This week in birds

This week in birds - #629

A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment:

This is a rather plain bird with a beautiful song. It is the Veery, a member of the thrush family. It passes through Texas on migration and moves on to breed primarily along the border between Canada and the United States, although it can be found breeding all the way south to Georgia. Like many species, it is threatened by forest loss and fragmentation.

*~*~*~*

Something bad is happening along the southern California coast as hundreds of sick or dead sea mammals wash up on its shores. There has also been erratic behavior, including attacks on humans. Sea mammal specialists suspect toxic algae poisoning of being the cause.

*~*~*~*

And in the human world, toxicity of another kind has led the nation's top vaccine scientist to resign his position just as we are facing a potential measles epidemic that would have been totally preventable by vaccine.

*~*~*~*

And, confirming the adage that it never rains but it pours, we may also be looking at a return of acid rain because of government rollbacks of pollution protections.

*~*~*~*

But heaven forbid we should be so "woke" as to care about the environment!

*~*~*~*

We know a bit about the human toll of the war in Ukraine but the toll on the environment has been equally or more devastating.

*~*~*~*

In 2021, the United Kingdom passed a law meant to protect against deforestation, but then it delayed implementation of the law with predictable results.

*~*~*~*

And deforestation does not affect only forests. It threatens the life forms that live among and depend on those trees, even including the fungi that live there.

*~*~*~*

Palm trees are an iconic part of the southern California scene even though they are not native there, but they are also an incredible source of fuel for the wildfires that plague the area. And the world's oldest tree, the 5,000-year-old bristlecone pine called "Methusaleh" is threatened by those fires.

*~*~*~*

If you have a garden, you can help support the butterfly populations where you live by cultivating the plants they need - e.g., milkweed for Monarchs.

*~*~*~*

This is the time of year when vast fields of poppies can be expected to bloom in southern California, but not this year. An unusually dry winter has left those fields brown.

*~*~*~*

Nature has much to tell us if we only listen. Even the fish have their story.

*~*~*~*

Rumors of its demise turned out to be exaggerated. Here's how this mollusk came back from the brink with a little help from its friends.

*~*~*~*

Congress approved billions of dollars to clean up abandoned oil and gas wells, but now the program has been halted by the current administration in Washington.

*~*~*~*

Hope, that "thing with feathers" in Emily Dickinson's words, springs eternal, it is said, and on a beautiful vernal day it is almost possible to believe that, writes Anne Lamott.

*~*~*~*

Bee-hunting dogs? They do, in fact exist.

*~*~*~*

And speaking of dogs, on Kangaroo Island, Australia, a miniature dachshund named Valerie has been living on her own for over a year after escaping from her pen.

*~*~*~*

Dana Milbank muses about how all those "aliens" at the National Zoo might be deported as the administration seeks to stamp out DEI.

*~*~*~*

I love this story: A family visiting Washington was just trying to take a picture of its two children among the cherry blossoms with the Washington Monument in the background when the scene got photobombed by someone famous.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog