Raptor Staredown

Late yesterday afternoon, as clouds were building and a strong, northeast wind was cooling down the Front Range urban corridor, a red-tailed hawk and a Cooper's hawk perched in two of our taller trees.  Seemingly daring each other to make the first move, the smaller Cooper's suddenly zoomed across the farm at high speed, passing near the red-tail's position.

Despite the drama, these two raptors are not natural enemies.  The bulkier red-tail generally hunts from a perch, watching for rabbits, mice or voles in the grass below; once it spots the prey, the hawk dives to the ground to snare its victim.  Cooper's hawks may also hunt from a perch but usually cruise close to the ground, grabbing large birds (magpies, jays, doves, flickers) before they can escape its high-speed attack.

We humans often interpret animal behavior based on our personal experience and interactions with one another.  In this case, the drama was surely my own.  On the other hand, if they did engage in battle, I would bet on the more agile and aggressive Cooper's hawk. 

Return of the Fox

Shortly after delivering his eerie mating calls back in January, our resident red fox disappeared from the farm.  Having decimated the cottontail population, he may have departed for more productive hunting grounds.  Then again, he may have received no response to his nocturnal calls and set off to find a receptive mate.

Whatever the reason for his departure, the fox has now returned, nosing about our property in pursuit of mice and chowing down on bird seed in the feeding area.  The berries that he enjoys won't be available for several months but there's always the opportunity to snare squirrels and ground-feeding birds.  Then there's likely plenty of dog food set out by our neighbors; fencing does not impede this wily canine.

We are glad the fox has returned but must acknowledge his dramatic effect on our small ecosystem.  Ever since he wiped out the cottontails, hawks and great horned owls are far less common on the farm and he may have to leave once again if sufficient food is not available.  We, of course, will not intervene, content to observe this attractive hunter as he interacts with our other wild residents.

Fire & Rain in Texas

With a nod to James Taylor, Texas is the land of fire and rain this evening.  A strong spring storm, currently centered over Nebraska, is sweeping its potent cold front across the Southern Plains.

Behind the Dry Line, strong southwesterly winds are fanning the flames of numerous wildfires in drought-plagued West Texas and Eastern New Mexico.  Ahead of the front, Gulf of Mexico moisture is streaming northwestward into East Texas, setting the stage for strong thunderstorms, tornados and torrential rain as the cold front pushes across that region.

Here along the Colorado Front Range, we are receiving "backside" chilly rain which will mix with snow after the sun sets.  But the greatest concern for extreme weather will be in the Southeastern States, where the colder, drier air will push into a "juicy" atmosphere; by tomorrow morning, bands of severe thunderstorms, many spawning tornados, will build across Louisiana, Mississippi and neighboring States, marching eastward through the week.

The Journey of Writing

The act of writing, whether of stories, poems, songs or novels, is always a journey.  In some cases, the description of the journey is factual while, in most, it is imaginary, though infused with the personal experience of the author.

The journey may be related to place, including vivid images of landscape, cities or small towns, again drawing from the author's experience or creativity.  By contrast (but often in concert), the journey may be through time, inspired by past events or expectations regarding the future.  Finally, in many cases, the journey is defined by relationships, their development, course and, all too often, demise.

Writing is a form of self discovery, forcing the author to face both their past and their future.  The content of their production, whether factual or imagined, is inspired by their own journey through life, including its many joys, sorrows, rewards and failures.

New, Ancient & Threatened

As spring unfolds, we celebrate the rebirth of life on our planet.  Green shoots appear, flowers bloom, insects hatch, birds nest and the young of amphibians, reptiles and mammals are born.  Only we humans, endowed with a large brain, have natural life cycles that are independent of the solar cycle.

