The Sound of Thunder

Thunderstorms are rolling through Missouri this morning; fortunately, none are expected to be severe and the rain is more than welcome.  The storm system itself is currently centered over the Northern Plains and its trailing cold front is pushing across Kansas and Oklahoma; ahead of that front, warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico is streaming northward, fueling the thunderstorms.

Most humans enjoy the sound of thunder, especially when it is distant and not associated with threatening storms.  It is both soothing and nostalgic, reminding us of our younger, carefree days.  One might also argue that the rumble of thunder is imbedded in our collective human memory, associated with the promise of nourishing rain that was so vital when all humans lived off the land.

Even for those who cannot accept such a hypothesis, thunder is an element of nature's music, like crashing waves and the whistling wind.  If nothing else, it reminds us that we are both dependent upon and susceptible to her awesome power.

A Voice from the South

Every year, while watching the Masters Golf Tournament from Augusta, Georgia, I take note of the distinctive calls of great crested flycatchers in the background, knowing that they will soon return to central Missouri.  Yesterday, the first one appeared in our backyard, his loud voice ringing through the neighborhood.

Large, colorful, noisy and aggressive, these flycatchers winter in Southern Florida, Central America and northern South America; they summer and breed across the eastern half of the U.S.  Consuming a wide variety of insects and spiders, great crested flycatchers also feast on berries, especially during their months in the Tropics.  Nests, which often include snakeskin, are constructed within tree cavities.

Their loud, distinctive calls, usually delivered from treetops, will only intensify in the coming weeks as males attract mates and defend their nesting sites.  Once the young are fledged, the males settle down and I'll have to wait until next year's Masters to hear their clarion call from the south. 

A Lone Traveler

Willets are large sandpipers that are common on southern beaches of North America, especially during the winter months.  Come spring, some head for the Northern Atlantic Coast while others breed along prairie ponds and marshes of the Northern Plains and Great Basin.

Though they are usually encountered in small flocks, we observed a lone willet at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning.  Foraging in the shallows with yellowlegs, coot and blue-winged teal, this visitor was feasting on a wide variety of aquatic invertebrates.  Willets have pale gray plumage and, except for their size, might be confused with other shorebirds; however, large white wing patches become evident in flight, aiding identification.

Our lone traveler likely wintered along the Gulf Coast (where many willets are permanent residents) and is heading for the Northern Plains to breed.  Little did he know that, by using a rest stop along the Missouri River floodplain, he offered a morning highlight for two human birders. 

First Sightings

Avid birdwatchers generally remember where they first encountered most species, especially those not found in their home territory.  Of course, those "exotic" species are commonplace for birders who share their environment.

Nevertheless, it is the drive to find "new species" that keep birders enthused and engaged; unfortunately, these discoveries become less common as birder's gain experience (i.e. age) and many opt to visit foreign lands to expand their life list.  More often, we begin to focus on "seasonal firsts" which occur annually.  While many birds are permanent residents in a given area, others are encountered only during the warmer or colder months or on their migration through the birder's home region.

Today, having recently returned to Missouri, I observed the first house wrens, ruby-throated hummingbirds and Swainson's thrushes of the season; the wrens and hummingbirds will remain until fall while the thrush is merely passing through and will do so again in the autumn.  These "first sightings of the season" cannot match the excitement (and eventual nostalgia) of true first sightings but we birders look forward to these annual encounters just the same.

Eleven Eagles

The spring explosion of avian life that I hoped to observe at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area did not pan out this morning.  Strong southerly winds kept songbirds hunkered down in the tall grass and thickets and a lone common yellowthroat was the only summer songbird that we encountered.

On the other hand, there were hundreds of blue-winged teal, a large number of northern shovelers, moderate sized flocks of American coot and a fair number of shorebirds on the Missouri River floodplain; the latter were represented by greater and lesser yellowlegs and pectoral sandpipers.  Other sightings included great egrets, great bluer herons and a belted kingfisher; not to be ignored, turkey vultures provided an ongoing aerial display, soaring and swooping in the persistent wind.

But the highlight of our visit was provided by eleven bald eagles, four adults and seven immatures.  Clearly still bunched in family groups, these large raptors had settled on islets and mudflats amidst the broad, shallow pools, the young still dependent on the hunting skills of their parents.  A few older juveniles, now self-reliant, were also observed.  Any disappointment related to the absence of summer songbirds was more than assuaged by this spring gathering of eagles. 

Fast Forward through Spring

Having left the high, dry climate of the Colorado Front Range and returned to the Missouri River Valley of the southern Midwest, we have dramatically moved forward in spring.  While the extensive greenery is most noticeable, many other changes mark the greater progress of the season.

The landscapes are painted by many colorful bulb plants, the purplish flowers of redbuds and the white bloom of wild plums.  Spring beauties and wild violets join dandelions on the deep green lawns and lilac shrubs have begun to flower.  Compared with Colorado, migrant and summer songbirds are abundant in the fields and woodlands; among these are house wrens, chipping sparrows, eastern kingbirds, barn swallows and a host of warblers.

