Crossing the Dome

Heading back to our Littleton, Colorado, farm, we left Columbia on another warm, humid morning. West of town, the Missouri River had spilled across its floodplain, but, for the rest of our journey, the landscape would reflect the relentness heat and drought of the past month.

The hazy, humid air persisted through eastern Kansas, where the Flint Hills had faded to an olive green, but gave way to smoky air in central Kansas, where ranchers took advantage of relatively calm winds to burn their fields. In western Kansas and eastern Colorado, the thin air was free of haze but the intense sunshine evened the score and a strong, southerly wind produced a blast furnace effect. Indeed, wildlife was rarely encountered on this hot afternoon and herds of cattle either gathered in the shade of trees or billboards or, better yet, congregated in farm ponds.

These brutal conditions are the product of a massive, high pressure dome which continues to dominate the central U.S., diverting moisture and cooler air around its outer rim. Near its center, the sinking air heats up and cloud formation is suppressed; as one travels toward its outer regions, where the atmospheric pressure is lower, puffy clouds dot the clear blue sky. Finally, as we observed on our approach to Denver, storms ignite along the dome's outer rim, moving in a clockwise direction; today, these storms obscured the Front Range but did not penetrate the urban corridor, which remained within the dome's embrace. Over the past week, when the dome had not yet expanded to the base of Rockies, Metro Denver was deluged with monsoon rains, as storms rode northward along the dome's outer edge.

Avian Pizza Party

In mid summer, my early morning walks to work are less interesting than during other seasons of the year. Even before sunrise, the steamy heat has suppressed the local wildlife; birdsong is nearly absent, except for the eternal optimism of chickadees and Carolina wrens, and cottontails lounge in the clover, content to risk my close approach.

But this morning, as I walked along Greek Row, a noisy crowd of starlings and house sparrows had gathered up ahead, squabbling over something in the road. After reaching the scene, I discovered several pieces of pizza scattered across the pavement, no doubt flung from a car overnight. Despite the heat and humidity, these avian opportunists welcomed the bonanza and each aggressively pursued its share.

While most birders despise alien species such as starlings and house sparrows, I tend to admire their survival skills. Omniverous and tenacious, these birds have found nirvana in America, where we throw out more food than most countries consume.

The Nature of Justice

Unlike truth, which is absolute and universal, justice is not found in nature; rather, it is a concept that exists solely in the human mind. For this reason, the definition of justice is influenced by one's culture, religion, philosophy, socioeconomic status and political affiliation and its enforcement is often uneven and arbitrary. To some, justice is merely a synonym for revenge while, for others, it represents the heart of morality.

The concept of justice fuels religious belief, offering hope that the suffering, discrimination and cruelty of this life will be remedied in the next. Indeed, the prospect of an eternal reward encourages self-imposed martyrdom, whether adopted by monks or terrorists. Such mysticism, widespread in human culture, soothes the mind, assuring us that a divine purpose underlies the death of children, the hardships imposed by natural disaster or the sudden calamities of accidents and illness.

Experience teaches us that life is not fair and that justice, however we may define it, does not always prevail. While many rely on an afterlife to even the score, many of us would rather focus on ridding this world of injustice; kindness, tolerance, freedom, education and generosity are the essential tools.

A Dome of Drought

A persistent dome of high pressure has dominated the Southern Plains and lower Mississippi Valley for the past several months, shunting storm systems to the north and exacerbating the severe drought that plagues the region; indeed, its presence deprived Texas of tropical moisture from the season's first Atlantic storm, which was deflected westward across Mexico. Combined with a deep atmospheric trough that covered most of the West throughout the spring and early summer, this dome has also contributed to the flooding across the Central Rockies and Northern Plains as Pacific moisture was swept north and east along its rim.

Over the past two days, this blocking ridge has dropped further to the south, allowing a cold front to ease conditions across the Midwest; here in central Missouri, we should stay in the 80s (F) for the next couple of days before the dome inches northward once again. Meanwhile, to our south, the intense heat and drought continue, with highs above 100 degrees and no relief in sight.

