By Tawna Wilkinson
When I come across a patch of moss, whether it’s next to a stream or the north side of a
tree, I stoop down, get as close as I can, and run my hand over its soft, velvety surface. The tiny
Moss is a mini marvel that usually grows in thick, spreading mats and has a colossal ability for holding large amounts of water. These water-soaking tufts allow for condensation and cooling, aiding the water cycle by returning moisture to the atmosphere. And they sop-up pollutants from rainwater making the water that drains through it safer for the environment.
Moss also has the triple-mission of forming new soil while protecting and improving it. The super-wonder has rhizoids, tiny thread-like “roots” that anchor onto rocks gradually crumbling them to new dirt, while forcing the release of their minerals into it. The petite rhizoids also have the muscle to hold soil in place protecting it from washing away during times of too much rain. Then after it dies, it completes its mission of improving the soil by decomposing. The decaying moss releases its stored nutrients, leaving a spongy, nourishing layer in the soil for larger plants to feed and grow on.
Moss is a shelter and home to many different insects, like springtails and mites, the Spruce-fir moss spider and the rare webspinner. Ground beetles hide under it, while the pill beetle’s larvae feed on its rhizoids. And the water bear, a microscopic creature, lives and feeds on the velvet carpet. Now that’s what I call being “as snug as a bug in a rug.” And listen to this: moss is also a protective covering for weevils in New Guinea, by growing on their backs camouflaging them from predators.
And if that’s not enough, different kinds of birds and animals use it. The black-capped and Carolina chickadees use it as part of their nest’s foundation, while the house wren mixes it in with other materials to pad her nest cup. And the structured dome of the Carolina wren’s nest has moss lining it. Beavers use it in their lodges, weaving it with sticks, grass, and mud creating a snug place to live. And reindeer eat moss for nourishment during the Arctic’s long, freezing winters.
So, if you happen to come across a tuft of the cool, green velvet, go ahead, get down on your knees, get as close as you can, and give it a little pet. And remember: God created moss tiny, but He made its impact mighty on the world around us.
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