We Will Rebuild!

In the midst of the carnage and human suffering that follows natural disasters, we often hear local officials and citizens proclaim that "We will rebuild."  Of course, such expressions of hope and courage help to deflect the pain that they are feeling.  While the statement makes sense after tornados, which randomly scour the landscape, such plans are not always advisable when the disaster unfolded in wildfire zones, along vulnerable coastlines or on inland floodplains.

One understands the emotional wish to rebuild the past and to restore traditions but this approach is impractical in the era of climate change.  Indeed, insurance companies, local governments and Federal agencies are becoming reluctant to fund such endeavors in high risk areas.  Many of us who look on from a safe distance, divorced from the emotional turmoil, tend to agree that it is best to not risk a recurrence of the disaster.

When hurricanes level barrier islands, when wildfires ravage forest communities and when floods sweep away towns in river valleys, it is time to yield to nature.  After all, we have fueled the devastation and it will only worsen in the coming decades.

Rainmaker

For the past several days, a center of low pressure has remained stationary over Ontario, Canada.  Its trailing cold front curved eastward through New England and the Mid Atlantic region and then westward across the Ohio River Valley and the lower watershed of the Missouri River.

Meanwhile, strong southerly winds swept copious Gulf of Mexico moisture into the Southern Plains, the lower Mississippi Valley and the Southeastern States.  Along the stationary front, this hot, moist air clashed with cool, dry air north of the front, producing pockets of torrential rain that drifted eastward along the front.  The tragic flooding in St. Louis and Eastern Kentucky represented the most extreme consequences of this atmospheric scenario.

As the central low creeps eastward across Eastern Canada, its trailing front will dip farther to the south, concentrating the heaviest rain along the Arkansas and Tennessee River Valleys.  Of course, the excessively warm water of the Gulf of Mexico has fueled these flood events and will surely feed powerful hurricanes as the season progresses.

The Limitations of Science

As I have discussed in numerous posts over the years, we humans seem to fall into two camps: those who place their faith in mysticism and those who trust science.  I clearly fall into the latter category.

Over the centuries, the scientific method has led to a wide range of technologic advances which have improved our health and our lives and, to some degree, limited our impact on natural ecosystems.  Of equal importance, it has spearheaded our understanding of the Universe, our planet and life itself.

Nevertheless, our faith in science can make us complacent when we face complex issues such as climate change.  While the religious are relatively unconcerned with such "earthly matters," convinced that God will save them, some science-oriented humans are overly optimistic that modern technology will bail us out.  Both groups are reluctant to face the the major changes that must occur if we are to rescue Earth and our species: human population control, decreased consumption, limited "development,"  pollution control and the restoration of natural habitat.  Science will certainly play a major role in these efforts but international cooperation and commitment will be essential; therein lies our greatest obstacle. 

Purple Martins Depart

When we arrived at Sandy Lake, southeast of Kent, Ohio, on July 20, fourteen purple martins occupied the  houses at the edge of the lake, joined by an equal number of house sparrows.  Yesterday morning (on July 25), the martins were gone.

After wintering in the Amazon River Basin of South America, purple martins arrive along the Gulf Coast of the U.S. as early as January; those that nest in northeast Ohio generally arrive here in early April.  Nesting within six weeks, these long-distance migrants have fledged their young by early-mid summer and, by late summer, gather in massive roosts, primarily along the Gulf Coast.

Come September, most of the community roosts break up and the purple martins head back to Brazil.  Some will travel through Mexico and Central America, others will island hop across the Caribbean and some will make a nonstop flight across the Gulf of Mexico, from the U.S. to the northern coast of South America.

Dix Park

On the heels of strong thunderstorms, heavy rain and a brief tornado warning overnight, cooler, drier air has moved across northeast Ohio.  My wife and I thus decided on a hike and we headed for Dix Park in northern Portage County.

