Caught between Fronts

Driving back to Missouri from Ohio yesterday, we enjoyed sunny, mild weather until we reached the Mississippi Valley.  There, a squall line stretched across Metro St. Louis and we crawled through torrential rain until we were west of the city.

From St. Louis to Columbia, we dodged intermittent showers and thunderstorms and that weather has persisted since our arrival in central Missouri.  The cause for these unsettled conditions can be found on the weather map were two stationary fronts run parallel across the Midwest.  North of the northern front, sunshine and relatively cool, dry air is in place while, south of the southern front, the air is hot and humid.  The swath between the fronts is a clash zone where cooler air undercuts the tropical air to the south, igniting thunderstorms and unleashing heavy rain.  A flash flood watch currently stretches through that swath, from eastern Kansas and Oklahoma to the Upper Ohio Valley.

The cloud cover and rain have kept temperatures cooler than average for late July, a welcome change from the hot summer weather.  Devoid of potent energy and wind sheer from the jet stream, severe thunderstorms are unlikely and flooding is the only concern unless or until a powerful system moves in from the west, dislodging the stationary fronts.

Swimming with a Cormorant

This afternoon, as on most afternoons since our arrival, my wife and I went for a swim in Sandy Lake.  Several days of calm weather had allowed colder water to settle into deeper portions of the basin and the surface water was pleasantly mild.

Soon after entering the lake, we realized that we were joined by a double-crested cormorant; to be more accurate, we had joined him.  Oblivious of our presence, the sleek fisherman repeatedly dove for fish, sometimes surfacing within a few feet of our location.  After many years of observing these birds at a distance, it was a unique experience to be so close to one in its own habitat.

Within an hour, strong southwesterly winds developed ahead of an approaching storm front, churning the waters of Sandy Lake and re-injecting cold waters from its depths; this development, combined with looming thunderheads to our northwest, prompted our departure from the lake.  Of course, the cormorant was unfazed by the changing conditions and continued to hunt for an afternoon meal. 

Avoid our National Parks

If you care about the welfare of our National Parks, avoid them during the warmer months of the year.  Already stressed by climate change, most of the Parks also face overcrowding and underfunding.

Unfortunately, the Covid-19 pandemic has only worsened these problems as humans seek safe refuge and natural therapy after months of confinement.  Many have little appreciation for the fragility of the Park ecosystems and indulge in careless, if not destructive, behavior.  Financial cutbacks have reduced oversight by Park personnel and rules to protect visitors, wildlife and the environment are, per reports, routinely ignored.  Those looking for natural escapes should consider National Wildlife Refuges, Conservation Areas and regional nature preserves where, per the conservation ethic, we should leave no trace of our visit.

Our beloved National Parks are but a microcosm of what is happening to our Planet.  Overpopulation, habitat destruction, pollution, excessive consumption and, of course, climate change are global problems.  Just as we threaten the Parks, we are killing the Planet.  The Trump Administration's solution: cut funding, slash environmental regulations, ridicule climate science and expand industrial activity in our refuges.  Vote for Biden!

Summer Birdlife at Sandy Lake

My wife and I decided to come up to Sandy Lake, in northeastern Ohio, for the relative solitude and cool weather but this modest-sized kettle lake offers good birding as well.  Summer may not be the best season for avian diversity but there is a pleasing mix of residents.

Ospreys, double-crested cormorants and belted kingfishers hunt on the lake and great blue herons stalk the shallows, sometimes joined by their smaller green cousins; bald eagles fish here as well though their numbers are greater during the colder months.  As I mentioned in the last post, a colony of purple martins reside along the shore, catching insects above the lake or skimming the surface for a quick drink.  Of course, a good variety of permanent and summer songbirds reside in the woodlands and wetlands that surround the lake and a host of raptors patrol the area from above.

Summer waterfowl are limited to mallards and Canada geese but the tranquility of Sandy Lake, especially during this summer of viral and political turmoil, more than compensates for a lack of birdwatching spectacles.  Besides, swimming, reading and walks on the lakeside trail keep us entertained (and away from the cable news channels).

Absentee Martins

Back at my wife's family cottage on Sandy Lake, in Portage County, Ohio, I was surprised that purple martins were not occupying their houses when I stepped outside this morning; house sparrows appeared to be the only occupants, peering from the holes or lazing on the porches.  Throughout most of the day, the martins did not appear.

Then, late this afternoon, about fourteen of the large swallows zig-zagged above the lake, snaring insects before settling in their homes.  Usually arriving at this latitude by mid spring, martins produce a brood within a few weeks and the young leave the nest within a month; during that time, activity around the houses reaches a fevered pitch as the parents make brief sorties to feed their demanding chicks.  By this time of year, however, the scene is downright sedate as the families hunt farther from home and begin to utilize larger roost sites before the late summer migration.

