Outdoors – Page 7

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.

Shadow of a Song –

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to drive across the country. I was going from the east coast to central New Mexico. I intended to take advantage of the time on the road and see as many sights as I could.

The trip was in the Spring. There is not a better time of year to travel. Its cooler, and we would not be running into the larger summer crowds. I have made the drive several times before, but by different routes. I always enjoy it. This is a beautiful country, full of beautiful people most of whom are happy to tell you the best place to eat, the best routes, and the sights in their state not to miss. When traveling, the old adage, “You can draw more flies with honey than with vinegar,” is excellent advice. People are friendly. And I believe they are more than willing to help someone who asks them a question. Especially about their hometown. It all has to do with Sense of Place. The people you meet are at home, and are generally proud of their home, and are happy to brag about it.

When I am traveling this far I like to stop and see the country, and what better places to go and see than our National Parks. We decided to first go to Arizona and see the Grand Canyon; we would circle back to New Mexico. I had been to the Grand Canyon twice before, but it is always worth the trip. The first time I saw it was in 1971 on my way to California. but I drove past Winslow, Arizona without a thought (1). At that time, I had not heard of The Eagles or any of their music, so going past Winslow made no difference to me. I was heading to California for duty in the Navy.

However, during the early 1970s in southern California I heard numerous songs by the Eagles. They fit a shift I was making in what I listened to on the radio. So when I first heard the song “Take it Easy” (2) by The Eagles, like many people, I was hooked. It had a bit of a country feel to it, but I felt it to be more of a folk ballad of missed opportunity. And it fit my life.

When I drove back east from California in 1974, I went past Winslow again. But this time when I saw the sign for the turnoff, I started singing the song, but I zoomed past heading east on I-40. I would stop sometime in the future.

It would be 45 years before I came to Winslow again. In 2019, after seeing the Grand Canyon, we had turned around and were heading east to Albuquerque. The Grand Canyon had been a terrific extension of our trip (3).

This time I would go into Winslow and see what there was to see. Maybe I would find that corner and stop, and take it easy.

In 1999 the City of Winslow had selected the corner of Second St. & Kinsley Ave. as an appropriate place to erect a statue and to create a mural of the scene that reflects the story of the song. I was glad to see the statue and mural and to know that others had an attachment to the song and the story it told.

The morning was cool so after we visited the statue and mural we crossed the street for a cup of coffee and a sweet roll. When we came out we walked around for a while and then went past the statue on the corner on the way to our car.

I saw several people around the statue and the mural. I was happy to see others had come out to pay homage to their youth. We were grey beards all.

“Lighten up while you still can
Don’t even try to understand
Just find a place to make your stand
And take it easy.”

(1). I did stop at the Meteor Crater and then got back on the road heading west. I wrote about my experience in my post of 27 January 2019, “Meteor Crater”.

(2). Lyrics of “Take it Easy” may be found at, https://www.lyricsfreak.com/e/eagles/take+it+easy_20044576.html .

(3). You can read my post about that experience in my article of 18 March, “Grand Canyon – Sweet”.

The City has an annual festival centered on the song. Information about the festival may be found at; https://winslowarizona.org/event/annual-standin-on-the-corner-festival/ .

UPDate – Chang’e-4 slumbers

Its night time on the far side of the moon. On 11 July the China National Space Administration (CNSA) announced it had sent commands to its Chang’e-4 probe on the far side of the moon to go into its dormant state. The lander and the rover will both ‘sleep’ through the 14 day lunar night before they are sent commands to wake up and continue the mission. The lander and rover require sunlight to charge their electrical systems and so can only operate during the moon’s daytime. For the moon to completely rotate on its axis and the sunlight to return, takes approximately 29 days. The nighttime, when there is no sun, and the daytime, when the sun’s light reaches the surface of the far side of the moon, are both approximately 14.5 days. The progress of the lunar days across the surface of the moon can be easily seen from Earth in the changes phases of the moon.

