Yesterday, the rolling farmlands of Ohio's Glaciated Plain were bathed in sunshine. As we approached the Indiana line, however, a range of vapor stretched across the western horizon, its upper peaks gleaming in the bright morning sun.
Cutting through this wall, a torrent of rain drenched the car but we soon emerged into calm sunshine on its western edge. There we saw other ranges to our north, south and west, all trending southwest to northeast and separated by pale blue skies. This atmosphere of banded storms, rising ahead of a strong cold front, was reminiscent of the Basin and Range Province of the American West, where fault block ranges poke above the high desert.
While the Basin & Range topography was produced by tectonic forces from below (a process that continues today), yesterday's Midwestern scene resulted from turbulence above Earth's surface. Ahead of the cold front, southwesterly winds pushed warm, humid air toward the Great Lakes and low pressure along the front provided lift, igniting bands of thunderstorms.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
Autumn on a Kettle Lake
Sitting above the north shore of Sandy Lake, in northeast Ohio, there was a mix of summer and autumn yesterday afternoon. The calm lake waters rippled with schools of minnows, a pair of ring-billed gulls circled overhead and the stately form of a great blue heron rose above a distant shoreline. Summer-like warmth, carried on a southwest breeze, fueled thunderstorms that rumbled across the area.
Hinting of the seasonal change, splotches of autumn color adorned the lakeside woodlands while, just below my perch, eastern chipmunks scurried about, collecting acorns for their winter dens. Across the lake, turkey vultures tilted in the southwest breeze and a lone red-tailed hawk surveyed the scene from a barren limb.
As a cold front moves in over the next few days, the summer-like conditions will yield to the cool, dry air more typical of October. Migrant ospreys and waterfowl will visit the lake in the coming weeks and, in another month or so, bald eagles will settle in as ice begins to coat the shallows. Created by a chunk of glacial ice that left a depression in the landscape, this kettle lake will then enjoy the gray, chilly weather that characterized its late Pleistocene birth.
Hinting of the seasonal change, splotches of autumn color adorned the lakeside woodlands while, just below my perch, eastern chipmunks scurried about, collecting acorns for their winter dens. Across the lake, turkey vultures tilted in the southwest breeze and a lone red-tailed hawk surveyed the scene from a barren limb.
As a cold front moves in over the next few days, the summer-like conditions will yield to the cool, dry air more typical of October. Migrant ospreys and waterfowl will visit the lake in the coming weeks and, in another month or so, bald eagles will settle in as ice begins to coat the shallows. Created by a chunk of glacial ice that left a depression in the landscape, this kettle lake will then enjoy the gray, chilly weather that characterized its late Pleistocene birth.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
In Memory of Helen
Like many (if not most) men, I was not overly close to my mother-in-law. Nevertheless, she had a profound impact on my life, well beyond our family relationship.
When I first met Helen, in 1973, I was impressed by her devotion to and support for the work of conservation organizations; an avid birder and gardener, she was actively involved in regional programs and, sensing my own interest, began to send along gift subscriptions to the publications of national conservation organizations. In 1974, she arranged for our visit to Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, on Sanibel Island, Florida, (my first exposure to the rich diversity of exotic, subtropical birdlife) and, in the same year, introduced me to the writings of Edwin Way Teale (beginning with his classic North with the Spring). Later in life, I came to appreciate the prominent role that all of these events played in my development as a naturalist.
Helen died this week at the age of 96. I thank her for her mentorship and inspiration and will honor her memory through my own devotion to the conservation ethic that she fostered in myself and others.
When I first met Helen, in 1973, I was impressed by her devotion to and support for the work of conservation organizations; an avid birder and gardener, she was actively involved in regional programs and, sensing my own interest, began to send along gift subscriptions to the publications of national conservation organizations. In 1974, she arranged for our visit to Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, on Sanibel Island, Florida, (my first exposure to the rich diversity of exotic, subtropical birdlife) and, in the same year, introduced me to the writings of Edwin Way Teale (beginning with his classic North with the Spring). Later in life, I came to appreciate the prominent role that all of these events played in my development as a naturalist.
