On this Christian celebration of rebirth, I have decided to resurrect a post from March of 2008.
See: Immortality
On this Christian celebration of rebirth, I have decided to resurrect a post from March of 2008.
See: Immortality
Arriving at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area early this morning, I encountered a field full of shorebirds. Numbering about 450 individuals, they were American golden-plovers, on their way to the Arctic tundra.
Among the long-distance migrants of the bird world, these travelers breed across the northernmost fringe of North America and "winter" in southern South America, enjoying long, summer days in both locations. Most migrate southward over the Atlantic Ocean, flying direct to northern South America from Eastern Canada; during the spring migration, however, they move northward through the American Heartland, stopping to rest and feed on plowed fields or shortgrass prairie.
This avian spectacle was certainly the highlight of my visit to the Missouri River floodplain. Other sightings included bald eagles, a river otter, American white pelicans, thousands of ducks and a lone short-eared owl (the first I have seen this year and soon to head north as well).
Redbud trees bloom across the American Midwest in late March and early April, offering patches of color in woodlands that have not yet recovered from their winter slumber. The purple-pink flowers also contrast with the damp, gray weather that characterizes this period.
Members of the legume family, their early spring glory comes with a price. Before long, abundant seed pods will festoon these small trees, releasing countless kernels of life that clog our gardens and flower beds with saplings.
Yet, we allow some of the offspring to grow, knowing that next spring, when we need them the most, their beauty will lift our spirits and restore our faith in nature's cycle of life.
See also: Bean Trees
Facing trial for covering up adultery with a porn star (while his wife was pregnant), Donald Trump is selling personally-endorsed Bibles to raise money for his legal expenses. Also found liable for defaming a woman whom he sexually abused (i.e. raped), the Republican nominee for President was already financially stressed by a host of criminal indictments.
While I am not one to defend or sympathize with organized religions, I would think that Trump's Bible sale is a sacrilegious act in the eyes of American Christians, especially his Evangelical base.
Nonetheless, those devoted to Trump are clearly unfazed by any action he might take, however dark, criminal or insincere. By doing so, they demonstrate the hypocrisy of religious zealotry itself.
Driving through Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area with my grandson yesterday, we encountered a flock of small, white geese, lounging on a grass-covered levee. They were Ross's geese, cute-looking cousins of snow geese.
Having wintered in the lower Mississippi Valley or along the western Gulf Coast, they were on their way to the Canadian Arctic, where they will nest and raise their young on the wind-swept tundra. Farther west, Ross's geese winter in the Great Valley of California and on wetlands of the Desert Southwest.
Using our brief visit to introduce my grandson to various waterfowl species, these attractive migrants were a special treat for both of us. Often missed when they mingle with massive flocks of snow geese, these travelers were kind enough to pose for our inspection.
The killing of more than 130 Russians by ISIS terrorists evokes shock and sympathy across the globe. After all, citizens of every country remain susceptible to the action of armed zealots.
Nevertheless, there are certainly mixed feelings when such an event occurs in countries that openly support terrorism. Indeed, contrary to current evidence, Putin has blamed Ukraine for the attack, a country that he has been terrorizing for more than two years.
One is also inclined to be less sympathetic to victims who live under the thumb of dictators, wondering why they have not taken action to protect human rights and their personal freedom. Of course, they would do so at significant risk to themselves and their families; Alexei Navalny courageously proved that point. As we Americans drift toward the loss of our own Democracy, we might soon understand their reluctance. Vote Democratic!
Since returning to our Littleton, Colorado, farm over two weeks ago, the resident birdlife has seemed to be rather scarce and unusually quiet. Perhaps they sensed the coming snowstorm that arrived last week.
But now that we have passed the spring equinox, which occurred late last evening, they were especially active and noisy this morning. House finches, chickadees and dark-eyed juncos were the most numerous members of the chorus while northern flickers, blue jays, magpies and spotted towhees were most strident; background vocals were provided by white-breasted and red-breasted nuthatches, robins and intermittent flocks of Canada geese.
Scheduled to return to Missouri tomorrow, I was reassured by this morning's performance. All seems well on the farm.
A friend of mine, who owns property in San Diego, enlightened me on an ongoing environmental and public health crisis along the southernmost coast of California. Each year, 10 billion gallons of raw sewage (residential and industrial) enters the Pacific Ocean via the Tijuana River. A known and increasing problem for almost a Century, this pollution has not been significantly addressed by either the Mexican or U.S. Governments.
