We saw many birds at Big Bend National Park. No surprise there: the park ranger explained that the park is smack dab in the middle of the north-south flight path of migratory birds and is visited by hundreds of different species.
A number of different species visited the Chisos Basin campground, where Richard, Julianne, Russell, and Betty were camping. Our favorites were the Mexican Jays shown below, with their brilliant blue feathers and fearless exploration of our eating area. If you want to see birds at Big Bend, have a picnic, or scatter a few bread crumbs.
If you live in Texas or California, you know first-hand that the electrical grid system in those states have faced recent challenges. With growing electrical use generally, aging infrastructure, and new electric consuming facilities coming on line, our electrical systems are facing challenges as never before.
And recently they have begun facing a new challenge: large-scale Bitcoin mining operations that are adding to power consumption demands in American electrical grid systems.
I ran across this interesting article about the impact of Bitcoin mining–which uses huge banks of computers in data centers–on the electric system. The article noted two important points: Bitcoin mining in the U.S. has surged over the past three years, and the Energy Information Agency estimates that large-scale Bitcoin mining operations now consume about two percent of the electricity generated in the United States. Two percent may not seem like a lot, but as the article points out, it’s the equivalent of adding a new state to the power grid.
One of the things that has attracted Bitcoin mining operations to the U.S. is low electrical costs. Some of the data centers have located in areas near underutilized power plants, causing spikes in electrical generation by those plants, but others have commenced operations in states, like Texas, where there are already stresses on the electrical grid.
Obviously, electricity is an essential power source for homeowners and businesses, and the recent issues some power grids have experienced have highlighted the importance of power generation–including what processes are used to generate electricity, and where they are located–but also power use. The movement of cryptocurrency mining operations onto our electrical grids is one of the power use issues that will have to be addressed to reach a crucial goal: ensuring that our electricity infrastructure is reliable and supplies ample power, so Americans aren’t at risk of crippling grid failures during heat waves, cold snaps, or other periods of peak usage.
One of our neighbors mentioned that he recently saw a bobcat crossing the street near our neighborhood. It was about the size of a medium-sized dog, he reported, and was easily identifiable by its spots and its short, bobbed tail–which is how the animal got its name.
I keep my eyes out when I walk around this area, because you never know what you might see. I’m not particularly interested in up close and personal interaction with the local critters, and I take to heart the AGFD’s admonition that people should recognize that wild creatures are, in fact, wild. If I see what I think might be a bobcat, I’ll happily steer clear.
When temperatures fall below 32 degrees and the alligators can feel the waters start to freeze around them, they apparently have the instinct to move toward the surface, push their snouts above the water line so they can continue to breathe, close their eyes, and then allow the ice to form around them, leaving them suspended in the water. The technique is a form of brumation, which is the reptile equivalent of hibernation. Alligators evidently can survive for several days in that condition, alive but with body processes slowed.
It would be weird to see an alligator suspended in ice like that, but I would definitely not want to be around when the thaw came and the gators warm up. Those of us from northern climates know that cold weather can be an appetite stimulant.
The MTA says a thorough environmental analysis has been done; opponents say it was a rubber stamp of the proposal. You also have to wonder just how the MTA can accurately forecast what the impact of the fees will be. Manhattan’s commercial real estate market has been devastated already by the COVID pandemic and the shift to work from home policies; making those who are commuting to work pay $75 a week for the privilege of driving on Manhattan’s clogged arteries isn’t going to help that trend. Moreover, if more businesses shift to remote work approaches because employees don’t want to pay the added commuting costs, how is that going to affect the viability of the restaurants, bars, and storefronts that are key elements of the NYC economy?
That distinct possibility makes you wonder whether the MTA forecasts of billions of dollars in revenue are actually going to be realized, or are based on assumptions about commuting that will prove to be baseless in the face of changes that companies and their employees might implement in response to the tax. And even if significant revenue is generated, given the cost overruns we’ve seen in large-scale American public works projects, can New Yorkers really count on the MTA to spend the money wisely and complete subway update projects on time and on budget, without concerns about politicized sweetheart deals, inefficiencies, disruption, and delays?
We’ll see how this all plays out, but for now I know one thing: I’m glad I don’t live in a city where I’m taxed for simply going to work.
Over the weekend we paid a visit to the Tucson Botanical Gardens. There is a lot to see there if you are interested in plant life. As you would expect, the emphasis is on plants that are native to the Sonoran Desert and other low-water environments, many of which are colorful and beatufiul. A real highlight of the visit, however, took us in a different direction–into the TBG butterfly house.
