September 2019 – Stone Fig

Sweeping the Sky

This morning was a wonderful Fall morning. It was clear. It was cool. As the sun came up it burnished the tops of the trees down in the woods. Some high, thin clouds were out to greet the sun. And as they passed overhead they were swept by the top most branches on the sun-lit trees.

At least it appeared that way.

But these trees did not touch the clouds. As the clouds drifted by they only appeared to be swept by the upper branches. However, this is not always the case. On mornings when the day is foggy, the clouds can engulf and move through the trees, and the trees clear out lines in the fog.

But today it appeared that the trees might be touching the clouds. Yet this was only my perspective. In reality, the trees did not touch the clouds. They touched the sky.

The real effect of the trees extends way beyond their height.

The leaves on the trees are the main component in clearing the atmosphere of carbon dioxide (CO2). The leaves absorb the CO2 and use it in the photosynthesis process. Photosynthesis, roughly translated, means, made from light. The light provides the energy of the sun to the trees. The trees use the energy from the sun to change CO2, absorbed from the air, into glucose (C6H12O6) for the tree’s metabolism. Through photosynthesis the tree manufactures C6H12O6 to enhance its own growth. This process uses water (H2O) drawn up from the soil in which the trees roots are bound. From the process glucose is produced, as well as oxygen (O2). But more O2 is produced than the tree requires of its own use. The excess O2 is released back into the atmosphere. There the oxygen is available for our use with every breath we take, and for all other creatures. It is not only the trees that carry out photosynthesis but all plants with chlorophyll use this process to enhance their growth. And thereby they all release the excess O2 into the atmosphere.

The basic chemical reaction that takes place using the energy from the sun is shown as follows;

This is the respiration of trees. Through this process we are supplied with the oxygen that we need for life, to run our own metabolism, and by which we grow and succeed. This is true for birds, for creatures in the trees and creatures on the ground, and for fish in the sea. The trees support us all.

The pumping of O2 into the atmosphere can be seen on the Keeling Curve (see article dated 02/15/2019, the Keeling Curve). The level of CO2 is measured and shown on the curve as a saw tooth edge. The rise and fall of this saw toothed edge come about as the leaves on the trees open in the Spring, and the CO2 falls. Then when the leaves fall from the trees in Autumn, the CO2 rises.

The trees sweep up CO2 from our atmosphere and replace it with oxygen, O2.

The trees hold our atmosphere in place. They are “sky anchors” which bind the chemical makeup of the atmosphere close to the earth where we can all use it. We must treasure our trees and protect them.

However, as the world population soars, more land for farming is required, for both subsistence farming and large scale farming. The land is also required for living space. As whole forests are cut down and burned, each of us needs to work to replace the trees. The Nature Conservancy is leading a campaign called “Plant a Billion Trees”, https://www.nature.org/en-us/get-involved/how-to-help/plant-a-billion/. Its goal is to stimulate reforestation. Large scale efforts like this and even individuals planting trees in their garden can ensure clean air for all of us. The trees are “sky anchors” that can hold the sky in place.

Starling Starlings

Fall is almost upon us. The leaves on the mid-Atlantic are beginning to change. They are taking on their yellow and russet colors. When the morning sun first hits the tops of the trees they look like gold.

We are having our first string of cool mornings. Its great to sit outside and listen to the day start. The birds are singing and welcoming the sun. The chipmunks are running under foot with more stores for their winter larder. The last of the hummingbirds are still around although we are not putting out nectar for them any longer. I have seen two hummingbirds in the last two days. They stop and look at me in my chair before they fly on. They need to move on south. Its going to be cold here this winter.

But the greatest shows of the Fall are going to be the Starlings and Cowbirds as they come together in massive flocks that will lift off and swirl and pirouette in the sky forming fantastic images of depth and shadow. I will see some of these when I go out to the countryside and hike the trails that look across fields and are bordered by trees where the birds perch in the evenings.

Over the last few mornings I have watched Starlings gather in the treetops of the nearby woods. The fly in in small groups of five to twelve birds. They gather and squawk and chirp as more groups come in. A small group may lift off but they settle back when the entire group does not rise with them. The first day I saw them, it was a small group of less than 50 birds. The next day there were upwards of 300 birds, and the day after that there were at least 2,000 birds. When they rose in the air the sound of their wings drowned out the traffic from the nearby roads. They would swirl once or twice with the thicker portions of the flock becoming darker with the greater mass of birds. But the depth and shadow would shift and rotate as the birds lifted and eventually flew off to the south east.

These birds are not native to North America. They were first imported in 1890 and sixty birds were released into Central Park in New York City. Why? Supposedly because they are mentioned in Shakespeare. But their mention is not a pleasant one nor for beauty or pleasure. In Henry IV, Part I, Act I, Scene III, Hotspur, who is in rebellion against the king, fantasies of teaching a Starling to say the name of the king’s enemy, Mortimer. Hotspur will give the bird to the king in whose court the bird will continually speak the name of Mortimer, and the bird’s utterances will “keep his [the kings] anger still in motion.”

The birds released in 1890 in New York City survived the winter and began to flourish. Now, nearly one hundred and twenty years later, The Starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) have become widespread across North America. They number into the hundreds of millions.

The clouds of birds that wheel in their flocks, are known as murmurations. From a distance, they may be amazing. But up close these large groups of birds create a hazard. They are noisy. The ground below their night perches become fouled with their droppings. Clouds of these birds have caused planes to crash. They can devastate crops in the field. A US Department of Agriculture article stated that in 2000, the damage by Starlings to agricultural crops was estimated at $800 million. And millions more have been spent on trying to chase the birds away from airports, from significant buildings, and neighborhoods. The birds are an invasive species. They are truly pests.