A dome of high pressure over the Southern Plains is typical in mid-late summer and is partly responsible for the Southwest monsoon that brings Gulf and Pacific moisture to the Four-Corners region and the Southern Rocky Mountains. However, this year, it has been in place since late winter and shows no sign of breaking down; until it does, perhaps under assault from a potent tropical system, the drought will continue.

Owls in a Steam Bath

Immersed in another heat wave, it was 82 degrees F at six this morning and the afternoon high is expected to reach 100 degrees. Combined with the high humidity, this heat has enveloped central Missouri in an atmospheric steam bath.

Yet, as I left for work in the predawn haze, two barred owls called from the nearby woods. Unlike their great horned cousins, these owls are often heard throughout the year and, in early spring, frequently call during the daylight hours. Even so, their questioning voices seemed out of place in the soupy air of a Midwest summer.

The owls will retreat to shaded roosts before the morning sun fuels the damp inferno, re-emerging tonight to hunt for mice and cottontails. We admire their hardiness during the frigid months of winter and, trapped in this steam bath, I appreciated their visit this morning; their distinctive calls reassured me that the cool, refreshing days of autumn are on the distant horizon.

The Joy of Flight

Most birds use their natural flight capability to move about, migrate, escape predators and attack prey; but some, at least for part of their day, appear to indulge in the pure joy of flight.

Eagles, vultures and buteos are perhaps the most notable participants, soaring above the landscape for hours at a time with no apparent purpose other than surfing the wind. Others include various gulls, petrels, white pelicans and kites; one might also give a nod to frigatebirds and albatrosses but their physical limitations on land keep them aloft.

Of course, hardcore evolutionary biologists will attribute this nonfuntional activity to the natural instinct to exercise flight muscles but most of us know whimsical behavior when we see it. After all, humans have envied this avian capability throughout our history and have attempted to mimic their aerial freedom with parachutes, gliders and a wide variety of aircraft. Alas, we will never fully experience the joy of flight that our feathered neighbors have inherited.

The Ground Cuckoo

Natives of Mexico and the Desert Southwest, greater roadrunners have spread eastward and northward over the past Century and now reside in California's Central Valley, across the Southern Plains, in western portions of Louisiana and Arkansas and in the glade country of southwest Missouri. Unlike their North American cousins, the yellow-billed and black-billed cuckoos, which feed primarily on caterpillars and migrate south for the colder months, roadrunners are omniverous and occupy their range throughout the year.

Easily identified by their classic silhouette, shaggy crest, streaked plumage and long tail, these birds have relatively small wings and rarely take flight; rather, equipped with long, powerful legs, they outrun their prey and predators. Food sources include berries, seeds, insects, scorpions, lizards, snakes and small mammals; renowned for their willingness to attack rattlesnakes, roadrunners often cooperate to make a kill. Nests, consisting of sticks and dry grass, are placed in low shrubs or cacti and 3-5 eggs are usually produced.

Well known to generations of children as the nemesis of Wile E. Coyote, this ground cuckoo may fall victim to hawks, golden eagles, owls and, yes, coyotes; human vehicles also take a significant toll. Nevertheless, the North American population of greater roadrunners is on rise and this resourceful bird will likely spread further north in the coming decades.

An Evening Kite Display

Stepping onto our back deck last evening, I caught site of three hawks circling in the distance. Initially assuming they were red-tails, I soon realized that they were smaller, more agile birds. Though they did not manifest the jerky flight of nighthawks, I was leaning toward that identification when one of them suddenly went into a steep dive before careening upward to rejoin the others. Wondering if they might be falcons, I rushed in to grab my binoculars and was able to study their distant forms in more detail; their long, tapered wings were relatively narrow and dark colored, their bodies were light gray and their buteo-like tail was black. Our mystery visitors were, in fact, Mississippi kites.