The Botanical Gardens has an extensive butterfly area that includes a viewing station that allows you to watch individual butterflies slowly emerge from their chrysalises. Right next door is the butterfly house itself. The entrance and exit to the house are manned by staff, to make sure that no butterflies escape, and only a controlled number of people are permitted in the house at any given time. The entrance and exit also involve double doors–a regular door separating the outside from an access foyer, and then sheets of heavy plastic that shield the interior where the butterflies flutter from the in and out foyers.
The environment in the butterfly house could not be more different from the dry conditions outside. It is warm and humid, with free flowing water, a goldfish pond, and lush tropical plants. The butterflies thrive in that environment and can be found pretty much everywhere you look, whether on the plants, on the rocks next to the fishpond as shown in the photo above, or on the arms and backs of visitors–which is why a staff member carefully examines everyone who is leaving the butterfly house to make sure they aren’t inadvertently carrying a butterfly hitchhiker.
Butterflies are fascinating, almost magical creatures, and walking among dozens if not hundreds of them is quite an experience–an experience I did not expect to have in the arid heat of Tucson, Arizona.
Our knowledge and understanding of the world is, of course, shaped by our past experience. We relearned that fundamental lesson recently when it came to something pretty basic: what is a weed, and what is not?
Native Midwesterners like us learn about common Midwestern weeds at an early age. When you are assigned to weeding as a youthful chore you quickly learn, if you didn’t know it already, that those bright yellow dandelions are weeds to be pulled, not flowers to be admired. Other weeds, like broad-leaf weeds and pricker bushes, quickly get added to your knowledge base, and when you’re old enough to live in your own home and try to keep a garden, your knowledge of the local weed spectrum and desire to keep weedy specimens out of your flower beds becomes even deeper.
But change your location to a different climate and location, such as the desert around Tucson, Arizona, and you quickly come to realize that your Midwestern weed knowledge is completely useless. Consider the plant above. We kind of admired it, with its waving arms that fluttered in the breeze like the tendrils of an alien being. Alas! It’s a weed, and a bad one at that: we were advised that if the weed wasn’t promptly removed it would quickly spread to the entire yard.
I never gave much thought to it, but I kind of assumed that weeds would not be a problem in the desert, because all of the tough, thorny plants that grow here would be native plants that are just part of the ecosystem. That assumption is flat wrong. There are unwanted plants here, just as there dandelions and other yard pests in the Midwest. We just don’t know which ones they are–yet.
I ran across an interesting article on the cost of the introduction of invasive–some say alien–species to different human habitats. One place where invasive species has wreaked havoc is Lake Victoria in Africa, shown above, where non-native water hyacinth has covered huge sections of the lake, causing problems with boat traffic, aquatic life, hydroelectric dam operations, and mosquito breeding.
Another example, closer to home for a Midwesterner, is the upper Mississippi River, where there has been an onslaught of jumping, non-native carp. The invasion of the Asian carp has raised concerns that the aggressive carp will migrate to the Great Lakes, outcompete native fish for food supplies, ruin recreational fishing, and cause other irreversible environmental damage. That concern has motivated a billion-dollar project to try to keep the carp out of those hugely important bodies of fresh water.
The common denominator of all of these invasive species situations is regrettably, human beings. Invasive species have moved around with humans as we have traveled the globe, hitchhiking on boats and planes, but some of the worst problems have been caused because some genius thought it would be a good idea to bring an alien species to a new place–and then, when that the population of that species has exploded in a place where it has no natural predators, the geniuses often introduce another new species to try to combat the problem and have made things worse.
The water hyacinth that is choking Lake Victoria is thought to have been brought to Rwanda by Belgian colonial officials as an ornamental garden flower before it expanded along African waterways to reach, and then dominate, Lake Victoria. The carp threatening the Great Lakes were imported to the U.S. in 1970s in an effort to control algal blooms in catfish ponds and wastewater treatment plants. And in New Zealand, where rabbits introduced by Europeans overran the countryside, someone decided to import stoats to hunt the rabbits–but the stoats decided to hunt birds instead and decimated the native bird population.
Let’s hope we can find similar solutions for these self-inflicted problems in other places, but let’s also hope that human beings have learned their lesson. Bringing non-native species along for the ride is a really bad idea–and that will be especially true if and when humans move off planet Earth and head to other places. When that happens, we’ll need to be sure to leave those algae-eating fish, rabbits, and ornamental garden flowers at home.
