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Reminds me of the chapter on lichens from Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. A short excerpt:

You might not think there would be that many people in the world prepared to devote lifetimes to the study of something so inescapably low key, but in fact moss people number in the hundreds and they feel very strongly about their subject. “Oh, yes,” Ellis told me, “the meetings can get very lively at times.”

I asked him for an example of controversy.

“Well, here’s one inflicted on us by one of your countrymen,” he said, smiling lightly, and opened a hefty reference work containing illustrations of mosses whose most notable characteristic to the uninstructed eye was their uncanny similarity one to another. “That,” he said, tapping a moss, “used to be one genus, Drepanocladus. Now it’s been reorganized into three: Drepanocladus, Wamstorfia, and Hamatacoulis.”

“And did that lead to blows?” I asked perhaps a touch hopefully.

“Well, it made sense. It made perfect sense. But it meant a lot of reordering of collections and it put all the books out of date for a time, so there was a bit of, you know, grumbling.”

Is this excerpt about mosses really in the chapter on lichens?
The article seems to end with this passage:

> “Here, try this,” Moran said, appearing by my side with a hand lens so that I might look a little closer.

There's nothing after that, and no indication that there's another page, but it seems like an awfully abrupt ending. Is that really it?

I asked myself the same. Maybe it is a way to say: if you found the topic interesting, you should start studying it by yourself now!

You can also kind of imagine how they get into the minutiae of the particular fern now, and how they are different from others.

I immediately asked myself what would happen to the Society if lots of HN users appeared at the next meeting.