Spreading northward along the Imperial and Coronado Beaches, the marine pollution poses a health threat to humans and wildlife alike; indeed, these scenic beaches are now officially closed most of the time due to hazardous levels of bacteria in the water. Though not documented, one can imagine that industrial chemicals also pose a threat, contaminating the water, sand and air.
When we learn that neighboring Governments cannot cooperate to remedy a local, fixable disaster, it is hard to imagine that humans can adequately address global crises such as climate change. For a concise overview of this tragic scenario, including its medical, environmental and economic consequences, watch The Big Dump documentary on YouTube.
Yesterday, I looked out our kitchen window and saw two red fox, wrestling on a remnant patch of snow. Since we have hosted an adult female on our Littleton farm for several years, I assume she has found a mate and that we can expect a gang of kits by May.
Red fox usually mate in February and kits are born in the den by early April. Requiring close protection for several weeks, they generally will not emerge from the den for a month. By then, they are partly feeding on kills brought back by the male but are still nursing. Since mom has decimated our cottontail population, dad may have to wander a bit to feed the family.
The youngsters' "cute phase" lasts for a couple months; by mid summer, they take on a gangly, teenage frame and are far more skittish. I look forward to watching the kits romp about the farm; none will likely survive more than 4-5 years but the females may have kits of their own by next year.
Losing most of their beach to erosive storms over the past few years, residents of Salisbury Beach, Massachusetts, paid nearly $600,000 to create dunes with 15,000 tons of sand. Within a few days of its completion, powerful waves washed most of that barrier out to sea.
This sad saga will surely be replicated across the globe as sea levels rise and global warming intensifies storms that lash our coastlines. While regular beach "re-nourishment" may slow the destruction, it will be a losing battle in most areas. Sturdy, high seawalls and the restoration of coastal marshlands may be the only realistic options.
As we have also recently observed along the Pacific coast, living atop sea cliffs is just as dangerous when powerful waves and torrential rain undermine and erode the steep terrain. Climate change will force all but the very wealthy to abandon floodplains and coastal areas. The first step is to stop building in those high risk zones.
As the recent snow begins to recede, the first flowers of spring are demonstrating their resilience. Blue scilla, vinca and grape hyacinths are, as usual, the early bloomers.
More than agents of beauty, these pioneers offer reassurance that life endures after a long, cold winter. Of course, there are other signs, including clumps of greenery (grass, wild onions), swollen buds and a riot of activity (invertebrates) beneath the leaf litter.
But we humans yearn for bright color after enduring the grays and browns of winter and this vanguard of wildflowers is especially welcome. Fueled by the intense Colorado sun, this recovery will accelerate over the coming weeks. Then again, intermittent spring snowstorms will persist into early May (if not longer) along the Front Range.
Throughout the course of this Blog, I have often opined on the battle between science and religion. Science, fueled by theories and experimentation, strives to learn the truth while religion, based on dogma and faith, purports to know the truth.
Spirituality, it seems, represents a middle ground between science and religion, encompassing the unexplained, the imagined and the mysterious. Science is inclined to attribute spirituality to the cerebral and emotional nature of humans; in other words, it is a product of our large, complex brains, influenced by hormones and other chemical mediators. Religion, on the other hand, accepts spirituality as the manifestation of God, thereby lending credence to the tenets of faith.
Agnostics, myself included, lean toward the scientific explanation while retaining an interest in and respect for the unexplained. While spirituality may offer an emotional crutch when facing, hardship, tragedy or mortality, it is free of the rigid standards imposed by either science or religion. Indeed, it is a highly personal aspect of life and one wonder's if we are the only species to sense its presence; perhaps it is the essence of life itself.
Yellow gold drew European pioneers to Colorado; white gold allowed them to stay. Indeed, the mountain snowpack has fueled explosive "development" along the Front Range urban corridor. Whether climate change will significantly diminish that resource is not yet known.
This morning, we find ourselves in the midst of a snowstorm, likely the most persistent to impact Metro Denver in years. Despite the inconvenience it might cause, the precipitation is always welcome in this dry ecosystem, especially in early spring.
Sweeping Gulf of Mexico moisture across the Great Plains and into the Front Range, the storm initially dropped rain which changed to snow overnight. Here in Littleton, we have received about 8 inches so far and expect up to another foot over the next 24 hours. If so, we'll reach our average snowfall for the month of March. We'll take every inch we can get.
