Every winter evening, as the sun begins to set behind a woodland to our west, a flock of white-throated sparrows returns to our backyard feeder. Filtering in as pairs or small groups, they scour the ground for fallen seed; often joined by northern cardinals, they are polite birds, not inclined to squabble over the handouts.
After a period of silence through early winter, they have begun to sing during the past week, a response to the lengthening daylight. Their distinctive, homesick tune will increase in intensity over the next several months and, by mid April, they will depart for Canada to breed in the vast Northwoods.
Accustomed to chilly, gray conditions, white-throats are also among the first birds to become active on winter mornings and their song is a welcome serenade on my walk to work. More importantly, it offers reassurance that winter is loosing its grip and that the mild, fragrant days of early spring are on the horizon.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Purpose of Life
Throughout human history, man has pondered the purpose and meaning of life. Endowed with a large brain, we have convinced ourselves that the ecosystems of planet Earth were created for our benefit and human cultures have imagined a wide range of gods that facilitate and govern that process. The fact that life evolved almost 3.6 billion years before our own species appeared is ignored or rejected by most religious persons; after all, they believe that this earth-bound life is preparation for a more significant, eternal existence.
If we strip away the cloud of human mysticism, we find that life has the single purpose of sustaining itself and has "learned" that diversification is the best means to accomplish that goal. In the words of that thoughtful scientist in the film Jurassic Park, "life will find a way."
Unfortunately, the mysticism of human society often impedes the purpose of life, as religious and sectarian wars decimate populations and as the culture of human superiority encourages the exploitation of our natural resources. If we truly support the purpose of life, we humans need to end our futile conflicts, devote ourselves to protecting the natural diversity of this planet and ensure that our own unbridled population growth does not threaten the sustainability of Earth's ecosystems.
If we strip away the cloud of human mysticism, we find that life has the single purpose of sustaining itself and has "learned" that diversification is the best means to accomplish that goal. In the words of that thoughtful scientist in the film Jurassic Park, "life will find a way."
Unfortunately, the mysticism of human society often impedes the purpose of life, as religious and sectarian wars decimate populations and as the culture of human superiority encourages the exploitation of our natural resources. If we truly support the purpose of life, we humans need to end our futile conflicts, devote ourselves to protecting the natural diversity of this planet and ensure that our own unbridled population growth does not threaten the sustainability of Earth's ecosystems.
Friday, January 27, 2012
American Gators
Crocodilians, now represented by crocodiles, alligators and caimans, split from other reptiles and early dinosaurs back in the Triassic Period, some 200 million years ago. Modern alligators are limited to two species: the American alligator and its smaller cousin in southern China; our gator, the largest reptile in North America, inhabits the Southeast Coastal Plain, from North Carolina to Texas.
Up to 15 feet long and weighing as much as 800 pounds, adult males bellow in mid spring to attract a mate. Once impregnated, the female builds a nest mound of rotting vegetation and deposits 20-50 eggs before covering them with more vegetation. Staying close by until they hatch (usually in August), the mother protects her young, digging them out and carrying them to open water in her mouth; she will continue to watch over her offspring for their first year of life. Those eggs that incubate at temperatures above 90 degrees F produce males while those below 86 degrees produce females; nest temperatures in between these parameters yield a mix of genders.
Young alligators may fall victim to a variety of predators, including snakes, large fish, snapping turtles, raccoons, bobcats, bald eagles and other alligators; once fully grown, however, American gators are threatened only by human hunters and habitat loss and may live 50 years or more in the wild. Nearly driven to extinction by overhunting and swamp drainage during the first half of the 20th Century, these large reptiles are now common in freshwater marshlands (and some brackish areas) of the Coastal Plain; they are especially numerous in Florida and Louisiana. Adults feed on a wide variety of fish, reptiles, birds and mammals and can pose a threat to humans if harassed or startled; they have been known to grab pets or even young children on rare occasions. American gators are also raised in captivity for their meat and leathery hide and, unfortunately, are victims of the tourist carnival industry across the Deep South.
