Travel, Naturalists & Authors

Halfway through Travels with Charley, by John Steinbeck, it is clear that naturalists and more traditional writers have a different focus as they journey through a country.  While we naturalists are likely to expound on the landscapes, climate and wildlife, authors such as Mr. Steinbeck are more interested in the people, their culture, their settlements and the nature of their lives.

Indeed, Steinbeck was clearly prone to loneliness, seeking human interaction whenever possible, from the reticent farmers in New England and the Canadian migrant workers in northern Maine to the more garrulous residents of the Midwest.  While he has much to say about quaint New England towns, traffic congestion in large cities, the lives of long-haul truckers and the burgeoning mobile home industry, his reference to the landscape is, so far, fleeting and devoid of much detail.

Nevertheless, his travelogue is entertaining, replete with his personal philosophy and reactions to what and who he encounters.  After all, though naturalists might prefer travel books by Edwin Way Teale and others, one cannot divorce human nature from our natural environment; indeed, there are few (if any) landscapes where some degree of human impact is not evident. 

Travels with Steinbeck

As forecast, a snowstorm arrived overnight, dropping 12 inches along the Colorado Front Range.  And, to my delight, John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley arrived via Amazon this morning.

Published in 1962, the book documents the author's road trip across the U.S. with his French poodle, Charley.  The first few chapters, which I read this morning, discuss his reasons for taking the trip, the advice and warnings offered by friends and his preparations for the journey, including the purchase of a camper truck that he named Rocinante, after Don Quixote's horse.

As it turned out, Steinbeck's road trip was delayed by the arrival of Hurricane Donna, a Category 4 storm that lashed the Northeast Coast after causing devastation across the Caribbean, Florida and the Outer Banks of North Carolina in the late summer of 1960.  Already an entertaining tome, I anticipate that Travels with Charley will be an enjoyable read, especially for a geography buff such as myself.  More on the book over the coming week or so.  

A Glorious Recovery

Following the recent Arctic invasion, my wife and I have returned to Colorado, where we have been greeted by mild, sunny weather.  Only a few residual snowbanks attest to the winter storm that paralyzed much of the country.

A walk along the South Platte River this morning turned up a good variety of waterfowl and winter songbirds were both noisy and active in the valley woodlands, seemingly as happy as the hikers, bikers and joggers that took advantage of the glorious weather.  Of special note, the hysterical calls of northern flickers rang through the cottonwood groves, always among the first, welcome signs of spring.

Of course, this is Colorado and, if the weather forecasters are right, we can expect a new blanket of snow tomorrow.  But that is the nature of a Front Range spring, recurrent episodes of snow that rapidly melts in the intense sunshine; the moisture is vital to the welfare of this semi-arid ecosystem and the warm, sunny interludes support the mental health of its human residents.  

The Killer Instinct

Naturalists know that the "killer instinct" is common in nature, characterizing predators from dragonflies to lions and tigers.  Many humans also possess this trait, which may have negative connotations in some cases (serial killers, for example).

But the term might also be applied to athletic competitors, especially those who engage in individual sports such as golf, track, swimming and tennis.  In such cases, the athlete demonstrates exceptional skill, self-confidence, perseverance and the fortitude to "finish the task."  Many become perennial winners while others clearly lose their killer instinct during periods of their career.

Avid sports fans tend to admire these traits in athletes.  While some root for underdogs nevertheless, we naturalists, students of survival, are inclined to favor those with the killer instinct.

Disaster & Independence

The ongoing disaster in Texas is due to both an extreme weather event and the State's choice to be independent regarding its energy supply, production and delivery.  Long proud of its freedom from national regulations and confident in its ability to meet the needs of its citizens, Texas did not connect to the energy grid of its neighboring States and declined to adhere to recommendations that its oil, gas and wind infrastructure be adequately insulated from very low temperatures.

As a consequence, we are observing widespread "rolling blackouts," resulting in disruption of service, destruction of property and untold human suffering.  In effect, pride and denial set the stage for this State-wide disaster; no doubt, Texas will now welcome the assistance of out-of-State repair services and relief organizations.