Recently confined to southern regions of the U.S., these raptors have spread to the north and west, now inhabiting open woodlands and tree-studded wetlands from Iowa to southeast Colorado and from the Desert Southwest to the Gulf Coast. Highly sociable, they often nest in colonies, building platforms of sticks and grass in trees near open fields or marshlands. Like nighthawks, they feed on large, flying insects and are frequently observed in groups, soaring and diving above their feeding grounds.

By late summer, Mississippi kites congregate in large flocks and soon depart for wintering areas in South America. My chance encounter yesterday has reminded me of their presence in central Missouri and I'll be sure to watch for these aerial acrobats on my local field trips.

The Nature of Haboobs

Haboobs are dense, atmospheric walls of dust or sand that are encountered in arid regions across the globe. Ironically, they usually develop during the monsoon season when downdrafts from nearby thunderstorms produce outflow gust fronts that sweep particulates into the air. Moving out from the central storm, the imposing wall may be a mile or more high and closes in at 30-50 miles per hour, producing a visual doomsday effect.

Though short-lived, haboobs dramatically reduce visibility and, while they may bring destructive winds and induce breathing difficulty, their primary danger results from the rapid loss of visibility, leading to vehicular accidents. Fortunately, they can usually be spotted from a safe distance and modern radar systems provide ample warning of their development, reducing the occurrence of injuries and fatalities.

Yesterday's haboob in Phoenix, Arizona, was spawned by a cluster of thunderstorms northwest of Tucson. According to the Weather Service, this arc of dust and sand was 60 miles across, one of the more spectacular haboobs to strike the Desert Southwest in recent years.

The Masked Warbler

One of the most common and widespread warblers in North American, common yellowthroats breed from southeast Alaska to Newfoundland and from the Subarctic treeline to the Gulf Coast. Though they have a preference for marshes, wet meadows and riparian thickets, these small birds also inhabit dry washes of the Desert Southwest and can be found in the lower canyons of western foothills.

The male common yellowthroat is easily identified, sporting a wide black mask across his eyes, which separates a white stripe on his forehead from his bright yellow throat and chest; females are more drab in color, with an olive back and yellow throat, but may have a faint mask as well. Common yellowthroats stay close to the ground, hunting insects among the thickets, cattails, tall grass or shrubs; their loose nest of grass and plant debris is often placed directly on the ground, where both parents incubate the eggs (usually 3 to 5). Since these warblers often remain secluded in dense vegetation, it is their distinctive "witchity-witchity-whitchity" song or sharp chips that first reveal their presence.

Come September, common yellowthroats that breed at northern latitudes depart for the Coastal Plain, Southern California, Mexico or Central America, where their insect prey remains active throughout the year. Until then, we'll enjoy the presence of these energetic, noisy and colorful songbirds in our wetlands and along our streams.

Moose in Colorado

When 12 moose were transplanted to North Park from Utah, in March, 1978, there was a general consensus among State Wildlife officials that these large herbivores had never been common in Colorado. In early 1979, another 18 moose were brought to the upper watershed of the North Platte River from Wyoming and, unchallenged by natural predators (wolves and grizzlies), the herd blossomed to 600 individuals by the mid 1990s; in fact, by that time, the moose had spread across the Rabbit Ears and Park Ranges, colonizing the Upper Colorado, Fraser and Upper Yampa river valleys.

Gratified by the success of this reintroduction program, the Division of Wildlife initiated a moose hunting program and transported some of the herd to the Upper Rio Grande Valley, near Creede. Continued expansion of the Colorado moose population has prompted additional transplantations within the State, including the establishment of a herd atop Grand Mesa, east of Grand Junction. Today, estimates of the Colorado moose population range from 1600 to 2000 individuals, likely far more than ever inhabited this portion of the Southern Rockies.

As one who has been interested in wildlife conservation for most of my life, I have gradually come to the conclusion that Federal and State Wildlife Departments are more closely aligned with hunting, fishing and tourism interests than they are with those who truly understand our natural ecosystems. Wildlife conservation programs must pay close attention to the balance of predator and prey populations; the rapid expansion of Colorado's moose herd over the past 30 years will surely produce negative consequences.

