Geologically speaking

It is easy to forget while walking along a gray chalky path in Yellowstone National Park that you are walking on the mantle of an active volcano.

A volcano that, in geological time, is a recent explosion. It is truly just yesterday that this massive volcano exploded and I am the visitor who rushed to the scene.

The smell of sulfur gas is strong in the air as it escapes up through fissures in the ground and wafts through the air from mists of erupting geysers. The geysers are intensely hot, yet, when the mist lands on your skin it is warm from being cooled by the air.

The emerald blue pools of mineral water is likewise intensely hot and both speak of the power of the Earth just below the surface.

When sunset comes, the geysers are silhouetted against the sky and continue their eruptions day and night.

The shape of the misty water is clear against a twilight sky and steady and sure as the sun's coming and going.

But this serene calmness is an illusion and but a reprieve between explosions. Yellowstone periodically erupts every 800,000 years and it is due soon.

 And, in geological time, it is a frequently exploding volcano.

Steller Sea Lions

One day, I hiked to Cape Flattery, the northwestern most point in the contiguous United States.

Cape Flattery resides on the Makah Indian Reservation. The trail to the cape was once treacherous. The Makah obtained funding to improve the trail, which now includes overlooks along the way.

It's a lovely hike through a rain forest that's vibrant and green.

Cape Flattery

At the end of the trail, when you emerge from the forest, you are high up on a bluff overlooking Cape Flattery with a view deep into the Pacific. It seemed mysterious with the mist, the surf, the ocean, the island, the sky, the coming fog way out to sea, and the sounds. It was sublime, wild and uncut.

Tatoosh Island

Off the coast of Cape Flattery, about a half-mile from shore, is Totoosh Island that was once a working lighthouse. Because of its isolation it is now home to a diverse population of wildlife.

I stood at the edge of the bluff and leaned on the railing, the only thing keeping me from the gray swirling waters below. And, as we all do, when in situations of possible chance, I thought briefly about the railing breaking and me falling into the water below. 

It would be difficult to survive the power I saw down there.

After awhile of immersing myself in thought and Cape Flattery, I spotted something swimming. I was able to discern that it was a sea lion vigorously submerging and then emerging in the cold waters. 

I was not certain of the species but knew I'd identify her in time (it was a female I found out later). To my delight another appeared exhibiting the same behavior. It seemed they were feeding.

I continued to watch them as they made their swimming seem effortless in such powerful waters.

I could not help but think they were like aquatic dogs playing on a sunny day except, their realm, is the northwest Pacific.

I watched them as they swam further out into the Pacific and then disappeared.

Back home and with images in hand, I set out to identify them and I'm pretty confident I have. They are Steller Sea Lions, a near-threatened species that were once listed on the Endangered Species List.

Their numbers declined ominously with the highest losses caused by fishermen who shot them as competition for fish. They have rebounded, somewhat, but the Japanese still continue to shoot them.

I felt privileged to witness these beautiful animals in their natural habitat and observe their feeding behavior. It is my hope they re-populate to healthy numbers and, that those who shoot them, lay down their guns of violence.

I can hope. I can.

Fanned Feathers

I believe this is a Cooper's Hawk. If I am misidentifying this raptor, drop me a note. He was caught watching the activity in the yard and remained on the pine tree branch, no more than fifteen feet away, for over forty-five minutes.

As soon as the camera was retrieved to photograph him, he got ready fly. . . 

 . . . slowly spreading his tail with this wonderful display of fanned feathers.

Smiles in the New Year

I found this cute fish in a large tank aquarium at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences and was able to capture his image through the glass. He kept passing back and forth in front of me with, it seemed, a smile on his face. In doing so, he made me smile.

I hope when you saw the image it made you smile too.

On this new day of the new year I wish you a wonderful, nature filled year with many smiles for the immense beauty that surrounds us on our beautiful blue planet.

Croatan National Forest Delight

I had the delight over Christmas to discover two new birds that I had not seen before and another that caught me by surprise while camping at Flanners Beach on the Neuse River at the Croatan National Forest in North Carolina.

First up is a Wood Thrush. They don't winter here but head to the warmer climates of Mexico, Central or South America or the Caribbean. But in my readings of the Wood Thrush, some will linger in the Southeast US and this one surely is a lingerer and a surprise.

Then this bird who was foraging in the bushes right next to where I was sitting.

I was able to identify him as a Ruby-crowned Kinglet so named because of the red dot on its head. And boy did I have a hard time photographing him as he was quick of foot with lots of chattering thrown in.