Helen died this week at the age of 96. I thank her for her mentorship and inspiration and will honor her memory through my own devotion to the conservation ethic that she fostered in myself and others.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Milestones of Life
The recent hiatus in my blog was due to two significant events in my life: the marriage of my oldest daughter and the death of my mother-in-law. While the former was joyous and the latter sad, both entailed a celebration of life, of dreams for the future and of memories from the past.
Such major events mark our lives, placing all other events and relationships in context. They give us comfort, reinforce our bonds and remind us of both the beauty and the fragility of life itself. Of course, they also illustrate our interdependence, placing emphasis on the importance of friends and relatives in our lives.
Though other creatures are not equipped to acknowledge these milestones, they share the same course of existence on this planet, from birth, to procreation to death. Most of the biochemical processes that govern our thoughts, our emotions and our physiology are identical to those found in "lower species." We are all products of an evolutionary stream that, on Earth, began 3.6 billion years ago; our participation may be brief but the rewards of life are countless.
Such major events mark our lives, placing all other events and relationships in context. They give us comfort, reinforce our bonds and remind us of both the beauty and the fragility of life itself. Of course, they also illustrate our interdependence, placing emphasis on the importance of friends and relatives in our lives.
Though other creatures are not equipped to acknowledge these milestones, they share the same course of existence on this planet, from birth, to procreation to death. Most of the biochemical processes that govern our thoughts, our emotions and our physiology are identical to those found in "lower species." We are all products of an evolutionary stream that, on Earth, began 3.6 billion years ago; our participation may be brief but the rewards of life are countless.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Flocks of Franklins
Driving back to Missouri, yesterday, I saw several large flocks of Franklin's gulls feeding above the fields of central Kansas. These small gulls nest in colonies on wetlands of the Northern Plains where they feed on a wide variety of plant and animal life, including seeds, insects, worms and mice. Like grebes, they build their nests on floating mats of vegetation which must be continually reinforced until the chicks have fledged.
During migrations across the Great Plains, they are generally encountered in large flocks, cavorting above fields and pastures to feast on clouds of flying insects, often following plows and harvesters that stir up their prey. En route, they also stage along the shores of lakes and reservoirs, joining migrant shorebirds, American white pelicans, white-faced ibis and a host of other gulls and terns.
By mid October they have usually moved south of the U.S., heading for wintering areas along the west coast of South America. Come April, their flocks reappear on the Southern Plains where they stop to rest and fuel on their way to breeding grounds in central Canada and the north-central U.S.
During migrations across the Great Plains, they are generally encountered in large flocks, cavorting above fields and pastures to feast on clouds of flying insects, often following plows and harvesters that stir up their prey. En route, they also stage along the shores of lakes and reservoirs, joining migrant shorebirds, American white pelicans, white-faced ibis and a host of other gulls and terns.
By mid October they have usually moved south of the U.S., heading for wintering areas along the west coast of South America. Come April, their flocks reappear on the Southern Plains where they stop to rest and fuel on their way to breeding grounds in central Canada and the north-central U.S.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Our Neighborhood Watch
It's been a busy week for our neighborhood watch. Every morning, about ten o'clock or so, an intruder has invaded our Littleton, Colorado, farm and, within seconds, one of the security guards, adorned in his blue uniform, sounds the alarm.
Soon, the entire squadron is shrieking from adjacent trees and, once he's had enough, the intruder flees the scene; on most days it has been a sharp-shinned hawk but yesterday a large red-tail had settled in one of our elms. The blue jays, self-appointed guardians of our three acre plot, fall silent once the danger has passed.
Aggressive, attentive and fearless, our resident jays are happy to provide the security service and ask for little in return; pinon nuts, berries, insects and feeder handouts keep them around and seem to be adequate payment for the protection. Of course, other birds, mice and cottontails benefit from their behavior (except when the jays consume their offspring) and, as an avid birder, I appreciate knowing when raptors are paying a visit. Blue jays may be bullies at feeders but their truculence has its rewards.
Soon, the entire squadron is shrieking from adjacent trees and, once he's had enough, the intruder flees the scene; on most days it has been a sharp-shinned hawk but yesterday a large red-tail had settled in one of our elms. The blue jays, self-appointed guardians of our three acre plot, fall silent once the danger has passed.
