Fate and Destiny

Humans have long been enamored with the concepts of fate and destiny. While both imply that the course of our life is predetermined, fate has negative connotations (e.g. early death) while destiny hints of fame and success. Like many other products of the human mind, both are delusions and accepting them can have significant consequences.

Beyond the effects of happenstance (good or bad luck in the secular sense, the hand of God to believers) the course of our life remains under our control. Those who focus on fate or destiny are prone to make cavalier or irresponsible choices, either assuming that behavior has no relation to outcome (fate) or that the purpose of their life (destiny) will protect them from negative consequences. Such points of view, relatively common in teens and young adults, often saps motivation and promotes risky behavior.

Acknowledging that we have the means to reach our goals is the first step toward achieving them. By refusing to accept the notions of fate and destiny, we are free to focus on our personal choices, aware that all have consequences. The power to succeed comes from within.

Greed, Fairness & Health Care

Most primary care physicians, those front-line, modestly compensated soldiers of American health care, likely favor a national insurance program. After all, they regularly witness the devastation of acute, catastrophic illness, the stress of a sudden, unexpected loss of income and the manipulative practices of health insurance companies.

Financed by the pharmaceutical and insurance industries and coordinated by conservative politicians, the recent backlash against health care reform has gripped the nation, triggering contentious arguments and baseless fears. Those that foment this turmoil are protecting their profit margins while a gullible public, many at personal risk for medical catastrophe, blindly join the protest. In reality, the wealthy, flush with insurance coverage and unaffected by co-payments or merely reluctant to share their good fortune (whether earned or inherited); they will continue to visit convenient, high priced urgent care centers for symptoms of the common cold. At the other end of the spectrum, the homeless and impoverished will continue to use emergency rooms and hospitals with little concern for the cost; they have no means to pay or are already covered by Medicaid.

It is the great middle class that has the most to lose if the option of national health insurance is not made available. Private insurance companies, long unwilling to reach out to the growing number of uninsured Americans, have little to offer but empty promises; faced with the prospect of government competition (a challenge surmounted by other industries, e.g. FedEx, UPS), they spread the mantra that federal involvement will lead to loss of choice and bureaucratic inefficiencies. Certainly, any new system will need to address the issues of red tape and evidence based service but the current, private model has produced rising costs and widespread inequities. We can go on arguing whether health care is a right or a privilege but, in my opinion, it's overdue for a drastic change.

Ana and Bill

The development of a tropical storm requires several ingredients: a disturbance in the atmosphere (often a tropical wave), warm ocean water, a plentiful supply of heat and humidity at lower levels and relatively weak upper level winds. Strong winds in the upper atmosphere sheer away the building storm tops, disrupting the vertical development that is essential to the heat engine of a tropical cyclone.

While both tropical storms Ana and Bill developed in a similar fashion (organizing through the sequence of tropical wave and tropical depression), Ana's life as a tropical storm was short, a consequence of her encounter with upper level sheer. Now a disorganized tropical depression in the Caribbean, she may redevelop in the southern Gulf of Mexico as upper winds abate; should that happen, she could be reborn as a hurricane.

Meanwhile, Bill, following in Ana's wake, has strengthened into a hurricane and is projected to intensify over the coming days. Fortunately, an approaching cold front is forecast to nudge its path the the north, keeping the heart of the storm off of the U.S. coast; nevertheless, Bermuda, the Outer Banks and, potentially, New England remain at risk from this strengthening hurricane.

Summer Fog

Dense fog shrouds Columbia this morning, the combined effect of yesterday's heavy rain and the presence of a cold front across central Missouri. Fog is the result of air that has reached its dew point; in other words, the air is fully saturated with water vapor. Further cooling would lead to precipitation while solar radiation (which will intensify by later in the morning) heats the air above its dew point and dissipates the fog.

In summer and fall, fog generally develops when cool air settles over warm, moist ground; conversely, in winter or spring, it typically occurs when warm, moist air spreads above cold ground. In either case, calm conditions favor fog development while the presence of wind tends to mix the air, disrupting its saturation. Since cool air, having a greater density than warm air, settles in topographic depressions, summer and autumn fog is most common in river valleys.

Fog is especially common in coastal areas, where large bodies of water moderate the air temperature while the adjacent land warms or cools with the seasons. In the Pacific Northwest, cold ocean water (courtesy of the Japan Current) is a chronic source of coastal fog while, in the British Isles, the Gulf Stream bathes cold, rocky landscapes with warm, moist air, producing the mild but foggy climate of that region.

