A Stranded Duckling

Over the past two decades, I have made hundreds of visits to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, in Central Missouri, and have never failed to be inspired by its beautiful landscape and superb diversity of wildlife.  But nature offers both beauty and tragedy and, this morning, I was dismayed to observe a stranded duckling, swimming along the marshy edge of a floodplain pool.

The young wood duck may have prematurely left its nest box; however, he appeared well-developed and his siblings would surely have followed.  Perhaps he became separated from his mother and her brood but wood duck moms are very attentive.  This leaves the possibility that his mother was killed and that he is the sole survivor of her brood, the others picked off by water snakes, snapping turtles, great blue herons, mink, coyotes or bald eagles.

Few animals are as cute as a duckling and many humans would be inclined to rescue this youngster.  Naturalists, however, understand that it is best to minimize our impact on nature and that her cycle of life includes the death of young creatures.  A stranded duckling, sure to die without the guidance of his mother, is vital to this fabulous ecosystem, as important as the majestic eagles that survey its realm.

The Asian Carp Invasion

On my walks around Landen Lake this week (a small suburban lake north of Cincinnati), I have been repeatedly reminded that the Asian carp invasion is a significant problem throughout the Mississippi River watershed.  Introduced in the 1970s to control aquatic vegetation and to filter sewage water, they escaped containment areas during floods and have spread throughout most of the U.S.  Favoring shallow, sluggish waters, they often attract our attention as they thrash about, their dorsal and tail fins breaking the surface.

Represented by four species (grass, black, silver and bighead carp) these large fish are very prolific and soon dominate the aquatic ecosystems that they colonize; black carp, which feed on mollusks, threaten native snail, mussel and clam populations while the others reduce the availability of plankton and vegetation vital to native fish, amphibians and aquatic reptiles.  As video enthusiasts know, silver carp also pose a threat to boaters, jumping into the air (and into boats) in response to the sound of outboard motors.

Concerned that Asian carp will enter the Great Lakes and disrupt the ecology of their fisheries, efforts have been made to block carp migration along canals that connect those Lakes with streams of the Mississippi watershed; "electric fences" have been used with some success but carp also spread as eggs or fingerlings on boat hulls, via the use of live bait, during floods and perhaps even on the legs of wading birds.  Taking advantage of the carp bonanza, some companies are culling them to produce pet food or fertilizer; vultures also partake of the bounty, feasting on dead carp that were stranded by shrinking lakes or rivers.

Counting on the Coast

Today was designated Global Big Day by eBird, an effort to assess the health and diversity of avian populations across the planet.  Since we planned a morning visit to Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, just south of Fort Bragg, California, I decided to submit my observations from that location.

As we walked through the fabulous gardens, more birds were heard than seen but the wide diversity of foliage attracted an excellent variety of species; in addition, since the gardens extend to cliffs above the Pacific, a number of sea birds were observed.  Highlights of the morning count (which totaled 30 species) included pigeon guillemots, pelagic cormorants, Allen's hummingbird, olive-sided flycatchers, Steller's jays and a large number of white-crowned sparrows.  While my contribution to Global Big Day was modest, I was honored to participate and certainly enjoyed the experience.

South of the Gardens, we visited a magnificent sand dunes ecosystem at Manchester State Park and enjoyed a long, scenic hike to sea cliffs at Salt Point State Park.  Sea fog slowed our journey to Jenner where we turned inland, climbing along the beautiful Russian River; passing through the Coast Range, we escaped the fog and settled in a hotel room along Route 101.  Tomorrow we plan to visit the Point Reyes National Seashore before heading into San Francisco.

Humboldt the Ecologist

In the course of reading The Invention of Nature, by Andrea Wulf (see Getting to know Humboldt), I have come to learn the important role that Alexander von Humboldt played in the field of ecology, theretofore an unacknowledged science.  Famous for his intrepid exploration of the tropics in Venezuela and the Andes of Colombia and Peru, Humboldt's major gift to humanity may have been his insights regarding the unity of nature, the interdependence of ecosystems and the effects of human civilization on the health of our natural environment.

