The Contrarian Bird

As the first hints of winter blow across North America, many birds begin their migration to southern climes. Those dependent on insects or nectar are the first to leave, staying ahead of the freeze line as it gradually dips across the Continent. More hardy species, capable of surviving on seeds, berries and hibernating insects, do not migrate or merely move from the North Woods to the Temperate Zone. Some, such as great gray owls, snowy owls and snow buntings are irruptive species, moving south only if forced to do so by heavy snows or dwindling food supplies.

Like the flatlanders, mountain birds escape the stress of winter by heading to milder climes; in many cases, this is limited to vertical migration, a descent to elevations with warmer temperatures and less snow. Along the Colorado Front Range, a variety of mountain birds visit the urban corridor during the winter months; these include mountain chickadees, red crossbills, Cassin's finches, Townsend's solitaires and gray-headed juncos, among others.

But there is one bird that defies this pattern, moving to higher elevations for the winter. The blue grouse, common throughout the western mountains, from northwest Canada to New Mexico, summers and breeds in the open, ponderosa pine woodlands of the lower mountains and foothills; there they feed on insects, seeds, berries, buds and pine needles. Come winter, they ascend to the Subalpine Zone, surviving on the foliage of conifers (pine, spruce and fir). There must be a good reason for this behavior......but it escapes me!

Heaven on Earth

Many religious zealots live to die. Their entire earthly existence is devoted to achieving eternal life and death is the portal to that reward. Focused on this goal, they overlook the many joys that our earth-bound life can bring. Curiosity about the natural world is often a victim of that zealotry.

One need not be a hedonist to appreciate the many wonders of this planet. Expensive journeys and high-tech equipment are unneces-sary. Relatively few people fully explore their own yards and neighborhoods, let alone the nearby marsh or woodlot. Just coming to grips with the night sky can keep us enthralled for decades and weather buffs have an endless source of entertainment.

Unfortunately, many find it hard to balance natural science and spirituality. It's often easier to take a simplistic view of life, devoid of uncertainties. If more of us accepted this Earth as our paradise, we'd be more committed to protecting and enjoying what we have. In the end, we'd all be better off.

Insect Deadline

The insects of the Midwest are approaching their deadline. With the first freeze only a week or two away, they are busily ensuring the survival of their genes. Most species do not overwinter as adults and must mate and deposit eggs before they, themselves, succumb to the cold.

Our current, balmy interlude is providing a perfect opportunity and the chorus of cicadas, crickets and katydids made last evening sound like August. Warm, sunny days have the bees combing the flower beds and the dragonflies making their last forays of the season. Harvestmen roam the woodpiles, butterflies still brighten the shrubbery and flying insects attract squadrons of chimney swifts, soon to depart for southern climes.

While honey bees overwinter in hives, pregnant bumblebees retreat to underground dens and some species survive beneath leaf litter or in man-made structures, most adult insects will die with the first hard freeze. Their species will live on in the eggs or cocoons attached to vegetation or as larvae in the ponds or soil. Come spring, those not eaten by birds, moles, mice and shrews will give rise to the next generation.

Unicorn of the Sea

Narwhals are toothed, Arctic cetaceans, best known for the prominent tusk of the adult male. The latter is actually an outward eruption of the upper, left incisor, which develops into an elongated, twisted tusk; up to 10 feet long, it is used for mating jousts but may also serve other purposes (chemical sensing, communication etc.). A small minority of males have a pair of these structures and some females grow a short, narrow tusk.

Their name (Norse for "corpse whale") reflects their blotchy skin pattern, tubular shape and habit of lounging "belly up" on the surface of the ocean. After mating in spring, these highly vocal whales congregate in shallow, coastal bays for the summer months; there, females give birth to calves conceived the previous spring (gestation averages 15 months). The calf nurses for 4-5 months and will stay with its mother for almost two years.

As summer gives way to autumn, the narwhals break into small pods, spending the colder months among the ice flows of the Arctic Sea. Protected by a thick layer of blubber, they will feed on cod, halibut, shrimp, squid and young seals; adult males grow to a length of 16 feet and weigh up to 1.8 tons (females are about 2/3 their size). Narwhal predators include polar bears, killer whales and some Native American tribes; despite a lifespan of 50 years, this species may be among the early victims of global warming.

