Thunder in the Night

As a child growing up in Cincinnati, in the Fifties, I enjoyed the rumble of thunder in the night.  Since we did not have air conditioning, we would open the windows at night, allowing cool air from the storm to invade our house.  We didn't seem to worry about severe thunderstorms or tornados, weather phenomena that we associated with the Great Plains.

Now, as our climate warms, almost every storm system spawns severe thunderstorms, destructive winds, torrential rain or tornados.  The most recent storm front arrived just after midnight, bringing intense lightning and heavy rain to our region; fortunately, we escaped the hail and high winds that now lash a corridor from Texas to the Great Lakes.

But the front has stalled and will drift back north late today and tomorrow, enhancing our risk for flooding, severe thunderstorms and tornados.  The energy in Earth's atmosphere has increased significantly since my childhood days and the consequences are readily apparent across the globe.  

What If You Knew?

I recently read The Measure, by Nikki Erlick, a popular and thought-provoking novel in which all humans, aged 22 and over, receive a box on their doorstep, the contents of which reveal their exact remaining lifespan.

The book goes on to explore the ramifications of this knowledge on personal behavior, relationships, society as a whole, politics and military policies, among other aspects of human life.  Of course, some individuals never open their box, fearing its message and/or not wanting the knowledge to govern their remaining days, months or years.  The reader is left to wonder how they might respond to such a development.

As one who has already lived a long life, it is easy for me to say that I would not open my box, choosing to attend one of the rallies in which attendees toss their unopened verdict into a bonfire.  What would you do?  How would you approach life if you knew?  I recommend this book.

 

Stranded Turtles at Eagle Bluffs

Returning to the dried out Conservation Area this morning, I found that almost all of the waders, waterfowl and shorebirds had fled Eagle Bluffs as the shallow pools continue to shrink.  Indeed, sighting highlights, what few there were, involved purely terrestrial species: deer, a northern harrier and a wild turkey, among others.

One sad observation were scattered "bales" of aquatic turtles, clustered along the stagnant pools or half buried in muddy channels, some a long way from any significant body of water.  While they might be able to tolerate periods of drought and are known for their ability to locate ponds or streams, they have just emerged from their winter hibernation and I doubt they have much physical reserve.

The human-imposed drought at Eagle Bluffs has certainly disappointed local birders and regional visitors but our personal welfare has not been threatened.  Seeing those turtles, stranded in the cracked mud, one easily understands the impact that our species has on less adaptable creatures.  Of course, this phenomenon is occurring across the globe as we destroy natural ecosystems and, in the process, threaten our own welfare. 

The Warbler Wave

The arrival of summer and migrant warblers has begun in mid Missouri, ushered in by a steady south breeze.  The latter will bring increasing humidity to our region and periods of rain and thunderstorms are expected over the next four days.

Of the many warblers that pass through this area, a dozen or so will stay for the summer while most head to the Great North Woods or to one of the mountain corridors.  Small, active, insectivores, these travelers pose an identification challenge for most birders (beginners and veterans alike).  Fortunately, some have very distinctive calls but their plumage can be difficult to study as they flit among the trees; those arriving before the trees leaf out are somewhat easier to identify.

The warbler wave will continue through May; by June, avid birders can finally relax and focus on those species that are familiar summer residents. 

Old Birders

As one who has been birding for fifty years, I believe I can make some generalizations about old birders, like myself.  Of course, there are always exceptions.

Having left our glory days of birding in the past, when every other sighting was a new addition to our life list, we now enjoy a more leisurely approach to the pastime.  We no longer go out hunting for new species; we've seen all (or almost all) of the birds that reside in or visit our region.  Rather, we wander our own property or visit nature preserves, hoping to encounter a reasonable number of species but appreciating whatever birds (and other wildlife) that cross our path.

Of course, we welcome surprises as well; these often involve seeing common birds engaging in uncommon behavior.  Just yesterday, on the farmlands east of Columbia, I encountered an osprey, perched in a tree; while there are lakes in the region, his chosen rest stop was surrounded by crop fields.  Even old birders relish such new experiences. 

First Cliff Swallows

Yesterday morning, while birding in the lower Bonne Femme Valley, south of Columbia, I encountered my first cliff swallows of the season.  As usual, they were zooming above the creek and beneath a bridge, under which they will nest.

Having wintered in southern South America, they have completed a lengthy roundtrip migration and it is always good to see them in mid spring.  While the various swallow species are often difficult to distinguish, especially in flight, cliff swallows sport a buff-colored rump; that physical trait and their fondness for bridges usually makes identification easy.