Aggressive, attentive and fearless, our resident jays are happy to provide the security service and ask for little in return; pinon nuts, berries, insects and feeder handouts keep them around and seem to be adequate payment for the protection. Of course, other birds, mice and cottontails benefit from their behavior (except when the jays consume their offspring) and, as an avid birder, I appreciate knowing when raptors are paying a visit. Blue jays may be bullies at feeders but their truculence has its rewards.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
An Invasion of Clubtails
Clubtails seem to be everywhere on our Littleton farm this week. These dragonflies, members of the family Gomphidae, are named for the bulge at the end on their long, narrow abdomen; in most species, the club is more prominent in males. Clubtails are also identified by their clear wings and widely spaced eyes; the latter trait, combined with their thin torso, makes them resemble damselflies.
More than 900 species of clubtails have been identified worldwide and about 90 species are found in North America. Most live along rivers and near ponds, where their nymphs burrow into the gravel or sediment of the stream floor or lake bottom; there they feed on the larvae of other aquatic insects and, in some species, may remain in the larval state for three years. Molting to adults during the warmer months, clubtails are not strong fliers; rather, they flit from one perch to the next, snaring small insects en route. Eggs are generally laid on aquatic vegetation but, in some species, may be deposited in mulch or leaf litter; in the latter case, the species may overwinter in the egg stage or the larvae may burrow into the rotting vegetation until they molt to adults in late spring or summer.
Our current invasion of clubtails will likely be short-lived. The first freeze in Metro Denver generally occurs during the first week of October, putting an end to the lives of most adult insects; of course, exceptions do occur (honeybees, ladybird beetles and cave crickets are but a few examples).
More than 900 species of clubtails have been identified worldwide and about 90 species are found in North America. Most live along rivers and near ponds, where their nymphs burrow into the gravel or sediment of the stream floor or lake bottom; there they feed on the larvae of other aquatic insects and, in some species, may remain in the larval state for three years. Molting to adults during the warmer months, clubtails are not strong fliers; rather, they flit from one perch to the next, snaring small insects en route. Eggs are generally laid on aquatic vegetation but, in some species, may be deposited in mulch or leaf litter; in the latter case, the species may overwinter in the egg stage or the larvae may burrow into the rotting vegetation until they molt to adults in late spring or summer.
Our current invasion of clubtails will likely be short-lived. The first freeze in Metro Denver generally occurs during the first week of October, putting an end to the lives of most adult insects; of course, exceptions do occur (honeybees, ladybird beetles and cave crickets are but a few examples).
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Health Insurance & Young Adults
Among the groups that oppose the Affordable Care Act are young adults who resent the health insurance mandate. They argue that their participation merely funds healthcare for the elderly since they, themselves, do not need expensive screening or medical therapies.
Unfortunately, that assumption is not always accurate. Having practiced hospital medicine for most of my career, I cared for a large number of young adults who needed costly inpatient treatment. In the majority of cases, their expensive hospitalization was related to accidents, malignancy or acute infections such as complicated pneumonia, meningitis and pyelonephritis. Then there are medical problems that often present in early adulthood, such as type 1 diabetes, asthma, inflammatory bowel disease, lupus and schizophrenia, to name but a few.
To forego health insurance because one is "young and healthy" is to ignore the risk of a catastrophic injury or illness that may lead to financial disaster. In many cases, such debt places the individual's family at risk as well; parents may exhaust their savings to provide assistance and the patient's spouse and children may become impoverished by the expenses of repeated hospitalizations, chemotherapy, rehabilitation and other treatments. Indeed, financial planning must begin with the independence of early adulthood and obtaining health insurance should, in my opinion, take precedence over the purchase of a house and other investments.
Unfortunately, that assumption is not always accurate. Having practiced hospital medicine for most of my career, I cared for a large number of young adults who needed costly inpatient treatment. In the majority of cases, their expensive hospitalization was related to accidents, malignancy or acute infections such as complicated pneumonia, meningitis and pyelonephritis. Then there are medical problems that often present in early adulthood, such as type 1 diabetes, asthma, inflammatory bowel disease, lupus and schizophrenia, to name but a few.
