Expecting Snows

This is the week each year when the first wave of snow geese generally passes through central Missouri. The autumn migration of these vocal travellers brings them across our State from mid November to mid December and they return from Gulf Coast wetlands between mid February and mid March.

Conditions for their journey have been ideal over the past two days, with clear skies overhead and a cold, north wind raking the Heartland. Like other waterfowl, snow geese take advantage of tail winds and I have been watching and listening for their passage to no avail. But, based on my experience over the past 14 years, they'll show up soon and I'll pay tribute from below, mesmerized by their wavering flocks.

As I have confessed in previous blogs, migrant snow geese stir my soul. More than any other species, they evoke wanderlust as they move across the sky, proclaiming freedom with their high-pitched calls. One of these days, when the responsibilies of my career have ended, I'll follow them to their coastal haunts and to their Arctic homeland, a nod to their years of inspiration and a gift to my soul.

Unpleasant Topics

This blog, inspired by the writings of Hal Borland, Edwin Way Teale and others (as listed in Recommended Books), tends to focus on the natural landscape of our planet, the natural history of our Universe and the seasonal events of nature's year. But, as a naturalist, I accept the fact that humans are part of nature; while collectively powerful, we are no more or less important than any other species. Nevertheless, our intelligence has spawned industry and technology that, if not properly managed, will threaten the welfare of all species, including ourselves.

In truth, we cannot fully understand nature unless we make an effort to understand human nature, including the physical, emotional and mental traits that govern our lives. In doing so, it is imperative that we acknowledge the dark side of our nature, accept our limitations, understand our impact on other species and learn to improve our lives without compromising the health of natural ecosystems.

This effort to understand ourselves requires that we study the roots of human culture, the origin of our beliefs and the varied manifestations of our shared genome. This commitment also necessitates the willingness to face unpleasant topics, including abortion, infidelity, child abuse, mysticism, zealotry and death, among others. Events of the past week have directed this blog away from the fabulous diversity of our natural world and toward some of the disturbing traits that define our species. Yet, while we stop to dwell on the problems of humanity, the plates continue to shift, the seasons march along and our wild neighbors carry on their struggle to survive.

When Idols Fall

As Joe Paterno's storied career fades in the shadow of a child abuse probe, we realize that he is just the latest in a long line of idolized individuals who proved to be human after all. Viewed as gods due to their special skills, powerful positions or charismatic personalities, these idols often succumb to personal scandal during their lives or to revelations in their posthumous biographies.

Indeed, it is frequently a flaw in their character that allowed them to achieve fame in the first place. A dominating personality, common to many of our heroes, often comes with a self-centered view of the world, allowing these individuals to focus on their special talents while ignoring those who support them; spousal abuse, infidelity, lack of empathy and self-righteous behavior often blemish their achievements.

We humans do ourselves and our idols a disservice by engaging in celebrity worship. Promoting the conviction that they can do no wrong in our eyes, we set our heroes up for failure, however trivial or serious that might be. It is best that we admire their talents and dedication without saddling them with expectations that defy their humanity; each is, after all, one of us.

A Clash of Seasons

For the past two days, a dome of September warmth has covered the eastern U.S. while a trough of December chill dropped across the West; the border of these disparate air masses stretches from Texas to the Great Lakes. Energized by the jet stream and fed by a strong inflow of moisture from the Gulf of Mexico, the clash zone has produced a spring-like swath of tornadic thunderstorms, heavy rain and, up north, wet snow.

Here in central Missouri, showers, drizzle and fog dominated the weather yesterday while periods of heavy rain and a few rumbles of thunder passed through overnight. Impeded by high pressure to the east, the front has remained stationary and is forecast to bring more precipitation before cooler and drier air filters in from the west.

While autumn has the reputation as our dry season, outbreaks of spring-like weather are not uncommon and often produce a second tornado season across the Southern Plains and lower Mississippi Valley. Until the jet stream settles to our south, this gyration of seasons will continue and winter must await its final, victorious march across the Heartland.

