Stable Flies

Scraping and painting an old barn has never been one of my favorite activities and the presence of stable flies has made that chore even less pleasant.  Unfortunately, these annoying insects seem to have arrived with the horses that we are boarding at our Littleton, Colorado, farm.

While they look very similar to house flies, stable flies (also known as barnyard flies or biting house flies)  do not merely buzz your face or land on your meals.  Since they feed on the blood of mammals and birds, the adults produce a sharp sting when they bite, usually attacking the ankles and lower legs, causing horses to stomp and humans to swat (and perhaps deliver an expletive or two); protection is limited to repellants and clothing coverage.

Females lay their eggs in rotting vegetation, silage, soiled hay or similar farmyard debris.  These hatch into larvae which molt through three stages, pupate and then emerge as adults.  Under warm, summer conditions, this entire process takes about 3-5 weeks, slowing down in the cooler autumn weather and suspended altogether during the winter months (adults live for a few weeks and succumb to the first hard freeze).  Common across much of the globe, stable flies are a scourge for penned livestock and unwelcome visitors for their human handlers; fortunately, they seldom venture indoors and are not known to transmit disease to humans.

A Brief History of Racism

When humans evolved in Africa, 130,000 years ago, we were dark-skinned, tropical hominids; for the first 80,000 years of our history, there were no significant racial divisions. Then, as our species spread across the globe, various races emerged in response to both genetic variation and the physical character of our environment (primarily climate and solar radiation).  It would not be until trade routes were established and global exploration began (i.e. within the last few thousand years) that racial and cultural differences were recognized and exploited, setting in motion the indignities of imperialism, prejudice, slavery and racism.

While human enlightenment, including the advance of democracy and public education, has spawned civil rights legislation in many regions of our globe, an undercurrent of racism persists, the effect of familial and cultural attitudes passed through the generations.  Fortunately, as globalization and liberalism have fostered immigration and interracial marriage, racial distinctions are beginning to blur and, centuries hence, may disappear altogether.  In concert, the notion of racial supremacy should be relegated to history.

Of course, the end of racism will not ensure social harmony.  Those prone to intolerance, zealotry and bigotry will focus on other differences among us and the struggle for human rights and personal freedom will continue.

The Evolution of Cats

While I am not fond of domestic cats, I must express my admiration for the hunting prowess of those strict carnivores.  Today, 37 species of felids inhabit our planet, all of which originated from a common ancestor that lived in Asia during the late Oligocene, some 25 million years ago.

DNA studies indicate that at least 8 felid lineages have evolved since that time and that cat species have been native to all Continents except Australia and Antarctica.  Migration of species between the Americas, Eurasia and Africa has been occurring for at least 12 million years (during periods when low sea levels opened the Bering land bridge) and genetic evidence suggests that the migrations have occurred in both directions.  For example, the cheetah, now limited to Africa, actually arose from a North American lineage and is more closely related to cougars than to the lions, tigers and leopards of Asia and Africa.  Some felid lineages, including one that gave rise to the saber-toothed cats, are now extinct .  Those lineages that still exist are grouped within two sub-families: the Pantherinae (including lions, tigers, leopards and jaguars) and the Felinae (including cougars, cheetahs, lynx, bobcats, ocelots and the domestic cat, among others).

Current archaeologic evidence suggests that cats were first domesticated in Egypt, about 4000 years ago.  While most of their wild cousins are endangered by habitat destruction, hunting, poaching and other human-related factors, domestic cats (many of which are feral) thrive in towns and cities across the globe; their numbers far exceed the population of all other cat species combined.

The Nature of Arthritis

Arthritis is the inflammation of one or more joints.  Inflammation occurs in the synovium (the lining of the joint) and is usually accompanied by excess fluid accumulation within the joint space; both factors result in joint swelling.  The inflammation may be due to a variety of causes and, over time, will lead to destruction of the joint with limitation of function.

