Monday, August 30, 2021

Ida Stretches Out

After causing devastation in Louisiana, the remnants of Hurricane Ida will inject copious moisture across the Tennessee River Valley and as far to the northeast as Southern New England.  Augmented by a cold front that is dipping across the region, the heavy rains are expected to produce widespread flooding, especially in areas where the soil is already water-logged.

While hurricanes are best known (and most feared) for their high winds and storm surge, inland flooding is often their most deadly consequence, especially in areas where hilly or mountainous terrain concentrates the run-off.  Ida's tropical moisture may thus prove to be most problematic in the Southern Appalachians.

Of course, our warming climate is, once again, playing a role in this scenario.  The warming seas fuel the tropical storm or hurricane and the warmer air carries more moisture to distant landscapes.  Meanwhile, out west, the forests bake and wildfires rage.  

Sunday, August 29, 2021

Wild Turkeys at South Platte Park

Thanks to reintroduction programs and habitat restoration/protection, wild turkeys are fairly common throughout most of Colorado.  The Merriam species inhabits foothills and lower mountain meadows while the non-native Rio Grande species was introduced in riparian areas of the Eastern Plains.  Nevertheless, until this morning, I had never encountered wild turkeys in South Platte Park.

A week ago, while I was out of town, a birding friend of mine was the first to discover the flock, a female and six juveniles.  On our visit this morning, my wife and I found them in a woodland along one of the ponds (Bufflehead Lake to be specific).  Foraging in the shadows, the turkeys were oblivious of our presence though they were less than twenty feet from the trail.

Since the Park is relatively close to the Front Range foothills and to high terrain in Douglas County, I assume the visitors wandered down along one of the many tributaries that feed the South Platte River.  Regardless of their route, it was a pleasure to see them this morning; for us birders, even common species are of interest when they turn up at unexpected locations.  My thanks to Bob (and Sharon, of course) for the heads up. 

Saturday, August 28, 2021

Exodus from the Gulf

Once again, a powerful tropical storm (soon to be Hurricane Ida) is approaching the northern Gulf Coast and residents are fleeing to higher ground.  One feels for these people, especially those who were born and raised in the coastal lowlands and now have jobs dependent upon that environment.

But the climate is changing and both the frequency and intensity of these destructive storms is likely to increase over the coming decades.  To continually rebuild on land that is at or below sea level takes both an emotional and a financial toll.  Indeed, one wonders when insurance companies will deny coverage in these high risk zones and when the Federal Government will follow.

We humans have created this crisis and now must live with the consequences.  As the sea level continues to rise, coastal lowlands and barrier islands will become uninhabitable.  Perhaps it is time to begin a permanent exodus from the Gulf and let nature take back her beautiful but ever-changing beaches and wetlands.

Friday, August 27, 2021

Waiting on Autumn

After a long, hot summer, many of us are looking forward to autumn, especially those (myself included) who have never been avid fans of the summer season.  No doubt, those in the wildfire zones are especially anxious for the autumn snowstorms to develop.

Here along the Colorado Front Range, it has been a hot summer but we have received more than our average supply of rain.  Our Littleton farm, usually parched by mid July, is still relatively green; since the monsoon rains often persist into September and upslope snowstorms arrive by October, we cannot complain.  In addition, the lengthening darkness is already taking a toll on our overnight lows and the morning chill hints of the seasonal change to come.

On the other hand, those who reside in the soggy Southeast still face the peak of the Atlantic Hurricane Season.  Indeed, Tropical Storm Ida, forecast to become a major hurricane before it strikes the Northern Gulf Coast, will exacerbate flooding throughout that region.  In their case, winter cannot arrive soon enough. 

Wednesday, August 25, 2021

Kudos to Private Mandates

While certain governors and local officials disrupt effective control of the COVID pandemic with their politically-motivated, anti-science rhetoric and policies, many private companies have taken a responsible stance, mandating vaccination for their employees.

In this "land of the free," some may object to such mandates, arguing that personal freedom is more important than public health.  In essence, they are implying that individuals have the right to spread a potentially deadly infection to fellow employees and patrons.

By contrast, those who manage private companies understand that workplace safety is vital to the success of their business.  Employees and customers are more comfortable in that setting, employee illness is far less likely to disrupt services and, most importantly, needless hospitalization and death are avoided.  Of course, those who decline the vaccine are free to resign, a personal freedom that does not pose a risk to other members of society.