While some wealth is inherited, most accrues due to a good education, hard work, appropriate budgeting, creativity and thoughtful investing. Nevertheless, personal wealth has a negative image in many segments of society, especially among those who, for whatever reason, have not been able to take advantage of the building blocks listed above.
Wealth affords many advantages to those who have achieved it. Personal freedom is perhaps most evident: the choice where to live, how to live and what to experience are especially rewarding. But individual wealth also benefits society as a whole; indeed, philanthropy has become especially important in this era of Government dysfunction. Social support programs, conservation organizations, international relief networks and cultural enrichment centers are all highly dependent on private funding.
Personal wealth, in and of itself, is not a problem for society. While one may argue whether our taxation system is fair, the negative effects of wealth result more from over-consumption, a scourge that places stress on natural ecosystems and, thus, on the health of our planet.
We humans are prone to envy. Celebrity, wealth, talent and perceived happiness are among the traits that trigger this unfortunate reaction. But what is really true? What do we actually know about these individuals?
Unless they are close friends or immediate family members, it is likely that we know very little. Too often, we envy others, only to find out about their personal trials and tribulations in an expose or obituary. Even then, can we truly appreciate how difficult or unhappy their life might had been?
One thing is certain: envy itself invokes unhappiness. Comparing ourselves to others, however limited our knowledge, is both futile and unhealthy. Our time and energy are better spent improving our own life, especially our relationships.
Granted a mild, sunny weekend and knowing that our next spring snowstorm is just a few days away, it seemed like a good time to spread some mulch. Fortunately, we have a massive pile of mulch on our Littleton farm, having accumulated over 33 years of running dead limbs through a chipper; we produce more than we use each year.
Though we are letting the farm naturalize, we must protect young trees, shrubs and flower bed from damage when our "lawns" and pastures are mowed. As any gardener knows, the mulch also helps to retain moisture in the soil, a significant benefit in this semi-arid climate. Frankly, I enjoy mulching; it affords plenty of exercise but can be accomplished gradually. I often stop to check out new spring growth or, of course, to watch the birdlife.
During my labors today, I was fortunate to be joined by a cheerful flock of bushtits. Soon to pair off and raise their new offspring, they seemed to be enjoying the pleasant weather as much as I was. I appreciated both their company and their kind excuse for a break.
Older individuals, of which I am one, know our limitations. Statistically, we are closer to death though accidents and a wide spectrum of disease affect all age groups. In that respect, we old people have been lucky.
Older persons possess the benefits of experience and perspective. In general, we know when to seek assistance and are more than willing to do so. Though the term wisdom is perhaps an exaggeration, a long life does impart knowledge that is accessible only in books or on video to those in younger generations. Having lived through multiple decades, political upheavals, cultural shifts and social movements, old people assess and approach current problems in the light of our personal history.
Unless older individuals are demented and even if we are physically infirm, we have a lot to offer. More than giving advice and telling our stories, we can provide leadership, especially when surrounded by capable lieutenants and assistants. Agism is just another form of discrimination; like the others, it is based on ignorance.
The latest Pacific storm system is moving eastward across the Southern Plains, soon to unleash thunderstorms across Texas and most of the Southeast. On the "backside" of the storm, we expect a mix of rain and snow along the Front Range urban corridor, changing to all snow overnight. Unfortunately, only a few inches of snow are predicted for Metro Denver.
March is the snowiest month along the Front Range and we are off to a slow start. Fortunately, the mountain snowpack (our primary water source) is decent but lower elevation ecosystems rely on spring snowstorms. Indeed, April is our second snowiest month.
Currently, snow is falling across the Plains of Northeastern Colorado but has not yet backed into the Front Range cities. On radar, the central low is a bit too far south to maximize upslope conditions for the Metro Area and it appears that the forecast may be accurate. Then again, slight wind shifts can produce dramatic effects in this region; we'll know by morning.
On our journey through life, we take note of interests and talents in those around us, especially in friends, students and family members. In my opinion, it is incumbent on us to offer our encouragement.
Too often, we assume that others will step in or that the individual will move ahead without our input. But other social pressures might intervene, especially when financial concerns or personal biases come into play. As I have discussed in a previous post, this is often the case when creativity is suppressed by one's superiors.