Though relatively small (104 acres), the Park is a mosaic of woods, meadows and wetlands, accessed by an old jeep road; three loop trails connect with this wide path and a fourth is under construction, destined to be a nature education trail for young children.  Once again, the pleasant weather proved to be the highlight of our visit though we did encounter a fair variety of wildlife; most conspicuous were a noisy group of catbirds.

Set amidst agricultural fields which, though necessary, have little natural value while producing a host of negative impacts, Dix Park protects an island of vital wildness.  Unfortunately, in our modern age, such islands keep getting smaller and farther apart.

Trail Lake Park

On this mild, sunny morning in northeast Ohio, we visited Trail Lake Park, a refuge in the Portage County Park District.  Centered on a 30-acre, man-made lake, the attractive preserve is accessed by paved and earthen trail loops, leading through meadows and mixed pine-hardwood forest that border the lake and its wetlands.

It is an excellent destination for both exercise and nature study.  We encountered 22 species of birds this morning and were especially impressed with the wildflower displays.  The Park lies in the upper watershed of Tinkers Creek, a major tributary of the Cuyahoga River, and stretches along the southern border of the Herrick Fen State Nature Preserve. 

Having escaped the severe heat that currently plagues much of the country, the pleasant weather was surely the highlight of this morning's hike.  But the varied natural habitats of this scenic refuge will certainly encourage our return on a regular basis.

Crossing the Lake Plain

Heading for my wife's family cabin in northeast Ohio today, we decided on a northern route to avoid urban congestion.  When we reached Ft. Wayne, Indiana, we were in the uppermost watershed of the Wabash River and soon dropped across the vast Lake Plain of northern Ohio, flattened by Pleistocene glaciers and later covered by vast meltwater lakes.

Lake Maumee covered the northwest corner of Ohio and initially spilled to the west, sculpting the Wabash River Valley (see The Maumee Torrent).  The Lake Plain from Toledo to Cleveland was covered by glacial Lake Warren, the larger predecessor of Lake Erie.  Driving eastward across the Plain, we crossed numerous rivers, large and small, all draining toward Lake Erie; indeed, as we left the Wabash River watershed and entered the Lake Plain, we had crossed the Eastern Continental Divide.

As we neared Cleveland on the Ohio Turnpike, a massive ridge of thunderstorms loomed across the eastern horizon.  Adorned with a rainbow, it seemed to promise milder air during our week on the Appalachian Plateau. 

Planet of the Humans

Last evening, while perusing Amazon Prime Video, I came across a 2020 documentary titled Planet of the Humans.  Released by Huron Mountain Films, it was written and narrated by Jeff Gibbs; Michael Moore is the Executive Producer.  Focused on the impact of humans on Earth's climate and on the welfare of our planet's natural ecosystems, the documentary was educational, intriguing and deeply disturbing.

Much of the show uncovered the illusions associated with "Green Energy," including the use of fossil fuels in its production and implementation.  The documentary also reviewed the destructive mining and pollution associated with the manufacturing of solar panels and batteries and the deforestation that fuels biomass energy plants.  The hypocrisy of many leading environmentalists, energy power-brokers and conservation organizations is laced throughout the production.

I highly recommend the film for anyone who is concerned about climate change and  the destruction of natural habitat.  As the documentary concludes, our efforts to rescue Earth must include population control, decreased personal consumption, diminished emphasis on economic growth and a commitment to increasing biologic diversity by re-wilding the planet.

Wonderful Dreariness

Following a prolonged period of extreme heat, high humidity and unrelenting sunshine, we are enjoying a welcome change in central Missouri today.  A cold front meanders across the State, mixing cooler air from the north with warm, humid air from the south.  The results: milder temperatures, extensive cloudiness and intermittent rain.

Our heat stressed plants will certainly benefit from the change and we human residents may even be enticed to leave our air-conditioned caves.  I have already noticed that the neighborhood birds are more active and vocal, celebrating this pleasant reprieve.

Thunderstorms are expected to develop by late afternoon but their arrival will accompany a new warm front as another dome of high pressure settles over our region.  The latter will produce hot, sunny weather for the coming week with afternoon highs near 100 degrees F.  Hopefully, we'll receive plenty of moisture before the oppressive summer resumes.