Down at Phillips Lake, in south Columbia, we encountered a trio of double-crested cormorants, a lone spotted sandpiper and a large flock of cliff swallows, repairing their nests beneath the boat dock roof.  Tomorrow I'll return to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, where the advancing tide of spring should be especially evident.  

Three Mountaineers visit the Farm

Yesterday, on a warm, sunny afternoon, a trio of white-crowned sparrows visited our Littleton farm.  Having wintered at lower elevations (including the Front Range urban corridor), they will soon depart for the mountains to nest and raise their young.

Once in the mountains, they settle down along the edge of meadows, as high as timberline.  Indeed, these attractive sparrows are among the relatively few birds that forage on alpine tundra.  On an especially warm day in April (75 degrees F) they were surely anxious to return to their cool summer habitat.

Avoiding the heat, yesterday's visitors stayed primarily beneath the shade of our piñon pines or in the shadows of our shrub lines; there they joined our larger and more vocal spotted towhees.  Small flocks of white-crowned sparrows will likely visit the farm through mid May, when the last of these mountaineers head for the high country. 

Our Two Summer Residents

Of all the birds that nest on our Littleton, Colorado, farm, almost all are permanent residents; in other words, they inhabit the property throughout the year.  Only two summer residents, house wrens and broad-tailed hummingbirds, arrive in the spring, nest here and head south in the fall.

Of course, a large number of summer residents fly over the farm (certain raptors, snowy egrets, American white pelicans, double-crested cormorants, various swallows and common nighthawks, among others) and a good variety of summer residents visit the property to feast on seeds, insects and berries (western kingbirds, Bullock's orioles, gray catbirds and cedar waxwings are examples) but none of these species nest on the farm.

Over the past week, I have begun my annual effort to locate the house wrens and broad-tailed hummingbirds as they return from their wintering grounds.  The latter will be especially conspicuous as the males engage in their vertical courtship loops, their buzzy wing vibrations impossible to ignore.  The wrens, on the other hand, will surely be found in or near one of our brush piles; there they will nest and spend most of the late spring and summer.  

Dementia & Empathy

Unlike most fatal illnesses, dementia robs the individual of their humanity.  Unable to care for themselves or communicate with family and friends, they become victims of both the disease and those who refuse to let them die.  No one wants that fate.

Yet, usually due to religious convictions and/or misguided laws, family members are unwilling or unable to withhold medical care or consider compassionate euthanasia.  Despite the emotional and financial consequences, they tend to the needs of their loved one, reluctant to "play God."

As a consequence, empathy for the victim of dementia must come from human society.  We must provide the means and support the rights of family members to actively end the de-humanization that characterizes this tragic and, to date, untreatable disease.  While that decision should never be imposed on a family, our collective empathy requires that we make the option available.  

Flashback Post XXIX

On this Easter Sunday, when Christians celebrate the promise of life after death, I have elected to revive a post from March of 2008.

See:  Immortality

Impatience in Spring

We humans are impatient creatures and that trait seems most evident in spring.  Anxious for the greenery, warm air, colorful flowers and summer birds to. appear, we keep a daily vigil that does not always offer the steady change we anticipate.

Having survived the dark, cold months of winter, our tropical past floods through our subconscious memory, fueling the impatience that we feel in spring.  Those who reside in more southern climes generally are rewarded with a rapid recovery from winter though they often must endure severe storms.  Most of us experience an erratic transition to spring, disrupted by cold fronts that bring ice, snow and overnight, sub-freezing temperatures.

The latter scenario is especially typical along the Colorado Front Range, where the progress of spring tests everyone's patience.  Fortunately, we expect sunny, warm weather for the next week which should accelerate the welcome explosion of life; then again, snow is not uncommon here through May.   

A Dandy Day in Colorado

It is another warm, sunny day along the Colorado Front Range but this one is special.  The first dandelions of the season are scattered across the "lawns" of our Littleton farm.

Despised by most suburbanites who contact their local "lawn master" once they appear, these Eurasian immigrants are relished by cottontails and some humans.  In my case, I welcome them as non-native wildflowers that produce a beautiful display when allowed to spread.  Indeed, within a couple of weeks, carpets of yellow dandelions, mixed with swaths of purple mustard, will adorn the farm.

These hardy wildflowers are a bit late this year, kept in check by recent cold nights.  But now that they have appeared, two days before our next expected snowfall, it actually looks like spring! 

The Nature of Tradition

On this Masters Championship weekend, one hears reference to "tradition" repeatedly.  Tradition is a cultural belief, custom, practice or event that carries special significance and is handed down through the generations.  One might associate the word with positive or even sacred connotations but that is certainly not always the case; in fact, throughout the course of human history, it might be argued that good and bad traditions have occurred with equal frequency.