The most serious form of acute arthritis is caused by bacterial infection; in most cases, a single joint becomes red, swollen and very painful.  Such a clinical presentation should prompt immediate medical attention since both early surgical drainage and intravenous antibiotics are indicated to prevent joint damage.  Another form of acute arthritis, involving one or more joints, is due to crystal accumulation in the joint space; gout and pseudogout are the classic disorders and the specific diagnosis is made by examining the joint fluid.  A host of inflammatory arthritis conditions, usually involving multiple joints, are due to immunologic reactions to exogenous agents (viruses, bacteria, drugs, other allergens) or to one's own body tissues (autoimmune diseases); the latter include conditions such as rheumatoid arthritis, systemic lupus erythematosis and various forms of vasculitis, among others.  Finally, the inflammation may be due to injury (acute or chronic) to the joint capsule; the incidence of this condition, known as osteoarthritis or degenerative arthritis, increases with age and is predisposed by genetic factors, body habitus (e.g. obesity) and one's occupation.

The treatment of arthritis varies with the specific condition but generally involves direct management  of the underlying cause (bacterial infection, hyperuricemia), elimination of offending agents or conditions, exercise, physical therapy and the use of anti-inflammatory medications.  The treatment of autoimmune diseases may also include immune suppression therapy which is best administered and monitored by a rheumatologist (an arthritis specialist).  In some cases, damaged joints may require joint replacement surgery; this is especially common in the management of osteoarthritis of the knees and hips.

Common Chicory

By mid summer, the landscape of the American Heartland is dominated by various shades of green.  While suburban yards and urban parks are festooned with a wide variety of flowering plants, only a handful of wildflowers add color to natural areas.  One of these is common chicory.

Native to Europe and introduced to North America and Australia, common chicory grows along our roadways, offering a regular splash of color from July through early October.  Its bright blue flowers, often called blue daisies, sprout from a tall woody stem and offer a pleasing contrast with the verdant background.  For thousands of years, humans have used the leaves and roots of this hardy perennial for salads, coffee, dietary supplements and a variety of herbal remedies; chicory is also widely utilized for livestock forage.

To most of us, however, common chicory is that ragged but attractive wildflower that brightens our country roads during the hot, dusty months of mid and late summer.  It lends itself more to our mental health than to our physical well being.

A Word to Old Friends

We humans, even those of us who enjoy periods of solitude, are social creatures.  Once we learn to communicate, we begin to establish relationships with other humans, first with our family members and then with a life-long chain of friends.  Unfortunately, while we generally retain a close connection with relatives, we tend to discard friendships as we move through the stages of our life.

Losing touch is often the result of moving to other cities, developing new social relationships and focusing on the new priorities in our life (children, career and personal interests).  Though we may retain loose contacts with old friends, primarily via holiday cards or group emails, meaningful correspondence is often lacking.  Recognizing that the course of our life is significantly influenced by our relationships, most of those old friends affected our life choices and were a source of inspiration in some way or another; it is unfortunate that their role, however minor, is often never acknowledged.

Yet, there seems to be a social taboo about reconnecting with old friends.  Some suggest that we are escaping to our past or invading the privacy of those we contact.  While these points have some validity when it comes to past lovers (a potentially dangerous and painful exercise), they seem to be convenient excuses for those too busy to rekindle old friendships.  Being remembered and being acknowledged for one's importance in the lives of others are key to our emotional health and, by contacting past friends, we pass along that support.  Too often, such sentiments are expressed only to their family members, posthumously.

Australia's Devonian Reef

The Kimberley Plateau of Australia, which forms the northwest corner of that Continent, is composed of ancient Precambrian rock.  During the Devonian Period (some 350 million years ago), when sea levels were significantly higher than today, the Plateau was ringed by a limestone barrier reef; lime-secreting bacteria and algae and primitive coral produced the reef as the first sharks and boney fish were evolving in Earth's oceans.  As sea levels fell and erosional debris accumulated, sections of that reef were incorporated into the mainland of Australia, now outcropping as limestone ranges along the southern edge of the Kimberley Plateau.