The Winter Thrush

While some members of the thrush family, including bluebirds, robins and solitaires, winter in parts of the U.S., most of the spotted thrushes head south of the border for the colder months. An exception is the hermit thrush.

Known for its beautiful song, the hermit thrush breeds in coniferous forests from southern Alaska to New England and southward through the Sierra Nevada, Rocky Mountains and Appalachians. Come autumn, this thrush heads for mixed woodlands and thickets across much of the lower 48 and Central America. There it is more reclusive, scouring the undergrowth for buds, berries and hibernating insects.

Significantly smaller than a robin, the hermit thrush sports an olive-brown back, rusty tail, white eye ring, spotted breast and white abdomen; its tail-flicking habit also aids identification. Usually found alone, this bird is quiet during the colder months but may begin to sing before leaving for its breeding territory in mid spring. Since it seldom visits suburban areas, you will need to leave your windowside perch and head for a woodland trail to see this winter thrush.

Human Society & Pedophilia

The current revelations at Penn State and the ongoing scandal in the Catholic Church highlight both the insidious and widespread threat of pedophilia and society's failure to adequately address this scourge. While sexual attraction to children, apparently far more common in men than in women, is likely a result of both genetic predispostion and psychological disturbance, it cannot be condoned or ignored by those in a position to protect the innocent.

The Catholic Church, enamored with celibacy, creates an attractive environment for pedophiles, as do other church groups, scouting troops and the varied youth organizations in modern society. While these groups may provide activities, education and counseling that are important to large numbers of children, they are not always structured to ensure that abuse cannot occur. Furthermore, when abuse is discovered, efforts to protect the organization often prevent full disclosure and appropriate intervention.

Parents are the frontline of prevention and should discuss the topic of pedophilia with their children, encouraging them to report any activity that makes them uncomfortable; they must also police, if not totally restrict, travel, overnight programs and home visits with counselors, coaches or youth group leaders. Of course, the organizations themselves must ensure that the potential for abuse is eliminated and society must impose strict regulations governing the activity, structure and oversight of youth groups. Finally, society must enforce the legal protection of children by continuing an aggressive assault on child pornography and child prostitution and by insuring that those adults who do not promptly report incidents of pedophilia are fully prosecuted.

Zealotry & Ignorance

Zealots are so fanatically devoted to their political, religious or philisophical beliefs that they fail to acknowledge or respect other points of view. Self-righteous, they see the world in black and white and loathe the concept of compromise.

Zealotry feeds on ignorance and zealots know that large segments of the population are poorly educated, either by choice or due to the failure of society. They thus target their message to this receptive audience, promising personal benefits to the faithful and warning of threats from non-believers and the established government.

Though we often relegate the title to extremists in human society, zealots are readily apparent in the current Republican primary field, as many of the candidates appeal to an undercurrent of racism, evangelism and militarism among their legions. Cooperation and compromise have become anti-American and any hint of thoughtful engagement is dismissed as the tool of liberal intellectuals.

Preventing Disease

Modern medicine has succeeded in treating most human diseases but, with the exception of vaccines, it has played a limited role in the prevention of disease. While early screening for hypertension, hyperlipidemia and some cancers has certainly reduced morbidity and mortality, public health measures to eliminate the contamination of food, air and water have been far more important to the health of the general population.

Beyond the actions taken by governments to reduce pollution and to educate the public regarding health care risks, the prevention of disease relies on the commitment of individuals to choose a healthy lifestyle. The decisions to not smoke, to consume a well-balanced diet, to engage in regular aerobic activity, to drink alcohol in moderation and to avoid risky behaviors are far more likely to prevent disease than anything the medical profession has to offer.

Preventing disease by adopting a healthy lifestyle also prevents the need for medications and therapies that, themselves, are likely to induce other health problems. While some medical conditions are unavoidable and can be eradicated or ameliorated with modern therapies, the state of our general health is primarily under our own control.

November Rain

Like the showers of early spring, November rain arrives with cold air and gusty winds. Combined with the gathering darkness of late autumn, this chilly, wet weather is, in my opinion, the least inviting weather of the year.

