There are now thousands of nature blogs online and most celebrate the beauty and grandeur of nature by offering a mix of photos, essays, poems and links. After all, our primary purpose is to instill our passion in others and, by doing so, to encourage support for conservation efforts across this magnificent planet.
But our message would be incomplete without calling attention to the forces that denigrate or directly oppose the conservation movement. Most obvious are the industries that fail to address their impact on our natural environment; rampant development, pollution and excessive consumption all take toll. In like manner, political powerbrokers, subject to the influence of agricultural and industrial lobbyists, often fail to enact regulations that would serve to protect our environment. Finally, religious organizations, by drawing a distinction between man and nature, foster a simplistic, human-centered view of our Universe which, in effect, tends to minimize our dependence on natural ecosystems.
To profess an interest in nature without speaking out against those who threaten her welfare is an empty gesture. As the most intelligent and, collectively, the most powerful species on this planet, we are obliged to protect the complex web of life that has led to our existence. If we fail to defend nature, our species may be one of the first to suffer the consequences; indeed, the natural ecosystems of this planet would manage just fine without us.
Friday, 30 July 2010
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
The Peak of Summer
A month past the solstice, the days are noticeably shorter but the summer heat is peaking; indeed, here in the Midwest, average daily highs peak in late July and early August as the relentless sun brings soil and surface water temperatures to their annual maximum. In most years, the shift from spring moisture to autumn dryness has begun, vegetation growth grinds to a halt and insects rule the land.
Retreating from the mid day heat, mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians assume a crepuscular lifestyle, limiting most of their activity to the morning and evening hours. Birdsong has nearly vanished, represented primarily by the predawn chorus of robins, the busy tune of chickadees and the occasional ringing song of a Carolina wren; in its place a buzz of insects greets the dawn, the rising call of cicadas fills the late afternoon and a symphony of fiddlers tune up during the evening hours.
If we can endure a few more weeks in this steamy oven, the longer nights will begin to have an effect and the first signs of autumn will appear across the landscape. While summer heat may sound inviting in the midst of a dark, cold, winter, the opposite is also true; a good snowstorm sounds wonderful about now.
Retreating from the mid day heat, mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians assume a crepuscular lifestyle, limiting most of their activity to the morning and evening hours. Birdsong has nearly vanished, represented primarily by the predawn chorus of robins, the busy tune of chickadees and the occasional ringing song of a Carolina wren; in its place a buzz of insects greets the dawn, the rising call of cicadas fills the late afternoon and a symphony of fiddlers tune up during the evening hours.
If we can endure a few more weeks in this steamy oven, the longer nights will begin to have an effect and the first signs of autumn will appear across the landscape. While summer heat may sound inviting in the midst of a dark, cold, winter, the opposite is also true; a good snowstorm sounds wonderful about now.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Dragonfly Heaven
Recent, severe thunderstorms have trimmed a number of our trees, not exactly in the manner that I would have preferred. Nevertheless, we cleared the limbs from our property and I hauled them to our local recycling center, where "yard waste" is converted to mulch. Needless to say, the storms have contributed a great deal of material to that giant brush pile and, combined with the ongoing heat and humidity, that massive heap of rotting plantlife has become an insect factory.
While those prolific creatures were too small to see from the base of the brush pile, their presence was reflected by a huge swarm of dragonflies that patrolled the summit of this man-made ridge. These aerial hunters feast on all varieties of insect life, catching their prey in mid air or snatching victims from the surface of the pile; no need to scout the nearby fields and wetlands when humans have provided such a concentrated source of prey.
Having evolved in the vast swamplands of the Carboniferous Period, some 300 million years ago, dragonflies have adapted to a wide diversity of habitats, though nearby lakes and ponds are essential for reproduction. Indeed, the backyard brushpile is often a good place to observe these hunters at close range; they and their dainty cousins, the damselflies, often perch on the dead branches, awaiting the arrival of unwary flies and beetles.
While those prolific creatures were too small to see from the base of the brush pile, their presence was reflected by a huge swarm of dragonflies that patrolled the summit of this man-made ridge. These aerial hunters feast on all varieties of insect life, catching their prey in mid air or snatching victims from the surface of the pile; no need to scout the nearby fields and wetlands when humans have provided such a concentrated source of prey.
Having evolved in the vast swamplands of the Carboniferous Period, some 300 million years ago, dragonflies have adapted to a wide diversity of habitats, though nearby lakes and ponds are essential for reproduction. Indeed, the backyard brushpile is often a good place to observe these hunters at close range; they and their dainty cousins, the damselflies, often perch on the dead branches, awaiting the arrival of unwary flies and beetles.
Monday, 26 July 2010
The Energetic Gnatcatcher
Common summer residents across the southern, central and northeastern U.S., blue-gray gnatcatchers are often overlooked for several reasons. These small, slender insectivores usually feed high in the tree canopy, where they flit about in pursuit of their quarry; even when they descend to lower branches or hunt through shrubs and thickets, their extremely active feeding style makes them difficult to observe.