Cliff swallows are most common throughout the western half of the U.S. and Canada with some nesting as far north as Alaska.  They are the famous swallows of San Juan Capistrano, in California; around here, they're just another summer species but are certainly welcome, seasonal additions to the avian fauna. 

Pelicans in a Puddle

On a visit to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area yesterday morning, I encountered about 40 American white pelicans, crowding a shallow, stagnant pool.  Their stay would surely be brief since, except for an ample supply of dead carp on the mudflats, fish are currently unavailable at the desiccated refuge.

Of course, these travelers will not panic.  Most will summer on the relatively dry landscapes of the Northern Plains and Great Basin, where they often travel many miles to find reliable fishing grounds.  Nevertheless, it was sad to observe their predicament; usually seen gliding across lakes or bays, they could barely get their feet wet.

Let's hope the refuge is in better shape when they visit next autumn.  If not, we birders may just have to settle for observing their spectacular aerial formations as they soar toward the sun.

Free Speech in America

Free speech is endangered in America.  King Trump and his Court are attacking, suing or deporting anyone who defies the basic tenets of MAGA philosophy.  So far, journalists, attorneys and foreign students on visas have been their primary targets but, eventually, we may all be victims of their feverish censorship (even opinionated bloggers).

As our Secretary of Appeasement, Marco Rubio, said, we should all act like dinner guests, content to nod our heads in agreement while praising the King for his wisdom and leadership.  Forget the protests.  Ignore the genocide.  Praise the tariffs.  Don't complain about inflation.  Don't even mention racism or climate change.

Hopefully, most Americans will not buy into this rhetoric or bow to the threats.  Speak up and consider donating to the ACLU. 

Shift Change at Phillips Lake

Here in Missouri, April is a month of avian transition.  By the middle of the month, the last of the winter residents are departing while, throughout the month, summer residents are filtering in.  Evidence of that shift change was evident at Phillips Lake this morning.

Out on the lake were flocks of northern shovelers and ruddy ducks, soon to depart for breeding grounds to our north.  A handful of yellow-rumped warblers (our winter warbler) were feeding in the trees and shrubs that line the shore, fueling up for their journey to Canada.  Meanwhile, tree and northern rough-winged swallows, back from a winter in the south, were strafing the surface of the water and a lone green heron, my first of the season, hunted along the shoreline.  By the end of April, many more summer species will grace the park.

Of course, permanent residents such as cardinals, robins, blue jays and others, tend to dominate the bird population in most Midwestern ecosystems.  One wonders if they take notice of the migrants and seasonal residents that join them in the course of a year; unfortunately, too few humans do. 

The Sound of Silence

One of my daughters recently introduced me to a cover of Paul Simon's The Sound of Silence by Disturbed, a group unknown to this child of the Sixties.  While the iconic original can never be replaced, their version is especially haunting and passionate and I recommend a listen, if not a download.

While a songwriter's message is open to interpretation, I always believed that Simon spoke to America's indifference in the face of social injustice and the smoldering conflict that would become the Vietnam War.  Released in 1964, The Sound of Silence thus seems especially relevant today, as Trump dismantles our Constitution while a corrupt Supreme Court and cowardly Republican Senators fail to act.

We must all speak out in any way that we can; in Paul's words, "silence like a cancer grows."  

A Spring Beauty Bonanza

Amidst the dandelions, wild violets and wild onions that adorn our Columbia lawn each spring are clumps of spring beauty.  This attractive perennial is common in woodlands and on suburban lawns, sometimes appearing as early as February.

Spring beauty overwinters as a corm and spreads by rootlets.  It is in the diet of many mammals and attracts a variety of pollinating insects; humans have long used the corms as a source of food.

But most of us appreciate these flowers primarily for their beauty and we have been granted a bonanza in our backyard this spring.  Conditions must have been just right to produce the impressive bloom. 

Solitude at Eagle Bluffs

On this sunny, cool, April morning, I encountered only one other vehicle at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area; even that distant car seemed to be moving a bit too fast for a birder.  Indeed, as the channel and pools have been drained and as wetland habitat continues to shrink, few waterfowl and shorebirds are stopping by and avid birders have abandoned the refuge in concert.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the solitude and observed 25 avian species, including a barred owl, perched on a metal gate; a pair of bald eagles, two red-tailed hawks and about 60 turkey vultures rounded out the raptors.  Great blue herons and great egrets fed in the shrinking shallows while killdeer and a few lesser yellowlegs scoured the mudflats.  Waterfowl were dominated by green-winged teal, joined by small numbers of gadwall, blue-winged teal and northern shovelers.

I certainly understand the reluctance of many birders to visit the dried-up refuge; there are plenty of other wetland destinations in our region that will be far more "productive."  It is disturbing to observe what has transpired at Eagle Bluffs, especially in April when the floodplain is usually teeming with waterfowl.  Nevertheless, I'll keep stopping by to witness the devastation; besides, the summer songbirds should be arriving soon.  

The Fulcrum of Sorrow

I suspect most humans have endured a significant episode of sorrow in their lives: the early death of a family member or close friend, the failure of a relationship, the loss of a cherished job, among others.  While we try to compartmentalize that event, it stays with us, surfacing consciously or unconsciously throughout our life.

At times, the sorrow might be disabling, robbing us of happiness and masking whatever success we have achieved.  Whether we blame ourselves, others or simple "fate" for the event, it influences our beliefs and our behavior.  Counseling may or may not become necessary but, in either case, the sorrow cannot be completely expunged.

Most of us learn to live learn to live with its effects, buoyed by the many positive experiences of our life, but some succumb to the sadness, turning to substance abuse or worse.  Knowing that sorrow is a common element of the human condition may offer some peace of mind. 

Stationary Misery

For the last two days and for the coming 24 hours (at least), a stationary front has stretched from East Texas to the Upper Ohio Valley, separating cooler air to the north from warm, humid air to the south.  This front is responsible for the swath of tornados, severe thunderstorms and flooding rains that have plagued that region.

While most storm systems move rapidly from west to east, some stall out, their trailing front creating a clash zone between the air masses.  When this happens, secondary storms and their precipitation train above the same swath of geography, producing the unrelenting rain we have seen this week.  Once the soil is saturated, runoff rapidly fills and then floods the rivers and streams, spilling across floodplains and often taking out bridges and riverside structures.

Unfortunately, this flooding often does not peak until the storm system has finally moved on to the east.  As the swollen tributaries empty into larger streams and rivers, the latter continue to rise long after the skies have cleared. 

The King benefits Nature

King Trump is not a naturalist.  He intends to slash environmental regulations and increase fossil fuel production.  He wants to severely reduce protected habitat in this country and to expand "development" wherever possible.  He is all about personal consumption, upscale recreation and a lavish lifestyle.

Yet, the King's rabid use of tariffs may benefit nature.  Individual savings are falling, prices are rising and a trade war is underway.  A tanking economy will greatly diminish corporate investment, personal spending, travel and recreational activity.  In a nutshell, human consumption may greatly fall in this country and across the globe.

Such a reduction in personal consumption is the major way by which all of us can do our part in rescuing the planet.  How ironic that the king of consumption is leading this conservation movement (not that he would admit it). 

Reassured at Eagle Bluffs

Despite the cool, cloudy weather and continued dryness at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, a friend and I were reassured that spring moves on.  Eight great egrets graced the refuge, the first we have encountered this year.

Common summer residents in central Missouri, these stately birds favor shallow lakes and wetlands where they feast on a wide variety of invertebrates, fish, amphibians and small reptiles.  They usually roost and nest in colonies, often in the company of other waders, and, by late summer, begin to gather in large flocks.  Most winter in the Gulf Coast States or along the lower Mississippi Valley.

For now, the egrets are relative loners, scattered about the refuge and lending their beauty to the rather drab, early spring landscape.  For that and for their promise of warmer and more colorful days ahead, we were grateful. 

High Risk Storm Days

In the not-so-distant past, the National Weather Service would issue "High Risk Storm Day" warnings on several days through the spring and summer months.  On such days, the atmosphere is primed for severe weather (tornados, large hail, torrential rain, destructive winds, flooding), triggered by powerful storm systems as they move eastward across the country.  Today is the second warning already issued this year.

Now centered over the upper Midwest, today's storm is relatively slow moving and its trailing cold front is expected to unleash both severe weather and extensive flooding from Arkansas east-northeastward through the Ohio River Valley.  North of the central low, snow will fall from the Northern Plains to the Upper Great Lakes.

As we approach the historic peak of the severe weather season in the American Heartland, it is clear that climate change is augmenting the effect of these storms (not to mention the intensity of hurricanes to our southeast).  Benign storm fronts have been relegated to our past and high risk storm days have become the norm. 

Flashback Post LXIV

March and April tend to be fickle months in the American Heartland, a fact I acknowledged in a post back on April 1, 2012.

See: Fooled by March