Up to 15 feet long and weighing as much as 800 pounds, adult males bellow in mid spring to attract a mate. Once impregnated, the female builds a nest mound of rotting vegetation and deposits 20-50 eggs before covering them with more vegetation. Staying close by until they hatch (usually in August), the mother protects her young, digging them out and carrying them to open water in her mouth; she will continue to watch over her offspring for their first year of life. Those eggs that incubate at temperatures above 90 degrees F produce males while those below 86 degrees produce females; nest temperatures in between these parameters yield a mix of genders.
Young alligators may fall victim to a variety of predators, including snakes, large fish, snapping turtles, raccoons, bobcats, bald eagles and other alligators; once fully grown, however, American gators are threatened only by human hunters and habitat loss and may live 50 years or more in the wild. Nearly driven to extinction by overhunting and swamp drainage during the first half of the 20th Century, these large reptiles are now common in freshwater marshlands (and some brackish areas) of the Coastal Plain; they are especially numerous in Florida and Louisiana. Adults feed on a wide variety of fish, reptiles, birds and mammals and can pose a threat to humans if harassed or startled; they have been known to grab pets or even young children on rare occasions. American gators are also raised in captivity for their meat and leathery hide and, unfortunately, are victims of the tourist carnival industry across the Deep South.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Mixing Oil & Wetlands
Since I drive a car and heat my home, it would be hypocritical of me to renounce oil production in the U.S. or elsewhere across the globe. Nevertheless, the oil industry has a tendency to minimize its potential impact on wetlands, the most productive ecosystems on our planet.
Sabine National Wildlife Refuge, in extreme southwest Louisiana, is the largest wetland preserve along the Gulf Coast, renowned for its large flocks of wintering waterfowl, its wide variety of wading birds and its resident population of American alligators and wetland mammals. Yet, oil production continues on this preserve despite a significant spill during the winter of 2002-2003 and the devastation of Hurricane Rita, in September, 2005, which spread more than 1400 barrels of toxic chemicals across the refuge. More recently, shortcuts in the startup of BP's Deepwater Horizon inundated coastal marshlands with crude oil, the worst man-made disaster in the history of the Gulf of Mexico. Now, despite concerns for potential damage to wetlands and groundwater across the unique sandhills ecosystem of western Nebraska, conservative politicians and their oil company supporters are attempting to push through the Keystone Pipeline Project before appropriate environmental studies are complete. And, of course, conservationists have been battling proposals to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for decades.
While we cannot replace fossil fuels with "green" sources of energy overnight, it is equally short-sighted for the oil industry to minimize its impact on fragile and vital ecosystems across our planet. Oil and wetlands will not mix and we destroy those crucibles of life at our own peril.
Sabine National Wildlife Refuge, in extreme southwest Louisiana, is the largest wetland preserve along the Gulf Coast, renowned for its large flocks of wintering waterfowl, its wide variety of wading birds and its resident population of American alligators and wetland mammals. Yet, oil production continues on this preserve despite a significant spill during the winter of 2002-2003 and the devastation of Hurricane Rita, in September, 2005, which spread more than 1400 barrels of toxic chemicals across the refuge. More recently, shortcuts in the startup of BP's Deepwater Horizon inundated coastal marshlands with crude oil, the worst man-made disaster in the history of the Gulf of Mexico. Now, despite concerns for potential damage to wetlands and groundwater across the unique sandhills ecosystem of western Nebraska, conservative politicians and their oil company supporters are attempting to push through the Keystone Pipeline Project before appropriate environmental studies are complete. And, of course, conservationists have been battling proposals to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for decades.
While we cannot replace fossil fuels with "green" sources of energy overnight, it is equally short-sighted for the oil industry to minimize its impact on fragile and vital ecosystems across our planet. Oil and wetlands will not mix and we destroy those crucibles of life at our own peril.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Harney Basin
Harney Basin is a geologic and topographic basin in southeast Oregon; while it sits adjacent to the northwest corner of the Great Basin, it is separated from that province by the massive fault-block of the Steens Mountain ridge. On its north side, the Harney Basin is bordered by the southern edge of the Blue Mountains while a high lava plain separates the basin from the watersheds of the John Day and Klamath Rivers to the northwest and southwest, respectively.