Indeed, purple martins often gather in massive flocks before and during their journey to the south.  Often traveling across the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, most spend the Northern winter in the Amazon Basin before heading northward through Central America and Mexico in the spring.

Freedom, Politics & Public Health

As we are learning with the Covid-19 Pandemic, the degree of personal freedom within a country can be inversely related to the effectiveness of that country's public health system, especially when politics intervenes.

Here in the United States, we cherish our personal freedom and do not appreciate being told what to do and when to do it.  Taking advantage of that expectation, Trump, his Administration and his political allies have zeroed in on Americans who distrust science, sewing resentment of public health officials and their recommendations.  As a consequence, our ability to contain the virus has been severely compromised.

Freedom is a double-edged sword.  Unless it is coupled with knowledge and social cooperation, it is a license for chaos and irresponsible behavior.  Devoid of effective leadership, the Land of the Free has put out the welcome mat for Covid-19.  Wear a Mask!

A Skunk Family

While striped skunks have visited our Littleton farm on a regular basis over the years, this is the first time that we appear to have a skunk family residing on the property.  Three skunks, presumed to be a mother and her two kits, have been wandering about at dawn and dusk; indeed, our mix of fields, shrubs, fruit-bearing plants and wood borders offers ideal skunk habitat.

Striped skunks are polygamous and the males are not involved in child-rearing.  Once impregnated (usually in late winter or early spring), the female locates (or occasionally digs) a den in which to give birth; she may give birth to ten kits or more but 2-6 is typical.  Born by late spring, the young remain with their mother for 2-3 months before heading off on their own.

Omnivorous, striped skunks consume a wide variety of seeds, fruits and insects during the warmer months but may feed on mice as well.  Though they become torpid in winter, skunks are not true hibernators and will emerge from their den to search for food during periods of warm weather.  Thanks to their warning stripe and irritating musk, they have few natural predators though great horned owls are a notable exception.

Lunch along Middle Boulder Creek

For one last trip to the hills before leaving Colorado, my wife and I planned to have a picnic lunch along Barker Meadow Reservoir, at Nederland.  Unfortunately, road work and crowds forced us to reconsider and we settled on a shady spot along Middle Boulder Creek, just downstream from the Reservoir.

Middle Boulder Creek rises along the Continental Divide west of Eldora and flows eastward to Nederland.  East of the Reservoir it enters the upper reaches of Boulder Canyon where it soon merges with North Boulder Creek to form the primary channel of Boulder Creek; their combined flow courses through the lower canyon and downtown Boulder before receiving South Boulder Creek east of the the city.  Eventually, Boulder Creek enters St. Vrain Creek and thence the South Platte River.

Our lunch spot was on the north bank of the stream amidst a grove of ponderosa pine and Douglas fir.  Joining us at that idyllic location were a noisy pair of Steller's jays and a squadron of violet-green swallows while an American dipper made his way upstream, repeatedly diving into the turbulent waters.  Though a nearby road sign warned of moose in the area, we did not encounter one of those large herbivores along the creek.

Up to the Tarryall Valley

Escaping the heat once again, my wife and I drove up to the Tarryall Valley this morning.  Rising along the Continental Divide, north of Como, Tarryall Creek flows SSE across the northeast corner of South Park before carving a scenic canyon along the western edge of the Tarryall Range; nearing the Pike's Peak massif, the stream merges with the South Fork of the South Platte River.

Bypassing crowds at Tarryall Reservoir, we chose a shady roadside pulloff farther to the south.  There we had lunch beneath a grove of ponderosa pines and took in views of the majestic Tarryall Mountains across the Valley.  Known for their scenic rock domes and spires, those mountains also harbor the western portion of the Lost Creek Wilderness.

Enjoying the cooler air and a refreshing breeze, we were joined by western bluebirds, Townsend's solitaires and violet-green swallows while a lone golden eagle circled overhead.  With some reluctance, we descended to the furnace-like conditions in Metro-Denver by early afternoon. 

An Omen in the Heat

We bloggers, like the ever-expanding list of streaming services, are always looking for new content.  But, in the middle of this oppressive summer, there seems to be little new to report.

Here along the Colorado Front Range, it is sunny, hot and dry.  The summer songbirds on our farm, nearly silenced by the heat, scavenge the parched landscape, joined by a pair of skunks that emerge at dusk.  The news is clogged with Covid reports and the crazed tweets from Our Dear Leader.  Only the early morning chill provides the incentive to get some yard work done.

Then, as I retreated to the shade of an elm to read, I caught sight of a white pelican, circling high overhead.  Oblivious of the heat and disturbing news, it seemed to offer an omen that life will improve: the monsoon will develop, autumn will arrive, the pandemic will end and Trump will be banished from Washington.