Several streams, rising on the Plateau, have cut spectacular canyons through the Devonian Reef complex (the Napier, Oscar and smaller ranges) as they flow southward into the Canning Basin; the latter is a layer cake of Upper Paleozoic and Mesozoic sediments, eroded from adjacent highlands.  Windjana Gorge (cut by the Lennard River), Gelkie Gorge (sculpted by the Fitzroy River) and Tunnel Creek are protected within National Parks and offer the best locations to explore the Devonian Reef.

Australia's Great Barrier Reef, the latest reincarnation of which has been forming over the past 8000 years, will eventually become part of the mainland as well.  By then, Australia, which is slowly drifting to the north, will be much closer to (if not contiguous with) Southeast Asia.

Reboarding Verne's Nautilus

Fifty years ago this summer, as I approached the ripe old age of 13, I read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by Jules Verne.  Hoping to relive that adventure, which was instrumental in spawning my naturalist philosophy (see Four Books), I retrieved that book from the library.  As I read Verne's saga for a second time, the memory of its initial impact comes flooding back, confirming its effect so many years ago.

A novel of adventure and exploration with a story line that stretches across the globe, this book reveals both Verne's knowledge of the sea and his prescience with respect to the future of technology.  Though it was written in 1870, the story remains applicable in our modern world, placing emphasis on man's conflicted relationship with his natural environment.  In fact, 143 years after its initial publication, the deep sea, Earth's largest wilderness, remains relatively unexplored and many of its mysteries are yet unsolved.

Reading this book will take me back to the summer of 1963.  Having just lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis, my innocence would soon be further shattered by Kennedy's assassination and the turmoil of Vietnam.  Somehow, through the varied trials, joys and challenges of my life, Verne's epic has retained its influence.  We can only hope to offer such inspiration to others.

Scolded by a Stranger

Having missed my morning walk yesterday, I opted for an afternoon stroll despite the heat and humidity.  I chose the MKT trail, a shaded old rail bed that follows a series of creeks in Greater Columbia.  Though I rarely hike on hot summer afternoons, there were advantages; in particular, the sensible crowds were absent and I only encountered the occasional biker and lunatic jogger.

The woodland birds, protected from the intense sun by the forest canopy, were surprisingly active and a few skinks dashed across the trail as I approached.  Also, the afternoon lighting increased visibility in the creek waters and I stopped on the bridges to watch the fish, crawdads, water striders and whirligig beetles.  But the highlight was my encounter with a male summer tanager, a bird that I have not come across in recent years; I might have mistaken him for a northern cardinal if he had not broken into his distinctive rant as I neared his perch.  Indeed, male summer tanagers are highly territorial and this one scolded me with his "pity-tuck" calls until I moved on; he was still on the overhanging limb when I returned and he resumed the tirade.

Summer tanagers prefer open deciduous forest and breed across the southeastern U.S. (from southern Iowa, the Ohio Valley and mid Atlantic States, southward); they also nest in riparian woodlands of the Desert Southwest, wintering in Mexico, Central America and northern South America.  Feeding on both insects and berries, these tanagers have a preference for bees and wasps, which they snare in flight and then beat against a limb before consuming (hence the nickname bee-bird).  A loose nest of dried vegetation is placed on a horizontal fork by the female and 3-5 eggs are generally produced.  As I found out yesterday, the excitable male often guards the site.

Collared Dove in Columbia

The call was very familiar.  I have been hearing it on the barrier islands off Sarasota, Florida, since we purchased a condo there in 2003.  In July of 2008, I heard it for the first time on our Littleton, Colorado, farm and it has since become a ubiquitous sound on that property.  Yesterday morning, while walking through a parking lot in Columbia, Missouri, I heard it for the first time in a city that has been our second home for over 15 years.

The call, echoing down from the top of a light pole, was delivered by a Eurasian collared dove, a native of India and the Middle East that has spread through much of North America over the past 30 years (see March of the Collared Dove).  A larger cousin of the morning dove, the collared dove was released in the Bahamas in 1975 and first turned up in Florida in the early 1980s.  It reached Colorado by 1996 and was first observed in Missouri in 1998; while this dove has been observed in central Missouri throughout the past decade, I did not encounter one in Columbia until yesterday.  As one who regularly ventures into natural habitats, maintains backyard feeders and has been an avid birder since the mid 1970s, it certainly took long enough!

