saw a second example a couple of weeks later, on the edge of the highway where it was clinging to a telephone pole's stabilizing cable. Here's the Cornell Bird Lab page about Steller's Jay.

Fauna and, Well, Fauna

2011-06-15T11:35:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting spring, albeit the wettest one I've seen in three years of living in Washington.
I managed to see see two small wild bunnies, something I usually miss because the blend in so very well to their surroundings. I took pictures with my phone, but they're of the variety known as "No, really, that brown dot is a bunny!" so I'll spare you them.

But we did see a lovely Great Blue Heron posing while fishing in a creek. Naturally, because I didn't have a camera, he spent about 45 minutes showing off his plumage and fishing skills. My partner managed to take a few cell phone pictures.

Like so many of the birds here, this Great Blue Heron was larger than I'm accustomed to; I'd say perhaps as much as six inches taller, and not even a little shy.

Pacific Northwest Sunset

2011-01-29T20:19:00.000-08:00

It's already beginning to be spring here; the pussy willows are opening, trees are budding, and primroses (in more colors than I've ever seen in my life) are for sale at ridiculously low prices.

And the sunsets are stunning.

Pink Flowers

2010-06-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

I've looked in Pacific Northwest wildflower books, and online, trying to find out what these are, and have had no luck at all. They're fairly common, they're bright pink, they grow both on the side of trails and roads, and deep in wooded areas where they seem to have been naturally propagated. I've seen them in coastal Oregon as well as around Puget Sound. They are early bloomers, appearing in late April. The stalk with flowers is between four and six inches high. The leaves are distinctive.

Rainbows and Rain

2010-06-05T21:17:00.000-07:00

Long before I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I heard about SAD, and gray days, and constant rain, and people told me it was horrible. I wasn't worried; I figured after rural N.H. I could cope with just about anything. It does rain here. And moss (or algae, or both) grows on everything, including sidewalks, jeeps, roofs, shoes and decks. But the rain is often more a mist than a rain, and while that really cold December and January rain is dreadful, much of the time the rain is rather pleasant. I like the way the mist rises from the valleys, and the fog as well.

But last week it rained buckets for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time, for several days. On one of them, after a brief deluge the sun came back out and I snapped this on my phone:

Salal or Gaultheria shallon

2010-06-01T20:32:00.000-07:00

Gaultheria shallon is a member of the Ericaceae family, right along side with huckleberries, Manzanita, various heathers, and that important Pacific Northwest shrub, the Kinnikinnik. These evergreen shrubs, with their vibrant green delicately serrated and pungent leaves erupt in spring with sprays of urn-shaped flowers, looking like barely tinged-with-pink carved coral bells or urns, dripping along stems, appear. In late spring, or even mid-summer, dark purple-blue berries that are packed with hard little seeds.

The flowers, should you touch them, are sticky with sap, and smell a bit like a cross between honey, and musk-melon. The berries, fresh or dried, were prized parts of the diets of a number of coastal First Nations peoples.

Nuttall's Cockle

2010-05-28T21:59:00.000-07:00

Nuttall's Cockle, or Clinocardium nuttallii, is a native cockle of the Puget Sound area. I found the one in the picture at Larrabee State Park. The common name is Heart Cockle, and yes, it's familiar to me from other beaches in other states. You can read about it here. It's one of those clams that lives at the edge of the sea, in sheltered bays. In Washington, you find it in shallow waters where you find eel grass. Cockles are edible, and are still eaten with great glee in Europe, but they don't seem to be favored in the U.S. You might remember the Irish lass in the song "Molly Malone," who

Wheels her wheel-barrow, Through streets broad and narrow, crying "Cockles, and mussles, alive, alive-0."