Of course, the "newness of spring" occurs annually and has done so for hundreds of millions of years.  Primitive plants and animals first colonized the land at least 400 million years ago (MYA).  Fish evolved by 350 MYA while both ferns and flying insects appeared about 300 MYA.  Amphibians date back at least 250 million years, followed "closely" by primitive conifers and reptiles.  Flowering plants, ancestral birds and the first mammals arose during the Jurassic Period (some 150 MYA), sharing the planet with dinosaurs.

So, we must admit, there is nothing new about spring.  Nevertheless, thanks to the negative impact of human civilization, this annual renewal of life is under assault.  Following hundreds of millions of springs, the glorious explosion of life is waning by the year.  

Wind and Weather

On days like these, when blizzard conditions may develop on the High Plains and there is a high risk of severe thunderstorms and tornados across the South Central and Southeastern States, many of us tune into the Weather Channel or check online weather sites to witness and understand the dynamics of these storm systems.

In my experience, earth.nullschool.net offers one of the more fascinating views of wind patterns across the globe.  One can easily see the location of fronts where wind directions clash and appreciate the onshore flow of moisture as winds streak across ocean or gulf waters, sweeping in their cargo of moisture that will fall as rain or snow; of course, rising humidity, produced by such onshore flow, fuels severe thunderstorms where it encounters an approaching cold front or dry line.

The ever-changing wind patterns also illustrate the location of high pressure domes (around which the winds move clockwise) and the position of tight counterclockwise swirls around centers of low pressure.  I highly recommend this online site for any weather buff.

Note:  The wind directions mentioned above for high and low pressure areas are for the Northern Hemisphere.  The wind map on the website clearly demonstrates that they are just the opposite in the Southern Hemisphere.

Worm Moon over Eagle Bluffs

 When I reached Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, the full Worm Moon gleamed from the western sky.  An omen for the conditions I would soon encounter, March's full moon is named for the common invertebrates that move toward the surface as the soil thaws.

Following two days of rain, the floodplain was a mosaic of soggy fields, shallow wetlands and open pools, ideal for the migrant waterfowl that are moving northward through the Missouri River Valley.  Once again, northern shovelers, gadwall and green-winged teal dominated the duck population,  joined by lesser numbers of mallards, blue-winged teal, lesser scaup, buffleheads, ring-necked ducks and a lone American wigeon.  A few small flocks of tree swallows, the first I have encountered this season, strafed the central canal while a couple dozen American white pelicans lounged on the mudflats.  American coot were numerous and pied billed grebes had doubled in number since my last visit; both will likely increase significantly over the next few weeks.

Killdeer, the only shorebirds seen this morning, will be joined by a large variety of their migrant cousins throughout late March and April and summer songbirds will enliven the floodplain by the time I return to Eagle Bluffs.  For now, I'm off to Colorado to watch spring unfold along the Front Range.  As is typical there in March, we will arrive just in time for a major snowstorm. 

The Clouds of Spring

Walking around Phillips Lake, southeast of Columbia, my wife and I plowed through clouds of midges.  Having hatched in response to the recent warm weather, these insects are a nuisance to humans but play an important role in nature's cycle of life.

Of course, they are an important food source for a wide variety of insectivores, including the chorus frogs that were calling from nearby pools this morning.  Two avian insectivores, eastern phoebes and tree swallows, are among the first summer residents to arrive and are, no doubt, already in the area.  Many others will follow in the coming weeks and the insect clouds will be here to greet and reward them.

Those midges that escape predation (and don't end up in the eyes, nostrils or mouths of humans) will breed, lay their eggs and die.  In death, unlike most humans, their tiny bodies will enrich the soil and nourish plants, a service that goes unnoticed and unappreciated by the most intelligent primate.

Lower Bonne Femme Valley

Bonne Femme Creek rises in southeast Columbia, Missouri, and flows southwestward, entering the Missouri River south of Easley.  Along the way, it merges with Turkey Creek and Bass Creek in Three Creeks Conservation Area and receives Smith Creek in its lower valley.