Tropical Storm Dynamics

The development of a tropical storm is dependent upon three factors: warm ocean waters, hot, humid air at the surface and light upper-level winds. For these reasons, early season Atlantic hurricanes usually develop in the relatively shallow waters of the Gulf of Mexico, across the Caribbean and along the Southeast Coast of the U.S. While tropical waves begin to move westward, out of Africa, in early summer, they encounter cool waters in the central Atlantic and tropical storms do not usually develop; by August, the ocean temperature has increased and the peak of the Atlantic hurricane season begins, continuing through September and into mid October.

Once a tropical storm develops, favorable conditions, discussed above, may cause it to strengthen into a hurricane. Conversely, if the storm moves into cooler waters, makes landfall or encounters strong upper level winds, the storm dynamics break down and the system weakens or dissipates. In some cases, favorable conditions may be re-encountered and the storm may redevelop; this occasionally occurs in Central America, when Gulf of Mexico storms weaken over land and then re-blossom in the eastern Pacific.

Global warming may extend the hurricane season by producing warm ocean waters earlier in the summer and later in the fall. Then again, climate change might alter upper level wind patterns, shifting the zone of tropical storm development and impact. Time will tell.

Humans & Heat

Native to the Tropics, we humans are better equipped to deal with heat than with the cold; indeed, given shade and adequate water, we can survive in temperatures near 130 degrees F for limited periods of time. Nevertheless, heat waves kill more Americans each year than any other form of weather, including tornadoes, hurricanes and floods.

The elderly are most prone to heat-related illness and death; their aging bodies are less capable of dissipating heat and efforts to do so place significant stress on their cardiovascular system. The other population at risk is the young athlete; blinded by the immortality of youth or prodded on by an ignorant coach, they exercise during the heat of the day and, despite fluid intake, court heat exhaustion or heat stroke.

Human tribes that inhabit hot desert regions or tropical areas know to escape from the sun during the afternoon hours. Wearing light-colored, loose-fitting clothes, they adopt the habit of mid-day siestas, retreating to shaded areas and consuming plenty of water. Advanced human societies, though equipped with air-conditioned buildings, have less appreciation for the danger of heat and, too often, suffer the consequences.

A Summer Clipper

During the winter months, most Americans in the central and eastern U.S. dread Alberta Clippers, those pockets of frigid, Arctic air that plummet southeastward to reinforce the seasonal chill. Over the past 36 hours, we have enjoyed the summer equivalent of those clippers; a trough of cool, Canadian air has dipped across the Midwest, pushing the hot, humid air of late June to the south and east.

Unlike the winter invasion, this Summer Clipper is a welcome reprieve, bringing drier air with highs in the upper 70s to low 80s. Unfortunately, like its winter cousin, its effects will be short-lived as the atmospheric trough moves rapidly off to the east and conditions moderate. Indeed, our next heat wave will develop over the coming days, sweeping the thick air of summer back into the Heartland.

While weather patterns are more stable in winter and summer than they are in the spring and fall, the jet stream is a fickle beast and sudden shifts in its course trigger these Canadian invasions. Depending on the season and on our personal perspective, they may be viewed as gifts or as unwelcome intrusions.

No Equipment Required

Anyone who watches cable TV is subjected to numerous ads for exercise equipment; these infomercials offer a vast array of devices that promise a lean, muscular physique, often with little effort on the part of those who use them. In fact, the human body is already equipped with the features needed to produce and maintain physical fitness.

Our musculoskeletal system, under the control of our nervous system, allows us to walk, run, swim, jump, climb and engage in a wide range of physical activities, all of which combat obesity, tone muscles and improve aerobic conditioning. Stair climbing is an excellent example of efficient, no-cost exercise that burns calories, strengthens muscles and benefits the cardiovascular system. For most adults, walking and swimming are the best forms of exercise, offering many benefits with little risk of injury; younger or more fit individuals might add jogging, situps, pushups and a variety of aerobic exercises but, in the end, no external equipment is necessary.