Supermoon over the Plains

As we left Colby, Kansas, just before dawn this morning, the bright full moon of July gleamed from the southwestern sky.  Set amidst fiery, flat clouds, lit by the first rays of the sun, and shining high above the flat horizon of the vast High Plains, the moon's large, round shape was especially striking.

Accentuating its grandeur was the fact that this full moon is a Supermoon, occurring at a time when our natural satellite is closest to the Earth (the moon's orbit is not a perfect circle).  Of additional interest, July's full moon is known as the Buck Moon since this is the month when the antlers of male deer are in their annual growth phase.

During a week when we received photos of some of the earliest galaxies in the Universe, some 14 billion years old and perhaps no longer in existence, the appearance of our own moon, taken for granted by most, may not seem terribly interesting.  But I never tire of gazing at the full moon, super or not, especially when it adorns our majestic natural landscapes.   

Mask Lessons

This is a Community Service Post.  Now that another wave of Covid is building across the U.S., represented primarily by Omicron ba,5, medical experts are recommending the use of masks indoors, especially in crowded areas.  Of course, many will not use masks at all, especially those who have not been vaccinated.

For those who use masks, a few points are in order.  We breathe primarily through our nose unless it is obstructed by congestion due to allergies, viruses or trauma; in such cases, we breathe through our mouths.  Since we generally inhale through our nose, it is the primary entry point for Covid; conversely, since Covid is primarily spread via the respiratory system (e.g. sneezing, talking, breathing and coughing), masks are only effective if they are of good quality and cover both the nose and the mouth.

Unfortunately, a sizable segment of the mask-wearing population does not seem to understand these facts and wear their mask only over their mouth (perhaps because it is easier to breathe that way)..  Obviously, this practice is not effective in preventing the spread of Covid.  For those of us focused on preventive healthcare, this widespread habit is both misguided and annoying.  Indeed, I find myself more disturbed with those who use their mask inappropriately than with those who forego their use altogether.

Attacked by a Falcon

After a night in Hays, Kansas, my wife and I took a walk through Ft. Hays State University on the southwest edge of town.  It was a pleasantly cool morning and we enjoyed our stroll through the campus which is adorned with attractive Cretaceous limestone buildings.

As we turned a corner near the Quadrangle, we were attacked by a falcon which dove from its perch on a nearby roof.  Grazing our heads on each swoop, the raptor then landed in a shade tree.  It was significantly larger than a kestrel or merlin and, considering both the location and the season, it was almost certainly a prairie falcon.  I suspect it had a nest on the building and was merely protecting its young.

Common on the High Plains and across the Great Basin, prairie falcons usually nest on cliffs but are known to use manmade structures as well.  They hunt close to the ground, snaring ground squirrels or grassland birds as they close in at high speed.  This morning, we got an unexpected taste of their aggression.  

An Aerial Feeding Frenzy

Last evening, while reading on the front porch, I caught sight of a large swarm of gnats, hovering above our lawn and illuminated by the setting sun.  Of more interest were squadrons of dragonflies, streaking through the insect cloud from all directions.

Though not nearly as dramatic, the event reminded me of  a scene from marine nature documentaries in which large schools of fish are attacked by gannets, sea lions and dolphins.  In reality, our modest suburban feeding frenzy was just as important in nature's complex web of life; both spectacles nourish predators, promote natural diversity and keep prey populations in check.

Unfortunately, most suburbanites are uninterested in the insects that inhabit or patrol their yard.  It is only when those "pests" attack their gardens or invade their homes that they take notice and call their friendly exterminator. 

A Dickcissel Summer

Dickcissels are open country songbirds that are common summer residents in the American Midwest and the south-central U.S.; they were once common in the Southeast as well.

Favoring prairie, weedy fields and farmlands, these songsters are generally heard before they are seen, typically singing from fences, shrubs or various reeds and grasses.  Though usually common across their summer range, their numbers in any given area vary widely from year to year; this summer, dickcissels have been especially abundant at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, on the Missouri River floodplain.