Experienced birders recognize them by their distinctive shape and rapid movements, often catching sight of their twitching tail with its white outer feathers. Should they stop for a second or two, one might also see their white eye ring and blue-gray back; their thin bill and cocked tail (similar to wrens) also aid identification. But, of all the small insectivores, including warblers, kinglets, flycatchers and wrens, these gnatcatchers are perhaps the most energetic feeders.
Arriving in the Midwest by late April, blue-gray gnatcatchers build a cup-shaped nest on a horizontal branch, often high in the tree. They use soft plant material and spider silk to line the nest and, like hummingbirds, adorn its surface with flakes of lichen. By late September, most have departed for the Gulf Coast or Central America, staying ahead of the autumn chill that might destroy their prey.
Experienced birders recognize them by their distinctive shape and rapid movements, often catching sight of their twitching tail with its white outer feathers. Should they stop for a second or two, one might also see their white eye ring and blue-gray back; their thin bill and cocked tail (similar to wrens) also aid identification. But, of all the small insectivores, including warblers, kinglets, flycatchers and wrens, these gnatcatchers are perhaps the most energetic feeders.
Arriving in the Midwest by late April, blue-gray gnatcatchers build a cup-shaped nest on a horizontal branch, often high in the tree. They use soft plant material and spider silk to line the nest and, like hummingbirds, adorn its surface with flakes of lichen. By late September, most have departed for the Gulf Coast or Central America, staying ahead of the autumn chill that might destroy their prey.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
A Verdant July
Though August is only a week away, it looks like May in the American Heartland. After weeks of hot, humid weather and regular, torrential rains, lush greenery still dominates the landscape, an unusual sight for late July. Vines have assaulted the fences and shrubbery and now adorn the sides of our deck. Our lawnmower, often nearly idle by August, is still getting a weekly workout since the grass, usually dry and yellowing by this date, is as thick and vigorous as it was in the spring.
This morning, a trip to our local wetland preserve highlighted the effects of our tropical weather. Summer wildflowers, which carpet the central prairie, were lost in a sea of tall, lush grass and the dense greenery of shrubs and trees narrowed the vista at every turn. Green frogs and bullfrogs croaked from the vast shallows of the seasonal lake which, by late July, is usually flanked by broad mudflats. Only patches of hazy, blue sky and the bright flashes of goldfinches, cardinals and indigo buntings provided contrast with the sea of green.
Whether August will extend this unseasonable verdancy or accelerate the transition toward autumn is anyone's guess but the jet stream seems to have settled over the Midwest for now. Until it moves on, we can expect more of the same: hot, humid air, frequent heavy rains and unbridled vegetation.
This morning, a trip to our local wetland preserve highlighted the effects of our tropical weather. Summer wildflowers, which carpet the central prairie, were lost in a sea of tall, lush grass and the dense greenery of shrubs and trees narrowed the vista at every turn. Green frogs and bullfrogs croaked from the vast shallows of the seasonal lake which, by late July, is usually flanked by broad mudflats. Only patches of hazy, blue sky and the bright flashes of goldfinches, cardinals and indigo buntings provided contrast with the sea of green.
Whether August will extend this unseasonable verdancy or accelerate the transition toward autumn is anyone's guess but the jet stream seems to have settled over the Midwest for now. Until it moves on, we can expect more of the same: hot, humid air, frequent heavy rains and unbridled vegetation.
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Wrong Place, Right Time
After enduring a dud of a season in 2009, the hurricane stuntmen from the Weather Channel and other major networks were looking forward to this summer; after all, the annual guess from Colorado State and the slightly more reliable forecast from the National Hurricane Center predicted a busy tropical season. So, when Alex threatened the southern Texas coast last month, hordes of these celebrities descended on the region, taking up positions in Brownsville and on South Padre Island. Alas, almost all of the impact was felt in the highlands of Mexico and across the Rio Grande Valley.
This weekend, with Tropical Storm Bonnie pushing across Florida and heading for the oil slick off Louisiana's Coast, the Weather Channel had its fleet of daredevils spaced along the beaches of the Gulf Coast, ready to document a potential disaster. Their timing was perfect but, unfortunately, their location was off by hundreds of miles; today's true weather disaster occurred in Metro Chicago, where 10-12 inches of rain triggered catastrophic flooding. Of course, tropical storms are more exciting than urban floods and any celebrity worth his salt would rather report from a barrier island than from the edge of an Interstate. But, in the end, Bonnie fizzled and the weather celebrities were forced to comment on breezy conditions and scattered showers.
As one who also practices an inexact science, I have sympathy for meteorologists who, despite satellites and advanced ground technology, still have trouble with forecasts beyond 12-24 hours. But I must admit to being entertained by their efforts to embellish the effects of weakening storms; had they been in Chicago, they would have had plenty of rain to stand in. I'm sure, for them, Tropical Storm Colin can't develop soon enough!