During warm interglacial periods of the Pleistocene, glacial meltwater from the adjacent highlands filled the Harney Basin, spilling northeastward into the Malheur River, a tributary of the Snake River. Today, as the climate has warmed through the Holocene, the floor of Harney Basin has become a high desert, receiving only 6 inches of precipitation each year; a low divide along the basin's northeast edge, formerly a spillway, now completes the basin topography and all streams flow inward toward Harney and Malheur Lakes, on the basin's floor. Burns, Oregon, is the only sizable town in this remote, high desert basin.
While most of the basin floor is high and dry, with elevations between 4000 and 5200 feet, Malheur Lake, fed by the Silvies River from the Blue Mountains and the Blitzen River from Steens Mountain, provides a rich and welcome oasis for migrant waterfowl, shorebirds, white pelicans and sandhill cranes. Home to many other species as well, the lake and its wetlands are protected as the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge; during seasons with heavy precipitation or snowmelt, Malheur Lake spills west toward Harney Lake, an ephemeral, salt pan lake that is the topographic sink of Harney Basin.
During warm interglacial periods of the Pleistocene, glacial meltwater from the adjacent highlands filled the Harney Basin, spilling northeastward into the Malheur River, a tributary of the Snake River. Today, as the climate has warmed through the Holocene, the floor of Harney Basin has become a high desert, receiving only 6 inches of precipitation each year; a low divide along the basin's northeast edge, formerly a spillway, now completes the basin topography and all streams flow inward toward Harney and Malheur Lakes, on the basin's floor. Burns, Oregon, is the only sizable town in this remote, high desert basin.
While most of the basin floor is high and dry, with elevations between 4000 and 5200 feet, Malheur Lake, fed by the Silvies River from the Blue Mountains and the Blitzen River from Steens Mountain, provides a rich and welcome oasis for migrant waterfowl, shorebirds, white pelicans and sandhill cranes. Home to many other species as well, the lake and its wetlands are protected as the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge; during seasons with heavy precipitation or snowmelt, Malheur Lake spills west toward Harney Lake, an ephemeral, salt pan lake that is the topographic sink of Harney Basin.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Mt. Shasta
Towering above the landscape of Northern California, at the southern end of the Cascade Range, Mt. Shasta is a composite of four volcanic cones, the first of which began to form just 600,000 years ago; with a summit elevation of 14,168 feet, it is second only to Mt. Ranier among the Cascade volcanoes.
The current summit crater of Mt. Shasta, 600 feet across, tops the Hotlum Cone, which formed about 8000 years ago and has been erupting every 600-800 years; the last significant eruption was 200 years ago. Mt. Shastina, topping out at 12,330 feet, is an older cone that now appears as a prominant satellite peak to the west of Shasta's primary summit; the Whitney Glacier, one of five glaciers that grace Mt. Shasta, lies between the two peaks. Tributaries arising from Shasta's ice sheets feed the Klamath River to the north (primarily via the Shasta River) and the Sacramento River, to the south.
Since Mt. Shasta rises almost 10,000 feet above its immediate surroundings, this magnificent massif can be seen from up to 150 miles away. Though classified as a dormant volcano, Shasta is not extinct, as indicated by active fumeroles along its flanks. Another explosive eruption is expected within a few hundred years....if not next month!
The current summit crater of Mt. Shasta, 600 feet across, tops the Hotlum Cone, which formed about 8000 years ago and has been erupting every 600-800 years; the last significant eruption was 200 years ago. Mt. Shastina, topping out at 12,330 feet, is an older cone that now appears as a prominant satellite peak to the west of Shasta's primary summit; the Whitney Glacier, one of five glaciers that grace Mt. Shasta, lies between the two peaks. Tributaries arising from Shasta's ice sheets feed the Klamath River to the north (primarily via the Shasta River) and the Sacramento River, to the south.