Florida's Anoles

Anyone who visits Florida is almost certain to encounter a large number of small lizards, scurrying among the shrubbery or racing across the trails and walkways. The green anole (also called the Carolina anole) is native to the State and has long been sold in American pet stores, where, due to its color-changing abilities, it has been incorrectly labeled a chameleon.

Over the past century, the brown anole, a native of Cuba and other Caribbean islands, has been introduced to Florida and has rapidly spread across the State (and throughout other regions of the Southeast and Gulf Coast). Similar in size, diet and habits to the green anole, this exotic species appears to be more comfortable in disturbed areas and, in light of ongoing "development" across Florida, now appears to be more common than the native, green anole. Both feed on insects and other small invertebrates and are known to consume eggs or hatchlings of their own or other anole species. Adult males aggressively defend their territories, using their inflatable, red dewlaps to attract mates and intimidate rivals. Females are able to store sperm and lay a single, fertilized egg in the leaf litter every week or so, from mid spring through late summer.

Wary of herons and egrets (which consume them) and human children (who like to catch them), anoles are remarkable acrobats, climbing trees, vines and a wide variety of man-made structures. Fascinating to watch, they are surely the most common wild vertebrate in the Sunshine State.

August on Longboat Key

Our week on Longboat Key, Florida, was, as expected, characterized by hot, humid weather and frequent thunderstorms; on our last day, a tropical depression formed in the Gulf of Mexico, soon to become Tropical Storm Claudette as it approached Panama City. All of the clouds and hazy air, combined with my intolerance for late night viewing, had a negative impact on my plans to observe the Perseid meteor shower.

Since this was my first August trip to the Key, certain seasonal changes were evident. While all of the usual coastal birds were represented, their numbers (with the notable exception of ospreys) were lower than during the cooler seasons; especially evident in the case of brown pelicans, I suspect that this reflects a dispersal to more northern climes in summer and that I am used to observing the concentrating effect of a North American winter. One treat was the opportunity to see many of the shorebirds (sanderlings, short-billed dowitchers, black-bellied plovers), just down from Canada, in their summer, breeding plumage. We also enjoyed the company of a mother manatee and her calf (on Sarasota Bay) throughout the week and were visited by a pod of dolphins, including a newborn.

The local newspaper reported that 203 sea turtle nests are currently spaced along Longboat's beaches; their nesting season stretches from May through October. Unfortunately, a significant increase in hatchling disorientation has been noted this year; instinctually heading for the low light of the ocean when they emerge at night, many are heading inland toward the artificial light of human habitation. The wayward turtles soon fall victim to herons, raccoons, intense daytime heat and starvation; in fact, we observed one dangling from the beak of a gull this week. Efforts continue to reduce Gulf-front, outdoor lighting during the turtle nesting season; knowing that the sedate, residential community of Longboat Key has documented a significant impact on hatchlings, one can only imagine the toll imposed by more heavily developed coastlines.

Perseids over Florida

Not fond of crowded beaches, congested amusement parks or trail parades, my wife and I have taken few summer vacations. We prefer off-season trips, when rates are lower and, more importantly, when some degree of solitude is possible.

Nevertheless, we're off to Florida this week, partly to check on our condo and primarily to visit our son and attend a ceremony at his medical school. We are, of course, looking forward to the latter and will no doubt enjoy the beach walks, despite the hot, summer weather. A tropical storm would be interesting but, in this El Nino year, the Atlantic basin has been rather quiet.

I do hope to catch the Perseid meteor shower, which peaks from August 11-13 each year. Remnants of the Swift-Tuttle comet (which orbits the sun every 130 years) the Perseid meteors are generally abundant; more than 100 per hour can be seen if a bright moon or city lights do not obscure the view. Since Longboat Key is primarily residential and a good distance from the urban glow of Bradenton and Sarasota, we might see a large number of these "shooting stars." Astronomers report that the Perseid shower will actually intensify over the coming decades as the orbits of the comet and the Earth are more closely aligned.

The Dome of August

After a rather cool and pleasant July, we are back in the heat of a Midwestern summer. As is typical in August, a broad dome of high pressure has developed over the Southern Plains and South-Central States. Within this ridge, sinking air, clear skies and light winds can produce stifling heat, often combined with high humidity.