To forego health insurance because one is "young and healthy" is to ignore the risk of a catastrophic injury or illness that may lead to financial disaster. In many cases, such debt places the individual's family at risk as well; parents may exhaust their savings to provide assistance and the patient's spouse and children may become impoverished by the expenses of repeated hospitalizations, chemotherapy, rehabilitation and other treatments. Indeed, financial planning must begin with the independence of early adulthood and obtaining health insurance should, in my opinion, take precedence over the purchase of a house and other investments.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Colorado's First Snow
While light snows may dust the higher peaks of Colorado during any month of the year, the latest cold front, which moved through the State over the past 24 hours, brought the first significant accumulations to mountain areas above 11,000 feet. In most locations, the snowfall was less than six inches and, as warmer temperatures return, much of that snow will melt or evaporate; nevertheless, on shaded, north-facing slopes and in protected cirques, this storm laid the foundation for the annual snowpack, which will build to a peak in early March.
The same storm brought a steady, light rain and scattered thunderstorms to the Front Range urban corridor, welcome precipitation in the southern parts of Metro Denver but unwelcome in the flooded areas north of the city. According the NOAA, the average date for Denver's first snowfall is October 19 though, in my own experience, it may occur by early September; since moving to Colorado in 1982, I have also witnessed snow in the Metro area as late as early June. Denver's heaviest snowstorms often occur in March and April, when Pacific storms move east across southern Colorado, sweeping Gulf of Mexico moisture toward the Front Range.
Here's hoping that the first mountain snows will usher in a heavy snowpack for the coming season and that gradual spring melting will fill our rivers and reservoirs without the specter of additional flooding; nature, oblivious to our hopes and fears, will keep us guessing. It is best that we make no assumptions, conserve her precious water and prepare for a wide range of possibilities.
The same storm brought a steady, light rain and scattered thunderstorms to the Front Range urban corridor, welcome precipitation in the southern parts of Metro Denver but unwelcome in the flooded areas north of the city. According the NOAA, the average date for Denver's first snowfall is October 19 though, in my own experience, it may occur by early September; since moving to Colorado in 1982, I have also witnessed snow in the Metro area as late as early June. Denver's heaviest snowstorms often occur in March and April, when Pacific storms move east across southern Colorado, sweeping Gulf of Mexico moisture toward the Front Range.
Here's hoping that the first mountain snows will usher in a heavy snowpack for the coming season and that gradual spring melting will fill our rivers and reservoirs without the specter of additional flooding; nature, oblivious to our hopes and fears, will keep us guessing. It is best that we make no assumptions, conserve her precious water and prepare for a wide range of possibilities.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
The Nature of Democracy
Democracy, which protects the power of the individual, relies on a spirit of cooperation and compromise in order to thrive. While various parties may disagree on a wide range of issues, their willingness to consider and respect one another's views is essential. So too is a commitment to ensuring that all citizens have a voice in the policies and laws that are enacted.
As we have seen with the Arab Spring, democracy cannot take hold in regions where factions or sects hate one another and choose to settle differences or exact revenge by violent attacks. Neither can democracy flourish in countries where a dictator, a military junta or a ruling class determines the rights of individuals.
The United States, the paragon of democracy, was once nearly torn apart by civil war. Having survived that threat and its aftermath, we now face a political movement that refuses to compromise with other segments of our population; demonstrating a profound degree of disrespect, they are willing to disrupt the stability of our country to achieve their narrow-minded goals. Intolerant of other views while offering no constructive solutions for the problems that we face, they imperil our democracy in pursuit of their own agenda. Hopefully, democracy will prevail and their radical, self-righteous obstructionism will fade from the political landscape.
As we have seen with the Arab Spring, democracy cannot take hold in regions where factions or sects hate one another and choose to settle differences or exact revenge by violent attacks. Neither can democracy flourish in countries where a dictator, a military junta or a ruling class determines the rights of individuals.