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Joshua Trees

Returning to Colorado, we drove east on Interstate 15 across Southern California and Southern Nevada.  Just short of the California-Nevada border, the highway climbed across a ridge and, near an elevation of 4000 feet, Joshua trees appeared in abundance.

Also known as the yucca palm, the Joshua Tree is native to the Mojave Desert of the Desert Southwest.  It is relatively fast growing and may reach 50 feet in height; flowering occurs in late winter or early spring (if weather conditions permit) and these hardy plants disperse by seed or suckering.  The yucca moth is the primary pollinator.

For some of us, the term Joshua Tree will always be associated with U2's best album (in my humble opinion), but, for most, it will bring to mind the distinctive, top-heavy denizen of the otherwise bleak Mojave landscape. 

Monday, August 23, 2021

The Mystery Wall

As we drove westward along Interstate 40 last week, I could not help but notice a prominent wall of red sandstone that loomed north of the highway between Prewitt and Church Rock, New Mexico.  Naturally, I was anxious to learn about this attractive geologic and geographic feature.

After a bit of research, I discovered that the wall is composed of Jurassic Entrada Sandstone, the same rock that forms the arches in Arches National Park.  Perhaps of more interest, this wall (which appeared to be at least 100 feet high) represents the southern margin of the Colorado Plateau. The latter, a province of colorful mesas, canyons and rock formations, stretches across the Four Corners Region of the United States.

While many tourists are satisfied with observing the beauty of such natural structures, we naturalists want to understand both their composition and their formation.  When they are located outside Parks or Monuments (where such information is usually offered), we are encouraged to do our own research; of course, that effort usually leads to other new knowledge as well.

Friday, August 20, 2021

Leaving North America

As we drove across Southern California yesterday, my focus was on the traffic and the scenery.  I knew but did not consider the fact that we were leaving North America.

Of course, we did not depart the Continent but we did leave the North American Plate.  As we descended through Cajon Pass on Interstate 15, we crossed the San Andreas Fault and changed tectonic plates.  Indeed, Greater Los Angeles and San Diego are on the Pacific Plate, destined to break away from the North American Continent in the future.

During our brief human lives, we witness hints of tectonic activity, usually in the form of earthquakes and volcanism.  But, except for those who live in southern and central California, it is not everyday (if ever) that we Americans leave our home plate. 

Thursday, August 19, 2021

Westward from Flagstaff

Leading westward from Flagstaff, Arizona, Interstate 40 passes through a scenic landscape of meadows and ponderosa pine forests.  Beyond Williams, the highway leaves this lofty terrain and descends into a broad swath of open parklands and low ridges; covered by juniper shrubs; this attractive ecosystem generally ranges in elevation from 3000 to 4000 feet.

Nearing Kingman, the highway drops further into the bleak landscape of the Mojave Desert, bordered by high but treeless ranges.  Three hours later, during which we crossed the Colorado River south of Needles, California, we finally escaped the Mojave west of Barstow; we then followed Interstate 15 westward to Cajon Pass and descended into the Los Angeles basin.

One cannot fully appreciate the dimensions and severity of a desert without driving across it; even today, with our modern, air-conditioned vehicles, it is a tiring experience.  We can only begin to imagine the challenges endured by those who used horses and wagons to make the journey. 

An Island of Greenery

Heading to California for my son's wedding, we left Denver early yesterday morning, driving south on Interstate 25.  Once we crossed Raton Pass, on the Colorado-New Mexico border, trees and other greenery was limited to the stream and river channels.

The landscape was especially dry after we passed Santa Fe and descended to Albuquerque.  There we switched to Interstate 40 and headed west, undulating through scrub grasslands broken by rock outcrops and low mesas; only the bulk of the Mt. Taylor massif, north of Grants, towered above the arid terrain.  Crossing into Arizona, streams were limited to shallow washes and the Little Colorado River, which cut a deep channel through the high desert landscape.  Then, fifty miles from Flagstaff, a cluster of mountains appeared on the western horizon, our first glimpse of the volcanic San Francisco peaks.