However, as explained in the CNSA 11 July report, “As a result of the tidal locking effect [between the Earth and the Moon], the moon’s revolution cycle is the same as its rotation cycle, and the same side always faces Earth.”

This synchronicity has historically caused the far-side of the moon to remain unseen and a mystery (1). That is until the early days of humanity’s first tentative steps into space. In October 1959 a lunar probe, Luna 3, launched by the Soviet Union, sent back pictures of the far side of the moon. The first humans to see the far side of the moon were the American astronauts in Apollo 8 as they orbited the moon (10 times) in December 1968.

There is still a great deal to discover about the moon, both on the far side and on the side that faces the earth. The return of the sun, and the return of the Chang’e-4 probe to its mission, may enable further discoveries and help humanity to heighten the potential of humanity’s return to the moon – and to go beyond.

The pictures at the top include (upper) a picture from the current Chinese mission on the moon, and two pictures (lower) from Apollo 8.

The link to the Change-4 mission: http://www.cnsa.gov.cn/english/n6465719/c6806820/content.html

Apollo 8 mission: https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/missions/apollo-8/in-depth/

(1) Lil Wayne’s song “Dark Side of the Moon” – with Nicki Minaj – speaks to the mystery of the far side of the moon. – “On the dark side of the moon
I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting for you
On the dark side of the moon
And If you happen to get there before me
Leave a message in the dust just for me
If I don’t see it I’ll be waiting for you
On the dark side of the moon (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)” (Lyrics copied from https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lilwayne/darksideofthemoon.html .)

Long Range F.O.X.

Who is up for a nice long walk? How about a trek across 2,000 plus miles of frozen ice north of the Arctic Circle?

A young, female Artic Fox was ready for it, and so off she went. She walked (or picturing a fox, she trotted) from Norway’s Svalbard archipelago (well west of Norway in the Arctic Ocean.) to Ellesmere Island well to the east of mainland Canada. She had previously been fitted with a radio collar by the Norwegian Polar Institute and was tracked as she covered the 2,175 miles. The straight-line distance between the two points is 935 miles. So, it is evident that the fox wandered a bit on her path. Her path took her across the frozen Arctic Ocean and across, or if she stayed on the frozen sea ice (which I doubt) near to, the northern end of Greenland. According to The Guardian article in which I first read about the fox, she took 76 days to make the trek. That gives an average distance of 29 miles per day. The article also stated that she walked an astonishing 96 miles on one of those days. Why the burst of speed? Maybe she saw what she was following and wanted to get closer. Perhaps something was following her, and she wanted to get away.

What could have been the reason for such a walk? Its reason enough for me just to see what’s on the other side of the distant hills. But a walk of this distance is much, much further than I have ever walked. At one time I had entertained the idea of walking across the United States, but for numerous reasons that did not happen. However, I generally walk between 600 and 800 miles in a year. That may be no great distance compared to hikers and walkers of a higher order. But for me, each mile and each hour spent outside enjoying whatever weather the day grants me, is a delight. The enjoyment can be multiplied by the animals and other people I might meet on the trail.

Which reminds me of a verse from a great hiking song – The Happy Wanderer, or “I love to go a-wandering”.

“I wave my hat to all I meet
  And They wave back to me
     And blackbirds call so loud and sweet
        From ev’ry green wood tree”.

I wonder what the little fox met along her track. Were there other foxes? Perhaps she saw a polar bear, and perhaps the bear’s attention was why she put in the 96 mile day. Did she see a narwhale rising at its breathing hole, first its pike piercing the air and then its rounded form lifting high out of the water. Or perhaps she heard the singing of the Beluga whale.

When the fox started her trek in March 2018, her fur may have still been pure white. She blended in well with the ice and snow all around her. When she arrived in Ellesmere Island in July she was likely covered in her summer coat of brown. The Artic Fox changes color throughout the year in order to match the seasonal landscape of her environment. In Winter, she is white. In Summer, she is brown to dark brown to black. And in-between her fur is changing and has a grizzled appearance. This in-between “morph” is called Blue. So, often the Artic Fox is called the Blue Fox. Wikipedia has good article, titled Artic Fox. It describes her well, and has excellent pictures of the fox in its habitat and in its different colorations.