The United States, the paragon of democracy, was once nearly torn apart by civil war. Having survived that threat and its aftermath, we now face a political movement that refuses to compromise with other segments of our population; demonstrating a profound degree of disrespect, they are willing to disrupt the stability of our country to achieve their narrow-minded goals. Intolerant of other views while offering no constructive solutions for the problems that we face, they imperil our democracy in pursuit of their own agenda. Hopefully, democracy will prevail and their radical, self-righteous obstructionism will fade from the political landscape.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Eleven Mile Reservoir
Created by a dam on the South Platte River in 1932, Eleven Mile Reservoir lies in the southeast corner of Colorado's South Park. Renowned for its fishing, most of the lake and the surrounding State Park stretch across flat, semiarid terrain while the reservoir's eastern end is lined by scenic granite outcrops at the base of the Puma Hills; indeed, some of the outcrops form islands in the reservoir.
Yesterday, my wife and I hiked the trail loops that run above the east shore of the lake, crossing Coyote Ridge and then winding through the hike-in campground on a peninsula of pine-fir-aspen woodlands and rock-walled coves. It was there that we enjoyed a picnic lunch, looking north across the reservoir which is backed (east to west) by the distant walls of the Tarryall Mountains, the Continental Divide, the southern end of the Tenmile Range, the Mosquito Range and, west of the Arkansas Valley, the high spine of the Collegiate Range; to our southwest, the massive bulk of Thirtynine Mile Mountain rose above the lake.
While boats may crowd the reservoir during the summer months, only the occasional fishing craft distrurbed the natural chorus of grasshoppers, golden-mantled ground squirrels, magpies, Steller's jays, mountain chickadees and western grebes; the latter, lounging on the calm blue waters, were joined by ring-billed gulls and small groups of common mergansers. The campgrounds, surely congested during the warmer months, were nearly empty as we hiked across the peninsula, reinforcing our conviction that off-season months are the best time to visit our National and State Parks. Blue skies, cool air and an early hint of aspen gold made our visit even more enjoyable.
Yesterday, my wife and I hiked the trail loops that run above the east shore of the lake, crossing Coyote Ridge and then winding through the hike-in campground on a peninsula of pine-fir-aspen woodlands and rock-walled coves. It was there that we enjoyed a picnic lunch, looking north across the reservoir which is backed (east to west) by the distant walls of the Tarryall Mountains, the Continental Divide, the southern end of the Tenmile Range, the Mosquito Range and, west of the Arkansas Valley, the high spine of the Collegiate Range; to our southwest, the massive bulk of Thirtynine Mile Mountain rose above the lake.
While boats may crowd the reservoir during the summer months, only the occasional fishing craft distrurbed the natural chorus of grasshoppers, golden-mantled ground squirrels, magpies, Steller's jays, mountain chickadees and western grebes; the latter, lounging on the calm blue waters, were joined by ring-billed gulls and small groups of common mergansers. The campgrounds, surely congested during the warmer months, were nearly empty as we hiked across the peninsula, reinforcing our conviction that off-season months are the best time to visit our National and State Parks. Blue skies, cool air and an early hint of aspen gold made our visit even more enjoyable.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Memories of Canada
In September of 1973, I joined a group of friends for a canoe trip in Algonquin Provincial Park, in Ontario, Canada. That was my first excursion to a wilderness area and my first trip to any region not on my family's limited vacation list (Lake Erie, the Smokies and the Gulf Coast of Florida). After a week touring remote streams and lakes in the Park, a friend (see George) and I returned to Cincinnati via a long, scenic route, following the northern coast of Lake Huron, the southern coast of Lake Superior and the western coast of Lake Michigan. En route, I was exposed to a spectacular diversity of landscape and wildlife and there is no doubt that the entire experience played a significant role in my development as a naturalist.
So too did our stop in Sudbury, where nickel mining had created a moonscape amidst the forests and lakes of Canada; never before had I encountered man's impact on natural ecosystems in such a striking and unsettling manner. To this day, though the city has been recognized by conservation organizations for its effort to reclaim the landscape, that image of Sudbury comes to mind whenever the subject of human-induced habitat destruction is raised.