The border between Weir Cove and the passing road is a strip of green that is dotted with colorful flowers. There is no doubt that the plants are wild, and probably considered by strict horticulturalists to be weeds–such as the delicate Queen Anne’s Lace, or the tall, spindly yellow dandelions–but the combination of greens, whites, yellows, and purples is pleasing to the eye and to the nose, and it is almost as if a savvy gardener had designed it for the rest of us to enjoy.
In much of coastal Maine, areas are allowed to just grow wild. In most cases, that seems to work out well. Mother Nature does a pretty good job.
The blooming of the “corpse flower” drew some big crowds for the Conservatory, but timing is everything: titan arum (which has the scientific name Amorphophallus titanum) only blooms for a day or so, and if you miss it the plant loses both the bloom and the odor, and ends up looking like a gigantic, unshucked ear of corn. In the Midwest, anything that looks like an ear of corn in the summer is nothing special.
Like many things in science and the environment, Amorphophallus titanum is both cool and slightly disgusting, all at the same time. If you missed seeing and smelling it this time around, you’ll need to wait for a year or two or three until the plant decides to bloom again.
In last week’s federal appellate court ruling, the core question for the court was whether the National Marine Fisheries Service, which licenses fisheries in federal waters, acted properly in preparing a so-called “biological opinion” under the Endangered Species Act (“ESA”). The court’s ultimate decision was summarized in the second paragraph of the opinion:
“In this case, we decide whether, in a biological opinion, the Service must, or even may, when faced with uncertainty, give the “benefit of the doubt” to an endangered species by relying upon worst-case scenarios or pessimistic assumptions. We hold it may not. The ESA and the implementing regulations call for an empirical judgment about what is “likely.” The Service’s role as an expert is undermined, not furthered, when it distorts that scientific judgment by indulging in worst-case scenarios and pessimistic assumptions to benefit a favored side.”
The court found that the ESA contemplated a “scientific judgment” and did not require “‘distorting the decisionmaking process by overemphasizing highly speculative harms’ whenever the available data is wanting.” The court noted that “[b]y the Service’s admission, it relied upon worst-case modeling that is “very likely” wrong, based upon assumptions the Service concededly does not believe are accurate.” The court also observed:
“A presumption also ignores that worst-case scenarios lie on all sides. It is not hard to indulge in one here: ropeless fishing technologies, weak links, inserts, and trawls may not work; permanent fishery closures may be the only solution. The result may be great physical and human capital destroyed, and thousands of jobs lost, with all the degradation that attends such dislocations.”
The upshot is that the National Marine Fisheries Service will have to go back to the drawing board and develop a new “biological opinion”–one untainted by pessimistic assumptions and worst-case scenarios. The Service will also, as part of that process, consider whether the court ruling will affect related regulations. In the meantime, the Maine lobster fishing industry will avoid the worst-case scenario it was facing–at least, for now.
There’s a significant highway construction project underway in downtown Columbus, just south of downtown. The project has eliminated the path that you formerly could follow south along the Scioto River from the Scioto Mile riverside park area to Audubon Park. Now, instead of the river and some surrounding greenery, there will be towering highway overpasses right next to the river–with the shadows, road noise, truck engine sounds, and graffiti that inevitably accompany highway bridges. You can get a sense of the height of the overpass from the photo above and its location adjacent to the river from the photo below.
I can’t help but see this as a missed opportunity and a waste of riverfront. On nice spring days, like this past weekend, the Scioto Mile area was full of people walking, jogging, cycling, and skateboarding along the river–but when you reach this construction scene at the south end, you either turn around or make a hard left turn and walk through and under the construction zone. When the project is finished, visitors to the Scioto Mile will have to make a similar choice, and go under loud and dystopian underpasses if they want to continue their walks, jogs, or rides. My guess is that most people will turn around, because towering bridges, road noise, and bucolic river settings really don’t mix.
The Scioto River, as it winds through downtown, isn’t the most scenic river in the world– although it may be one of the muddiest. Still, the Scioto Mile project has brought about a vast improvement over the river as it once was, making it narrower, with a faster current and fewer tree limbs and other debris clogging its flow. The green space developed along the river banks has brought people down to the riverfront for the first time in decades. The shallow Scioto River will never be as interesting as the Ohio River or Lake Erie, with their boat traffic, but this decision to shroud the river in shadow from an interstate highway really isn’t giving it a fair chance.
They call the coastal area around Savannah Georgia, extending up the coast to South Carolina, the low country. Crisscrossed with rivers, creeks, and other waterways, it is flat country where the live oak trees sport thick beards of Spanish moss.
This is an area where people pay attention to the tides. This is not surprising when you literally live at sea level, and an especially high tide could wash over the coastal properties. Much of the seaside territory is salt marsh that stretches for miles, as seen in the photo above. At high tide, the reeds are largely submerged; as the tide recess, the reeds are exposed. In the distance you can see the barrier island that separates the area from the open sea.