As veteran birders know, being at the right place at the right time plays a major role in bird sightings.  On the other hand, I have never set out with the specific goal of finding a collared dove in central Missouri and seldom consult rare bird reports.  Hardly a birding fanatic, I engage in the hobby in concert with hiking and general nature exploration and may have ignored the familiar call at times in the past.  Based on my experience in Colorado, however, it will soon be impossible to miss these prolific and highly adaptable immigrants in Columbia.

Mid Summer Dusk

Dusk is especially welcome after a long, hot summer day and it triggers activity in a wide range of suburban wildlife.  Last evening, fireflies drifted into the cooling air as a chorus of annual cicadas waxed and waned.  A young cottontail scampered across the backyard, stopping to nibble on pockets of clover.

Squadrons of chimney swifts, common nighthawks and purple martins cruised overhead, feasting on rising clouds of insects.  Closer to earth, house wrens, cardinals and chickadees made their final rounds of the day as a garter snake waited for a field mouse, beetle or nightcrawler to wander within range.  Little brown bats strafed the treetops, snaring hapless mosquitoes and a pair of eastern gray squirrels gathered the first walnuts of the harvest season.

Some of us, not fond of summer heat, relish the hour of dusk, a sign that the oppressive sun is in full retreat.  A few weeks past the solstice, we begin to sense the shortening days and anticipate the cool, crisp weather of fall.  Indeed, some species of shorebirds, the first fall migrants, are already moving through the Heartland, on their way to southern beaches; summer heat will eventually follow in their wake.

The Nature of Divides

A hydrologic divide is the line of high ground that separates the watersheds of two streams; any given divide can be subdivided into the contributions made by the watersheds of each stream's tributaries.  For example, in northern Colorado, the Continental Divide separates the watersheds of the Missouri and Colorado Rivers; each of these major watersheds is composed of secondary watersheds that rise along the Continental Divide (e.g. the South Platte and North Platte watersheds of the Missouri River system) and each of those secondary watersheds are composed of tertiary watersheds; such division can continue down to the watersheds of the smallest creeks and rivulets that rise along that segment of the Continental Divide.

The geometry of divide networks coincides with the nature of the landscape.  A typical mountain range harbors a divide that runs along it crest which radiates divides to either side, separating the watersheds of the streams that drain its flanks.  The divides of a mesa or plateau generally radiate out from central high ground, separating the watersheds of the streams that rise atop the tableland and drop along its walls.  While the divides of mountain ranges and plateaus often zig-zag along the crest and side ridges, divides in flat landscapes tend to run in a parallel or gradually converging formation.

One need not visit dramatic natural landscapes to study divides.  Indeed, they run through our towns and cities as well, separating the various creek watersheds that cover our home area; in fact, should you live on a ridge (however modest) between stream valleys, a divide may run through your property.  Those of us who are fascinated by geography and topography realize that an appreciation for divides and watersheds is key to understanding any landscape.

The Secretive Shrub Bird

Though fairly common throughout the eastern and south-central U.S. during the warmer months, white-eyed vireos prefer shrubby habitat where they are more often heard than seen.  Such areas include abandoned farms, recovering clear-cuts, riparian thickets, mangroves and shrubs along wood borders or in forest clearings.

Remaining close to the ground, this insectivore gleans its prey from leaves and stems, hopping through the dense foliage; it may also consume small berries.  When in view, it is easily identified by its white eyes, yellow spectacles and a pair of white wing bars; its back is olive colored, its flanks are pale yellow and its chest and abdomen are white.  While this secretive summer resident is not often seen by the casual birder, its loud, varied song is commonly heard in the habitats listed above, especially in late spring.

A shallow cup nest is suspended from forked limbs within the shrubbery; both parents take part in its construction and share feeding duties once the eggs hatch.  Unfortunately, white-eyed vireos are frequent victims of brown-headed cowbird parasitism.  By late summer, the parents and their young depart for wintering grounds that stretch from the Gulf Coast States to Central America and the Caribbean islands.