Within a few miles of the city, piƱon pine woodlands spread along the highway and, once in Flagstaff (elevation 6909 feet), taller ponderosa pines adorned the meadows and suburbs.  Indeed, sitting along the southern edge of the highlands, the city is a welcome island of greenery in the Desert Southwest; we stopped to enjoy a meal, walk through the historic district in a cool, light mist and spend the night.

Sunday, August 15, 2021

Flashback Post XXIII

Haiti's major earthquake this week is the second to occur within the past 11 years.  The tectonic cause for these quakes was discussed in a post that was published in January, 2010.

See: Haiti's Earthquake 

Saturday, August 14, 2021

Sign of the Times

A thousand years from now, if humans still exist, urban archeologists will find a unique type of litter amidst the plastic bottles, aluminum cans and cigarette butts that lie in the excavation layer of the early 2020s: facial masks.

Indeed, discarded masks now litter campuses, parking lots, back alleys and even nature trails.  Reflecting both the pandemic and the careless behavior of humans, the masks were just another disposable item, worn to prevent disease or, in many cases, simply to comply with local mandates.

Like other forms of litter, from styrofoam cups to old armchairs, the masks had outlived their utility and were thus flung from car windows or simply dropped along the walkway.  Such disrespect for the environment is strictly a human trait, one that is valued only by urban archeologists. 

Friday, August 13, 2021

Thinking about the Past

As we get older, we humans tend to think more about the past.  After all, the future keeps getting shorter and planning for it takes little time and effort.

While it is always good to learn from the past, dwelling on it can be counterproductive and is often the source of needless regret.  Some memories may seem vivid and accurate but the context in which past choices were made is often foggy at best.

Nevertheless, we continue to ponder the past, reliving joyful and painful events.  Unable to shake the habit, it is best to give ourself a break.  If we insist on accepting responsibility for our mistakes we must also take credit for our success; by acknowledging the complexity of life (including relationships) we learn to moderate this self criticism.  We are, after all, only human. 

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

Humans & Misinformation

As Covid 19 ravages the globe, there is (justifiably) a great deal of discussion about sources of misinformation that discourage vaccination.  Most of these lies and conspiracy theories spread via the internet though some "legitimate" news organizations (e.g. Fox News) participate as well.

While this focus on Covid and vaccine misinformation is important, we humans have long been subjected to falsehoods from a wide variety of trusted sources: religious leaders, politicians and industrialists come immediately to mind.  What do all of these misinformation peddlers have in common?  They are all threatened by scientific knowledge which challenges their livelihood or business; they want us to believe in creationism, reject data on climate change, ignore warnings on cigarette packages or accept conspiracy theories that support their political goals.

The fight to abolish misinformation is difficult, especially during the Age of the Internet.  Big Money is behind much of the false data that arises from Industry and political campaigns while ingrained fear and guilt ensure the continued influence of religious organizations.  In the end, science-based education is the only effective tool and even that weapon is regularly challenged by the Captains of Misinformation.

Tuesday, August 10, 2021

A Special Gift

Today, on my 71st birthday, my wife gave me a book by a 94 year-old author.  The writer is David Attenborough, perhaps the best known naturalist on the planet and renowned for his many nature documentaries, including Life on Earth, The Blue Planet and Planet Earth, among others.

His new book, A Life on Our Planet, chronicles the loss of biodiversity on Earth and how that steady, ongoing process threatens every form of life on the planet, humans included.  Fortunately, Attenborough also discusses how we can reverse course by re-wilding natural ecosystems.

As one who has long been interested in natural history and who is increasingly distressed by human-induced climate change, the destruction of natural habitat and the poisoning of marine and terrestrial ecosystems, this is a special gift.  I recommend the book for anyone who shares Attenborough's devotion to the health of our planet. 

Sunday, August 8, 2021

The Southern Waterthrush

Unlike the northern waterthrush, which breeds across southern Canada, New England and the Great Lakes region, the Louisiana waterthrush summers throughout most of the eastern U.S., including the Deep South (Florida excluded).  Favoring wooded streams and bogs, these birds wander atop logs and boulders or along muddy banks, bobbing their tail as they search for insects and aquatic invertebrates.

This morning, a friend and I were fortunate to encounter a Louisiana waterthrush at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area; as is often the case, it was in a shaded ravine where water drained from one of the refuge pools.  Prothonotary warblers, also drawn to riparian woodlands, joined the waterthrush but fed primarily in the trees and shrubs.