Energetic, enthusiastic and inquisitive, he made detailed records of his discoveries and, in the course of that process, took note of similar ecosystems across the globe, related by latitude and/or elevation.  Indeed, to my knowledge, he was the first explorer to develop the concept of life zones, thereby emphasizing the effects of climate on the resident plants and animals.  He also observed and reported on the negative effects that human societies have on the environment, including those produced by deforestation, stream diversion and over-hunting.

Completing his excursion through South and Central America just as Lewis and Clark were beginning their exploration of the American West, Humboldt clearly had far more interest in the ecology of the landscapes through which he traveled.  Based on my readings (see Up River with Lewis and Clark and subsequent posts), the famous American explorers were focused primarily on finding a route to the Pacific; while their description of the landscape and wildlife is fascinating and their journey was no less courageous, they made little reference to the natural science of Western ecosystems.

Getting to know Humboldt

As an enthusiastic naturalist for more than forty years, I have long been familiar with Alexander von Humboldt, a famous German naturalist (1769-1859) who is best known for his exploration of South America.  I have also been aware that a number of natural features, landscapes and species have been named in his honor; the cold Humboldt Current sweeps northward along the coasts of Chile and Peru, Humboldt penguins and Humboldt squid inhabit these rich ocean waters and, in my own country, Humboldt Peak, the Humboldt Range, the Humboldt River and the Humboldt Sink occupy northern Nevada.

My cursory knowledge of this renowned explorer and scientist will be greatly expanded over the next week or so as I read The Invention of Nature, by Andrea Wulf, a biography of Humboldt's life, travels, discoveries and philosophy.  Having read several positive reviews of this book, I purchased a copy with a gift card from my daughter and I look forward to the adventure ahead.

Indeed, fueled by our personal interests, we become generally familiar with individuals who laid the groundwork for the passion that we experience today; yet, until we take the time to fully explore their lives, we cannot fully appreciate their influence.  Beyond his courageous travels and meticulous documentation, Alexander von Humboldt extended the gift of his intellect and his naturalist philosophy, introducing mankind to the interdependence and interconnection of ecosystems across our planet.  More on the book's revelations in future posts.

Back to Wonderland

Since a limestone gorge in Cincinnati played a significant role in my development as a naturalist (see Wonderland), it seemed appropriate to take our grandsons to one in Columbia, Missouri, on this warm, February day.  After grandma packed a picnic lunch, we all headed down to the Gans Creek Wild Area, just east of Rock Bridge State Park.

Selecting a two mile loop in the southeast portion of the refuge, we hiked out to a chain of clifftop overlooks that offer spectacular views of the gorge.  We then descended to the creek where we enjoyed our lunch on the rocky stream bed and spent an hour searching for fossils, colorful stones and crawdads.  Finally coaxing them away from the creek, we began a long, winding ascent to the trailhead, passing a recessed cave, climbing along a side stream and then hiking through a mixed forest of oak and eastern cedar.  Of course, several rest stops were necessary along the way.

Enchanted with their exploration of the "river" and their "mountain climbing" to and from Gans Creek, the boys will surely remember their visit to the gorge.  Hopefully, this natural wonderland will have the same long-lasting effects on them that the Cincinnati gorge had on me, fifty five years ago.

A Walk through Elk Meadow

On this beautiful, warm February afternoon, I joined my daughter and her two bassets for a walk through Elk Meadow Open Space, just north of Evergreen, Colorado.  Stretching along the base of Bergen Peak, at an elevation of 7800 feet, the meadows and their groves of ponderosa pine attract wintering herds of elk.

This afternoon, birds were few and far between along our 3 mile circuit; a few Steller's jays and pygmy nuthatches were observed in the pines and a lone red-tailed hawk soared above the meadow.  However, we were treated to the presence of two elk herds, resting beneath pines at mid-day; elk graze primarily at dawn and dusk and are best observed during those periods.

Following their autumn rut, which peaks in early October, the bulls settle down and allow their harems to disperse.  Large mixed herds of male and female elk live in peaceful coexistence during the winter months, descending to lower elevations where snow cover is less of a problem.  As spring advances they reverse course, moving to higher and cooler terrain; females generally spend the warmer months on Subalpine meadows, where conditions are less harsh for their newborn calves, while males tend to move higher, often grazing on alpine tundra near timberline.