Bookend Highs

For the past week, high pressure domes over the Desert Southwest and off the Southeast Coast, separated by a deep low pressure trough through the middle of the U.S., have brought extreme weather to portions of the country while producing a pleasant, relatively cool summer across the Heartland.

Beneath the domes, air is sinking, heating up and spreading outward, creating a clockwise spiral of wind along their rims.  The southwestern dome has produced excessive heat; the sinking air dries out as well as heating up, negating cloud formation and intensifying both solar radiation and evaporation.  Record or near record highs have been set across the region and Pacific storm systems have been shunted to the north, allowing wildfire conditions to worsen.

In the Southeast, the winds around the Bermuda High are sweeping copious moisture onshore from the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean.  Interacting with the low pressure trough, which provides the lift, this soupy air has ignited thunderstorms; training across the same areas, the storms have dropped up to 20 inches of rain in parts of western Florida and southwestern Alabama.  Farther north, most of the Piedmont and Coastal Plain set precipitation records for the month of June and, unless the current weather pattern breaks down, the same may occur in July.  Of course, those of us beneath the relatively cool central trough would be pleased to see our mild summer continue.

Threats to our Freedom

Today we celebrate the birthday of the United States and honor those who established and have protected the freedoms that we enjoy.  Despite ever-expanding oversight from the NSA, Google and credit card companies that catalogue our every phone call, text, click or purchase, we are relatively free to pursue our interests and personal happiness.

Mention threats to our freedom and most Americans think of terrorism, foreign cyber attacks, rogue states and illegal immigration; in reality, the primary threats come from within.  Political and religious zealotry have produced a dysfunctional Congress, incapable of addressing the many problems that threaten our financial, educational, commercial and environmental welfare.  Personal priorities, extreme positions and the search for national celebrity derail concern for the common good and ridicule now trumps respect and compromise.  Well-financed lobbies, such as the NRA, push agendas that defy common sense and political maneuvers (including gerrymandering and voting regulations) serve to silence the voice of minority groups.

As we are witnessing in Egypt this week, democracy is fragile.  Democratic elections do not ensure democratic rule and failure to address the rights of the electorate will, in the end, threaten the effectiveness and very survival of that democracy.  As the income gap continues to widen in the U.S. and as powerful organizations impose their will on American society, one wonders how and when the tide will turn in this country.  In the end, demands for personal freedom will prevail.

The Nature of Ticks

Ticks are external parasitic organisms that feed solely on the blood of birds, mammals and some reptiles.  Not insects, ticks are arachnids and, like spiders, have eight legs in the nymph and adult stages (their larvae possess only 6 legs).  In North America, hard ticks (represented by more than 700 species worldwide) are the only group that parasitize mammals.

Hard ticks mature through a three year life cycle.  Adult females lay their eggs in the soil by late summer or early fall; these hatch into larvae which overwinter in the soil and attach to their first host (a bird or small mammal) in the spring.  By late summer or early fall, the larval tick drops from its host and molts to a nymph (a small replica of the adult), which overwinters beneath dead vegetation or leaf litter, surviving on engorged blood; the nymph repeats this cycle the second year, generally using a larger host and molting to an adult by autumn.  Adult females emerge in spring and attach to large mammals (cattle, goats, deer, humans) to feed and mate; the adult males do not feed during their spring/summer phase and die off after mating.  Once the adult female lays her eggs, she also dies, generally by mid autumn.

The number and diversity of tick species are greatest in tropical regions, decreasing toward colder and drier regions of our planet.  They locate hosts by waiting on tall grass or other vegetation, jumping to or grabbing the host as it passes by; this behavior is often noted by hikers who become festooned with dozens of ticks after crossing a meadow or using an overgrown trail.  Unfortunately, ticks are vectors for a wide variety of rickettsial, viral and bacterial infections (including tick fever, ehrlichiosis, Rocky Mountain spotted fever, Lyme Disease, meningoencephalitis and tularemia, among others) and should be removed as soon as possible.  Ticks, themselves, are consumed by birds and reptiles and are victimized by parasitic wasps.