This weekend, with Tropical Storm Bonnie pushing across Florida and heading for the oil slick off Louisiana's Coast, the Weather Channel had its fleet of daredevils spaced along the beaches of the Gulf Coast, ready to document a potential disaster. Their timing was perfect but, unfortunately, their location was off by hundreds of miles; today's true weather disaster occurred in Metro Chicago, where 10-12 inches of rain triggered catastrophic flooding. Of course, tropical storms are more exciting than urban floods and any celebrity worth his salt would rather report from a barrier island than from the edge of an Interstate. But, in the end, Bonnie fizzled and the weather celebrities were forced to comment on breezy conditions and scattered showers.
As one who also practices an inexact science, I have sympathy for meteorologists who, despite satellites and advanced ground technology, still have trouble with forecasts beyond 12-24 hours. But I must admit to being entertained by their efforts to embellish the effects of weakening storms; had they been in Chicago, they would have had plenty of rain to stand in. I'm sure, for them, Tropical Storm Colin can't develop soon enough!
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Roadside Nature Preserves
This summer, many Americans will drive hundreds of miles to visit our National Parks or National Wildlife Refuges with the hope of seeing a variety of wildlife. While such trips are encouraged and certainly memorable, we often overlook the unofficial nature preserves that line our country roads and byways.
Most avid birders and naturalists know these spots; even locals, many of whom could not tell a sparrow from an oriole, can report where they've seen large gatherings of birds. On Longboat Key, for instance, a barrier island with miles of pristine beaches and mangrove swamps, the best place to find roseate spoonbills, wood storks and anhingas is on a few golf course ponds and waterways that parallel the main roadway. In eastern Colorado, I know of a flooded grassland, grazed by cattle, that often hosts a greater variety of migrant water birds than one encounters at nearby Barr Lake State Park, the State's mecca for birdwatchers. Many birders have their favorite local haunts, perhaps an isolated grove of trees that fills with migrant warblers or a secluded wetland that teems with life during the warmer months.
We often assume that wildlife has the same attraction to scenic vistas and majestic landscapes that we do and are sometimes disappointed to find them foraging in roadside canals or trashy urban lots. But, driven by instinct, they are focused on their personal needs and on the propagation of their species. While we must protect wilderness and unspoiled ecosystems across this globe to ensure a healthy diversity of flora and fauna, some creatures will happily settle for locations that may not appeal to the human eye.
Most avid birders and naturalists know these spots; even locals, many of whom could not tell a sparrow from an oriole, can report where they've seen large gatherings of birds. On Longboat Key, for instance, a barrier island with miles of pristine beaches and mangrove swamps, the best place to find roseate spoonbills, wood storks and anhingas is on a few golf course ponds and waterways that parallel the main roadway. In eastern Colorado, I know of a flooded grassland, grazed by cattle, that often hosts a greater variety of migrant water birds than one encounters at nearby Barr Lake State Park, the State's mecca for birdwatchers. Many birders have their favorite local haunts, perhaps an isolated grove of trees that fills with migrant warblers or a secluded wetland that teems with life during the warmer months.
We often assume that wildlife has the same attraction to scenic vistas and majestic landscapes that we do and are sometimes disappointed to find them foraging in roadside canals or trashy urban lots. But, driven by instinct, they are focused on their personal needs and on the propagation of their species. While we must protect wilderness and unspoiled ecosystems across this globe to ensure a healthy diversity of flora and fauna, some creatures will happily settle for locations that may not appeal to the human eye.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Storm Track
Checking the national radar last evening, one saw pockets of thunderstorms stretching from the Southern Rockies to the Mid Atlantic States. Aligned along a stationary front, these disturbances were moving west to east and, over the past several days, have been impacting the same areas. Since the front marks the southern edge of a broad jet stream trough, the storm waves are energized by strong, upper level winds, increasing their intensity; severe thunderstorms, torrential rains and embedded tornadoes have thus accompanied these disturbances.
As the storms move eastward, they are fed by warm, humid air south of the front and, since they "train" across the same path, flooding has been widespread, especially east of the Mississippi Valley. While monsoon rains are common in the Southwest from mid to late summer, the current jet stream pattern is more typical of late spring; by July, the jet has usually retreated to the north, leaving much of the U.S. in the summer doldrums, relying on "pop-up" thunderstorms to provide relief from the intense heat.
It's safe to say that this storm track will abate when the jet stream moves back toward Canada and hot, humid air moves up from the south; to expect that the jet might move further south, giving the Midwest a cool, sunny August is just wishful thinking. That scenario must wait until October.
As the storms move eastward, they are fed by warm, humid air south of the front and, since they "train" across the same path, flooding has been widespread, especially east of the Mississippi Valley. While monsoon rains are common in the Southwest from mid to late summer, the current jet stream pattern is more typical of late spring; by July, the jet has usually retreated to the north, leaving much of the U.S. in the summer doldrums, relying on "pop-up" thunderstorms to provide relief from the intense heat.
It's safe to say that this storm track will abate when the jet stream moves back toward Canada and hot, humid air moves up from the south; to expect that the jet might move further south, giving the Midwest a cool, sunny August is just wishful thinking. That scenario must wait until October.