Primed by a southerly flow that swept mild, humid air into Missouri over the past few days, the cold front arrived last night, the leading edge of a broad atmospheric trough that brought snow to the Mountain West and High Plains. With the primary low to our north, we'll be spared the frozen precipitation but I would prefer a dusting of snow to the chilly rain; the former is invigorating, the latter downright ugly.

Then again, these showers will prepare the landscape for migrant geese and ducks that stream through the Heartland over the following weeks. Wet fields, sloughs and shallow lakes are especially appealing to these travellers, providing nutritious reststops on their journey to the sun. From their perspective, this cold November rain is a vital gift of the season.

The Arkansas River

The Arkansas River, 1470 miles long, rises along the Continental Divide in Central Colorado. After flowing southward through one of the most spectacular mountain valleys in North America, flanked by the Sawatch and Mosquito Ranges, the river angles to the east to slice a rugged canyon through the foothills. There it enters Pueblo Reservoir and then begins its long journey across the Southern Plains.

While the Arkansas is the southern counterpart of the Missouri River, it flows through drier terrain and remains rather small for much of its course. However, once in eastern Kansas, eastern Oklahoma and Arkansas, the river enters the moisture plume from the Gulf of Mexico and picks up flow from large tributaries such as the Cimarron, Verdigris, Neosha and Canadian Rivers. Flowing across Arkansas from northwest to southeast, the full-fledged river finally enters the Mississippi a short distance north of the Louisiana border.

Connecting Colorado, where I have spent much of my life, and Arkansas, where I experienced some of my early development as a naturalist, I have long felt a special attachment to this River. In the early 1980s, while working at the University of Arkansas Medical Center, in Little Rock, I spent many days along the Arkansas' scenic valley, exploring wetlands, sandbars, mudflats and riverside forest. It was there that I saw many birds for the first time (including bald eagles, yellow-crowned night herons, black and least terns and painted buntings), stoking my enthusiasm for the great outdoors.

From Islands to Canyon

Late in the Permian, some 230 million years ago (MYA), the western coast of North America curved through what is now western Idaho. Offshore, a volcanic island arc was forming; this volcanism lasted through the Triassic and was followed by a period of sediment accumulation during the Jurassic, when this Wallowa Terrane merged with the western edge of the Continental crust.

Covered by a thick layer of Miocene basalt as the Columbia Plateau formed (15-17 MYA), the Wallowa Terrane would soon lie between the Blue Mountains of Oregon and the Salmon Mountain Uplift of Idaho. Following the rise of the Tetons (about 9 MYA) and in concert with volcanic upheaval from southeast Idaho to northwest Wyoming, the ancestral Snake River began to form, flowing from the east side of the Tetons to the broad, volcanic plain of southern Idaho. There it fed Lake Idaho, which covered the western half of the Snake River Plain during the late Miocene and early Pliocene, draining to the south.

As further volcanism and uplift altered its hydrology, Lake Idaho spilled to the northwest and the Snake River soon occupied that channel, slowly eroding Hells Canyon through the Wallowa Terrane. Reinforced by the glacial meltwaters and copious precipitation of the Pleistocene, the Snake River has sculpted the deepest chasm in North America (8000 feet in some areas), which was widened by the massive Bonneville Flood, 14,500 years ago. Today, the spectacular cliffs of Hells Canyon expose the geology of the Wallowa Terrane, from the Miocene basalt at its rim to the Permian volcanic rock at its base.

Murder on the Highway

They were half a mile ahead when I first saw them, dressed in black and standing on the highway. Even from a distance, I could tell that they were a pompous bunch, quarrelsome and aggressive. Driving closer I could see the battered corpse, its blood splattered across the road surface, a gruesome scene amidst the fading colors of late October but somehow appropriate on this Halloween weekend.

That murder of crows would likely feast on the carcass throughout the morning before wandering off to harass raptors and annoy humans with their raucous calls. This is, after all, the beginning of their season, when there is plenty of waste grain, winter kill and highway victims to sustain them through the cold, dark months. Celebrating their good fortune, crows gather in large, noisy flocks to wander the countryside before settling down at a favored roost site.