Our encouragement may or may not be instrumental (or even accepted) but holding back benefits no one. Indeed, the willingness to offer encouragement rewards both the recipient and the "mentor;" I'm sure many of us can recall at least a few episodes in our lives when our active encouragement was both effective and personally satisfying. And we might also remember that the encouragement of a friend, teacher, or family member actually changed our life.
Tuning into the Weather Channel last evening, I watched their coverage of thunderstorms with intense lightning crossing southeastern Wisconsin, where the ground temperature was only in the low 40s F. Since we generally associate thunderstorm development with warm, humid weather, this scenario might seem confusing.
Since warm air rises and cold air sinks, most thunderstorms develop when warm, humid air at the surface rises into colder air aloft; this convection is often facilitated by an approaching cold front that augments the lift. Thunderstorms that develop in cold weather can be attributed to one of two conditions: when even colder air sits above the surface air (often producing thunder and lightning during snowstorms) or when warmer air overrides cold air at the surface. In the latter circumstance, the thunderstorms are said to be "elevated" since the convection develops as the warm middle layer interacts with cold air above it. Rain that is produced by these elevated storms is often mixed with hail (as occurred last evening).
While the most powerful thunderstorms, sometimes producing tornados, usually develop on hot, humid days, cold thunderstorms can also produce damage as strong, cold downdrafts develop within the storms. Watch for these elevated thunderstorms when warm fronts push northward into colder air at the surface.
Anyone who has traveled westward across the Great Plains of North American likely remembers their first glimpse of the snow-covered Front Range. Though I have experienced that scenery dozens, if not hundreds, of times, it still produces an emotional response, offering reassurance that I am nearing the landscape of my soul.
Native Americans likely had a similar response as they gazed upon a source of abundant game and clear water beyond the dry ecosystem of the Plains. No doubt, the wagon train pioneers regained a sense of hope from the scene, having endured a long, perilous journey across exposed terrain.
Even today, modern travelers take in the view from the comfort of their speeding vehicle, focused primarily on getting to the mountain resorts and campgrounds. Those of us enamored with geology and ecology know that the fabulous vista is far more significant.
Heading west on Interstate 70 today, I encountered a large flock of tree swallows circling above the Saline River in Salina, Kansas. The first I have seen this year, tree swallows are always among the first summer birds to appear in the Heartland each spring. No doubt, this flock took advantage of the strong south winds that buffeted my pickup from central Missouri to central Kansas.
Since tree swallows winter across the southern border of the U.S., they arrive earlier than their cousins, which spend the colder months in Central or South America. Indeed, eastern phoebes are generally the only summer resident to appear earlier, often by late February.
Highlighting an otherwise uneventful road trip (so far), the swallows were a welcome sight, offering assurance that, despite human impact on Earth's climate, the seasons remain intact. Of course, that might not be the case for long.
For the first time since mid October, a friend and I were able to explore all of Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning. Restrictions related to duck hunting and wintering waterfowl habitat were lifted yesterday; all roads and trails are now open.
On our morning tour, under clear skies, we encountered 27 avian species, dominated by 150 American white pelicans and thousands of ducks (primarily mallards but a good number of northern shovelers, northern pintails and green-winged teal as well). A flock of greater white-fronted geese stopped by, joined by two snow geese, and the usual mix of winter songbirds were observed. Raptors were limited to red-tailed and red-shouldered hawks; for the first time in quite a while, no bald eagles were encountered, despite the influx of waterfowl.
I will be out at our Littleton, Colorado, farm for most of the month but anticipate a return to Eagle Bluffs in late March. By then, thousands of American coot and blue-winged teal will grace the refuge and early shorebirds will be racing along the mudflats.
Over the past two weeks, our resident red-shouldered hawk has been zooming about the neighborhood, shrieking loudly. More vocal than most buteos, this male is declaring its territory as the breeding season begins.
Red-shouldered hawks are common throughout the eastern half of the U.S.; most are permanent residents in their region but those that summer across more northern latitudes migrate southward in winter. Unlike their larger, red-tailed cousins, which favor open country, these medium-sized buteos prefer wooded areas, especially along streams and wetlands. Hunting from a perch, they drop to snare rodents, snakes, lizards or frogs.
Our local hawk is commonly observed throughout the year, most often noticed when flocks of crows or blue jays gather to harass it. Now, as the days lengthen and the mating season arrives, he creates his own disturbance.