Melanistic Coyotes

Visiting Perry Phillips Lake in southeast Columbia yesterday, my wife and I encountered what appeared to be a melanistic coyote.  Entirely black except for a gray muzzle and a white tip on his tail, he otherwise demonstrated the usual behavior of a coyote.

Unlike melanism in gray wolves, which is fairly common, this genetic variant is rare in coyotes and has been primarily observed in the Southeastern U.S.  Wildlife biologists suspect that it might have developed after cross-breeding with dogs.

A quick internet survey failed to turn up information on melanistic coyotes in Missouri and I intend to contact the Missouri Department of Conservation today for their input.  Unfortunately, I failed to snap a photo with my cell phone and he moved off into the trees before I had the presence of mind to do so.  Will addend this post after contacting the MDC.

Addendum:  The initial response from the Columbia Unit of the MDC was that no other reports have been received and that melanistic coyotes are rare in the State.

Storms from the East

Those of us who reside in the Interior of North America know that storms generally arrive from the west as Pacific or Canadian cold fronts march eastward across the U.S.; at times, a cold front may sag southward or warm, humid air may bubble northward but it is unusual to have showers and thunderstorms move in from the east.  Nevertheless, the latter phenomenon has developed in Missouri over the past twenty four hours.

The atmospheric culprits for this anomaly are high pressure over the Great Lakes and low pressure over the south-central U.S.  In the Northern Hemisphere, winds circle clockwise around domes of high pressure and counterclockwise around centers of low pressure.  The combined effects of the present atmospheric structure are thus creating an easterly flow across Missouri and mixing of the two currents ignites pop-up showers and thunderstorms.

While the rain provides temporary relief from our oppressive summer air, it soon only adds to the humidity.  What we need is a potent Canadian cold front that sweeps dry, cool air across the Heartland but such a forecast is not currently in sight.  We are left to escape indoors and dream of October.

Elk in Kentucky

This week, the New York Times reported on the success of Kentucky's elk reintroduction program.  Beginning in 1997, 1500 elk were transported to the eastern Kentucky hill country where reclaimed strip mines offered an ideal mosaic of grasslands and forest corridors.  Today, more than 13,000 elk roam that region, the largest herd east of the Mississippi River.

Funded by the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, a hunting organization, this reintroduction has been hailed for its overwhelming success, returning elk to a region for the first time since the Civil War and restoring a vibrant economy where coal was once king; according to the article, tours, trails and a nature center are planned and benefits to hotels, restaurants and shops are expected to follow.  One might argue, however, that, prior to the strip mining, this heavily forested portion of the Appalachian Plateau would not have been so inviting to elk.  Furthermore, since wolves are not in the equation, man is the only predator capable of controlling the elk population; in effect, this region of eastern Kentucky will become a large hunting preserve.

Such is the problem with reintroducing large herbivores in areas where they have no natural predators.  For example, many of us believe that wolves should be reintroduced to Colorado to control both the largest herds of elk in the country and the moose that were reintroduced.  As self proclaimed stewards of the planet, our goal should be to repair damaged ecosystems not create lucrative hunting opportunities (however economically beneficial that might be).

See: Wolves in Colorado, Elk in Michigan, Moose in Colorado 

Sky Birds

Novice birders generally scour trees, shrubs, lakes and lawns in their effort to find and identify "new species."  But some birds are far more likely to be observed overhead (especially in suburban areas) and, since most feed on flying insects, are primarily summer residents.

These "sky birds" include swifts, swallows, purple martins, common nighthawks and Mississippi kites, among others.  Of course, vultures, most hawks, eagles, ospreys and migrant flocks of cranes and geese are also discovered by scanning the skies.  Finally, as veteran birders know, a surprising variety of birds (waterfowl, waders, gulls, terns and flocking songbirds) pass overhead as they move between roost sites and feeding grounds.

So, as my grandfather taught me during my earliest birding days, look up or you'll miss a lot of birds!  Just one of many "nature nuggets" he planted in my receptive, young brain.  (See Thanks to Gramps) 

Mesoscale Convective Systems

Mesoscale convective systems (MCS) are long-lived clusters of thunderstorms that are generally 60 miles or more in diameter.  Developing along a stationary front, they move slowly, producing strong winds, frequent lightning and heavy rain.

Early this morning, such a system had formed in northwest Missouri and has been moving southeast along a front that separates hot air to its southwest from cooler air to its northeast.  Strong winds along the leading edge of the MCS arrived in Columbia just before 8 AM and heavy rain has begun as I write this post; so far, lightning has been limited in our region.  A second mesoscale convective system is far to our southeast (in northern Alabama), riding along the same stationary front.

At times, a mesoscale convective vortex develops within these systems, producing rotation and a possible tornado.  If near the coast, the vortex and its surrounding thunderstorms may evolve into a tropical storm or hurricane as the system moves over warm ocean water.  Finally, when the initial convection "dies" over land, the residual vortex may become the nidus for another MCS.