For example, some early cultures engaged in human sacrifice, a practice that is certainly unacceptable in modern human society.  Then there were the traditional dictates of early (and not-so-early) religious organizations that subjected heretics to torture and executions; no doubt, the Klan has its traditions.  Even today, certain traditions risk the health and lives of participants, instill mysticism in the innocent and promote extravagance in a world doomed by excess consumption.

I suppose the Masters might be classified as a positive tradition; then again, Augusta National Golf Club did not admit a black member until 1990 and did not include a black player (Lee Elder) in the Masters Championship until 1975.  Yes, indeed, it is "A Tradition Like No Other."   

Transition Time at South Platte Park

On this cool, breezy day along the Front Range, my wife and I paid a brief visit to South Platte Park.  Despite our limited survey, it was clear that the annual transition from winter to summer residents has begun.

The winter duck population has significantly decreased though a good variety were observed on the lakes and river; buffleheads were still fairly common and a flock of ruddy ducks was a special treat.  The first wave of double-crested cormorants has arrived over the past week and, though not observed today, the resident ospreys have returned to the Park.  Tree swallows have also been returning over the past two weeks.

This population change will increase dramatically through the remainder of April as the wintering ducks continue to drift northward and summer songbirds reappear (including house wrens, Bullock's orioles and violet-green swallows, among others).  American white pelicans are increasing in number and snowy egrets should soon arrive from the south.  Finally, a wide variety of spring migrants will also grace the Park in the coming weeks, headed for the mountains or toward more northern breeding grounds.

A Turbulent Night

 It was not a good night for sleeping along the Colorado Front Range.  Strong, gusty winds rattled the windows and raked the trees, finally abating at dawn.  Of course, the temperature dropped in concert, bottoming out at 32 degrees F.

The winds were racing behind a cold front that plunged southward through our region late yesterday afternoon and has already reached South Texas.  In addition, the strong winds were funneling between a high pressure dome over northwest Wyoming and a low pressure center over Minnesota.

A high wind warning was in place for the Front Range urban corridor and I suspect some damage was inflicted by the gusty winds.  Though I have not yet surveyed the farm, I'm sure dead limbs litter the pastures and "lawns," a beneficial effect of the overnight turbulence. 

First Vulture of Spring

Despite the relatively mild climate along the Colorado Front Range, turkey vultures only reside here during the warmer months and are rather uncommon when present.  So, on this sunny, mild morning, I was pleased to observe the first vulture of the season, lazily circling above our Littleton farm.

Having wintered in Mexico or South Texas, regional vultures will nest on cliffs along the foothills or on rocky outcrops that rise above the High Plains.  Once their young are raised, they will spend most of their time soaring above open country, guided to carrion by their extraordinary sense of smell.  Communal roosts are generally established in groves of trees and the vultures will begin to drift southward by September.

Since dozens of turkey vultures often pass over our Missouri home in the evenings, it feels a bit disingenuous to get excited about a lone individual.  But he/she has come a long way to visit our immediate air space and I certainly appreciated the gesture.

 

A Minor Setback

Since we are accustomed to spring snowstorms along the Colorado Front Range, today's cool, cloudy weather was just a minor setback.  Nevertheless, once signs of spring adorn the landscape, anything but a steady increase in warmth can be disappointing, even for those of us who do not despise winter.

While these spring setbacks are rather common in most regions of the country, they are especially frequent in areas adjacent to mountain ranges.  Wind shifts, often distantly related to storm systems, can produce an upslope flow that cools the air and spawns a dense overcast that blocks out the warm, spring sunshine.

Of course, focused purely on survival and procreation, wildlife are unfazed by the disruption of spring, however severe the conditions.  Undeterred by calendars, weather forecasts and thoughts of the future, they go about their business and we humans appreciate the reassurance that they offer. 

Birding from the Bathroom

While birding is generally an outdoor activity, seasoned birders know that certain indoor locations can offer productive and unobtrusive viewing sites, especially when they overlook good avian habitat.  Such is the opportunity provided by one of our bathroom windows.

Just outside the window is a naturalized hedge of lilac shrubs.  Untouched for many years, the lilacs still produce attractive and fragrant flowers but are also riddled with dead branches.  Better yet, beneath the shrubs, the soil is especially rich and coated with many years of dead leaves and twigs.  As a result, the lilacs and the ground beneath them offer ideal hunting grounds for a wide variety of avian residents and visitors.

Spotted towees are especially fond of the shrub line, scratching away in the leaf litter to find a host of tasty invertebrates.  Other common patrons are chickadees, bushtits, dark-eyed juncos, house wrens, gray catbirds and house finches; occasional visitors include hermit and Swainson's thrushes, white-crowned sparrows and yellow-rumped warblers.  Personally, I have found that birdwatching while tooth brushing is an efficient way to start he day!