We live in a big country with lots of different environmental areas and zones. The low country area is a good example of our ecological diversity.
No one–not even the most hardened California or New York City commuter–likes sitting in traffic. It’s frustrating, and annoying, and a colossal waste of time. But what does it mean for you, physically, if you are spending hours every day personally experiencing gridlock?
A recent study from the University of British Columbia suggests that sitting in traffic and breathing in diesel fumes and exhaust is bad for your brain. The study indicates that exposure to traffic pollution produces altered brain network connectivity in humans, and that signs of decreased brain function can start to appear after as little as two hours of exposure.
The UBC study exposed 25 test subjects to either diesel exhaust or filtered air, then used MRI technology to measure brain activity. The results showed that people exposed to diesel exhaust exhibited less activity in the parts of the brain that are involved with internal thoughts and memories. Fortunately, the affects were temporary, and the brains of people exposed to the diesel exhaust were temporary. What hasn’t been tested yet, however, is whether consistent, daily exposure might cause more lasting damage to brain connections.
For some years now I’ve lived close enough to work to walk, and I have been very happy to avoid a long daily commute, sitting in traffic, and the stresses those activities produce. The UBC study just provides further confirmation that prolonged daily exposure to snarled traffic isn’t a good thing. If you have a tough commute, the UBC researchers suggest keeping the windows rolled up and making sure your air filter is a good one. And if you’re a cyclist or a pedestrian, they urge finding a route that keeps you away from diesel exhaust.
We all share a common interest in maintaining our remaining brain connections, such as they are, at peak functionality.
With Thanksgiving coming up in two weeks, many Americans have started to think with pleasure about gorging on delicious roast turkey, stuffing, lots of gravy, mashed potatoes, maybe some cranberry relish, and a slice of pie or two. As this traditional and highly food-oriented holiday approaches, however, other people are trying to figure out how to convince Americans to eat insects.
Last week PNAS–the website for the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America–carried an article entitled How To Convince People To Eat Insects. The article begins with an anecdote about Pennsylvanians watching mealworms sizzle in a pan as they learned about an insect diet from a naturalist, when a little girl ate a mealworm that popped up from the pan and said it tasted like kettle corn. After this promising, taste-oriented start (which makes you wonder, incidentally, what kind of kettle corn that little tyke has been getting) the article restates arguments for a bug diet that we’ve been hearing for years. It notes that eating insects is a lot more environmentally friendly, because farmed insects are much more efficient than cows in turning feed into “edible weight,” and–as anyone who watched Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom knows–people in other countries have been eating insects as a source of nutrients and protein and a regular part of their diet for centuries.
Then the article gets to the nub of the issue: how do you get Americans to move past their instinctive revulsion at the thought of munching on crickets and actually try some bug-based food–like a pizza covered with mealworms? (Incidentally, if you didn’t shudder inwardly at the idea of a pizza crawling with tiny worms, you’re probably ready to try a cricket energy bar already.) One key part of the process, according to the article, is to make sure that people don’t actually see any identifiable insect parts, like a wing or a grasshopper leg, or know that the cookie they are eating used ground black soldier fly larvae as a flour ingredient. (These are real food examples from the article, folks.) That means not prominently featuring pictures of grasshoppers, locusts, or flies on the packaging for the product.
Marketing the insect diet properly will be a key part of process, too. The article recognizes that Americans haven’t really responded to arguments that eating bugs is better for our planet, healthier, and or a good source of protein, because altruistic behavior doesn’t really motivate food choices for most people–so how do you convince Americans to give insect-based products a try? Celebrity endorsements apparently have made people somewhat more willing to try a bug bite, and making sure that the products taste good and are aesthetically pleasing is important, too. And if you can convince some people to eat bugs and enthusiastically endorse the practice in conversations with their friends, cultural mores may convince more people to give that mealworm pizza a try.
More insect-based food is probably in our future. With food prices going up, it will allow manufacturers to produce cheaper products, and in Ohio some people are predicting that local farms will start to incorporate growing and harvesting insects. But if you really want to get people to eat bugs as a matter of course, I think you need to adopt the kind of high-impact marketing that you find in clickbait articles. For example, bugs like beetles and crickets are low in carbs. Why not advertise “Cricket Crunchers” as a key element of a low-carb diet and a sure-fire way to melt away that stubborn belly fat? Putting them in a brightly colored cellophane bag and featuring an endorsement from an ageless celebrity like Jennifer Aniston would help, too.
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