This regional event must serve as a warning for the rest of our country and for countries across the globe.  We cannot face threats to our planet and to our civilization alone; such an approach is futile.  No threat is greater than climate change and international cooperation will be vital in our efforts to limit its effects and halt its progression.  Nationalism, on the other hand, will seal our doom.  

Crossing the Arctic Dome

When I left Metro Denver yesterday morning, it was 21 degrees F, relatively mild compared to the previous few days.  As I approached the Kansas line, however, strong south winds signaled a return to Arctic conditions.

While those of us in the Northern Hemisphere associate south winds with a warm-up, these winds represented the outer edge of the Arctic dome (winds circulate clockwise around a dome of high pressure).  Within a few miles, the temperature had dropped below zero and would remain there through most of Western Kansas.  East of Oakley, the winds died down and the temperature slowly rose into the mid teens by the time I reached Missouri.  Fortunately, the skies were clear and the road surface was dry, making my journey uncomplicated.

Wildlife viewing was also good, despite (or likely because of) the Arctic conditions.  Raptors were abundant, represented by rough-legged hawks, northern harriers, American kestrels and red-tailed hawks.  Multiple flocks of snow geese graced the skies and fields across the eastern half of Kansas and a pair of coyotes loped through a valley near Hays.  No doubt, they were not focused on the historic Arctic outbreak. 

Deep South Deep Freeze

This morning, it is 32 degrees F in South Texas.  From there, northward, the temperature falls with the latitude, reaching 35 below zero at the Canadian border.

The culprit is a deep trough (a dip in the jet stream) that extends from the Rockies to the Midwest.  High pressure within that trough has brought Arctic air to the mid-section of the United States, extending down to the Southern Plains and, for the first time in decades, to southernmost Texas.  Meanwhile, low pressure will move along the edge of the trough, sweeping warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico above the cold, Arctic air emplaced at the surface, setting the stage for an ice storm in the Deep South and a swath of significant snowfall farther north.

Freezing drizzle has already developed in the San Antonio-Austin region and crippling ice is forecast for southeast Texas, northern Louisiana and southern Arkansas, eventually extending northeastward across the Southeastern U.S. to the Mid-Atlantic region.  Once this storm does its damage, another, more northern system will arrive from the Pacific Northwest.

Grounded Snow Geese

Driving west through eastern Kansas this morning, I encountered several flocks of snow geese, circling through the gray overcast and seemingly tired of fighting the frigid, north wind.  The air temperature was 11 degrees F and the wind chill was surely well below zero.

My suspicion was confirmed when I observed a massive flock of snows, resting and foraging in a field of crop stubble along the Smoky Hill River, just south of Junction City.  Farther down the road, another large flock occupied a field west of Salina, Kansas.  Clearly, these hardy travelers were grounded by the severe weather conditions and were conserving energy on their long journey to their Arctic breeding grounds.

While their migrations, like those of other birds, are triggered by the solar cycle, waterfowl move in concert with open water and food availability; they also wait for favorable tail winds before setting out on the legs of their journey.  The current Arctic blast, with another on its heels this weekend, will surely slow their progress.

Broad Valleys, Small Rivers

Those who drive across the Great Plains of North America (and who pay attention to the topography) note that the river valleys are generally broad and relatively shallow while the rivers, themselves, are small.  Indeed, those who reside in wetter landscapes of the Midwest and East might suggest that these streams are more like creeks (small ones at that).

One thus wonders how these small rivers sculpted such broad valleys, especially in the semiarid climate of the Great Plains.  The answer to this conundrum is two-fold, reflecting the natural history of the region over the past 100 million years.  First, the sub-surface geology of the region is composed of "young," soft rock, from limestone deposited in a Cretaceous Sea to Tertiary sediments eroded from the Rocky Mountains.  Secondly, during the Pleistocene Epoch (2.2 million to 10,000 years ago), meltwater from Continental and mountain glaciers and heavy precipitation in the peri-glacial zones fed rivers that were much larger than exist today.  As the climate warmed and the flow into these streams fell dramatically, a landscape of broad valleys and small rivers was left behind.