From Refuge to Park

A couple of years ago, our central Missouri city bought a farm south of town, setting it aside as a nature and fishing preserve.  A trail was built around the lake, a few shelters were placed for picnics, restroom facilities were established and a boat launch was constructed (to be used for small fishing craft).  My wife and I visited the pastoral refuge several times, noting that its rural environment was marred only by a nearby highway and a new high school that looms above the southwest section of the lake.  Otherwise, broad, rolling grasslands, parcels of forest and shoreline wetlands characterized the preserve, which attracted a wide variety of resident and migrant wildlife.

On our visit today, we were dismayed to see an army of bulldozers, steam shovels and earth movers destroying the east end of that tranquil site; on closer inspection, we saw survey markers running along the south edge as well, barely 50 yards from the lakeshore.  As we hiked along the trail, it became painfully clear that a large commercial and/or residential development will soon abut the once quiet and scenic preserve, likely converting the refuge to your typical suburban park, complete with hordes of  joggers, dog-walkers, kite flyers and cell-phone addicts.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm all for urban and suburban parks, which bring greenery and some wildlife to our concrete jungles and which offer oases for family picnics and sporting activities.  While they are, to some degree, nature preserves, they do not provide the serenity and natural ecosystems of a designated refuge.  To find the latter, one must now head for conservation areas, State and National Wildlife Refuges, wilderness areas and undeveloped federal lands; even State parks, catering to the masses, are often uninviting for a true naturalist.  I, for one, will check the old farm site off my destination list.

The Global Egret

Cattle egrets evolved on the vast savannas of East Africa where they followed herds of elephants, water buffalo and other herbivores, feasting on the insects that they stirred from the soil or that were attracted to the animals and their dung.  Avoiding deserts and mountainous areas, these grassland herons eventually spread to coastal regions of Africa and thence to the Iberian Peninsula and southern Asia; it is likely that their dispersal was in response to human domestication of cattle, goats and camels, which became surrogates for the wild African herds.

By the late 1800s, cattle egrets (more closely related to herons than to other egrets) had spread to the Caribbean islands and then to northern South America.  Their presence in both Florida and Australia was first documented in the early 1940s and a breeding population was established in Florida by 1953.  In North America, they have since spread northward along the Atlantic Seaboard, westward along the Coastal Plain and northward across the Great Plains; they now breed in all but a handful of States and were introduced in Hawaii in 1959.  Rather hardy, cattle egrets have been found in Newfoundland and southern Canada and visit both Tasmania and New Zealand during the warmer months; they have also colonized the British Isles over the past decade.

Cattle egrets are colonial nesters, sharing riparian woodland rookeries with herons and other wading birds.  Non-breeding birds are nomadic and may turn up well beyond their documented range; of course, that range has expanded so rapidly that almost any land mass (short of Antarctica and other permanent ice sheets) is fair game for these adventurous and adaptable birds.

Early Summer at Eagle Bluffs

Early to mid summer is often the least interesting time of year to visit Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, southwest of Columbia.  The migrant flocks have moved on, the spring frenzy is beginning to fade and oppressive heat suppresses the daytime activity of its wild residents.  Nevertheless, this Missouri River floodplain refuge offers something of interest in any season.

Yesterday, we were greeted by a scissor-tailed flycatcher along the entry road, where mixed flocks of swallows, dickcissels and mourning doves perched on the powerlines.  Noisy killdeer families gathered on the drying fields while flocks of turkey vultures lounged on the levees, awaiting the late morning thermals.  Great blue herons and great egrets foraged in the shallows and a group of double-crested fished on one of the few deep pools.  Belted kingfishers, yellow-billed and black-billed cuckoos, northern harriers and wood ducks flew overhead as we drove through the refuge, which was adorned with the blooms of mullein and showy milkweed.  Highlights included a group of red-headed woodpeckers in a drowned grove of trees and a lone black-necked stilt that flushed from a roadside marsh.

Some might ignore nature preserves during "non-productive off-seasons," confining their visits to the spring and fall migrations.  But naturalists know that we cannot truly appreciate natural ecosystems unless we visit them throughout the year, witnessing the complex cycle of life that they harbor and protect.