The Lower Valley of Bonne Femme Creek is a mosaic of farm fields, pastures and woodlands, attracting an excellent mix of wildlife in any season; raptors and wild turkeys tend to be the highlights throughout most of the year.  On this mild, March day I thus visited the Lower Valley, including a drive through the lower reaches of Smith Creek (via Fox Hollow Road).  While the usual mix of permanent and winter residents were encountered (including a few white-tailed deer and a coyote), the influx of summer residents is still a few weeks away.

Nevertheless, this secluded valley, which offers broad views of the Missouri River at the mouth of Bonne Femme Creek, is especially peaceful during the less verdant months, when hikers and bikers are not as  inclined to use the Katy Trail (which crosses the Valley). 

Flashback Post XXVIII

As the atrocities in Ukraine continue to mount, there is little doubt that citizens of many countries are praying for an end to this war.  That fact reminds me of a post that I published back in February of 2015.

See:  God & Atrocities  

Snows at Bradford Farm

As I approached Bradford Farm, east of Columbia, this morning, a large flock of snow geese circled above the eastern pond, soon settling down on the open water or on its snow-covered bank.  It was my first sighting of these inspiring travelers this season (and the first in almost a year).  The great majority of the snows were of the white form though a significant number of "blues" mingled with their cousins.

Other sightings of note on this clear, cold morning included a quartet of canvasbacks and a large number of killdeer and horned larks.  Though the farm is known for its raptors, including short-eared owls, none were observed during my brief visit.

Nevertheless, the snow geese made my morning (and the migration season).  I should see plenty more during my time in Missouri but one never knows; their focus is on getting to the Arctic and my personal schedule is not consulted. 

The Stress of Distant War

As the war rages on in Ukraine, most individuals across the globe are stressed by the conflict.  Witnessing the atrocities beamed into our homes by cable news services, we want something to be done but feel helpless.  Beyond donating to relief organizations, we sense that the solution to this tragedy is out of our hands but cannot fully trust politicians and generals to make the right decisions.

While the coverage by CNN and other news agencies is invaluable in keeping us informed and, down the line, bringing war criminals to justice, the ongoing updates and new videos only add to our stress. Of course, these news organizations want to keep us glued to their coverage and we must, in the interest of our own mental health, take the initiative to limit our viewership.

Like other forms of stress in our life, we need to understand the facts but must conclude that we have limited control over its resolution.  It is best to do what we can while reducing our exposure to stress-inducing factors that are beyond our capacity to solve or prevent. 

Spring Snow at Eagle Bluffs

With snow forecast for the entire day, a friend and I visited Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning.  There we encountered light snow and thousands of ducks.

Northern shovelers were most abundant, joined by large numbers of gadwall, American coot, mallards and green-winged teal; a small number of lesser scaup, hooded mergansers and common goldeneyes were also present.  While no migrant geese were observed, about 180 American white pelicans graced the floodplain, huddled on sandbars in the shallow pools.

As usual, bald eagles and red-tailed hawks patrolled the refuge and a belted kingfisher noisily hunted along the central channel.  Six great blue herons stalked the chilly shallows and a few dozen Canada geese, already paired off for the season, claimed their nesting sites in the wetlands.  Spring is surging and a day of snow will not slow its progress.

Pity the American Public

It has been a rough couple of years for Americans.  We have been asked to social distance, wear masks indoors and, if not against our religious or political beliefs, get the Covid vaccine.  Of course, we also had to downsize our parties, forego concerts and watch movies on TV.  Worst of all, the bars were closed.

Just as we were recovering from these horrific restrictions, Russia's lunatic dictator chose to invade his neighbor; though he is a close friend of our previous President, his actions have stressed the world economy and our investment accounts have taken a major hit.  Gas prices may rise a dollar or more per gallon and our Amazon purchases may take more than a day to be delivered.  Life is becoming extremely difficult for Americans!