Since Mt. Shasta rises almost 10,000 feet above its immediate surroundings, this magnificent massif can be seen from up to 150 miles away. Though classified as a dormant volcano, Shasta is not extinct, as indicated by active fumeroles along its flanks. Another explosive eruption is expected within a few hundred years....if not next month!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Return to Winter
Ah, the wonders of modern travel. Strolling on a sun-drenched beach one day and trudging through an icy fog the next. No roseate spoonbills to brighten our morning, just the bulky form of a red-tailed hawk, hunched on a roadside limb. No noisy chatter from those carefree gulls and terns, just the raucous, indignant calls of our jays and crows.
Many humans, true to our tropical heritage, would love to spend their lives in the balmy climate of South Florida. But some of us, including most naturalists, I suspect, favor life in the Temperate Zone, with its broad seasonal fluctuation; variety, as they say, is the spice of life and those of us at middle latitudes surely experience a great deal of variety (annual if not weekly). While nature has her cycle in the Subtropics as well, her patterns are more dramatic in northern climes; besides, those of us who endure the hardships of winter are more likely to appreciate the steady, if not even, advance of spring.
So, while our splendid respite was all too short, I welcome our return to winter, with its raw, somber days and clear, frigid nights. What we really need is a good snowstorm, an event often envied by those from the land of perpetual summer.
Many humans, true to our tropical heritage, would love to spend their lives in the balmy climate of South Florida. But some of us, including most naturalists, I suspect, favor life in the Temperate Zone, with its broad seasonal fluctuation; variety, as they say, is the spice of life and those of us at middle latitudes surely experience a great deal of variety (annual if not weekly). While nature has her cycle in the Subtropics as well, her patterns are more dramatic in northern climes; besides, those of us who endure the hardships of winter are more likely to appreciate the steady, if not even, advance of spring.
So, while our splendid respite was all too short, I welcome our return to winter, with its raw, somber days and clear, frigid nights. What we really need is a good snowstorm, an event often envied by those from the land of perpetual summer.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Along the Myakka
The Myakka River, in southwest Florida, one of only two rivers designated "Wild & Scenic" by the Sunshine State, rises in northern Manatee County and flows southward for 60 miles to Charlotte Harbor. Along the way, it passes through the lakes and marshlands of Myakka River State Park, east of Sarasota, and encounters little human development for much of its course; indeed, Sarasota County has been especially committed to protecting its natural channel and three preserves offer access to southern portions of this ecosystem.
Having enjoyed a week along the Gulf Coast, we decided to head inland and explore the lower Myakka corridor. Jelks Preserve, about two miles south of I-75 on North River Road (via the North Port/Englewood Exit), provides an excellent overview of natural habitats along the river as well as scenic views of the Myakka itself; oak hammocks, festooned with Spanish moss, border slash pine flatwoods, marsh-lined ponds and scrub meadows. Armadillos were abundant along the sandy trails, black vultures and bald eagles soared overhead and American alligators, though unseen on our visit, haunt the shallow pools and wetlands. Myakka River State Forest, about 5 miles south of U.S. 41 via River Road, offers an extensive network of trail loops through these same habitats; it was there that we encountered a massive flock of wintering tree swallows, surely numbering in the thousands, and watched a trio of Florida sandhill cranes drift across the bright blue sky. Finally, Myakka Islands Point, a Sarasota County preserve west of North Port, provides access to pine flatwoods (dominated by slash pine, cabbage palm and saw palmetto) which overlook broad swaths of riverside marsh.
South of these preserves the Myakka becomes increasing brackish as it receives tidal inflow; in concert, the river leaves its meandering, tree-lined corridor and open marshlands stretch across its broad floodplain. Alligators that bask along the River's more northern shores avoid these salty waters but manatees, moving in from the bay, now inhabit the Myakka. As expected, wading birds are abundant across this vibrant tidal zone, roosting in tree islands that rise above the marsh.