Aggressive Young Men

We encounter them on a regular basis, especially on our highways.  They race up from behind, riding our bumper and flashing their lights, demanding that we move from their path.  Others weave among the traffic or speed along on their motorcycle, sans helmet.  Some appease their aggression by signing up with the military, by joining gangs or by participating in violent sports.  Unfortunately, many end up in prison, in brain injury centers or in our cemeteries.

Aggression in young males is a natural trait, reflecting the testosterone-fueled conflicts in our hominid ancestors. Driven away by their father (nature's effort to discourage inbreeding), young males had to fight for their own territories and assemble their own clans.  Those unable or unwilling to engage in confrontation were marginalized and their genes did not contribute to the tide of human evolution.

To succeed in the modern world, however, young men must keep their physical aggression in check.  Mentorship from fathers (or their male surrogates) is vital in this regard and those deprived of their discipline and influence are more likely to suffer the consequences of aggressive behavior.  With all due respect to, and admiration for, single mothers (victims, themselves, of irresponsible males), highly involved fathers play an essential role in the development of young men.

East to the Trees

Except for desert species, which are equipped with a deep tap root, a widely radiating root system, small transient leaves and twigs capable of photosynthesis (among other adaptations), deciduous trees generally need at least 20 inches of precipitation per year and grow in soil that is capable of absorbing and retaining that moisture.

Heading back to Missouri, yesterday, we first crossed the High Plains of eastern Colorado and western Kansas, where trees (mostly cottonwoods) are confined to the primary steam channels.  Lying within the rain shadow of the Rocky Mountains and located far from the Gulf of Mexico, the streams of the High Plains are often dry, running only after thunderstorm downpours or during the rapid melt of a heavy snowpack.  East of Wakeeney, Kansas, trees become more numerous, covering the main stream valleys and stretching up along the tributaries.  Further east, near Ellsworth, Kansas, forests begin to cloak the shaded, north-facing hillsides, where soil moisture is protected from solar evaporation; by the time one reaches the longitude of Junction City, now well within the Gulf of Mexico moisture plume, woodlands grow on south-facing slopes as well.

The thin, rocky soil of the Flint Hills, between Junction City and Topeka, discourages tree growth; prairie grasslands cover the ridges and riparian woodlands are confined to the stream valleys but the topography of these Hills, in comparison to the flat terrain of the High Plains, attests to the greater annual precipitation in this region.  Finally, in eastern Kansas and throughout Missouri, forests dominate the landscape, broken primarily by human environments (urban/suburban developments and cleared agricultural fields); thanks to Gulf of Mexico moisture, pumped northward ahead of advancing storm fronts, the southern Midwest receives about 35 inches of precipitation each year (compared to 10-12 inches across the High Plains).

The Evolution of Science & Religion

In order to survive, early man had to learn a great deal about his natural environment.  At the same time, his complex brain led him to imagine gods who protected him from the many dangers that he faced (storms, predators, drought, hostile clans) and who provided the means for his survival.  For most of human history (which covers 130,000 years), factual knowledge and religious mysticism were intertwined and both evolved in concert; indeed, ritual became an important element of human culture, a means to appease the gods that ensured our welfare.

The relationship between our factual knowledge of nature and our religious beliefs would remain unchanged until a scientific revolution spread through human civilization, some 500 years ago; this offered the means (the scientific method) to scrutinize the assumptions that governed our view of this planet, its life forms and the celestial bodies that fill its skies.  As the advance of science began to conflict with religious doctrine (especially in the fields of astronomy, geology and evolutionary biology), the gap widened and powerful religious organizations launched efforts to derail scientific progress.  Despite their attempts, our scientific knowledge has continued to advance while religious doctrine stopped evolving centuries ago.

Yet, the war between science and religion persists and scientific education is threatened, especially at the grade school and high school levels.  Many humans gladly accept the benefits of modern science (especially in the fields of medicine and technology) while retaining religious beliefs that offer a simplified version of natural history and of our place in the Universe.  Whether humans evolve beyond our need for religion remains to be seen; for now, fear, guilt, ignorance and political pressure ensure its potent role in human society.