Expanding and contracting over the next month, the dome will deflect Pacific Fronts to the north, keeping the Northern Plains and Upper Midwest in a stormy pattern while augmenting the prolonged Texas drought. This late summer ridge is also partly responsible for the annual, Southwest monsoon; combined with heat-induced low pressure over the deserts of southeastern California and southern Arizona, a fetch of moisture (from both the Gulf of California and the Gulf of Mexico) is pumped across Mexico and into the Four Corners region. Riding the outer edge of the dome, this moisture-laden air flows northward across the mountains of New Mexico and Colorado, feeding storms along the Front Range and, eventually, the Northern Plains.

Trapped under the ridge of high pressure, our landscape begins to dry out. The greenery fades, wetlands retreat and streams slow to a trickle. Until the jet stream moves southward with the waning sunlight or unless a tropical system moves in from the Gulf, the dog days of August will prevail.

The Jurassic Period

The Jurassic Period, 190-135 million years ago, was the middle segment of the Mesozoic Era, the Age of Dinosaurs. While small, herbivorous dinosaurs had appeared in the Triassic, the Jurassic witnessed the rise of their larger cousins, such as allosaurus, stegosaurus and brontosaurus. Earth's continents, now split west to east by the Tethys Sea, still occupied the warmer latitudes, fostering dense vegetation that sustained these giants. Small mammals already scurried beneath the copious plant life but would be dominated by dinosaurs throughout the Mesozoic.

Flowering plants appeared during the Jurassic, some 200 million years after ferns and early conifers graced the scene. Other newcomers included pterosaurs and archaeopteryx; while the former were superb gliders, the latter was perhaps the most primitive relative of modern birds. The Atlantic began to open in the middle of the Period and the Sundance Sea covered most of what is now the High Plains and Rocky Mountain region of North America; this shallow sea deposited the Morrison Formation, now famous for its cargo of Jurassic fossils.

In concert with the opening of the Atlantic, the Andes began to rise (as the Farallon Plate subducted beneath future South America) and the Smartville Block, a large exotic terrain, collided with western North America, adding much of Nevada and California to the Continent; it was within this terrain that the massive Sierra Batholith began to form, not to rise until the end of the Tertiary (some four million years ago). On the other side of the young Atlantic, Madagascar rifted from Africa, drifting southward to rendezvous with the interconnected mass of Antarctica, Australia and India. All in all, the Jurassic was certainly a momentous Period in the history of our planet.

The Yukon River

Rising in alpine lakes of northernmost British Columbia, the Yukon River flows northwestward through the Yukon Territory of Canada and into eastern Alaska. There it curves to the southwest and winds across the flatlands between the Brooks and Alaska Ranges, completing its 2300 mile journey to the sea.

Along the way, this great river is fueled by melting snow and ice, alternately clear or turbid, depending upon the quantity of glacial debris; much of the latter is contributed by the White River, dropping northeastward off the Wrangell-St. Elias Mountains. Descending from the pristine lakes of British Columbia, the headwater streams merge south of Whitehorse and are joined by the Pelly River (draining the west slope of the MacKenzie Mountains) north of the city. At Dawson, the Klondike River, famous as the site of the 1896 Gold Rush, joins the Yukon before it enters Alaska; at the border, the river is barely 1000 feet above sea level and will cross the entire State at a very low rate of descent. En route, the Yukon picks up drainage off the south side of the Brooks Range (via the Porcupine River at Ft. Yukon and the Koyukuk River west of Galena) and off the north slope of the Alaska and Wrangell Mountains via the Tanana, flowing up from the southeast and passing Fairbanks along the way. Finally, the Yukon splits into a vast network of braided channels, entering the Bering Sea across a delta that is forty miles wide.

There are few words that evoke a sense of wilderness more than Yukon. Draining rugged mountains, boreal forests, glaciated valleys and sub-Arctic wetlands, the river remains of symbol of what once greeted man across the globe. Yet, even this remote and powerful stream is threatened by our thirst for natural resources and time will tell if we are truly committed to its welfare.

Hints of Autumn

While there is still plenty of hot, muggy weather ahead, the first signs of autumn are evident across Missouri. Of course, the days are noticeably shorter and, as a result, the mornings bring a welcome chill. Our lawns, growing at a slower pace, are now littered with the first crop of walnuts and, except for the cardinals and Carolina wrens, most birds have settled into their late summer conversation of subdued trills and chirps.

Out in the country, blackbirds and mourning doves are gathering in larger flocks and mixed groups of swallows and bluebirds gather on power lines. The purple and yellow wildflowers of late summer now adorn the fields while swaths of Queen Anne's lace border our country roads. Wetlands, devoid of heavy rain for the past few weeks, are beginning to dry out, their amphibian and reptilian residents now more visible from lakeside trails; in concert, the growing mudflats host an increasing number and variety of migrant shorebirds.