October Marsh

The early October marsh is not your noisy, buggy wetland of late spring and summer. Gone are the colorful songbirds, flitting among the thickets. Absent is the croaking of frogs and the trilling of toads. Gone are the clouds of mosquitoes that draw squadrons of swifts and swallows to these prolific shallows.

This is a quieter place with subdued colors and patient hunters. Crickets and grasshoppers move among the dried vegetation, potential victims of leopard frogs and garter snakes that lounge in the shoreline grass. The frogs, now silent residents of the wetland, remain wary of predators (snakes, herons, mink) and spring into the shallows as you approach. Painted turtles, soon to winter in the bottom muck, crowd onto logs and bask in the warm sunshine of early autumn.

Out on the lakes and larger ponds, ducks and grebes are arriving from the north; their numbers will increase through the month as more intense cold fronts push across their breeding grounds. As the days continue to wane, winter songbirds grace the marshland thickets, content to feast on the seeds of summer's past glory.

Roxborough State Park

One of the most scenic destinations along Colorado's Front Range is Roxborough State Park, on the southwest edge of Metro Denver. Encompassing spectacular rock formations and varied habitat, it is a popular site for hiking, photography and wildlife watching. From C-470 in Littleton, exit on Santa Fe Drive, head south for 4 miles and turn west on Titan Road which eventually curves south, becoming Rampart Range Road; proceed another 2 miles to a firehouse near the hogback; the Park entrance road will be just east of this facility. Dogs are not permitted in this wildlife refuge.

Entering the Park, the visitor passes through the famous Dakota hogback, composed of Cretaceous sediments. West of the hogback is a broken chain of yellow-gray sandstone, the Lyons Formation, that dates from the Permian. Older yet are the salmon-red fins of the Fountain Formation, formed from the erosion of the Ancestral Rockies during the Pennsylvanian Period, some 300 million years ago. Finally, the western edge of the Park rises into the foothills of the Rockies, composed of Precambrian granite. Valleys between these ridges, now covered by Gambel oak thickets and yucca-studded grasslands, are underlain with softer sediments (primarily shale) that once separated the rock layers in a horizontal layer-cake. When the Rockies rose (70-60 million years ago), the cake was tilted upward (to the west) and subsequent erosion has produced the ridges of sandstone and valleys of shale.

By October, many of the summer birds have departed but visitors should still find scrub jays, magpies, canyon wrens, rufous-sided towhees, western meadowlarks and golden eagles. Mule deer are abundant at the Park; other mammals include rock squirrels, Colorado chipmunks, red fox, coyotes and the occasional mountain lion. Several trails loop through this scenic refuge and adventurous hikers can set their sights on Carpenter Peak (summit elevation 7175 feet), which commands a broad view of the Front Range foothills and Colorado Piedmont.

Pokeweed

One of the more conspicuous plants in the early autumn landscape is pokeweed. Growing in small stands or as scattered, individual plants, they are identified by their racemes of blue-black berries on plastic-pink stems and their large, drooping leaves that alternate from a thick, light-weight stalk. Sun-loving, pokeweed is most often found along fence lines or at the border of fields and woodlands.

The plant's tender, green, spring vegetation is edible if boiled twice to remove toxins. However, as the plant matures, the stalk and leaves take on a reddish tinge; by that time, the entire plant (including the berries and roots) is toxic to mammals (which, of course, includes us). Birds, immune to the toxin, love the berries and spread them by seeds passed in their droppings; cardinals are especially fond of this fruit.

Pokeweed, also known as inkberry, was once used by Native Americans to produce a dark-red, ceremonial dye. Today, it colors our landscape with its flowers, foliage and berries (and with the birds that stop to enjoy its bounty).