Across the Northern Plains, where large meltwater lakes formed along the edge of the retreating ice sheets,  rivers now flow through the broad, shallow lake beds and are prone to flooding during years of deep snow and heavy spring rains.  Farther south, downpours from spring and summer thunderstorms may produce flash flooding along the normally dry or sluggish river beds.  Landscapes across our planet are products of underlying geology, tectonic forces, regional climate and the erosive action of ice, water and wind; of course, man-made dams have significantly limited the power and incidence of floods in many areas. 

Irony in Tampa

With the best of intentions (and seeking good publicity), the NFL has offered Super Bowl tickets to vaccinated first responders from across the country.  While they certainly deserve our appreciation, including them in the Covid super-spreader event of the year seems a bit inappropriate.

After all, these individuals must travel to and stay within the city and, one can easily imagine, attend pre and post game parties while in town.  The vaccine will, hopefully, protect them from active infection but will not prevent them from carrying the virus back to their families, colleagues and other contacts.

Then there is the game itself, representing the modern American coliseum.  The health-care workers in attendance, like other rabid fans at the stadium, will be cheering on as our professional gladiators make audible blocks and tackles, risking serious injury and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) in the name of big money and team/civic pride. 

A Frigid Floodplain

Though the heart of the Arctic air has not yet reached central Missouri, it was plenty cold at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning.  And while most of the pools and a good portion of the central channel were frozen over, a friend and I encountered a good variety of waterfowl.

Mallards dominated the scene with at least 2500 observed.  A large flock of ring-necked ducks also graced the floodplain, joined by smaller flocks of gadwall, Canada geese, redheads and lesser scaup, not to mention a lone American coot.  Two adult bald eagles and a red-tailed hawk patrolled the refuge while songbirds were mostly sheltered in the thickets; only white-crowned sparrows and northern cardinals foraged along the roadway.  As usual, multiple flocks of red-winged blackbirds moved across the valley, oblivious of the frigid air.

Once the Polar Express fully envelops the refuge, open water will all but disappear and the resident waterfowl will likely disperse to the Missouri River and other large streams in the area.  If they only "knew" that a flight to Arkansas would offer a comfortable escape, they might just start this afternoon. 

Journey below an Arctic Front

Heading back to Missouri tomorrow, I expect to be traveling under partly cloudy skies and through seasonably chilly air.  If I delayed the journey by a day or two, the road trip would surely be less pleasant.

Indeed, a potent Arctic front is poised to drop southward across the Great Plains and Midwest, ushering in the coldest air of the season.  Highs in the single digits (F) and lows well below zero (not to mention the life-threatening wind chills) are forecast for the region by Sunday.

As is often the case, the Colorado Front Range will escape the dense polar air as it slides southeastward across lower terrain.  In fact, winters are relatively mild here due to the elevation, the dry air, intense sunshine and intermittent downsloping winds.  Springs, on the other hand, can be a bear! 

Nuggets of Spring

Each February, as buds begin to swell across the canopies of our large Siberian elms, flocks of lesser goldfinches arrive to feast on the bounty.  Once purely summer residents along the Colorado Front Range, some are now permanent residents here (especially near the foothills), though their numbers do increase during the warmer months.

While some appear at the "thistle" seed feeder throughout the winter, it is during this arboreal onset of spring that these tiny, golden songbirds arrive in larger numbers, their plaintive calls ringing across the farm.  Often joined by house finches, pine siskins and their American cousins, lesser goldfinches are surprisingly aggressive for their size; furthermore, their agility allows them to forage on terminal branches with ease.

Following a period of mild weather, which should last another day, our slow and erratic climb through spring will resume, topped off by the upslope snowstorms of March, April and early May.  But the presence of these hardy, attractive songbirds will surely ease that transition.