Within a few weeks, nighthawks will be drifting to the south and the risk of summer heat will fade with the greenery. Meanwhile, the fiddlers are scratching in the night, the sun in dropping lower in the southern sky and the itch for college football distracts our wandering minds. The glorious season of autumn is just around the bend!

South Dakota Memories

Raising our children in Metro Denver, we took many road trips to scenic destinations throughout the West. Most of these treks were over spring break or during long autumn weekends, designed to avoid summer crowds. While Yellowstone, the Canyonlands and Carlsbad Caverns were among the most spectacular, a trip to South Dakota was one of the more memorable excursions.

Over the course of two days, we experienced the natural and historic wonders of the Black Hills, Custer State Park, Wind Cave National Park, the Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, Jewel Cave National Monument and the Crazy Horse Memorial, then in progress. En route, we also crossed parts of Wyoming and Nebraska that were new us but, unfortunately, did not have time to visit Devil's Tower. Accompanied by deep blue western skies and pleasant, autumn weather, it remains one of our more talked about road trips.

One particular event during that weekend left a significant impression on me and, I assume, on other members of our family. While crossing Custer State Park, we encountered a large herd of bison which, oblivious to our presence, soon enveloped our van as they moved across the grassland. Spooky and spectacular, it gave us a small taste of what Native Americans and early white explorers must have witnessed when these powerful animals dominated the Plains. At the very least, it was a humbling experience.

America's Drug Culture

Mention "drug culture" and most Americans think of smugglers, violent cartels, street corner pushers and back alley crack houses. But there is a legal drug dependence that grips much of Western society and its tentacles continue to spread.

While modern medications have provided a significant benefit to human society and have played a major role in extending our life span, many Americans count on these potent agents to rescue them from a lifestyle of poor choices and risky behavior. Fueled by the pharmaceutical industry, this attitude is spreading in concert with the culture of obesity, itself the stepchild of inactivity and poor dietary habits. Of course, obesity leads to many other heath problems, including diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, sleep apnea, degenerative arthritis and a number of cancers. The use of drugs to treat these conditions leads to a host of side effects, many of which are managed with other medications. By middle age, many Americans are on a laundry list of prescription medications, most of which would never have been necessary if a healthy lifestyle had been adopted.

Obesity and tobacco use are the most common causes of preventable maladies and, in turn, produce a large percentage of our health care costs. But the drug culture is also fanned by the relentless deluge of prescription drug commercials, advising Americans that there is a pill for every human condition, from headaches to constipation to erectile dysfunction. We are, sadly, a relatively unhealthy and over medicated society, dependent on our drugs and always searching for the next quick fix.

Cleveland's Emerald Necklace

Long an industrial city and once famous for its polluted river and lake front, Cleveland, Ohio, is now recognized for its fine network of parks and nature preserves. Known locally as the Emerald Necklace, the refuges line the rim of the Metro Area, from Headland Dunes, northeast of the city (on Lake Erie), to the Rocky River Reservation, a 16 mile long greenbelt along Cleveland's western edge.

Between these two preserves are Mentor Marsh, the Holden Arboretum, Chapin State Forest and Hach-Otis Sanctuary, all to the northeast, Tinkers Creek State Nature Preserve, to the southeast, and Cuyahoga Valley National Park, to the south. Numerous trails and bikeways provide access to these parks, which harbor scenic waterfalls, hemlock groves, rugged gorges, spectacular rock formations and natural wetlands. Of course, they are also home to a wide variety of plant and animal life.

Too often, beginning naturalists assume that they must travel to vast wilderness areas to find nature's bounty. In reality, it is often very close to home and Cleveland's Emerald Necklace offers a prime example.

A Voice of Optimism

Undaunted by the summer heat and the winter chill, the Carolina wren sings through the seasons, his loud, clear melody echoing through our neighborhoods. Common throughout most of the eastern U.S., this small songbird is easily identified by his cinnamon-brown plumage, white eye stripe, white throat and typical wren silhouette.

Aggressive and independent, the Carolina wren is usually found alone, rummaging through thickets or delivering his song from an open perch. After pairing up in early spring, this permanent resident is known for nesting in a variety of sites, from natural tree cavities to mailboxes or discarded boots. Once the young are raised, Carolina wrens resume their solitary lifestyle and, unlike most insectivores, do not migrate south for the winter. During that season, they scour the leaf litter for hibernating insects and often visit the suet block; hardy and adaptable, these wrens will also consume small seeds through the colder months.