I learned the Ruby-crowned Kinglet is an insectivore and the reason he was spending so much time quickly moving from branch to branch in the bushes. He was small and plump and cute as a button.

Here's another new sighting and he took a bit to identify. It's a Yellow-Rumped Warbler specifically a Myrtle Warbler.

There are four closely related Warblers lumped under "Yellow-Rumped Warbler," the eastern Myrtle Warbler, the Audubon's Warbler of the Western US, the northwest Mexican Black-fronted Warbler, and the Guatemalan Goldman's Warbler.

All of the birds foraged in close range and it was easy to observe their behavior. The Wood Thrush was on the ground picking through the soil, the Myrtle Warbler who stayed up high in the trees while flying here and there, and the little Ruby-crowned Kinglet who was in arms reach while it hunted for tiny insects in the bushes.

Their songs were sweet but not nearly as sweet as the satisfaction in discovery of new wildlife to observe.

Just think about it . . .

 . . .that's all I ask this Thanksgiving.

Turkey. Often, if you just say the word, it will illicit a snicker or a guffaw. It's a derogatory term in our language, used as a put-down, uttered with disdain. He's a turkey. What a turkey. Or simply, Turkey.

To discuss this magnificent bird and to move past the prejudice, I am not going to use the common name Turkey, but instead use the genus and species name, Meleagris gallopavo. And perhaps we will see this bird in a different light rather than a species we've been taught to marginalize.

Meleagris gallopavo is one of two species native to the Americas. The other living species, Melagris occelata is native to the forest of the Yucatan Peninsula.

Meleagis gallopavo still roams the forests of North America and you may catch a glimpse of one or more from time to time at the edge of the treeline. They are a success story in conservation as they nearly met with extinction in the 40s from over exploitation. But careful re-population measures have led to a healthy population.

In the Southeast, though, they are under threat again with scientists seeing puzzling population declines. Studies are underway but it is suspected predators and loss of habitat could be the cause.

Male Wild Meleagris gallopavo

Just look at the photo! How darn beautiful is that? And noble. 

What a magnificent native American bird.

Here's some things to consider about this fascinating and intelligent bird:

• The distinctive gobble of the male can be heard a mile away
• Males display beautiful tail feathers and puff themselves out during courtship as seen in the image
• The male head is colored a bright red, blue and white. An all-American bird!

Female Wild Meleagris gallopavo

• Only males have the fleshy protuberance, the snood, that extends over the beak and down the neck
• The snood changes colors according to mood
• The feathers, 5000-6000 in number, have beautiful bronze-green iridescence (females a little duller) and if you've not seen them in person you are missing something
• They are curious and intelligent and, some people say, affectionate

This wonderful bird, 23-million years of evolution behind it, had the misfortune of becoming the domesticated Meleagris gallopavo that graces the Thanksgiving table every year. They are raised in stressful conditions and about 45 million are slaughtered for the feast.

Forty-five million. 

They suffer terribly having their beaks partially clipped off and, because of crowding conditions, will peck at each others heads. If a wound ensues, the wounded bird is pecked to death.

Factory farmed Meleagris gallopavo

The magnificent Meleagris gallopavo reduced to the indignity you see above. And the indignity you see on your Thanksgiving plate. Reduced to a mere centerpiece. Reduced to a Turkey.

Domesticated Meleagris gallopavo did not live a normal life in the wild as it is meant to be. Domesticated Meleagris gallopavo lived a short, unnatural and tortured life.

Just think about it. That is all I ask this Thanksgiving.

And, if after reading this you think of me, "What a turkey!" I will be honored, my friend.

My life as a Turkey is a wonderful documentary about Meleagris gallopavo.

An American 'American' success story

The mailman came to my door a week ago, not with a package in hand, but to alert me to something to see right then. He was excited and I could tell something was seriously up.

Despite still being in pajamas - yep, still in pajamas at mid-day, oh well, what can I say, I get engrossed in stuff - I hurried outside to have a look.

Imagine my utter surprise to find an American Bald Eagle riding the air currents way high up. I was truly astonished as was, James, the mailman to see this Bald Eagle in a residential area. They are nearly always found near water. The closest body of water, Jordan Lake, was four miles away where they are flourishing.

Something here had his interest and he remained for awhile while we watched transfixed and, eventually, he broke from the rising air currents and headed west in the direction of the lake.

To witness this eagle soaring above my home on that cloudless, crisp fall afternoon is an affirmation to the success of the Endangered Species Act. The act saved the Bald Eagle from extinction and to see it in a developed area is confirmation of its increasing population. This is good.

It is truly an American 'American' success story.

 *The Endangered Species Act celebrates its 40th anniversary.