Archive for the 'Fieldnotes' Category



Never the same beach twice

The Cliff along Nantucket’s north side is a time-and-tide whittled slice through the north side of the terminal moraine, the long pile of glacial till left over when the ice retreated. Long Island was made the same way, and its north side has cliffs like these, too. The cliff here is eroded by the sea, and the mansions atop it are as permanent as Ozymandias’ shining city in the desert.

A beach makes you think of impermanence.Last year’s Bank swallow nests. No sign of any this year, yet.This one might puzzle you. It’s the snout of a Harbor seal, with the whiskers in remarkably good condition, considering parts of the skull were exposed to bone. Both feet were tagged. I reported this color/number to the New England Aquarium, which is the HQ for the local Marine Mammal Rescue team; the person I talked to there thought this was probably a pup born this winter (although badly decomposed, it did look rather smaller than some other seal remains I’ve come across) and tagged on Muskeget, which is a small island to the west of Nantucket with a thriving Harbor seal population (much to the loathing of local fishermen, who can’t abide competition). Bill of a Great Black-backed Gull, the largest species of gull in the world. Although the underlying structure of the upper and lower mandibles of a bill are bone, they are covered in keratin, nature’s wonder protein.Horseshoe Crab shell, completely cleaned out, perhaps by a Great Black-backed Gull, and posed on the fence by me.Seams of clay run through the cliff, and you find pieces of rock on the beach that look like baked clay, with a lot of iron in them (some nearly sienna in color). I need a geologist to walk this beach with me. The material is easily broken by whacking it against another rock. This piece was riddle with circular tubes, and inside the tubes I could see what turned out to be some kind of bivalve when I broke them open. I guess that they borrowed into clayey mud that later hardened. I also need a conchologist.This pine held on — though dead, it still hangs on, even though most of the cliff has disappeared underneath it. But a few interesting little round fungi were growing on it.

Mother’s Day Bouquet (Living Flowers)

Some flowers for my mother, who passed a decade ago, and all the other mothers out there. Paulownia tormentosa is in bloom. Rich, heady perfume. Look to your empty lots, backyards, and canal bridges.Star-of-Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) is another escapee from the reservation. A native of Europe, this Lily family member has basal leaves that are very grasslike and have a pale midrib. Invasive, and all over Prospect Park now. The flowers of the Tuliptree (Liriodendron tulipifera) are often way up high, since this is one of the tallest trees on the East Coast, and the species tends to shoot straight up, racing for the sun. Elizabeth’s Tuliptree overlooking Nelly’s Lawn in Prospect Park has a branch that dips low, but not too low. So you’re most likely to see these blossoms on the ground. Smell them. They are subtle but delicious. As a bonus, they may be crawling with ants.

Just Listen

How do silent movies make their way into a blog about natural history? I was struck by something Geoffrey O’Brien wrote in the May 24th New York Review of Books. Discussing last year’s homage to silent movies The Lover and Hugo, O’Brien notes how differently our minds behave when we watch silent films.

Tomorrow morning at 6 a.m., starting at the Grand Army Plaza entrance to Prospect Park, I will be doing one of my Listening Tours. You should come; getting up early is part of the fun and the weather is supposed to be fair. In the Listening Tour, we walk silently through the park listening to what we hear, pausing variously to concentrate our ears on sounds near and far, high and low. At this early hour of the day, most of these sounds are birds, in the midst of migration and nesting. This walk is part of New York City Wildflower Week, which has more than a week’s worth of events, walks, and lectures this year.

Since we will be listening, this is obviously different from watching a silent film. But we will be listening intently to things most people don’t notice, the songs and calls of birds, as sound, as music, as a form of communication alien to us. The Listening Tour is named in honor both of what we do on the tour, pure and simple, and as a counter blast to the bogus political charades of politicians going out to listen to that mythological beast “the people.” The aim of the tour is to get our minds to behave differently. Yes, we are surrounded by noise (in the physical and information senses), and many of us are quite good at blocking much of that din out. But are we really listening to anything? I mean, besides the voices in our heads? Some have called these walks meditative, Zen-like, spiritual, and some, admittedly, have not really been into it. You’re the only one who can open your own ears.

American Copper

Lycaena phlaeas. Common name aside, the East Coast population of this small butterfly is thought to have been introduced from Europe during the colonial period, probably on the sheep sorrel its larva feeds on. It is notably associated with these invasive sorrels, and often found on disturbed habitats like roads and lawns, where I’ve photographed them. The Western population is found at and above the timberline and reaches up into Alaska and arctic Canada.