There is an optimistic tone to the song of the Carolina wren and, since it is delivered throughout the year, it gives us a sense of reassurance. Sometimes, inspiration and encouragement come in small packages.

Poppies and Tobacco

Through the course of the Iraq-Afghanistan War, Americans have become increasingly aware of the poppy industry and its effect on politics, crime and health across the globe. How, we wonder, could a country condone the cultivation of this crop, the source of 90% of the world's opium (and, by extension, its heroin). Yet, for the impoverished country of Afghanistan, the sale of this crop represents 30% of its gross national product.

In our wisdom, America has attempted to destroy the poppy fields or, when feasible, to encourage Afghan farmers to grow other crops (most of which increase the farmers' expenses and decrease their incomes). After all, some of the profits from this despicable market go to the Taliban, the primary enemies of peace and democracy in Afghanistan.

Meanwhile, back home, we ignore (if not actively support) the tobacco farmers of the Bible Belt, even though this legal industry kills far more Americans than does the poppy trade of Afghanistan. It seems unlikely that we will ever encounter American warplanes strafing the fields of Kentucky. Morality is, in the end, dependent upon one's perspective.

Flower Bed Jungle

After cutting the grass yesterday afternoon, I grabbed a cold drink and retreated to the shade of our front porch. Looking out over a naturalized flower bed, I discovered a wealth of activity in the hot, mid day sun. Bees, butterflies and various flies moved among the blossoms, feasting on their bounty of nectar. In the dense foliage below, beetles, crickets and other assorted bugs could be seen, hopping between stems or lounging in the shadows. Dragonflies and damselflies hovered above this suburban jungle while a spider repaired his secluded web, hoping to snare an unwary victim. Of course, there was surely a great deal more activity beyond the range of my aging vision.

Watching an ant navigate the floor of the bed, I imagined the experience of a human, shrunk to the size of these insects, as he attempted to cross this forbidding jungle. Climbing over logs of mulch and winding through the foliage, he would have to dodge carnivorous beetles and voracious spiders. Negotiating mucoid slug trails and avoiding the gaze of giant birds, he would also risk consumption by a monster toad or enormous snake, lurking in the dense vegetation; worse yet, a gardener's boot may suddenly descend from the heavens. No doubt, it would be a harrowing experience.

Imagining such a scenario gives us some appreciation for the everyday world of insects, a sector of our environment that we tend to ignore. Concentrating on the big picture, we overlook the life and death struggles that unfold around us, which, however small and out of sight, are essential to our own survival.

Toxic Greenery

Companies that manufacture herbicides and insecticides for our lawns and gardens often reassure us that these agents are safe for our families and our pets. Of course, our common residential pets do not eat vegetation and their life spans may be too short to notice any secondary effects. And the companies do not report any 60-70 year studies that absolve their products from long term effects on human health.

Neither do these chemical vendors provide data on toxicity to earthworms, beneficial insects, toads, snakes, birds, field mice, shrews and other residential wildlife. Even if studies failed to demonstrate an impact on these creatures, secondary and tertiary consumers (such as fox, hawks and owls) might be at risk, since toxins concentrate along the food chain. Then there is the issue of runoff, where chemicals and fertilizers spread on our yards drain into marshlands, lakes and bays, where amphibians, fish and other aquatic species are threatened.

To believe that any chemical application has no impact on the natural environment is to have blind faith in the industries that benefit from their use and production. That weedless lawn and insect-free garden come at a cost to all life on this planet, including humans.

The Dilution of Science

Of the eighty-plus channels that we receive via our cable service, few are devoted to science education. Most offer sitcoms, reality shows, info-entertainment, celebrity worship, sports, crime investigations, cooking and home improvement. Indeed, there is more religious than science-based programming, an unsettling commentary on American society.

Though the Discovery channel launched with a promising array of science programs, it, like many others, has succumbed to the appeal of reality series, often devoting long segments to the dangerous work of crab fisherman, ice road truckers and chain saw warriors. PBS and the History Channel offer some quality science programming but, relative to other topics, its time allotment remains quite small. Finally, the Weather Channel, which prides itself in keeping us informed about storm threats and atmospheric conditions, is chock-full of melodramatic sagas, giddy celebrities, personal interest stories and tangential entertainment.

While science programming must appeal to the general public in order to serve an educational role, it need not be watered down with drama or comedy to be palatable. Those of us with an interest in the natural sciences regret both the dearth of attention that they receive and the manner in which they are often presented to the public.