Indeed, a commitment to conservation generally arises from positive and negative experiences in our lives. The exposure to pristine wilderness and scenic landscapes prompts our desire to protect those areas while the sight of polluted rivers, clear-cut forests and industrial carnage fuel our support for environmental regulations. My trip to Canada, at the age of 23, did both.
So too did our stop in Sudbury, where nickel mining had created a moonscape amidst the forests and lakes of Canada; never before had I encountered man's impact on natural ecosystems in such a striking and unsettling manner. To this day, though the city has been recognized by conservation organizations for its effort to reclaim the landscape, that image of Sudbury comes to mind whenever the subject of human-induced habitat destruction is raised.
Indeed, a commitment to conservation generally arises from positive and negative experiences in our lives. The exposure to pristine wilderness and scenic landscapes prompts our desire to protect those areas while the sight of polluted rivers, clear-cut forests and industrial carnage fuel our support for environmental regulations. My trip to Canada, at the age of 23, did both.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
The Camargue
The Rhone River of Western Europe rises at the base of the Rhone Glacier in the Swiss Alps; flowing westward, it passes through Lake Geneva and then angles southwestward to Lyon, France. There it merges with the Saone River and turns southward; at Arles, the Rhone splits into the Grand Rhone, to the east, and the Petit Rhone, to the west. Both of these rivers empty into the Mediterranean Sea, west of Marseille, and the triangular delta between them is known as the Camargue.
Characterized by shallow brine lagoons (known as etangs), brackish marshes, grasslands and cultivated fields (primarily devoted to rice production), the Camargue is famous for its light-gray horses and its black bulls (bred for non-lethal bullfights). To naturalists, however, this vast delta is best known for its diverse avian population (400 species either reside within or visit the Camargue in the course of a year). Greater flamingos summer on the delta and large flocks of waterfowl, shorebirds and common cranes stop to rest and refuel on their long migrations between Africa and the Arctic.
The Camargue, a third of which is protected within a French Provincial Park, is the product of climate change near the end of the Pleistocene, some 12,000 years ago. Glacial meltwaters, loaded with sediment, fed the Rhone and its tributaries, producing the vast delta; in concert, sea levels rose, causing the Mediterranean to spill across this low country. As Earth's climate continues to warm, the Camargue will become a bay on the northern coast of the Mediterranean Sea.
Characterized by shallow brine lagoons (known as etangs), brackish marshes, grasslands and cultivated fields (primarily devoted to rice production), the Camargue is famous for its light-gray horses and its black bulls (bred for non-lethal bullfights). To naturalists, however, this vast delta is best known for its diverse avian population (400 species either reside within or visit the Camargue in the course of a year). Greater flamingos summer on the delta and large flocks of waterfowl, shorebirds and common cranes stop to rest and refuel on their long migrations between Africa and the Arctic.
The Camargue, a third of which is protected within a French Provincial Park, is the product of climate change near the end of the Pleistocene, some 12,000 years ago. Glacial meltwaters, loaded with sediment, fed the Rhone and its tributaries, producing the vast delta; in concert, sea levels rose, causing the Mediterranean to spill across this low country. As Earth's climate continues to warm, the Camargue will become a bay on the northern coast of the Mediterranean Sea.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
An Explosion of Fungi
Following the recent heavy rains and cool weather along the Front Range, our Littleton farm is greener than it has been all year. In concert, a wide variety of fungi adorn the property, concentrated at wood piles, mulched beds and wood borders.
Hidden within soil and decaying wood for most of the year, fungi produce their reproductive structures (which we know as mushrooms, puffballs, bracket fungi, etc.) when conditions favor germination of their spores; indeed, some species "bloom" in the spring while others appear in late summer or autumn.
One need not be an expert on fungi to enjoy their wide variety of colors and shapes (I certainly don't pretend to qualify); on the other hand, only experts should determine which species are edible since a large percentage of mushrooms are poisonous. Most of us prefer to enjoy them with our eyes, knowing that these seasonal growths are components of far larger organisms that play a vital role in recycling the chemicals of life.
Hidden within soil and decaying wood for most of the year, fungi produce their reproductive structures (which we know as mushrooms, puffballs, bracket fungi, etc.) when conditions favor germination of their spores; indeed, some species "bloom" in the spring while others appear in late summer or autumn.