Having enjoyed a week along the Gulf Coast, we decided to head inland and explore the lower Myakka corridor. Jelks Preserve, about two miles south of I-75 on North River Road (via the North Port/Englewood Exit), provides an excellent overview of natural habitats along the river as well as scenic views of the Myakka itself; oak hammocks, festooned with Spanish moss, border slash pine flatwoods, marsh-lined ponds and scrub meadows. Armadillos were abundant along the sandy trails, black vultures and bald eagles soared overhead and American alligators, though unseen on our visit, haunt the shallow pools and wetlands. Myakka River State Forest, about 5 miles south of U.S. 41 via River Road, offers an extensive network of trail loops through these same habitats; it was there that we encountered a massive flock of wintering tree swallows, surely numbering in the thousands, and watched a trio of Florida sandhill cranes drift across the bright blue sky. Finally, Myakka Islands Point, a Sarasota County preserve west of North Port, provides access to pine flatwoods (dominated by slash pine, cabbage palm and saw palmetto) which overlook broad swaths of riverside marsh.
South of these preserves the Myakka becomes increasing brackish as it receives tidal inflow; in concert, the river leaves its meandering, tree-lined corridor and open marshlands stretch across its broad floodplain. Alligators that bask along the River's more northern shores avoid these salty waters but manatees, moving in from the bay, now inhabit the Myakka. As expected, wading birds are abundant across this vibrant tidal zone, roosting in tree islands that rise above the marsh.
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Free Dolphin Show
Never a fan of Disney-esque human-wildlife bonding films and personally concerned about the new wave of ecotourism that baits wild creatures for close human encounters, I favor granting our wild neighbors their space, satisfied to observe them at a safe and non-threatening distance. But yesterday afternoon, as I sat on our seawall along Sarasota Bay, a dolphin chose to pay a visit.
Racing along the wall, he repeatedly turned his head to glance at me as he chased a school of fish. Catching one in his mouth, he tossed it into the air several times before ingesting the meal. At one point, he stretched out on the surface, looked in my direction and then sped toward the wall, performing a flip turn just before impact. The show continued for about ten minutes before he tired of the performance and swam off to the south. I have no doubt that his antics were a means of communication, perhaps an attempt to encourage my participation.
Most of all, this delightful experience reinforced my conviction that whales and dolphins are too intelligent to be held in captivity. No amount of tasty fish or audience appreciation can justify their loss of freedom.
Racing along the wall, he repeatedly turned his head to glance at me as he chased a school of fish. Catching one in his mouth, he tossed it into the air several times before ingesting the meal. At one point, he stretched out on the surface, looked in my direction and then sped toward the wall, performing a flip turn just before impact. The show continued for about ten minutes before he tired of the performance and swam off to the south. I have no doubt that his antics were a means of communication, perhaps an attempt to encourage my participation.
Most of all, this delightful experience reinforced my conviction that whales and dolphins are too intelligent to be held in captivity. No amount of tasty fish or audience appreciation can justify their loss of freedom.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Smart Phone Stress
Always behind the curve when it comes to technology, I use a flip-top cell phone that I bought in 2004. It still provides clear voice communication and texting (which I rarely use) but, of course, does not have GPS, internet service or the numerous applications available on the modern smart phones.
Then again, I check my email twice a day (on my laptop) and can speak with friends, family or emergency services whenever necessary. I don't need GPS to explore the countryside and can't imagine watching movies, sporting events or other programming on the tiny screen of a cell phone. Of course, I'm not on Facebook, have never tweeted, despise computer games and prefer old fashion paperback books.
Most importantly, though, I enjoy a reasonable degree of solitude and am not tempted to instantly review every email that comes my way. While others may scoff at my antiquated concept of modern communication, I suggest that they are being unnecessarily stressed by a bombardment of messages from friends, business associates and spam producers. For the younger generation, who have grown up staring at various forms of computer screens, this lifestyle may be perfectly comfortable but the use of smart phones by older adults likely comes with a price that they do not recognize.
Then again, I check my email twice a day (on my laptop) and can speak with friends, family or emergency services whenever necessary. I don't need GPS to explore the countryside and can't imagine watching movies, sporting events or other programming on the tiny screen of a cell phone. Of course, I'm not on Facebook, have never tweeted, despise computer games and prefer old fashion paperback books.