The Outdoors Month

October has arrived with its warm, sunny days and chilly nights. The oppressive heat and humidity of summer are now a distant memory and the glorious days of October coax us into the woods and fields. Mammals are more active, migrations are beginning to peak, autumn colors paint the foliage and the cool, dry air invigorates wildlife and humans alike. Almost any Midwestern naturalist would likely pick this month as their favorite; then again, it may be my personal bias showing through.

Nature centers, urban trails and State Parks probably see their largest crowds in October. It's a great month for hiking; dry trails offer good footing, insect populations are dwindling and the cool air boosts our endurance. Photographers love the month for its colorful foliage, clear air and deep blue skies. Those who adore summer may decry this step toward winter; for others, including myself, its a welcome reprieve from the heat and a portal to the best season of the year!

Two-Plate Countries

The great majority of the countries on this planet lie completely upon their respective Continent's plate. However, there are some that straddle two tectonic plates and are thus especially susceptible to earthquakes.

Iceland is the most obvious example; rising above the mid Atlantic Ridge, the western half of this island nation lies on the North American Plate while the eastern portion is part of the Eurasian Plate. While almost all of the continental U.S. and Mexico occupy the North American Plate, Southern California and the Baja are inching slowly to the northwest atop the Pacific Plate. Easternmost Russia and northern Japan lie on the North American Plate while the remainder of these countries sit on the Eurasian Plate. New Zealand also straddles two plates; its North Island and the northwest portion of its South Island lie on the Australian Plate but the rest of the South Island occupies the Pacific Plate.

But the most complex assembly of countries and tectonic plates is in the Middle East. Here, Lebanon and Syria straddle the African and Arabian Plates while Turkey and Iran, primarily on the Eurasian Plate, also overlap portions of the Arabian Plate. The latter Plate has been moving northward for the past 20 million years, crunching into the Eurasian Plate, pushing up mountain ranges and triggering massive earthquakes.

Winter's First Jab

Thunderstorms are rumbling across Missouri this morning, the leading edge of a cold front that will bring us the first significant chill of the season; the rest of the week is expected to be dry, with highs in the 60s (F) and lows in the 40s. Spring and fall are the battle-grounds of winter and summer and this appears to be winter's first jab.

The weather gyrations of spring and fall coincide with an undulating jet stream, which creates an alternating pattern of cool and warm weather across the Heartland. Troughs (dips in the jet) allow Canadian air to spill southward while ridges (northward curves in the jet) open the Midwest to a warm, humid flow from the Gulf of Mexico. As autumn progresses, the jet will gradually move southward and flatten out; broad troughs will dominate the region and the chill of winter will become entrenched. By then, winter will have won the battle and summer will not renew its challenge until March.

Tropical Canada

After forming in the Caribbean as a tropical depression, the storm that would become Hurricane Kyle brought heavy rains to Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Then, drawn northward by an upper low off the Carolina coast, it became a tropical storm, passing just west of Bermuda. An approaching cold front continued to accelerate the storm and, moving north across the warm Gulf Stream, Kyle became a hurricane.

While most hurricanes fizzle out as they enter cooler waters of the North Atlantic, Kyle has been moving at a fast clip and its circulation has managed to hold together; this afternoon, the hurricane is about to make landfall across southern Nova Scotia and the south coast of New Brunswick. Heavy rains will lash Maine, west of its track, but the damaging winds and storm surge will be restricted to Canada.

Though nor'easters, produced by potent cold fronts, bring destructive winds and waves to this region on a regular (seasonal) basis, tropical hurricanes rarely reach this latitude; the last to strike coastal Maine was in 1991. Three days short of October, it's certainly odd to use the words tropical and Canada in the same sentence!

Hybrid Life Forms

Last evening, my wife asked me to look at something in the flower bed; it appeared to her that an animal had vomited on the bark mulch. With that description, I knew she had discovered a slime mold.

Despite their ugly appearance, slime molds are fascinating organisms that demonstrate features typical of both plants and animals. Once classified as Myxomycota, within the Kingdom of Fungi, slime molds are now placed in their own Kingdom (Protista) by many mycologists; beyond the confusion regarding their classification, slime molds are a heterogeneous group, generally divided into cellular and plasmodial forms. Beginning life as a spore, this mystery organism initially becomes either an ameoboid cell or a flagellated swarm cell; the former group fuse into plasmodial species while the latter stick together to form cellular mats. The plasmodial forms may be a few centimeters to several feet in diameter; in either case, the individual cell walls break down and the parent slime mold looks like a giant amoeba with thousands of nuclei.