Feasting on both insects and seeds, these distinctive songbirds nest on the ground, usually in areas with dense vegetation.  By late summer, dickcissels begin their long migration to Central or South America, not to return until late spring.

Cicada Debut

The first chorus of annual (Dog-Day) cicadas rang through the neighborhood late this morning.  Common throughout much of the country, especially east of the Great Plains, these insects, unlike periodic cicadas, do not appear in overwhelming numbers.

Nevertheless, annual cicadas do make their presence known and their loud calls increase through the summer.  Having spent a few years underground, nourished by the fluids in a tree root, they emerge only to breed; indeed, adults do not eat during their brief lives though they do provide food for jays, raccoons, opossums and house cats, among other scavengers.  Eggs are laid in grooves that the female carves on terminal tree branches; once they hatch, the larvae drop to the ground, burrow into the soil and begin their years underground.

While cicada choruses can become annoying by late summer, their initial, tentative calls are welcome, assuring suburbanites that nature's cycle remains intact despite our careless stewardship of the planet. 

Hope for Agnostics

Intelligent creatures, we humans have long recognized the eventuality of death and that fear has spawned belief in a wide variety of gods throughout the history of our species.  These deities, according to those beliefs, facilitate our transition to a spiritual existence or into another earthly body (i.e. reincarnation), thereby diminishing the horror of death.

Those of us who doubt the existence of a loving yet vindictive god must learn to face death without the promise of salvation.  Most of us simply accept the fact that our heaven is here on Earth and that every year of life is a gift; when death comes, our adventure is simply over.  Nevertheless, we acknowledge that we do not fully understand this Universe and the possibility of a "spiritual plane" tempts our imagination and soothes whatever fear we might experience.

Indeed, modern physics informs us that parallel universes likely exist and that time is both relative and multi-dimensional.  As the battle between religion and science rages on, such discoveries let us put our faith and hope in our ever-expanding knowledge and in its ramifications regarding life and death in this amazing Universe. 

Imprisoned by Heat

Excessive heat, accompanied by high humidity, has descended on Missouri over the past few days.  Though we humans evolved in the Tropics, most of us are no longer adapted to such conditions and, for those of us of a certain age, such heat waves can be especially dangerous.

In my case, I have been limiting my outdoor activity to the early morning hours when conditions are at least tolerable.  For the remainder of the day, we shelter indoors, relying on air conditioning that is now powered by solar panels.  For one who much prefers to be outdoors, this imprisonment is certainly unwelcome.

Of course, I protest too much.  At least we have air conditioning and can afford to use it; many others are not so fortunate.  One wonders what summers will be like in another 10 or 20 years as global warming continues to progress.  Never a big fan of the season, I will likely bow out before that time but I am concerned for my children and grandkids.  We have created a climate crisis that will be very difficult, if not impossible, to control.  

Small Preserves

As humans "develop" every "useful" parcel of land on the planet, we conservationists know how important it is to protect the large swaths of natural habitat that remain.  But it is also important to conserve small preserves that still survive within our urban and suburban areas.

One such preserve is the Norma Sutherland Smith Park in northeastern Columbia, Missouri.  This morning, my wife and I paid our first visit to that refuge, which stretches southward from a new residential community.  Only 50 acres in size, the Park contains the usual suburban amenities: a parking lot, toilets, a picnic shelter and a playground, all of which comprise less than a tenth of the preserve's area.  Of interest to naturalists and conservationists is an old farm pond, lined with cattails and wetland wildflowers and bordered by a mixed forest.  Trails lead around the pond and up through the woods to the parking area.

While such a small refuge may seem insignificant in our efforts to protect natural diversity and battle climate change, the sum of these plots, dotting cities and towns across the globe, is enormous.  Even if their impact on the welfare of flora and fauna is limited, their roles in carbon capture and in the introduction of natural science to children are invaluable.