Despised by many humans, these corvids play an important role in nature's cycle, scavenging for leftovers, removing the dead and controlling the population of insects, mice and invasive bird species. Their garrulous flocks are a classic feature of the Midwest winter and their hardiness during this season of death certainly garners my respect and admiration.

In Praise of Old Barns

Crossing the till plains of the American Midwest, once a spectacular tallgrass prairie and now the productive Cornbelt, is not the most interesting journey on our planet. Fortunately, parcels of forest, scenic stream valleys, a large concentration of raptors and seasonal flocks of waterfowl make the drive more enjoyable. And then there are the old barns.

With all due respect to the architects of our magnificent, ornate cathedrals, old wooden barns are, in my opinion, the most inspiring of man-made structures. While the religious believe that spired churches connect man with his God, old barns surely tie us to the Earth. Farmers have long depended on these wooden buildings to protect their livestock, their harvest and their equipment; at the same time, these scenic structures have provided both food and shelter for a wide range of native creatures, from field mice to red fox to barn owls.

Cathedrals, maintained by devoted parishioners and historical societies, retain their glory through the centuries. Old barns, on the other hand, often reflect their age, a response to the death, infirmity or financial problems of their owner; nevertheless, well constructed barns remain intact for many decades before slowly crumbling under the relentless assault of natural forces. Even then they retain their dignity, providing shelter for wildlife and rustic beauty for human travelers and photographers. Though some of their lumber is recycled for interior decoration, most of these iconic structures gradually fade into the natural landscape, their components recycled by nature's saprophytes.

Summer Wind

Ahead of an approaching cold front, strong southerly winds are raking Missouri today, pushing afternoon highs into the 80s (F). Despite the colorful leaves and browning grasslands, summer has returned to the Heartland.

Our recent drought has left the woodlands tinder dry; seasonal lakes have given way to parched basins and the creeks are but chains of stagnant pools. After a less than stellar autumn display, this gusty, warm wind is accelerating the leaf fall, making it look like November but feel more like August.

Of course, this summer heat will soon be doused by Canadian air. The cold front, advancing across the Great Plains, is due this evening and is forecast to bring showers and much cooler temperatures in its wake; over the coming days, our afternoon highs will be 30 degrees cooler than they are today. Then we'll remember that winter is closing in and that snow geese will soon call from the cold night sky.

Turkey & Earthquakes

Yesterday's tragic earthquake in eastern Turkey is just the latest in a series of tectonic events that have impacted that region over the past 50 million years. Lying at the confluence of four tectonic plates, the Eurasian, African, Arabian and Anatolian, Turkey is one of the most geologically active regions on our planet.

Most of the country sits on the Anatolian Plate, a small continental plate that is surrounded by the other three larger plates. Fifty million years ago (MYA), as the Tethys Sea began to close, the African Plate drifted northward, colliding with southern Europe and forcing up the Alps and associated ranges. Then, about 30 MYA, the Red Sea began to open, shoving the Arabian Plate toward the northeast; its collision with the Eurasian Plate, which, like that between Africa and Eurasia, continues today, has crumpled up the Zagros Mountains of Iran. In eastern Turkey, the Arabian Plate is scraping along and pressing against the Anatolian Plate, forcing the latter to rotate counterclockwise, toward the west; in concert, across northern Turkey, the Anatolian Plate scrapes past the southern edge of the Eurasian Plate. Finally, along its southern rim, the Anatolian Plate interacts with the African Plate via a complex chain of transform faults, compression points and subduction zones.

As these Plates continue to rearrange themselves, pressure builds along the intervening fault lines and, though plate movement is in the order of only 3-10 mm per year, friction eventually fails and an earthquake results. Unfortunately, this pattern will continue and, like Los Angeles and Tokyo, Istanbul awaits a geologic catastrophe.

Sunday Morn at Eagle Bluffs

On this glorious October morning, I headed for Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, my favorite haunt in central Missouri. There, on the floodplain of the Missouri River, I was greeted by flocks of horned larks along the entry road, by a lone bald eagle atop a dying shade tree and by the sound of distant shotgun blasts, a reminder that the culling season is underway.