The little vixen’s trek across the Arctic Ocean was doubtlessly a grueling journey. I hope she found what she was looking for.

The Wikipedia article may be found at, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arctic_fox .

The full lyrics for The Happy Wanderer may be found at, https://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/frank_weir/the_happy_wanderer.html .

The map in the art work is from Google Earth. The dotted line between the starting point and the arrival point on Ellesmere Island indicates a supposed path in order to show the distance the fox trotted. The picture of the fox is taken from The Guardian, https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/technology/fantastic-arctic-fox-animal-walks-3500km-from-norway-to-canada/ar-AADJfsy?li=BBnbfcL&ocid=spartandhp .

Sorry – but there was an accident.

I have been away for a while, and I apologize for the lapse. However, I was in a car accident. As a result of my injuries, I have not been able to prepare articles for my blog. But now I’m back, and I am looking forward to writing and sharing posts on science and on being out of doors.

My recovery is progressing well, and I am often outside walking in the neighborhood or sitting in my yard enjoying the birds and the breezes.

Thank you for returning to Stonefig and checking for new articles. I intend to post a new article in the next day or so, and hopefully will be posting two or three articles a week as I had done before.

Enjoy being outside. And enjoy reading on the current trends in science.

Be careful on the road. I am fortunate and thankful that my town has excellent paramedics who were able to respond quickly and for the policeman who was first on the scene and performed life-saving CPR.

Three Haiku

Blushing red cardinal

In flight through the cherry tree.

Pink petals falling.

Pink swirl of blossoms.

Petals fallen in the dust,

Are now wind-lifted.

Life above the wind.

Three days of blossoming glory,

Snow melts on the ground.

Doggie, Doggie

Not everything outside is pleasant. Some of the unpleasant things are just nature’s way, like mosquitoes, angry wasps, and poison ivy. These can be often be avoided by an informed hiker who watches where they step and is careful in what they do.

But some unpleasantness on the trail is – well – caused by our fellow hikers.

It’s all about sharing the trail.

Today it often seems that sharing the trail is not just with fellow hikers but with their dogs as well.

Don’t get me wrong, I like dogs. I have lived with several at different times. They were a wonderful addition to my life, and I miss them. They were a delight. And I hope when they met other people at home, or on the trail, or at the beach, or in the neighborhood that they (and I ) were courteous to my neighbors and to their dogs and other pets.

Today however there seem to be more dogs than ever. You see them with their owners in stores (including food stores which I think in most areas is against local ordnances), you see them in restaurants, and in the neighborhoods. Thankfully, the days of letting dogs run loose is far behind us. Most often when I see a dog it is on a leash as most should be when out in public. The leash enables better control and can keep the dog safe.

In order to be courteous, the first of the two major things for a dog and owner is to know where they are allowed and where they are not allowed. If you are not sure, ask. Ask the store manager if you can bring your dog inside. Ask the restaurant owner if you can have your dog with you at the table. And read the signs in public parks.

The second major thing is to make sure your dog is trained in how to act around other people and their pets. This is huge! No one wants a dog to jump on them – even in a friendly manner. No one wants their dog to be attacked or otherwise intimidated by another dog. And dogs like to be trained. It gives them a sense of pride. And its not hard. It takes a certain level of commitment by the owner to ensure their dog knows not to pull on the lease, and knows how to sit and stay, and how to be quiet.

In my walks and hikes I have seen extremely bad examples of dogs with absolutely no training who are basically wild and often aggressive. And I have often seen dogs that are exceptionally well trained and basically are at peace with their surroundings. In these later cases the dog, and the owner, and I are all glad to share the trail.

