The Wedge of a Winter Storm

As a winter storm approaches, the low pressure and its associated cold front lift warm, moist air that is pulled in from the south.  Injected into the upper atmosphere, this moisture forms ice crystals which begin to fall. Along and near the front, where the lower atmosphere is warm, these crystals melt before they reach the ground, producing rain.

Further behind the front, where cold air is knifing in beneath warm, mid-level layers of the atmosphere, surface features such as tree limbs, power lines, cars, decks and bridges reach freezing temperatures and, as the rain hits them, it forms a glaze of ice, referred to as freezing rain; when the layer of ice exceeds 1/4 inch, damage to trees and power lines begins to develop.  Still further behind the front, where the layer of cold air is thicker, the rain refreezes before hitting the ground, producing sleet.  Finally, where the column of air in the lower atmosphere is entirely below the freezing point, the precipitation falls as snow.

On this winter solstice, the latest winter storm is centered over Arkansas this morning and will gradually move to the northeast.  Heavy rain and thunderstorms are expected along the advancing cold front, with bands of freezing rain, sleet and snow (in order) arriving behind that liquid precipitation.  Here in central Missouri, we are currently in the freezing rain band; while a glaze of ice coats the trees, wires and cars, the ground remains relatively warm due to our recent mild weather and, for now, road travel is unimpaired.  On the other hand, the freezing rain will transition to snow overnight and 2-3 inches are expected to coat the landscape by tomorrow morning.

Compassion & Intolerance

During his brief reign as pontiff, Pope Francis has been widely praised for his humility, his compassion and his condemnation of social injustice.  Committed to rising above the ongoing scandals and controversies that have plagued his Church, he has promised to consider changes that will eliminate corruption, end abuse and make Catholicism more inclusive.

One wonders, however, if his words of compassion will lead to significant reforms, especially for those long persecuted by the Church.  After all, religions are governed by dogma, not by a commitment to human rights.  They have always been more divisive than inclusive, fostering discrimination, intolerance and conflict throughout human history.  Threatened by science, which challenges their simplistic beliefs, religions have long attempted to derail its progress.

There is a limit to the understanding and compassion offered by religious leaders.  While they might respect those who do not share their faith, they are obliged to defend its basic tenets and, in doing so, must convince the faithful that theirs is the one true religion.  To have compassion for women, gays, atheists and non-Christians does not erase the intolerance that is both inscribed in Church doctrine and ingrained in its parishioners.  Pope Francis has spoken of the tyranny of capitalism; he might also consider the tyranny of religion.

Georgia's Geophysical Provinces

Driving north through Georgia, one crosses three major geophysical regions.  The Coastal Plain of southeastern North America cuts across the southern half of the State; this flat topography is underlain with Cretaceous and Tertiary sediments and, along rivers and near the Atlantic shore, with Quaternary sands and gravels.

The Fall Line, which runs from Columbus to Macon to Augusta represents the boundary between the Coastal Plain and the Piedmont; along this line, streams, flowing southward or southeastward, fall from the hard bedrock of the Piedmont to the softer sediments of the Coastal Plain.  The Piedmont, comprised of numerous fused terranes, is underlaid with igneous and metamorphic rocks; erosion of these ancient rocks has produced the famous red clay of central Georgia, rich in aluminum silicate and colored by iron oxide.

The Appalachian Highlands cross the northwest corner of Georgia and extend along its northern border.  In northwest Georgia, Interstate 75 crosses the Ridge and Valley Province of the Appalachians, the central corridor of that chain; east of that province is the Blue Ridge of the Appalachians, composed of ancient Precambrian rock and harboring the loftiest summits in the State (including Brasstown Bald, 4784 feet, the highest point in Georgia).

Low Tide Bonanza

It was low tide on Sarasota Bay early this morning, producing broad mudflats and vast shallows near our condo.  Large mixed flocks of waders scoured those feeding grounds, including great blue, tricolored and little blue herons, great, snowy and reddish egrets, roseate spoonbills and wood storks.  Flotillas of American white pelicans fed in unison, belted kingfishers chattered above the shallows and green herons, black-crowned and yellow-crowned night herons hunted beneath the mangrove borders.

Double-crested cormorants and red-breasted mergansers, which usually dive for their meals, merely stuck their heads beneath the surface to grab their prey.  Larger fish had been forced into the boat channel, improving the success of dolphins, ospreys, bald eagles and brown pelicans that hunt those deeper waters.  Attracted by this feeding frenzy, laughing gulls arrived to steal what they could while royal and least terns dove to catch their own fingerlings.  Finally, shorebirds and raccoons perused the mudflats, feasting on a host of mollusks, crustaceans and other marine invertebrates.

Low tide provides a feeding bonanza for a wide variety of species and a viewing bonanza for those of us who enjoy watching the spectacle.  Over an hour or two, one can stroll along the shore, observing most of the water birds that inhabit the region.  And, if you miss the show, it will play out again in about twelve hours!

Limpkins at Celery Fields

After 35 years of birding, I finally encountered a limpkin within ten minutes of entering the Celery Fields Wetland Area, in Sarasota County; by the time we left the preserve, I had seen more than twenty.  The reason for my success was also evident; the shells of large aquatic snails, among this wader's favorite prey, lined the canals and lakeshores.

Once a vast sawgrass marshland, the Celery Fields were drained for agriculture; in more recent decades, this lowland became Sarasota County's primarily floodwater control site.  While its ponds, canals and wetlands continue to serve the latter purpose, Celery Fields has become renowned for its diverse avian population; in response, some of the wetlands have been restored to their natural state, access trails and boardwalks have been constructed and the 400 acre preserve will soon be home to the Audubon Society of Sarasota County.  Birding at Celery Fields, which is located just east of I-75 and south of Fruitville Road, is especially rewarding during the winter months, when permanent residents are joined by migrants from the north.

On our visit this morning, we encountered almost every heron and egret that can be found in the Sunshine State.  Other sightings included sandhill cranes, bald eagles, roseate spoonbills, wood storks, ospreys, common moorhens, white and glossy ibis, anhingas, brown pelicans, mottled ducks, hooded mergansers, least terns, marsh and sedge wrens, boat-tailed grackles and savannah sparrows.  And, of course, the limpkins.

Black Scoters off Longboat Key

For the second consecutive winter, I have observed a flock of black scoters off Greer Beach, on the northwest coast of Longboat Key, Florida.  These ducks breed along inland lakes of Alaska, northwest Canada and the northern Canadian Maritimes; there they nest in clumps of tundra grass, raising 6 to 10 young.

Migrations occur primarily along the Pacific and Atlantic Coasts of North America though a fair number are encountered on the Great Lakes and on large reservoirs of the central U.S.  Most winter in coastal marine waters, from the Aleutians to the California Baja and from Newfoundland to the Carolinas; while some also winter along the northern Gulf Coast, I have not seen other reports of their presence off the beaches of South Florida.

Yesterday's flock numbered twelve scoters, including two adult males, easily recognized by the orange knobs on their upper bill.  The birds remained in a tight flock while feeding and flying; indeed, even their dives occurred in unison.  Black scoters feed primarily on small fish, aquatic invertebrates and, to a lesser degree, on aquatic grasses.  Hopefully, these fascinating birds will become regular winter residents along Longboat Key.

Geminids over South Florida

Since the annual Geminid Meteor Shower was forecast to peak overnight, I got up early this morning to watch the display before dawn.  Produced by debris from 3200 Phaethon, a "rock comet" discovered in 1983, the Geminids are observed in mid December (generally from the 12th to the 16th), when Earth passes through the dust trail of that asteroid; the latter orbits the sun every 1.4 years.

Due to the path of Earth's orbit through 3200 Phaethon's debris field, the meteors appear to radiate from the Gemini Constellation; this morning, Jupiter gleamed close to that pair of stars, providing a bright centerpiece for the annual show.  During my hour of observation, which was intermittently impaired by thin clouds, I saw at least a dozen meteors, half of which produced long, flare-like tracks.

Enjoying the show next to Sarasota Bay, the early morning serenity was broken at times by the squawk of night herons and the splash of jumping fish.  Yet, observing this December shower in South Florida certainly had its advantages; while the dry, clear air of the High Plains might have offered more spectacular viewing, the mild temperature of the Sunshine State (63 degrees F at 5:30 AM) made the display more comfortable to watch.  As the first rays of dawn lit the thin overcast, the show came to an end, leaving me to ponder our unique place but inconsequential role in this vast Universe.

Sail Fishing

Yesterday afternoon, as northeast winds raked Sarasota Bay, I watched as several species of birds used the same fishing technique.  Ospreys, belted kingfishers and royal terns all took advantage of the steady wind in their effort to snare prey.

After riding the wind southward, each would turn to face it head-on, hovering with the aid of its lifting force and working their way northward.  If their dives were successful, they veered off to enjoy their meal in a sheltered location; when their attempts were aborted or futile, they would continue moving upwind until a fish was snared or until they chose to ride southward once again.

While most animal behavior (excluding that of humans and other intelligent species) is instinctual, the observed sail fishing is most likely learned through experience.  Indeed, the birds also benefitted from the sun position (behind them while fishing) which clearly improved their ability to spot their prey.  Had the wind been from the south, forcing them to look into the sun's glare and surface reflection, they would surely have not used it in this way.  Then again, my limited observations hardly qualify as a scientific study.

Joan M. Durante Park

Acquired by the town of Longboat Key in the 1980s, this 32 acre park once harbored a small community.  The cabins have since been removed, native vegetation was preserved and the mangrove ecosystem has been restored.  Visitors can now wander along a network of shell fragment trails and boardwalks to explore both the mangroves and a coastal hammock forest of red cedar, cabbage palm, saw palmetto and seagrape.  Along the way, bridges cross tidal creeks (vital nurseries for marine fish) and decks provide sweeping views of Sarasota Bay.

Among the wide variety of wildlife that inhabit Joan M. Durante Park are ospreys, wading birds, belted kingfishers, anhingas, gray kingbirds, red-bellied woodpeckers, palm warblers (winter), mangrove crabs and fiddler crabs.  From the bayside decks, one can observe brown and American white pelicans, double-crested cormorants, various herons and egrets, wintering red-breasted mergansers and loons and a host of gulls and terns; the visitor can also scan the shallows for starfish, sea urchins, horseshoe crabs and other marine life.

On this cloudy, breezy morning, ospreys were especially noisy and abundant, calling from the top of trees or fishing over the windswept bay.  Little blue herons and white ibis hunted along the tidal creeks, cormorants and brown pelicans cruised above the choppy bay, royal terns dove for their breakfast and a lone box turtle dozed at the edge of a trail.  As usual, we enjoyed a pleasant stroll through a beautiful and fascinating ecosystem.  

The White Pelicans of Sarasota Bay

From our condo, on the west edge of Sarasota Bay, two white lines shimmer near the bay's central channel, giving the appearance of bright white sand spits.  On closer inspection, one finds that these are flocks of American white pelicans, joined by smaller numbers of double-crested cormorants, brown pelicans and various gulls and terns.  The birds choose to roost on these isolated islands since they afford protection from terrestrial predators.

American white pelicans begin to appear on the bay in November, arriving from breeding lakes across the Northern Plains of the U.S. and Canada; indeed, these majestic birds winter throughout Florida and along the Gulf Coast from South Florida to Mexico.  Those that breed on lakes of the Intermountain West generally winter in Southern California and the Baja region.  Once limited to areas west of the Mississippi, the Northern Plains flocks have been extending their migration routes eastward in recent decades and may now be encountered almost anywhere west of the Appalachians; a small number may even turn up along the Atlantic Seaboard.

Spending much of their day on the island roost sites, the white pelicans depart in small groups to feed on fish, often working together to herd their prey into the shallows.  While they do not dive for their meal in the manner of brown pelicans, they are not averse to hanging out with their cousins, attempting to steal fish that are brought to the surface.  The American white pelicans will grace Sarasota Bay throughout the colder months; some will head northward as early as February and, by late March, most will be gone.

From Winter to Summer

Yesterday morning, we left Columbia and drove southeast across frozen, snowy terrain.  The snow depth peaked in southern Illinois, where a large flock of snow geese circled above Rend Lake, apparently searching for open forage.  By the time we reached southern Kentucky, the snow had disappeared but we soon encountered split trees and broken branches in north-central Tennessee, evidence of the recent ice storm.  After climbing through chilly fog west of Chattanooga, we descended into the Tennessee River Valley, where relatively mild air offered a spring-like respite from our wintery travel.

This morning, we resumed our journey, negotiating Atlanta's traffic in a steady, pre-dawn drizzle; beyond the city, we headed south under gray skies, driving through a landscape of pine woods, pecan groves and, south of Macon, what may be our country's largest concentration of billboards.  Nearing the Florida line, the intermittent drizzle gave way to bands of heavy rain, broken by swaths of steamy sunshine; the temperature had risen into the low 70s (F).  South of Gainesville, the skies cleared and, as we crossed Sarasota Bay, it was a summer-like 80 degrees (60 degrees warmer than our departure temperature in Columbia).

Of course, the landscape changed in concert, from barren trees and snow-covered fields in the Midwest to the ever-verdant pastures and live oak/cabbage palm woodlands of Florida.  This afternoon, we saw cattle egrets mingling with the livestock, sandhill cranes feeding on the prairies, ospreys fishing along the rivers and bays, brown pelicans cruising above the Gulf of Mexico and a mix of shorebirds racing along the beach.  A nineteen hour drive had taken us from the deadly chill of a winter morning to the carefree warmth of a summer afternoon.

A Brief Migration

Though our trip has been planned for some time, we will be leaving what may be the coldest air mass of this winter season to visit our condo on Longboat Key, off Sarasota, Florida.  Leaving tomorrow, it will be a two day journey, taking us southeastward to Georgia and then southward into the Sunshine State.

Like many migrant species, we will escape conditions for which our bodies are not designed to reach a life zone where survival would be possible even without the adaptations that our complex brains have enabled.  Unlike the other migrants, however, our relocation will be brief; indeed, we will return to northern latitudes before the winter solstice.

Nevertheless, a week in the warm Florida sun will feel good after the bone-chilling cold of the past few days.  After all, whatever climate one may prefer, our collective human memory, imbedded in our genes, reminds us that we are tropical creatures.  For the next ten days, we'll heed that inner call to visit our natural home.

A Frigid Floodplain

Heading down to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area for the afternoon duck-hunting hiatus, I encountered a frozen, clean-edged landscape.  Puffy clouds dappled most of the pale blue sky and short bursts of sunshine had no effect on the frigid air.  The mid-day temperature hovered near 22 degrees F and a steady north wind made it feel more like ten.

While most of the ponds and marshes were frozen over, the central channel, fed by flow from the Missouri River, attracted mixed flocks of mallards, coot, gadwall and shovelers.  Other flocks wheeled above the refuge, seemingly taking advantage of the hunting break to stretch their wings.  Stoic great blue herons stood in the icy shallows, ring-billed gulls gathered on the frozen ponds, red-tailed hawks soared above the grasslands and a lone merlin perched on a dead cottonwood limb.  Other species active on this raw, winter day included eastern meadowlarks, horned larks, song sparrows and a few fox sparrows.  Unfortunately, no trumpeter swans or snow geese graced the refuge yesterday afternoon.

Completing my tour within an hour, I left the Missouri floodplain to the wildlife and the duck hunters, returning to the safety and comfort of our Columbia home.  As night envelops the refuge, the temperature is forecast to dip near zero; nevertheless, nocturnal predators and the prolific rodents on which they feed will emerge from their roosts and dens, oblivious to the brutal weather.  After all, their very survival depends on that hardiness.

Modern Slavery

Many developed countries look back on their history of slavery with a sense of shame. Yet, modern versions of that practice continue, most encouraged by the power brokers of our global economy.

Agricultural companies take advantage of immigrant workers who are willing to accept low wages, poor housing and no benefits.  Clothing retailers shop the planet for the lowest manufacturing costs, often overlooking the conditions in which their famous brands are produced.  Many industrial giants outsource both their service and assembly units, taking advantage of lower wages and avoiding taxes that are essential to the welfare of education in their own country.

Victims of these practices, many citizens of wealthy countries must settle for low paying jobs and whatever public assistance might be available; some work full time (or combine part-time positions) without exceeding the poverty income level.  Meanwhile, corporate executives enjoy outrageous salaries, benefits and bonuses, rewarded for maximizing profits by taking advantage of impoverished human populations.  Modern slavery is alive and well.

Into Arctic Air

Heading back to Missouri today, I departed Cincinnati in a mild, humid air mass; the thermometer on our VW Beetle read 52 degrees F.  From there to western Indiana, I traveled under a low gray overcast, knifing through pockets of fog and drizzle.  The skies began to clear in Illinois and I approached St. Louis at sunset; Venus and a crescent moon gleamed in the southwestern sky and the temperature was 65 degrees F.  However, a bank of clouds across the western horizon warned of an approaching cold front.

By the time I reached Warrenton, Missouri, 30 miles west of St. Louis, the temperature had fallen to 50 and, twenty miles farther, a light mist coated the windshield and a strong west wind had developed.  Eighty miles west of St. Louis, the temperature had dropped into the upper 30s and, as I pulled into our driveway in Columbia, the car thermometer read 34 degrees F.

While I had clearly entered the dome of Arctic air that is dropping through the center of the U.S., I had barely penetrated its outer rim; 500 miles to our northwest, in the heart of the dome, lows of 20-40 degrees below zero have been reported.  Here in Missouri, we are expected to remain below freezing for the next week, with highs in the 20s and lows in the teens or single digits; most of the ice and snow associated with the Arctic front is currently forecast to stay south and east of Columbia.