On Nantucket

Going to Nantucket is like going two weeks back into the past. Spring comes a little later there, even in this year of early spring. Although just a touch more north of us here in NYC, the island is thirty miles off-shore and surrounded by an ocean holding onto its cold. The Japanese Flowering Cherries that were finished here about two weeks ago were in full bloom there. I never knew there to be so many of these trees on the island. Of course, when surrounded by such shameless show-offs, I retire to the simple beauty of the crab apples. A month and a half after my last visit to Squam Swamp, the oaks were still unbloomed:although the understory was popping. Starflower (Trientalis borealis).Give me a shout-out if you know what these are. UPDATE: Julia in comments tells me these are Quaker Ladies, a white variation of the Bluet (Houstonia caerulea), which tends to be blue off-island.A fern unfolds. While most if not all of ferns have this fiddlehead-shaped emergence, most are not edible “fiddleheads.”Being so thoroughly damp, and having relatively clean air (and lots of it! the island is wind-swept, and if you’ve ever had your bare legs sand-blasted on a windy beach…) the island is full of lichen (at least 89 species according to this report), on wooden fences, relatively new roofs (?), and, of course trees.

A dead bumblebee allows closer examination. The order Hymenoptera are named for their “membrane winged” bodies. Also, they have four wings, (flies, Diptera, have two) usually very hard to see even if the insect is still. But here you can see the smaller underwing half exposed and just trace its outline through the larger upperwing. Another dead example:

I looked out the window and noticed a male Northern Cardinal quite close by to the house on a low bush. That seemed a little odd so near the house. I glanced down and saw what the bird may have been worrying about:A Garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis). This one looked big. My brother told me he had seen a snake in the yard earlier, and two days later I hear one, possibly the same, slither into the brush. Check out Sarah Oktay’s article about the first ever hibernaculum of Garter and Milk snakes found on the island this spring. The author, one of the lucky snake-finders, is the managing director of the UMass Nantucket Field Station, and has written extensively about many other aspects of the island’s natural history.

The Hunt for Red Admiral

Red Admiral butterflies (Vanessa atalanta) are out in force this year, enough to be noticed by my radio station, WNYC. This is probably an East Coast phenomenon, as I was on Nantucket this weekend and saw many but photographed few. Being so fast, flighty, and flittery, butterflies are generally hard to photograph. Red Admirals are especially erratic and fast in flight, and when perched they see you coming way before you see them. I managed these shots because this particular one kept returning to the window and the surrounding shingles so I could just stand there and wait.I suspect therefore that it is one of the males, which the Kaufman Field Guide says are “especially pugnacious” in defending their territory; this one actually chased after a bumblebee! I suppose that he was trying to chase away me, too, so I left him to the sun. According to the Kaufman, this species sometimes migrate north in large numbers.

When these perch with their wings closed, they are much harder to notice, especially on a woodland path:Vanessa atalanta is an especially beautiful scientific name: Vanessa is from the Greek for butterfly; the Vanessa genus also includes the Painted and American Ladies; Atalanta was the mythological Greek hottie who was swift of foot but had an eye for the golden apples. Wikipedia tells me that V. atalanta is mentioned in Pale Fire, which I just started to re-read this weekend, coincidentally.

In the mud

“Mr. Holmes, they were the prints of a gigantic hound!” Or at least a raccoon.

Tell us again, Granddad, about ice

Today is Climate Impact Day, set up to connect the dots between climate change and extreme weather, effects felt from diatoms to humanity.

What is past is prologue, and I think of two years ago when we flew back from Iceland. Our plane crossed over Greenland, and I took a few photographs through the jet’s window. It was a clear summer day and the view was absolutely breath-taking. The jet’s contrail, meanwhile, was adding its contribution to the atmospheric greenhouse that is melting that ice.

There was a point, deep inland over the ice, where everything visible below was white. I wondered if we were flying upside-down, so cloud-like was the vista. But then there were these huge patches of blue.Recently, I stumbled upon Extreme Ice, a PBS Nova episode, which explained what was going on. These are lakes that form atop the ice mass during the summer melt season. They have a tendency to disappear very quickly, and for a while it was thought that the water just refroze. But actually, the water cuts its way into the ice, hydrofracking deep vertical channels, and draining deep down to the bedrock. There the water acts as lubrication for the ice, making it move towards the coasts faster. Here are more details. There’s a feedback loop here, for the more the ice melts, the more it melts. Similarly, water at the calving face of a glacier acts like water does on the road, expanding cracks, and makes calving, the shearing off of icebergs from the glacial face, happen more quickly. Think potholes three miles long, the width of Manhattan at its fattest. Meanwhile, warmer, denser sea water, below the face of the glacier, undermines it from below.The documentary follows a photographer to Alaska, Iceland, and Greenland, where the ice is all retreating much faster than it is being replenished by snowfall. The reason for this is that the amount of carbon dioxide (CO2) in the atmosphere is at record highs, and we know – regardless of what the stupid or willfully wrong say or try to obscure — that during the last 400,000 years this pattern has held true: high CO2 levels correspond to high temperatures which correspond to high sea levels. It’s simple, really: the atmosphere gets warmer because the heat radiating from the earth is trapped, like heat in a greenhouse, and the temperature rises. As the temperature rises, the oceans both expand because of the heat, and all the water pouring into them from the melting ice. Most of the world’s population lives on sea coasts. Meanwhile, as the ice melts, albedo lessens, which means there’s less reflection off of the white ice and more absorption by the dark earth; another factor heating things up. And as the ice goes so too goes the permafrost, which, in thawing, releases methane, an even more potent greenhouse gas than CO2.