Both northern and Louisiana waterthrushes winter in Central America or on Caribbean islands.  During the spring and fall migrations, both species may thus be encountered in the Southeastern U.S. but only the aptly named Louisiana waterthrush stops to nest in the hot, humid confines of the Southeast and southern Midwest. 

Saturday, August 7, 2021

Flashback Post XXII

It is hot and humid here in the Midwest and football practice has begun, a deadly combination for a few young players each year.  See my post below from June of 2013.

The Season of Needless Death 

Addendum:  Just turned on the TV to find that they are running the men's Olympic Marathon in 85% humidity; I rest my case.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

The Sapling Songster

Fairly common summer residents across the southern half of the U.S., blue grosbeaks favor weedy fields with scattered trees.  In my experience, the male often sings from the top of a small tree; though he has a distinctive tune and is significantly larger, he may be mistaken for an indigo bunting.

Blue grosbeaks usually feed on the ground, consuming a wide variety of insects, spiders and seeds.  Most often seen alone or in pairs, they gather in loose flocks by late summer as they prepare for their migration to Mexico and Central America.

I have been fortunate to encounter several blue grosbeaks in central Missouri this summer, including a lone male at Perry Phillips Lake this morning.  While they are not rare, it is always a pleasure to encounter these songsters which are greatly outnumbered by their usual neighbors (indigo buntings, goldfinches and dickcissels).  

Wednesday, August 4, 2021

Concerned at Forum Nature Area

Forum Nature Area stretches along the floodplain of Hinkson Creek in Columbia, Missouri.  A patchwork of woodlands, wetlands, prairie and a seasonal lake, the refuge is accessed by a double trail loop and has always been an excellent area for birdwatching.

So, on this sunny, mild morning in Columbia, I took a leisurely walk along the 1.5 mile circuit, attentive to the sight and sounds of bird life; unfortunately, my visit was a bit disappointing.  During my one hour visit, I saw only 11 species and at least a third of my sightings were of northern cardinals.

Veteran birders know that, on any given day and despite the weather conditions, a bird count may vary widely.  Perhaps it is due to my aging eyes and ears, but the low count days seem to be increasing.  My concern, of course, is that the effects of our poor stewardship of planet Earth are becoming ever more apparent, even at a modest sized nature preserve in a small, progressive-minded Midwestern city.

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

A Natural Invasion

Across the arid and semiarid regions of the Western U.S., drought tolerant grasses, sage, wildflowers, cacti and low shrubs adorn the open landscapes; trees, if present at all, cluster along streams and drainages.  Abandoned barns, lashed by wind and storms, slowly crumble over the decades, untouched by vegetation.

Here in the Midwest and across the Eastern U.S., where precipitation is plentiful, such structures are rapidly enveloped by an assortment of vines, shrubs and trees, accelerating the barn's decomposition.  Indeed, farmers and suburban home owners are in a state of war with natural vegetation throughout most of the year, mowing grass, weeding flower beds, removing invasive vines, trimming shrubs and cleaning up the "debris" from trees.  Some utilize herbicides while the rest of us endure endless rounds of yard work to keep up with seed dispersal and rapid plant growth.

At our Columbia property, tree seedlings are especially problematic, taking hold wherever the grass is not dense enough to discourage their invasion; red bud, mimosa and black maple seedlings are most abundant, matched only by oaks after heavy mast seasons.  While I would not mind living in a forest, others might object, especially during its gradual and "messy" development.  So the yard work continues, offering exercise and conferring a healthy respect for nature's dominance; she will, of course, win in the end.

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Avocets at Eagle Bluffs

On this sunny, mild morning in central Missouri, a friend and I encountered a flock of eight American avocets at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, a special treat for those of us who reside in the lower Missouri River Valley.

Having nested along shallow ponds of the Western High Plains and saline pools of the Great Basin, avocets begin to drift southward by late summer, heading for coastal bays and mudflats of the southern U.S. and Mexico.  In both seasonal locations, they feast on a wide variety of aquatic invertebrates which they locate with their long, up-curved bill.

August and September, though part of the "astronomical summer," are the peak months of the autumn shorebird migration.  While many of these travelers challenge novice birders with their small size, restless behavior and seemingly generic plumage. American avocets are easy to identify, even at a distance.  If for no other reason, they are always notable visitors at this floodplain refuge.