Rivers & Woodlands

Driving from Missouri to Ohio today, I crossed the rural landscape of North America's Corn Belt.  As one also observes on the Great Plains, the woodlands of this physiographic region cluster along the major creeks and rivers.  However, the reason for this landscape feature differs between the two areas.

On the semiarid Plains, groves of cottonwoods and willows rise along the drainages since they provide the necessary soil moisture for tree growth; most trees (with the exception of some desert species) require at least 20 inches of annual precipitation.  By contrast, the Corn Belt of the Midwest receives an average of 35 inches of precipitation each year and, prior to the arrival of European settlers, tallgrass prairie and more extensive forests covered the region.  Clearing the land for agriculture, the settlers drained swamplands, plowed the prairie and cut away woodlands that were easy to reach and which cloaked ground suitable for crops.  In essence, these practices left forest along the stream valley walls and immediately along the river or creek itself; if the floodplain was broad enough for crops, those riparian woodlands and swamp forests were also cut.

Today, corn fields stretch across the Glaciated Plain of the Midwest, broken only by highways, towns, cities and forested stream valleys.  For the traveler, those scenic valleys offer welcome topographic relief amidst the flat agricultural terrain.

The Undead of Winter

As we enter the dark, quiet, cold season of the year, we often hear reference to the dead of winter; to be honest, I occasionally use that phrase myself.  After all, the gray skies, frigid air, barren woods, frozen ground and dry, pale grasslands suggest that northern latitudes have entered a state of dormancy; were it not for the birds and mammals that move across the bleak landscape, that illusion might prevail.

Contrary to outward appearances, however, nature's cycle is very much alive during the short, cold days and long, starry nights of winter.  Deciduous plants, many now devoid of leaves, redirect their stored energy to expand their root systems, drawing in more nutrients from the deeper layers of soil.  Beneath the leaf litter, earthworms, beetles, pillbugs and a wide variety of insect larvae recycle the decaying vegetation, often making an appearance on mild winter days.  A host of shrews, mice, moles and birds feed on this army of recyclers while serving as prey for raptors, fox, opossums and other mammals.  Though amphibians and reptiles have retreated to dens or mud-walled chambers, aquatic insect larvae are active beneath the pond ice, feasting on dead vegetation or on one another and providing sustenance for the sluggish, cold-numbed fish.

Indeed, were it not for the life of winter, the explosive growth of spring could not unfold.  Those who take the time to search for the varied life forms of winter will better appreciate the fact that, despite the ice, snow and frigid air, nature's cycle has not shut down.

Thanks for Visiting

On this national day of Thanksgiving, it is appropriate that I express my gratitude to those who take the time to read and consider the varied posts of Nature's Blog.  While most visitors arrive via a search engine and seldom return, I know that many others share my passion for the natural diversity of our planet and I am honored by your continued interest.

Since Nature's Blog often strays from mainline nature topics to explore human culture, mysticism and our impact on natural ecosystems, it does not always appeal to the casual nature buff and may, at times, offend those who do not share my philosophy.  While I respect the beliefs of others (if not imposed on the rest of society and of no threat to the welfare of our natural environment) I express my own ideas with the hope that readers might at least consider a naturalist's point of view.  In the end, my primary goals are to encourage intellectual honesty and to inspire readers to devote themselves to protecting our natural heritage.

I am thus grateful to those who regularly peruse this blog and I am pleased to know that an increasing segment  of human society shares my enthusiasm for the magnificent diversity and complexity of nature; we are, after all, an integral part of her realm.  Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Bald Eagles at Swan Lake

Driving north to find snow geese, which had eluded me this autumn, I headed to Swan Lake National Wildlife Refuge, in north-central Missouri, this morning.  While most of the refuge is closed to the public through much of the fall and winter, significant observations are often made from its periphery and access to its northwest corner is maintained throughout the year.  My journey was immediately rewarded by several flocks of snow geese that meandered above the north edge of the refuge but it would be bald eagles that provided the highlight of this visit.

Entering the refuge along the west side of Swan Lake, I observed 60 bald eagles roosting in trees along the lake's north shore; another 20 circled overhead and additional groups could be seen in the distance, soaring above the refuge.  I counted at least 100 bald eagles within ten minutes of entering the preserve, the largest concentration that I have observed in my 35 years of birding.