Slime molds germinate in cool, moist areas where decaying vegetation harbors a large supply of microorganisms (bacteria) on which it feeds. Spreading across its feeding ground, the slime mold grows until the ground begins to dry out or its food supply is exhausted; it then morphs into a fungal-like organism with variable spore bearing structures (surface puff balls in some species, feathery stalks in others). Once the spores are released, they lodge in the soil and "wait" for favorable conditions to redevelop.

Caught between animal and plant kingdoms, slime molds occupy a unique niche on this planet; unable to group them with other life forms, I'll have to give them their own blog label. That will be easy enough for me but I'm concerned for the creationists: on what day did God create slime molds?

Natural Health

As a physician, I know that many medical problems are not preventable; genetic disorders, many infections, accidents and a variety of cancers fall into this category. And I also realize that modern medications and procedures have significantly improved the quality and longevity of our lives; vaccines, antibiotics, insulin and sterile surgical techniques are just a few examples.

But many of the maladies that afflict humans are partly or totally preventable. Furthermore, the treatment of these "lifestyle diseases" levies a heavy toll on our society. Inactivity, poor dietary habits, tobacco use, excessive alcohol consumption, drug abuse and other risky behavior are at the root of many of our most common and most costly medical problems. Too often, humans indulge in these behaviors, believing that medications and/or surgical procedures will bail them out down the line. As a result, many of them end up with a history of multiple operations and a long list of daily medications (some of which are prescribed to manage side effects of other therapies).

A healthy, well balanced diet, regular, aerobic exercise, avoidance of toxic substances, attention to safety practices and efforts to minimize stress will allow most of us to enjoy a long life with the minimal use of medications. The pharmaceutical industry, as evidenced by their relentless commercials, would like for us to think that there is a pill for every problem; while that may be true, there are better, more natural ways to maintain our health.

Cuyahoga Valley National Park

As the last Pleistocene glacier, the Wisconsin, retreated into Canada, some 14,000 years ago, the Cuyahoga River and its tributaries began to erode a scenic valley in northeast Ohio. Protected as a National Recreation Area in 1974, this 33,000 acre wonderland, rich in human and geologic history, is now a National Park. Access to the preserve is via I-271 (Exit 12) or eastward from I-77 via S.R. 82 or Pleasant Valley Road (the Independence Exit).

Erosion along the walls of the Valley has uncovered 60 million years of geologic history; outcrops of Sharon Conglomerate, Pennsylvanian in age, dot the ridge tops while cliffs of Devonian shale rise along the river. Middle layers of the gorge are composed of Mississippian sediments, including Bedford Shale and Berea Sandstone. Groves of Canadian hemlock, relics of a periglacial ecosystem, cover shaded slopes of the valley, adding diversity to the rich, deciduous forest.

Numerous trails wind through the Park, taking visitors to secluded waterfalls, rock ledges, recessed caves and scenic side canyons; hikers can also follow the abandoned towpath of the Ohio and Erie Canal, with runs along the east side of the Cuyahoga River, just north of the S.R. 82 bridge. A fabulous destination throughout the year, the Park is especially scenic in late September and October, when autumn colors paint the landscape.

The Fall Migration

Though we have just officially entered the autumn season, the fall migration of North American birds began back in July as the first shorebirds drifted south through the Heartland. This movement of plovers and sandpipers, from Arctic breeding grounds to southern beaches, will continue into early November.

Meanwhile, other migrations have begun, led by common nighthawks in late August. These insect hunters are still passing through Missouri, joined by summer songbirds throughout September; by mid October, most of these fair-weather species will be gone and winter residents will be arriving from the north. The duck migration, which begins with the exodus of cinnamon and blue-winged teal in September, will continue into December, generally peaking in number and variety by early November; early ducks are accompanied by American white pelicans while cormorants, loons and grebes move with the later groups.