One need not be an expert on fungi to enjoy their wide variety of colors and shapes (I certainly don't pretend to qualify); on the other hand, only experts should determine which species are edible since a large percentage of mushrooms are poisonous. Most of us prefer to enjoy them with our eyes, knowing that these seasonal growths are components of far larger organisms that play a vital role in recycling the chemicals of life.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
The Mental Illness Taboo
Once again, a mass shooting has been perpetrated by a man with an apparent history of mental illness. As in most previous cases, the killer at the Navy Yard, in Washington, D.C., had demonstrated signs of paranoia and disordered thinking which were not adequately addressed.
Most humans are uncomfortable with mental illness and, though it has lost some of its stigma over the years, they are reluctant to intervene when they observe its signs in their friends or relatives. As in the current case, even law enforcement officials are sometimes inclined to ignore evidence of mental illness if there is no immediate danger to the individual or to others. There is even significant disagreement among mental health professionals with regard to the degree of intervention that is appropriate; some are opposed to the use of hospitalization altogether while others are hesitant to saddle the individual with a diagnosis that might limit his or her career opportunities and personal freedoms (including, of course, the right to purchase firearms).
Thus we continue to deal with the consequences of mental illness that is either ignored or inadequately treated. A concerted effort to address this issue will require a unified commitment by all segments of human society and, to be clear, a significant increase in State and Federal funding. Unfortunately, those who oppose reasonable gun control also oppose taxation; their answer is to arm everyone and to deal with mental illness via lethal force.
Most humans are uncomfortable with mental illness and, though it has lost some of its stigma over the years, they are reluctant to intervene when they observe its signs in their friends or relatives. As in the current case, even law enforcement officials are sometimes inclined to ignore evidence of mental illness if there is no immediate danger to the individual or to others. There is even significant disagreement among mental health professionals with regard to the degree of intervention that is appropriate; some are opposed to the use of hospitalization altogether while others are hesitant to saddle the individual with a diagnosis that might limit his or her career opportunities and personal freedoms (including, of course, the right to purchase firearms).
Thus we continue to deal with the consequences of mental illness that is either ignored or inadequately treated. A concerted effort to address this issue will require a unified commitment by all segments of human society and, to be clear, a significant increase in State and Federal funding. Unfortunately, those who oppose reasonable gun control also oppose taxation; their answer is to arm everyone and to deal with mental illness via lethal force.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Lessons from Boulder
The tragedy unfolding in Boulder and nearby cities reminds us that the scenic foothill canyons were not carved by the beautiful whitewater streams that draw fly fishermen, kayakers, rock climbers and hikers to the Colorado Front Range. Rather, these steep, narrow gorges were incised primarily by glacial meltwater torrents during the Pleistocene and have since been molded by periodic floods, unleashed by intense thunderstorms and deep snow packs. The sheer rock walls, though permanent in appearance, are just the modern borders of these canyons; their predecessors gave way to rock falls and mudslides, the products of freeze-thaw fracturing and torrents of water.
Those who live in Front Range canyons enjoy spectacular scenery and a fascinating diversity of wildlife. However, they, like those humans who live on barrier islands, on lowland floodplains, along fault lines and amidst the stark beauty of volcanic landscapes, accept the risk of "natural disasters" that continue to mold our planet; indeed, the residents of Western canyons also face the possibility of destructive yet vital wildfires. Most will report that the rewards outweigh the risks and some will rebuild once the immediate danger has passed.
Of course, some will see God's hand in the disaster and a few conservative Congressmen will find a way to link Obama's policies to the tragedy. But nature gives us plenty of warning; if we take the time to study her landscapes and her history, we can prepare for the floods, wildfires, hurricanes and earthquakes that produced our chosen habitat and that, sooner or later, will return. Building codes and warning systems may reduce the impact of these natural events but, in the end, nature's power cannot be controlled.