South Valley Park

A hogback of Cretaceous sandstone forms the eastern edge of the Colorado Front Range, rising sharply from the Piedmont.  Just west of this hogback is the Morrison Valley, underlaid with Jurassic shale; at its western edge is the Lyons Formation (Permian in age), a yellow-gray ridge of sandstone.  West of this ridge are the scenic red rocks, outcrops of salmon-colored Pennsylvanian sandstone known as the Fountain Formation.  Shrublands of Gambel's oak, junipers and yucca-studded meadows cover the lowlands between the rock ridges, spreading onto lower slopes of the Front Range foothills.

South Valley Park, part of Jefferson County's Open Space System, stretches north from Deer Creek Canyon to Ken-Caryl Ranch; the refuge provides access to the foothill shrubland ecosystem and offers spectacular views of both the rock formations mentioned above and the foothills to the west.  A combined loop using the Coyote Song and Swallow Trails, perhaps the most popular route in the Park, yields a hike of 2.7 miles; parking lots are located on Deer Creek Canyon Road and along South Valley Road (just south of Ken-Carly Ranch).  Permanent avian residents of South Valley Park include golden eagles, scrub jays, black-billed magpies, spotted towhees, canyon wrens and gray-headed juncos; among the summer residents are white-throated swifts, Say's phoebes, black-headed grosbeaks, lazuli buntings, green-tailed towhees, lesser goldfinches, rock wrens and Virginia's warblers while Townsend's solitaires, Steller's jays, northern shrikes, golden-crowned sparrows and rosy finches may visit during the colder months.  Mammalian residents include mule deer, red fox, coyotes, rock squirrels, and Colorado chipmunks; black bear and mountains lions are rarely encountered and herds of elk winter in the valley.

Today, thanks to the ongoing thaw, patches of slushy snow and sandy mud coated the trails but the mild air and clear skies made my hike especially pleasant.  Scrub jays, towhees and magpies provided a steady background chorus and small herds of mule deer browsed along the meadows.  Though I repeatedly scanned the foothill meadows, no elk were observed; an early morning or late day visit would have been more productive in this regard. 

Winter takes a Hit

Down at South Platte Park this morning, crunchy snow still covered the ground and a layer of ice coated the larger lakes.  Winter ducks congregated on the river and open pools; northern shovelers were most abundant, joined by buffleheads, common goldeneyes, lesser scaup, American coot, ring-necked ducks, common mergansers and a pair of redheads.

A great blue heron hunted in the shallows and red-winged blackbirds, sensing spring, called from the icy wetlands.  Red-tailed hawks and black-billed magpies basked in the bright Colorado sun while downy woodpeckers scoured dead limbs for hibernating insects.  Finally, a pair of belted kingfishers chattered above the river, seemingly in celebration of the mild, sunny weather.

Indeed, the extended forecast calls for highs in the fifties and sixties (F) over the next ten days, putting a significant dent in winter's handiwork.  Then again, March and April lie ahead, two of the snowiest months along the Colorado Front Range.

Introducing Grandkids to Eagles

Watching our grandsons for the day, we decided to coax them away from their cartoons and computer games by suggesting a visit to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area.  The promise of seeing bald eagles seemed to do the trick and we set off with our binos and field guide amidst an air of enthusiasm.

Arriving at the refuge on this cool, sunny morning, we were fortunate to spot an adult eagle within a few minutes, perched near its massive nest; the boys were thrilled by the encounter and they remained attentive for a half hour or so.  We saw mallards, Canada geese, American coot, great blue herons, ring-billed gulls, red-tailed hawks, white-tailed deer and several more eagles as we circled through the refuge but their interest rapidly waned.  Attempting to boost their enthusiasm, we stopped to skip pebbles across a frozen slough and to watch a freight train beyond the swift flowing Missouri.  Alas, reports of hunger and boredom shortened our visit.