Water birds were relatively sparse on the ponds of the refuge; while coot and pied-billed grebes were common, ducks were limited to scattered, small flocks of mallards, gadwall and blue-winged teal; a pair of ruddy ducks caught my eye and noisy killdeer rushed along the shorelines. Raptors were the highlight of this morning's visit, represented by numerous red-tailed hawks, the lone bald eagle, a few northern harriers and a red-shouldered hawk that rose from the marsh with a snake in his talons. Clouds of red-winged backyards drifted across the floodplain, a few great blue herons stalked the shallows, a quartet of barn swallows rested on a drowned sapling and small groups of yellowlegs foraged on the mudflats.

Many, if not most, Americans attend church on Sunday mornings for their weekly dose of inspiration and humility. I prefer nature, with its bounty of life and its spectacles of death.

Tardy Snowbirds

Since filling the feeder and hanging up the suet block last week, the usual cast of characters have made their appearance. Chickadees, small yet courageous and ever-optimistic, were the first to arrive, followed closely by tufted titmice, their reliable feeding companions. Industrious white-breasted nuthatches soon stopped by, storing most of their larder in bark crevices for later consumption. Downy and red-bellied woodpeckers led the assault on the suet block while mourning doves, cardinals and white-throated sparrows have scoured the ground beneath the feeder, taking advantage of seed scattered by house finches, blue jays and house sparrows.

But one common visitor has not yet arrived in central Missouri (or at least not on our modest parcel of earth). Dark-eyed juncos, commonly known as snowbirds, usually appear by mid October, just as the last of the summer residents are departing for the south. Most abundant along country roads where they feast on the seeds of grasses, wildflowers and so-called weeds, juncos are also common in suburban areas where they forage beneath shrubs and feeders.

Perhaps the conditions in their Canadian homeland are too mild to send them southward but, unlike waterfowl and raptors, their travels are dictated by the solar cycle, not by the weather. Maybe they're already in town but have not yet visited our property; then again, migrant songbirds tend to zero in on the same wintering area each year. One thing is certain: the hardy and attractive juncos will soon join our backyard residents, take advantage of our handouts and brighten my winter.

Swallowtail Butterflies

Despite the recent chilly nights, a few tiger swallowtails were still flittering about our yard on this mild, sunny, autumn afternoon. Members of the genus Papilionidae, swallowtails are represented by forty species in North America and more than 550 across the globe; though their common name reflects a deeply forked tail, not all species harbor that anatomic trait. Birdwing butterflies, the largest members of the genus (and the largest butterflies on Earth), are found in Australia.

After mating, the male swallowtail secretes a sticky substance that plugs the genital tract of the female, ensuring that his genes do not receive competition from another suitor. The female lays her eggs on a host plant (often very specific) and these hatch into caterpillars within a few days. The larvae have several defenses against predation; in their earliest stage, they resemble bird droppings (not terribly appetizing) which molt several times to become large colorful caterpillars with a variety of bright bands and spots (suggesting toxicity). Some species do feed on toxic plants and the ingestion of those larvae can cause sickness or death in some predators; over numerous generations, susceptible predators have "learned" to leave them alone. Finally, swallowtail caterpillars have a gland behind their head, known as the osmeterium, which emits a potent, noxious chemical; while this seems to be effective against other insects and spiders, larger predators (snakes, toads, birds, mammals) are apparently undeterred by its scent.

Among the common North American species are the tiger, black and zebra swallowtails. Tiger swallowtail caterpillars feed on a variety of deciduous trees, black swallowtail larvae (often called parsley worms) feed on members of the carrot family (including parsley, fennel and dill) and zebra swallowtail caterpillars feed almost exclusively on the leaves of pawpaws. Temperate zone swallowtails overwinter as pupae and the beautiful adults spend the warmer months mating and sipping on nectar; depending upon latitude, they produce 2-3 broods each year before cold weather puts an end to their one and only season in the sun.