One last thing, and this is totally to the owners. Sure, you dog has to “go”. We all get that. And thank you to the vast percentage of folks who clean up after their dogs. But after you have cleaned it up – PLEASE take it with you. Most National Parks no longer have trash receptacles. You are expected to take your waste with you when you go. And this includes those little plastic bags of dog waste. No one is going to come behind you and pick it up. Please put it in your car and take it home and dispose of it there. No one wants to have to start a nice walk in the woods with the sight of waste bags all around the trail head.

Pick it up. Pack it out. Share the trail.

Grand Canyon – Sweet

So I asked my question.

“I was here 50 years ago. How much has the Canyon eroded since I was here last?”

I was standing at the edge of the South Rim of the Grand Canyon in Arizona. I was talking to a park ranger who looked like she would appreciate my curiosity – and also looked like she would know the answer.

She answered, “The Canyon erodes about the thickness of a piece of paper each year.”

“So,” I said, “that’s 50 sheets of paper, a tenth of a ream, about three-quarters of an inch. I thought I saw the difference.”

And yes, I did see a difference. Not when I peer over the edge and look outwards towards where I can see the Colorado River, but when I look around. There are more people at the Canyon then there had been in November of 1973. The Park is more modern. The trails look better than they had 50 years ago. But the trail down into the Canyon looked just as challenging.

In both my visits to the South Rim, 50 years ago and now, there was snow on the ground. The snow adds to the beauty of the Canyon, as the rocks and trees and shadow are accentuated by the stark white of the snow. But caution is necessary as the trails can be icy and slippery. But with snow or sun caution is always necessary as with the added erosion of the past 50 years its a long way down – plus a bit.

During this visit I would not hike the South Kaibab trail; I would do my hiking on the rim trail. But in 1973 I wanted to see how far down I could get before I had to come back up at day’s end. I started early in the morning with a light pack that I bought the day before in which I had an extra pair of gloves, some sardines and crackers, and something to drink. I don’t think they sold water in bottles back then. I was layered against the cold and had on my sea-duty rain jacket with a hood. It was heavy over my denim jacket, but it would certainly keep me dry. I also had on my woolen watch cap.

I had my copper bound walking stick and was ready to begin my descent. It was cold and clear, and I was the only person on the trail. It was great. The views of the Canyon opening to me were exhilarating. I could look back millions of years as I passed the rock face of the trail wall. I took time to think of all the history that had passed in the first few yards, and then I was well down into the prehistory of the Earth.

It was the uplift of the Colorado Plateau that allowed the marvel of the Grand Canyon to become. About 70 million years ago tectonic forces lifted an area that is now within Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona. As mountains formed and snows and rains fell the nascent Colorado River began its journey off the Colorado Plateau down to the Gulf of California. The River began to cut its way through the uplifted plateau as it sought to reach sea level. As it picked up sediments from its sources it flowed across the uplifted plateau like liquid sandpaper. The rushing River gouged and polished its way down to its present level. As the River grew so did the feeder streams that flowed into it; each cutting its own side canyon. The Canyon sides collapsed as the River cut deeper. This collapse created the width of the current Canyon. Rain and freezing water and trees and wind worked their own patterns of erosion on the Canyon walls, dislodging rocks that would tumble down towards the River below.

And here was another difference. As I hiked down in 1973 I kept an eye on the weather at the Canyon rim. I could l see clouds gathering and knew that it was snowing at the top. After reaching Skeleton Point and eating my sardines and crackers, I knew it was time to turn back in order to get out of the Canyon before the weather worsened. I was trudging up the last half mile in snow, leaving my footprints behind me. The wind was blowing the snow, and I had my hood up. Then I heard something. It sounded like the thumping of distant thunder. I put my hood back so I could hear better. There was a rumble and rattle of above me. I looked up and saw a good size rock rolling down the Canyon side in my direction. I took several steps backwards and watched as the rock landed on the trail where I had been standing and bounded further down and out of sight in the direction of the River.

I had witnessed the process of the Canyon. Things change. That rock is now in a different place and the level of the Canyon floor is now lower. And I can tell the difference.