Of course, humans purchase and use a wide variety of things that are not required for their personal welfare and many succumb to the promise of six-pack abs and tight, muscular butts. It is, after all, better to exercise with that magical equipment than to spend the day on the couch.

The Nature of Child Abuse

Mention child abuse and most people think of pedophiles, sweat shops and child prostitution. But there are more insidious and widespread forms that are often overlooked, if not condoned, by human societies.

Parental belief systems and lifestyle choices have a significant impact on the present and future welfare of innocent children. In some cases, these victims are denied access to proper healthcare or education while, in others, poor habits such as overeating, tobacco use and inactivity are instilled. Many children are indoctrinated with various forms of discrimination, whether based on race, gender or sexual orientation and ingrained religious dogma is a common source of fear, guilt and low self esteem.

While many adults overlook these widespread forms of child abuse, they are, in the end, the catalysts for most of our social and political problems. Unless we rescue children from the climate of ignorance and intolerance that envelops their formative years, all future intervention will likely be in vain.

Cicada Aftermath

Returning to central Missouri after a brief visit to Florida, we found twigs and clumps of leaves scattered across the lawn; also noticing numerous broken stems in the canopy of some trees (especially the maples and mimosas), we initially assumed that a powerful wind storm had passed through Columbia. On closer inspection, however, we saw grooves on the underside of these terminal branches, indicating that cicadas had produced the damage.

Though their adult life is limited to a week or two, female cicadas can cause significant damage to young trees and shrubs by carving a linear trough along terminal stems in which to lay their eggs. Since tender shoots are favored, young trees are more severely affected and, in some cases, the numerous wounds are fatal. The massive number of periodical cicadas is especially devastating to regional vegetation while the annual cicadas, just now emerging, produce limited damage.

We often ponder how each plant and animal species plays a unique role in nature's delicate balance but uncovering the importance of periodical cicadas, which spend 13 or 17 years beneath the soil followed by 2 weeks of frenzied mating and tree damage, is a challenge indeed. Their mass emergence may play a role in soil aeration, their huge numbers provide a welcome bounty for many birds and mammals and their glut of rotting bodies may be a valuable source of nutrients for growing plants; however, the associated damage to trees makes one wonder if these benefits outweigh their cost to the ecosystem. Then again, cicadas, like all other species, are focused on the survival of their genes, not on the welfare of their natural environment. They may not realize it and we may not like it but, so far, they have been very successful at evading extinction.

Into Thick Air

Invited to a family wedding in South Florida, we returned to Longboat Key this week, leaving the hot weather of the Midwest for the equally hot but more humid air of the Subtropics. With lows in the mid 70s (F) and highs in the low 90s, summer is not the ideal time to visit this area.

While winter is the quiet season in more northern latitudes, it is summer that subdues the wildlife of South Florida, causing some species to disperse to the Northern Gulf and Mid Atlantic regions. On the beaches, shorebirds are limited to small groups of turnstones and willets, joined by the solitary great blue herons and yellow-crowned night herons that stalk the shore. Small flocks of royal terns and laughing gulls, extremely vocal for much of the year, now hunt in relative silence or lounge in docile groups on the baking sand. Brown pelicans, always rather mute, patrol the coast in silent squadrons, diving now and then to grab a meal.

Away from the beach, white ibis monitor broods of growing youngsters, favoring shaded lawns, mangroves and the shallows of streams, ponds or backwater coves to escape the heat. Magnificent frigatebirds soar high overhead, avoiding the hot, thick air at the surface, ospreys retreat to the relative comfort of islands in the bay and, except for red-bellied woodpeckers and wandering flocks of parakeets, the songbirds are reclusive and quiescent. Thunderstorms, which form over the Gulf and build as they move onshore, offer temporary relief but the intense sunshine of South Florida soon converts their refreshing showers to a blanket of suffocating steam.