By early November, the migrant geese begin to arrive in America's Heartland, providing some of the most spectacular wildlife viewing of the year. Canada and snow geese dominate the scene, joined by smaller flocks of brants, white-fronted and Ross' geese; as lakes and wetlands begin to freeze over, many will move on to Gulf Coastal marshes. Having begun in July, the fall migration ends by mid December, covering a five month span!

Hawks in Flocks

Most hawks are solitary creatures. They are seen in pairs during the breeding season and may gather in small groups at favored hunting grounds but otherwise spend much of their lives alone. And, unlike most birds, the great majority of these predators do not migrate in flocks; three exceptions are native to North America.

The broad-winged hawk, a small buteo with prominent tail bands, is unusual in two respects. In contrast to most buteos, which live and hunt in open country, this crow-sized hawk inhabits deciduous forests where it hunts from a secluded perch for mice, snakes, lizards and small insects. By mid September, broad-wings, which range across the eastern half of the Continent, gather in large flocks and begin their migration to South America. Taking advantage of updrafts along the Appalachian ridges, they may be seen in flocks of a hundred or more; Hawk Mountain, in Pennsylvania, is renowned for these sitings.

Swainson's hawks, large buteos of the American West, also migrate in flocks (though generally in much smaller congregations than the broad-wings). Their southward journey begins by late September and may be observed through October; Argentina is their winter destination. Sharp-shinned hawks, long-tailed accipiters, may also be seen in loose flocks during the fall migration; unlike the above-mentioned buteos, most remain in North America where they strafe parks and neighborhoods, hunting for songbirds.

Ocean Floor Topography

Looking out at the vast, blue ocean, one might assume that its floor is as flat and featureless as its surface. But, in fact, the ocean floor has the same variety of topography that we see on land: mountains, hills, plains, basins and canyons. The ocean floor forms at the mid ocean ridges and moves off toward the oceanic trenches, where it is consumed back into the mantle; along the way, deposition, erosion, fault motion and volcanism mold its surface.

More than 30% of the ocean floor is covered by volcanic ridges; most of these are aligned along the spreading zones, where new ocean crust is forming and where the bordering tectonic plates are being pushed apart. In other areas, these ridges have developed over a volcanic hot spot and extend off in the direction of the plate motion; the Hawaiian Ridge is an excellent example of a regional volcanic ridge. The summit of most volcanic ridges are well below the surface of the ocean but some are tall enough to exceed sea level, forming clusters or chains of islands (Hawaii, Iceland, the Galapagos islands etc.).

In contrast, deep canyons (called trenches) form at subduction zones, where an oceanic plate is forced downward as it collides with another plate. Among the more famous oceanic trenches are the Philippine Trench (where the Philippine Plate is subducting beneath the Eurasian Plate), the Aleutian Trench (where the Pacific Plate is subducting beneath the North American Plate) and the Peruvian Trench (where the Nazca Plate is dipping below the South American Plate). The deep waters of these ocean canyons are among the least explored areas on Earth and likely harbor life forms that we cannot yet imagine.

Staying Together

Since this is my 33rd Wedding Anniversary, it seems like a good time to revisit the subject of monogamy. As I have expressed in past blogs, the study of natural history suggests that monogamy is not a natural human condition; rather, it has been encouraged (if not imposed) by religious and cultural laws. However, most of us would agree that, in our complex, modern society, a stable, committed, monogamous relationship offers the ideal environment for the healthy development of children. Nevertheless, the divorce rate continues to hover near 50% in developed, Western cultures.

Some marriages are sustained solely through the power of guilt, a response to religious and social pressure. Others work due to the interdependent psychological needs of the partners. But it seems to me that most successful marriages reflect the willingness of the partners to give each other space.

Humans are social creatures. However, most of us require periods of solitude and cherish the freedom to pursue interests that our spouse may not share. Healthy relationships, built on trust and respect, make room for those needs. While nature ignites sexual attraction and romantic love in order to ensure procreation, we humans are left to foster and sustain our relationships; a willingness to compromise is essential.