In fact, Missouri hosts one of the largest populations of wintering bald eagles in the lower 48 States; according to the Missouri Department of Natural Resources, more that 2600 wintered in the State last year.  Though a significant number now breed in Missouri, the annual population peaks from mid December to early March as lakes freeze across Canada and these fish-loving raptors move to warmer climes.  In Missouri, bald eagles are best observed along the Missouri and Mississippi River Valleys but are also common at Swan Lake NWR, on Mark Twain Lake in northeast Missouri and on the "Great Lakes" of southwest Missouri; to date (per the MDNR), the largest number observed at any given location is 400 at Squaw Creek NWR, on the Missouri River floodplain, north of St. Joseph.

Economic Fairness

Within the past 24 hours, Pope Francis has denounced the tyranny of capitalism and the New York Times reported that a conservative activist wants to raise the minimum wage in California, arguing that it will actually save money by reducing expenditures for welfare programs.  While I rarely agree with the Catholic Church or with Conservative Republicans, both address a crisis that is festering in America.

While the stock market continues to set new highs and upscale retailers enjoy record profits, nearly half of our population is struggling to make ends meet.  Unemployment remains unacceptably high, the middle class is evaporating and an increasing number of families are relying on some form of public assistance.  Yet, our dysfunctional Congress is incapable of addressing the income disparity that threatens our democracy and corporate leaders argue that raising the minimum wage will reduce profits and force them to slash jobs; of course, a decision to shift some income from executives to workers would have no effect on their bottom line.

Meanwhile, the bonus checks of Wall Street tycoons exceed the annual income of most American families and the obscene social divide continues to expand.  Banking on our entrenched political and economic institutions to protect their extravagant lifestyle, the wealthy ignore their dependence on working class citizens.  Contrary to that blissful perception, America is not immune to social revolution.

Travels with Boreas

Winter Storm Boreas, so named by the Weather Channel, is the product of atmospheric low pressure interacting with a deep trough of Arctic air.  Late last week, as the Arctic front was plunging southward across the Rocky Mountains and Great Plains, a center of low pressure had developed over the Desert Southwest.  Since, in the Northern Hemisphere, winds move counterclockwise around a low, this storm swept Pacific moisture northward; forced to rise above the dense Arctic air, the humid flow dropped heavy snow across the Colorado Plateau and southern Rockies.

Over the weekend, as it moved eastward below the Arctic cold front, Boreas drew in moisture from the Gulf of Mexico, producing bands of snow, sleet, freezing rain and thunderstorms across the Southern Plains; as of this evening, the storm is centered off the northern Gulf Coast, poised to move up the Atlantic Seaboard.  At present, the Arctic front has stalled along the Appalachian Chain; as Boreas moves NNE, it will pull in Atlantic moisture, drenching areas east of the front with heavy rain and dumping snow or icy precipitation across the Appalachians and interior New England.

A battle between high pressure off the Atlantic Coast and high pressure behind the cold front will determine where the freeze line sets up in the Northeast.  As of now, the major urban corridor (from Washington to Boston) is expected to be in the warmer rain zone; should the front shift eastward, however, Boreas might produce windblown snow or freezing rain across that Metroplex, creating havoc for Thanksgiving Holiday travelers.  By late in the week, the storm is forecast to move into the Canadian Maritimes, completing its broad sweep along the edge of our Continent.

Magpie Mafia

On my last day in Colorado, as Arctic air enveloped the Front Range and snow began to coat our Littleton farm, a flock of black-billed magpies arrived to scour the trees, shrubs and pastures for anything edible.  Members of the crow family, these large, flashy omnivores are noisy and aggressive; while individuals may be vulnerable to hawks and other predators, magpie flocks are carefree and defiant.

Spotting our backyard feeder, several members of the gang alighted beneath it to search the ground for fallen seed.  They were soon joined by fifteen other magpies, nudging each other to get at the handouts.  Though a certain hierarchy was evident, they seemed to tolerate one another's company; after all, such flocks form as both a means of self defense and to increase their success at finding food.  For once, the fox squirrels deferred to avian visitors, circling at a distance to await their opportunity.

Like most birds, magpies are less gregarious during the warmer months and many move into higher terrain to raise their families.  Come fall, they gather in family-based clans, roaming the piedmont and foothills to feast on a wide variety of natural and human-produced foods.  Though despised by some farmers and gardeners, these flamboyant birds consume many destructive insects and rodents; they are both vital members of western ecosystems and conspicuous symbols of their open landscapes.