Sure, someday the ice will return, but so far in the future that it’s irrelevant to humanity. The relevancy is now and the short distance to your children’s children, who will live in a world without mountain glaciers. In a hundred years, the roof of the world, the Himalayas, will have lost its great ice cap. If a billion people depend on the melt-water from there now, what will they drink in a century? We already live in a world crowded with refugees, political instability, and conflict over resources. Global climate change is going to make these problems infinity worse. Many people say they “don’t believe” in either global warming, or, if they have any sense of nuance, anthropomorphic global warming. But it is not a question of belief. Belief is for the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny. This is a question of science. That some people don’t understand the difference is a both a failure of our education system and a moral crisis.

Do Santorum, Gingrich, and Romney actually believe what they say when they belittle, deny, and even counter-attack the reality of global warming? Many politicians will say just about anything to get elected, of course, and the “Republican base” seems to be composed of angry, deluded fools — little different from the average Salem witch-hunting mob — who feed off demagoguery, but this trio of dangerous clowns are being particularly egregious in trumpeting pseudo-science and ignorance. (My take is that Santorum seems authentically a religious fanatic, a Christian jihadi perverting his children to his twisted notions and wanting to drag the entire nation down his twisted little rabbit hole; Gingrich and Romney, on the other hand, are just profoundly malignant hacks.)

I’m no partisan: the corporate moderate currently in the White House has shown little to no leadership on the issue of global warming. The fabled moderates he’s supposed to court evidently aren’t interested in the issue. We know that the Pentagon is thinking about the instability radical global climate change is causing, as are the insurance giants, so there can’t be any doubt Obama isn’t aware the issues. Of course, we’re silly to think that he or any President should be leading us. In fact, they are followers, of the money, which is shorthand for the power structures in our oligarchic kabuki democracy; and, on a day-to-day calculus, the facile polls. We need to lead, and to light fires behind the followers’ sorry asses. The effort to kill the Keystone Pipeline disaster was one such fire, but we need thousands more of them, since that’s already being undermined by Obama’s fast-tracking of the southern route.The ice calved off of into the Jökulsárlón lagoon in Iceland is pulled out a narrow channel by the tide into the North Atlantic. Then it is pushed back onto the black sand beach by the waves, and battered and whittled away by the water.

Iceland should have really been named Greenland and Greenland really Iceland a millennium ago when the Norse steered their ships west. Although the Little Ice Age turned cold and grim in the north, for the last century and a half both these lands have been warming with the planet. Iceland is losing its ice. Greenland is finally turning green.

The effects are like a three-dimensional game of dominoes.

Limulus Polyphemus

For my birthday, I was given the gift of a tattoo. The work was done by Robert Bonhomme when he was still at Brooklyn Tattoo. Robert told me that when he was a kid, his siblings would run around local beaches searching for shells, while he was always on the lookout for horseshoe crabs. That sounds like August on the East Coast to me; the shed exoskeletons of these animals, complete in every detail, are to be found up and down the seaboard then.

I’ve written about horseshoe crabs and how they may have saved your life because of LAL (limulus amebocyte lysate), the substance extracted from them and used to test medical equipment, and how we’ve scandalously allowed their numbers to dwindle precipitously through over-fishing (they are chopped up for bait) and other sins.

I may be a little bit obsessed by them, an utterly fascinating life form, key to a whole littoral foodweb and vital to human health, but I’m not the only one, since “Horseshoe Crab” is consistently one of the main search terms that finds this blog. As an example of the Horseshoe’s ecological importance, its decline is directly linked to a rapid decline in Red Knot (Calidris canutus) numbers; the U.S. subspecies of this long-distance migratory shorebird depended on the formerly bounteous production of Horseshoe Crab eggs in the Delaware Bay.

Woodpecker Sign

This pine is dead, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t provide a home for fungi, many an invertebrate, and an active red-tailed hawk nest. These holes attest to the various boring insects that have been pecked out by woodpeckers up and down the trunk. Wing of a woodpecker that met an untimely end. Looks too big for a Downy Woodpecker, so maybe it’s a Hairy Woodpecker, but Red-bellied Woodpecker and Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker also possible. The only thing it definitely isn’t is the Northern Flicker, which has yellow-shafted wings in our part of the country. (That’s right, folks, there are five species of woodpeckers in the city, with an occasional Red-headed Woodpecker passing through.)Speaking of Flickers — and best to end on a life-affirming note — there’s a nesting Flicker in here. I’ve never come across a Flicker nest in Prospect Park before this spring, although they are known to nest here.

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