Most importantly, though, I enjoy a reasonable degree of solitude and am not tempted to instantly review every email that comes my way. While others may scoff at my antiquated concept of modern communication, I suggest that they are being unnecessarily stressed by a bombardment of messages from friends, business associates and spam producers. For the younger generation, who have grown up staring at various forms of computer screens, this lifestyle may be perfectly comfortable but the use of smart phones by older adults likely comes with a price that they do not recognize.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Comb Jellies
On our regular trips to Longboat Key, Florida, we encounter a spectacular diversity of wildlife, including dolphins, manatees, stingrays, ghost crabs and a wide variety of coastal birds. But yesterday afternoon, while sitting on a seawall along Sarasota Bay, I observed a flotilla of comb jellies for the first time. Drifting in the calm bay waters, they looked like miniature Goodyear Blimps, complete with neon messages, flashing along their transparent hides.
Members of the phyllum Ctenophora, these marine invertebrates consist of an ovoid mass of gelatinous tissue, enveloped in a thin ectoderm and pierced from front to back by a primitive gastrointestinal tract. On its outer surface are eight lines of cilia, which beat in a coordinated fashion to propel the jelly through the seawater; nevertheless, most of their movement is subject to currents and tides. Carnivores, comb jellies are devoid of stinging tentacles but are ravenous in their consumption of microscopic plankton. Like many other marine invertebrates, these jellyfish are hermaphrodites, producing both eggs and sperm; fertilization usually occurs in the open water but, in some species, takes place within the gut and the offspring are not released until their early development has begun.
My research turned up some disagreement on the source of the iridescent green and orange that flashed along their otherwise transparent bodies. Some attribute these bright colors to sunlight refraction by the beating cilia while others mention the presence of bioluminescence, originating in gastrovascular tubes beneath the lines of cilia. Based on my personal observations, I would favor the latter since the linear displays occurred in shaded waters, adjacent to the seawall. Whatever the source of their colorful light shows, the chance observation of these fascinating creatures was a unique and rewarding experience.
Members of the phyllum Ctenophora, these marine invertebrates consist of an ovoid mass of gelatinous tissue, enveloped in a thin ectoderm and pierced from front to back by a primitive gastrointestinal tract. On its outer surface are eight lines of cilia, which beat in a coordinated fashion to propel the jelly through the seawater; nevertheless, most of their movement is subject to currents and tides. Carnivores, comb jellies are devoid of stinging tentacles but are ravenous in their consumption of microscopic plankton. Like many other marine invertebrates, these jellyfish are hermaphrodites, producing both eggs and sperm; fertilization usually occurs in the open water but, in some species, takes place within the gut and the offspring are not released until their early development has begun.
My research turned up some disagreement on the source of the iridescent green and orange that flashed along their otherwise transparent bodies. Some attribute these bright colors to sunlight refraction by the beating cilia while others mention the presence of bioluminescence, originating in gastrovascular tubes beneath the lines of cilia. Based on my personal observations, I would favor the latter since the linear displays occurred in shaded waters, adjacent to the seawall. Whatever the source of their colorful light shows, the chance observation of these fascinating creatures was a unique and rewarding experience.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Lonesome Loon
Among the many seabirds that have graced Sarasota Bay this week has been a solitary common loon. Staying close to the seawall behind our condo, this winter resident has remained in the area for the past several days and does not appear to be joining his fellow loons at night.
Breeding across Alaska, Canada, New England and the Upper Great Lakes region, common loons winter primarily on coastal bays and estuaries of North America; some may spend the winter on large inland lakes and reservoirs. While they often gather in loose flocks to roost on the open water, wintering loons usually feed alone and are often solitary when encountered. Diving repeatedly to catch small fish, invertebrates and aquatic larvae, they are rapid and agile swimmers, propelling themselves with their webbed feet; our visitor has often stayed below the surface for a minute or more but common loons are capable of remaining underwater for 5 minutes. As I have noted this week, they seldom return to the surface with prey in their bill, preferring to consume their victims while still underwater.
