Field Notes

Dr. Clammy’s World

A new field guide exalts the lowly mussel

Spike. Monkeyface. White Heelsplitter. No, they aren’t Chicago mobsters — they’re some of the 39 freshwater mussels found in our local watercourses. And they’re actually quite sensitive, thank you. In fact, their intolerance to environmental changes has some experts comparing them to those ever-unfortunate canaries in the coal mine.

But until now, identifying mussels has been, well, enough to make you swear, according to Jim Bland, photographer for the newly published A Field Guide to the Freshwater Mussels of Chicago Wilderness. “The older guides for mussels were black-and-white line drawings,” says Bland, who owns Environmental Products and Services.

Can you imagine a bird guide without color images? The guide’s creators couldn’t. “Our idea was to create a guide that would be easy to use, much as bird identification guides are helpful,” says Roger Klocek, a veteran Shedd Aquarium expert now with Brookside Associates. So they loaded the new guide with more than 200 color photos of mussels, both their exteriors and interiors (for identifying dead specimens). Plentiful photos come in handy in part because mussels change in appearance as they age. Detailed descriptions include distinguishing features and county distribution maps. And who could forget “Dr. Clammy,” a quirky cartoon character who spotlights interesting information along the way?

Mike Mieszala, an environmental science teacher at Warren Township High School in Gurnee, recruited students to update the guide’s mussel distribution maps. The students did the online research before and after school, and during lunch. Says Mieszala, “It gave them an excellent experience of science in the real world.”

Laura Barghusen, Openlands associate greenways director, is the guide’s editor. “I wanted to enhance people’s ability to identify the mussels they find during surveys, and to understand the mussels’ conservation needs,” she says, noting that the Chicago region is home to the sole mussel that uses a mudpuppy as a host. The guide, she says, will also benefit scientists, science teachers, and anyone else interested in mussels.

Klocek says most people aren’t aware that there are 39 mussel species here — some grow 10 inches long, while others can live 80 years. (Whether you are doing a mussel survey or just stumble upon a mussel in a stream, it’s best to lay it back where you found it and let it bury itself.)

Half of the freshwater mussel species in North America are in trouble. While Native Americans ate mussels only during famines (freshwater mussels are relatively rubbery and tasteless), button companies decimated mussel colonies decades ago. Siltation threatens today’s mussels. Housing and commercial developments remove vegetation, and then, says Klocek, “a quick rain can smother a thriving mussel colony.”

Most sites with a high-quality mussel population have high-quality stream conditions, says Bob Szafoni of the Illinois Department of Natural Resources, making mussels important sentinels of our streams. The mussel guide includes Szafoni’s Freshwater Mussel Classification Index, a tool for assessing the quality and health of a mussel community.

So now that the spring bird migration is over, why not switch to mussel ID? Get the crick out of your “warbler neck” by looking down for Spike and friends in local streams. A Field Guide to the Freshwater Mussels of Chicago Wilderness is available at The Field Museum gift shop. Or to order a copy, call (312) 863-6253. (A digital version is also available here.) To find out about stream monitoring, call (773) 477-4295.

— Betsy J. Green