Yet when I watch my few Starlings in these Fall mornings, I am amazed at their flocking and flight.

But I watch them closely to make sure that they are not taking up evening residence.

Other articles on Starlings may be found in the New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/1990/09/01/opinion/100-years-of-the-starling.html

and in the Smithsonian magazine, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/the-invasive-species-we-can-blame-on-shakespeare-95506437/.

The USDA article may be found at https://www.aphis.usda.gov/wildlife_damage/nwrc/publications/07pubs/linz076.pdf.

Road Side Apollo 8

When I have a chance to drive across country I look for new roads and new sights. That’s part of the fun of traveling, to see and learn about new places and ideas. But I also look for remembered sites, places I have seen before and remember with enthusiasm.

On a recent trip into the mid-west, I drove across Ohio on Interstate 70. Not always the best way to see the country, but I was in a hurry to get back home. While I was on the road I looked for a remembered place. I would often drive that road in the 1970s. I had favorite places along that route that I liked to see. There was a campground outside of Indianapolis, where I could stop and pitch my tent and spend the night. I often stopped there back in those days, nearly 50 years ago. I looked for it on this trip and may have seen it on the south side of the road. But now it was more modern, and there were more recreational vehicles than there were sites for tents or small trailers.

The other place I looked for along that road was a barn. It was an old barn even 50 years ago. I would see it whenever I drove back and forth to Chicago. This barn stood out from the others I would see along that rural route. It was not big, but it had a mural painted on the side that faced the road. The barn was less than 500 yards from the road and was well cared for as were the house next to it and the fields surrounding it. What made this barn stand out was the mural of the Earth rising over a lunar landscape, as seen during Apollo 8’s 1968 orbit across the far side of the moon.

At the time it was a very famous picture. Its image or images based on it could be seen in many places. People were fascinated by it. It was views like this that caused the popularization of the phrase ”big blue marble” as that was what the earth looked like from space. It was also pictures like this that tugged at the American consciousness, and perhaps the international consciousness, of how beautiful, and yet how fragile, our home, Earth, actually might be. These were the early days of the environmental movement. The government of the United States worked with the people of the United States to pass legislation to improve and protect the environment in which we all live. The Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, the Endangered Species Act, the Marine Mammal Protection Act, and the National Environmental Policy Act were all enacted in the 1970s. The people wanted these laws enacted to improve and protect the environment and human health, and the government responded.

When I would see that barn, well into the 1970s, I would feel pride in our accomplishments in space and in protection of the environment. And I knew that the people who had painted this mural on their barn felt a similar pride. We accomplished a great deal in the 1970s and into the 1980s. The environment is now cleaner. Pollution is now less. And yes, yards and roadsides and the air and water are now cleaner than they had been in the 1950s and 1960s, because of environmental action. It was a great time in which improvements were everywhere. And it still a great time, and the potential to change and improve continuous all around us. It is on our curb, in our front yard, in our town, in our nation, and in the international community at large. But each of us must still act to protect it! It is our responsibility.

On this recent trip. I did not see the barn with its iconic “Earth-rise”. I may have been removed or it might have collapsed due to age. It might be a parking lot now. But the image with always be with us. That picture of our fragile home hung in the blackness of space can always remind us of the necessity to keep it clean and to improve it for its growing population.

Thank you to whoever you were that painted that mural. Perhaps I will see another on my next cross country trip.

Hotel Flower

I have been away from my keyboard, but I am back now. An unexpected emergency caused me to have to travel out of state.

Picture yourself on a journey, you are walking down an unfamiliar sidewalk in a familiar – but unfamiliar – part of a town. But it is an area that you used to know so well. It has changed. Everyone you see is a stranger, and who knows, perhaps a potential danger. But they don’t seem to be paying attention to you as you walk down this unfamiliar sidewalk. You are no longer a citizen and neighbor; you are now a visitor within their gates. You are an outsider. What do they think of your being here?.

You furtively glance around to see if there is danger from any side. You can feel eyes looking in your direction. Some are actually watching you walk down the sidewalk. It’s like being in the woods, and knowing something, perhaps a deer or rabbit, perhaps a wolf or bear, is watching you pass through their territory.

You feel a cool breeze – and suddenly something catches your eye. It is movement on your right, a flash of white. You turn towards it.

Being in an unfamiliar place can be scary. And among the things we might look for as we glance around is an exit, or maybe a friendly gesture. We look for something familiar. We look for something that might give us a moments peace. We seek for reassurance that we are not in danger.

On my recent trip this is what I felt. And on one afternoon when I came back from a day of hard work, I saw this flash of white, and when I looked at it I saw the familiar. It was a flower waving in the sunshine. It was among in the plantings in front of the hotel entrance.

I was not in my garden. I was in a different place. I felt alone, but I was not alone. I was surrounded by millions of people in the home of the tallest building in the United States.

I am back in Chicago. The lake is close. The grand parks are nearby. The forest preserves are a short trip to the west. But here in this place is steel rising above asphalt streets that lie above subway trains and utility pipes. The steel and stone of the buildings rise to staggering heights. And here in their shadow and the heat of the afternoon streets is a flower bed with blooms of late summer.

They are Autumn clematis (Clematis ternifolia). They are blossoming after others of the clematis family have faded from their spring time glory. These hardy flowering plants brightens a late summer day with their massed blooms waving above their planted bed in a breeze from the lake.

I stop and gaze at the massed blossoms in the planted bed. Just the sight of them carries me to cool, dark woods far from the city.

But I hear something behind me.

Someone has said hell-o. And I turn and respond with a thankful smile, and a hell-o.