Then again, we can stay in our homes.  We need not undergo surgery or deliver our babies while under missile attack.  Our grocery may not have the exact brand of granola that we prefer but we will not go hungry.  It is safe for our kids to attend school (though they may be exposed to discussions on race and gender).  Somehow, we'll get through this crisis.    

Light Traffic on the Flyway

I looked forward to our road trip (from Denver to Missouri) for the past week.  After all, we would cross the Great Central Flyway of North America in March, a perfect time to observe migrating cranes, white pelicans and geese.

Unfortunately, no sandhill cranes were observed in Western Kansas (where I often see them in early spring) and only a single, large flock of greater white-fronted geese was seen near Russell.  Neither snow geese nor American white pelicans were encountered and, perhaps most amazing of all, I saw only two flocks of Canada geese (excluding the numerous residents of Denver and Kansas City).

Of course, birding expectations are not always met.  Consolation prizes were in the form of numerous raptors and a few flocks of wild turkeys.  I hope to observe the migrant geese and pelicans at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, in the Missouri River Valley, over the next week.

The Worst of Humanity

We humans are not perfect beings, often offending others by our thoughtless words or actions.  But those who willingly abuse or kill the innocent for their personal gain are certainly the worst among us.

Throughout human history, we have seen such individuals and their followers emerge in the form of armies, brutal police forces, racially motivated militias, religious crusades and criminal gangs.  Even today, a number of countries practice genocide and we are now witnessing an indiscriminate attack on Ukraine as the Russian military bombs hospitals, schools and other civilian targets.

Eliminating such behavior requires the collective outrage of human civilization, both within and outside of the perpetrators' country.  Harsh universal sanctions, whether they affect our home economies or not, and the facilitation of revolution to oppose the brutal regimes are essential; of course, aid to the victims and refugees is vital and, in my opinion, selective military intervention is warranted to protect the innocent. 

The Nature of Ukraine

To honor the courage of the Ukranian citizens during Russia's ongoing invasion, it seems appropriate to review the nature of that country.  Stretching from Poland to Southern Russia and southward to the Black Sea, Ukraine is the largest country that lies completely within Europe.

The eastern Carpathian Mountains stretch across southwestern Ukraine while the remainder of the country's topography is composed of woodlands, plains and low steppes.  Rich soil throughout the northern and central latitudes of the country support agricultural activity and Ukraine is one of the primary wheat producers on the globe.  Less fertile regions mine a wide variety of minerals and drill for oil and gas.  Deforestation and pollution have been ongoing complications of all of these industries.  Wildlife of note include brown bears, wolves, lynx and martens in the Carpathians and white storks throughout much of Western Ukraine.

The two primarily rivers in Ukraine are the Dnieper and the Dniester.  The former, Ukraine's largest and longest) rises in southwestern Russia, flows southward through eastern Belarus and then bisects Ukraine on its way to the Black Sea; this large river passes through the capital of Kyiv.  The Dniester rises in the Carpathian Mountains and flows southeastward to the Black Sea, forming Ukraine's border with Moldova along the way.  I should also note that a portion of Southern Ukraine borders the massive Danube River Delta as it enters the Black Sea (Romania harbors most of that delta).

Fickle March

March 1 is the first day of meteorologic spring while astronomical spring does not begin until the spring equinox, on or about March 21.  This discrepancy seems appropriate for the month, which mingles winter and spring weather, in no particular order.

March is the month when severe thunderstorms begin to develop across the Southeastern States while ice storms, cold rain and snow showers punctuate the month across central latitudes of the Continent.  The risk of significant snowstorms persists throughout the Mountain West, Appalachians and northern States; indeed, March is statistically the snowiest month here along the Colorado Front Range.

Yet, the grass is greening, bulb plants are blooming and the spring migration is well underway, especially for waterfowl, sandhill cranes and American white pelicans; tree frogs call from the wetlands and woodpeckers hammer away on dead limbs and downspouts.  Many of us may associate March with raw, windy weather but there is little doubt that spring is unfolding.