Those who live in Front Range canyons enjoy spectacular scenery and a fascinating diversity of wildlife. However, they, like those humans who live on barrier islands, on lowland floodplains, along fault lines and amidst the stark beauty of volcanic landscapes, accept the risk of "natural disasters" that continue to mold our planet; indeed, the residents of Western canyons also face the possibility of destructive yet vital wildfires. Most will report that the rewards outweigh the risks and some will rebuild once the immediate danger has passed.
Of course, some will see God's hand in the disaster and a few conservative Congressmen will find a way to link Obama's policies to the tragedy. But nature gives us plenty of warning; if we take the time to study her landscapes and her history, we can prepare for the floods, wildfires, hurricanes and earthquakes that produced our chosen habitat and that, sooner or later, will return. Building codes and warning systems may reduce the impact of these natural events but, in the end, nature's power cannot be controlled.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Into the Plume
Driving back to Colorado today, we traveled just south of a cold front that was pushing south across the Great Plains. As a result, intermittent showers developed throughout most of Kansas though winds were light and afternoon highs hovered in the seventies.
Once we reached Goodland, however, we crossed the arc of the front and a northeast, upsloping wind, produced a layer of low, gray clouds. The upslope intensified in eastern Colorado, leading to a persistent drizzle and banks of pea soup fog. Finally, nearing Metro Denver, heavier downpours raked the highway, fed by monsoon moisture from the south; by the time we reached our Littleton farm, the temperature had dropped into the lower fifties and a chilly rain was falling.
Fortunately, the monsoon rains are expected to diminish over the next 24 hours and a warm, sunny week should dry out much of the Metro Area. On the other hand, the extensive flooding across Boulder and Larimer Counties will take much longer to subside and the floodwaters will move down the South Platte Valley, inundating other areas of northeast Colorado and possibly extending into Nebraska.
Once we reached Goodland, however, we crossed the arc of the front and a northeast, upsloping wind, produced a layer of low, gray clouds. The upslope intensified in eastern Colorado, leading to a persistent drizzle and banks of pea soup fog. Finally, nearing Metro Denver, heavier downpours raked the highway, fed by monsoon moisture from the south; by the time we reached our Littleton farm, the temperature had dropped into the lower fifties and a chilly rain was falling.
Fortunately, the monsoon rains are expected to diminish over the next 24 hours and a warm, sunny week should dry out much of the Metro Area. On the other hand, the extensive flooding across Boulder and Larimer Counties will take much longer to subside and the floodwaters will move down the South Platte Valley, inundating other areas of northeast Colorado and possibly extending into Nebraska.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Voyager 1 & Politics
Though not officially acknowledged by NASA until yesterday, Voyager 1, launched in September of 1977, likely reached interstellar space late last summer after sending back volumes of data from the outer reaches of our solar system. Whenever that monumental event occurred, it was a testimonial to the potential achievements of humanity, even with the limited technology that was available 36 years ago.
One wonders if the cooperative spirit that fostered the American space program will resurface in our future. For now, a small but significant segment of our society opposes any federal funding for science and education, let alone healthcare and social welfare programs. Focused on their personal needs and freedoms, they demonstrate little if any support for scientific research; indeed, they exude distrust of all academic endeavors, viewing them as threats to their rigid and provincial belief systems. Compromise is their enemy; intolerance is their mode of operation.
As Voyager 1 and its twin, Voyager 2, hurtle through space they carry the message of human good will to other civilizations; unfortunately, those sentiments are under attack within our own society. Hopefully, by the time we receive the final transmissions from the Voyager probes, the political climate in America will once again embrace the value of scientific exploration.
One wonders if the cooperative spirit that fostered the American space program will resurface in our future. For now, a small but significant segment of our society opposes any federal funding for science and education, let alone healthcare and social welfare programs. Focused on their personal needs and freedoms, they demonstrate little if any support for scientific research; indeed, they exude distrust of all academic endeavors, viewing them as threats to their rigid and provincial belief systems. Compromise is their enemy; intolerance is their mode of operation.
As Voyager 1 and its twin, Voyager 2, hurtle through space they carry the message of human good will to other civilizations; unfortunately, those sentiments are under attack within our own society. Hopefully, by the time we receive the final transmissions from the Voyager probes, the political climate in America will once again embrace the value of scientific exploration.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)