Too young to fully appreciate the floodplain refuge, their focus had turned toward the digital entertainment awaiting at home.  But I have no doubt that they will remember our trip and will surely mention the eagles to their schoolmates and friends.  Hopefully, it will spawn requests to return to Eagle Bluffs in the months and years to come, gradually expanding their interest in the magnificent diversity that nature has to offer.

Canada's Missouri

The Missouri River of the U.S. rises along the Continental Divide in Montana and flows eastward across the Great Plains, receiving numerous tributaries along the way.  It eventually empties into the Mississippi, north of St. Louis, which drains southward to the Gulf of Mexico.  During the early European exploration of North America, the Missouri was an important route for traders and trappers; of course, it also provided navigation for the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

Farther north, in Canada, the Saskatchewan River mirrors the drainage of the Missouri.  Its North Fork rises in the Rockies southwest of Edmonton while its South Fork heads as the Bow River, west of Calgary.  After flowing through those respective cities, the primary forks cross the Central Plains of Canada and merge northeast of Saskatoon.  From there, the combined Saskatchewan River continues eastward until it enters remnants of Lake Agassiz (Cedar Lake and thence Lake Winnipeg).  The Nelson River drains Lake Winnipeg, flowing north and then northeast before entering Hudson Bay.

Like the Missouri, the Saskatchewan River, after dropping from the Rockies, once drained a vast prairie ecosystem, now converted to crop fields, ranchlands, towns and cities.  And, like the Missouri, it played a vital role in the exploration and settlement of North America.

Death of a Loon

Walking along the canal this morning, I found a dead common loon, bobbing behind a sailboat.  Its carcass appeared to be fresh and no injuries were evident.

Like many humans, he had come south to escape the snow and ice of our northern climes and to fish on the warm waters of Sarasota Bay; no doubt, he had made several journeys prior to his death.  Now, a thousand miles from his north country birthplace, his remains float in subtropical waters, soon to sink to the canal's muddy bottom.  There, crabs, fish and a host of marine invertebrates will strip away his flesh and his soft, avian bones will be scattered by the tidal current.

We humans, encountering such a victim, mourn his tragic death.  We grieve to find the lifeless body of such a romantic species so far from his boreal homeland.  But nature's cycle endures and, for many of us, the fate of this loon, to blend with the magnificent ecosystem of Sarasota Bay, is far more appealing than to be buried in a quilted box.

Nature Gifts for Children

In this digital era, when many children are reluctant to stray too far from their video screens, nature related gifts may entice them into the great outdoors.  Telescopes, binoculars, bird feeders (ignore my post on 12-2-15), field guides and snowshoes are just a few examples.

While it may be a challenge to compete with computer games and streaming movies, an enthused parent or grandparent can provide the mentorship to get children interested in rocks, plants, local wildlife or the night sky.  In many cases, that introduction will unleash their natural curiosity and allow their innate connection to nature to surface.  Unfortunately, that connection has been suppressed by a number of factors in our modern world (see: Children & Nature, a Lost Connection); hopefully, the right nature gift will ignite a deep-seated attraction to our natural environment.

Those of us who enjoy the many wonders of nature recall persons and incidents from our childhood that were instrumental in triggering that enthusiasm.  It is now imperative that we "pass it forward."  After all, the future welfare of Earth's ecosystems will depend on the commitment of today's children.

No Drone Zones

Advancing drone technology has led to the increasing use of these unmanned craft by the military, security agencies, agriculture, engineering firms and other industries.  Of course, they have also become very popular among want-to-be pilots.

This explosive growth of aerial drones has led to a variety of concerns, including infringement on privacy rights, augmentation of noise pollution and threats to public safety.  For those of us who relish the sanctuary of nature preserves, the prospect of drones zooming overhead is a development we prefer to avoid.

Hopefully, before the domain of drones begins to encroach on sensitive natural habitats, the Department of the Interior will forbid their use in Wilderness Areas, National Parks, National Wildlife Refuges and other fragile ecosystems.  After all, ATVs, snowmobiles and dirt bikes already disturb the tranquility and threaten the welfare of many State and National preserves.