Built for an aquatic lifestyle, common loons have solid bones to aid diving and their feet are placed far back on their streamlined body; indeed, they find it difficult to maneuver on land and come ashore only to nest. Converting from their striking summer plumage to a duller, two-tone outfit in winter, common loons molt their flight feathers in mid winter and are unable to fly for a month or so; this may explain why our lonesome loon has not moved on to join his fellow migrants. For now, we'll enjoy watching his aquatic skills but, unfortunately, will not be treated to his yodeling or eerie wail; those calls, reminiscent of northern lake country, are rarely delivered on the loon's wintering grounds.
Breeding across Alaska, Canada, New England and the Upper Great Lakes region, common loons winter primarily on coastal bays and estuaries of North America; some may spend the winter on large inland lakes and reservoirs. While they often gather in loose flocks to roost on the open water, wintering loons usually feed alone and are often solitary when encountered. Diving repeatedly to catch small fish, invertebrates and aquatic larvae, they are rapid and agile swimmers, propelling themselves with their webbed feet; our visitor has often stayed below the surface for a minute or more but common loons are capable of remaining underwater for 5 minutes. As I have noted this week, they seldom return to the surface with prey in their bill, preferring to consume their victims while still underwater.
Built for an aquatic lifestyle, common loons have solid bones to aid diving and their feet are placed far back on their streamlined body; indeed, they find it difficult to maneuver on land and come ashore only to nest. Converting from their striking summer plumage to a duller, two-tone outfit in winter, common loons molt their flight feathers in mid winter and are unable to fly for a month or so; this may explain why our lonesome loon has not moved on to join his fellow migrants. For now, we'll enjoy watching his aquatic skills but, unfortunately, will not be treated to his yodeling or eerie wail; those calls, reminiscent of northern lake country, are rarely delivered on the loon's wintering grounds.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Subtle Racism
The courageous work of Martin Luther King and his colleagues drew our attention to the overt manifestations of racial discrimination in America and also uncovered the subtle, more insidious forms of racism that pervade our society. Having come of age in the 1960s, the images of vicious attacks on civil rights demonstrators are burned in my memory but so are the tempered reactions of many white adults to the words of Reverend King; in their eyes, he was a troublemaker, unwelcome in our non-racist, Midwestern city.
Today, while most Americans condemn the outward expression of racial discrimination and civil rights legislation has eliminated the more egregious forms of public intolerance, there remains a subtle undercurrent of racism in our country. This toxic attitude, expressed in private and revealed by the spontaneous comments of politicians, businessmen and other community leaders, is reflected by our tendency to define human society by its racial and ethnic groups. In doing so, we make assumptions about individuals based solely on their cultural heritage and convince ourselves that we cannot trust those from other segments of society. Indeed, it is clear to me that President Obama has faced racial headwinds throughout his first term in office and that the current field of Republican opponents are tapping into American racial bias whenever possible.
Present long before the Civil War, racism reflects an ingrained tribalism that has governed human civilization throughout our history. Intolerance of others, whether based on race, religion, ethnic background or socioeconomic status, has always characterized human society. Until we evolve beyond this primitive mindset, the prospects for true equality and justice are faint indeed.
Today, while most Americans condemn the outward expression of racial discrimination and civil rights legislation has eliminated the more egregious forms of public intolerance, there remains a subtle undercurrent of racism in our country. This toxic attitude, expressed in private and revealed by the spontaneous comments of politicians, businessmen and other community leaders, is reflected by our tendency to define human society by its racial and ethnic groups. In doing so, we make assumptions about individuals based solely on their cultural heritage and convince ourselves that we cannot trust those from other segments of society. Indeed, it is clear to me that President Obama has faced racial headwinds throughout his first term in office and that the current field of Republican opponents are tapping into American racial bias whenever possible.
Present long before the Civil War, racism reflects an ingrained tribalism that has governed human civilization throughout our history. Intolerance of others, whether based on race, religion, ethnic background or socioeconomic status, has always characterized human society. Until we evolve beyond this primitive mindset, the prospects for true equality and justice are faint indeed.
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