A Northwoods Almanac for April 28, 2023

 A Northwoods Almanac for April 28 to May 11, 2023   

Midwest Sandhill Crane Count 

            The annual Midwest sandhill crane count took place on Saturday, April 15, the last day of our week of other-worldly hot, sunny days before we got another foot of snow. Mary and I have paddled a section of the Manitowish River for three decades counting cranes every April, and this had to be the warmest, calmest morning of any crane count we’ve ever experienced – 42° and no wind. Heaven.

            We were on the river by 5:50 a.m. with good friend and ace photographer, Bob Kovar, and from the get-go, we heard a pair of sandhills doing their unison call. If you’ve not heard the unison call, the carrying power and synchronicity of the male and female is remarkable. The male calls first, and instantaneously (in 0.2 seconds), the female follows. The male crane flips his head nearly straight up and produces a single call. The female crane responds by raising her head at a 45 degree angle and emitting 2 to 3 shorter, higher pitched calls. This call reinforces the pair bond, helps to defend a territory, and serves to avoid conflict among other territorial adults. The calls are so loud that they can be heard up to 2.5 miles away.

Mary watching a bald eagle, photo by Bob Kovar

            I must admit, however, that we’re never just out there to count cranes, though that is the initial motivating force. We’re out there to experience the first paddle of the spring while the river is in flood, the waterfowl that have just returned, the beaver and otter and muskrats that are active, and the first crazy songbirds that are either passing through or are here to stay.

            The Manitowish loves to meander, but the annual spring flood allowed us to just paddle across the oxbows, conserving time and energy. But we really didn’t need to conserve either of those, because the current in the floodwater pushed us right along, allowing me to paddle with ease while Bob shot photos in the bow of the canoe.

            Highlights included perhaps a dozen trumpeter swans along the way, nearly all of which gave us close fly-bys; many beavers, a number of which were concealed and startled us by whacking their tails as we cruised by; good numbers of waterfowl, with buffleheads, surprisingly, being the most common of the lot; and an array of early songbirds, the most exciting of which was our first winter wren of the year.

 

Flooding

            The Manitowish remains in very high flood as of this writing (4/21). Thank goodness for our floodplains spreading out and absorbing so much of this water! 

Manitowish River in flood below our house

            I don’t wish to diminish anyone’s personal loss due to floods – catastrophic floods are just that, catastrophic – but we often have a knee-jerk reaction to annual natural floods as disasters, when it’s essential to remember that floods have always existed and actually provide ecological benefits. The difference today is that floods often do more damage than they did historically, and we often have brought the damage on ourselves. When we build on floodplains, drain wetlands, channelize waterways, farm up to the edges of rivers, build dams and determine that one side benefits at the expense of the other, and pave thousands of acres of land with asphalt, the ensuing result is that we see more floods and experience greater destruction.

            What occurs to a river during a flood? A healthy river will usually absorb all but the most catastrophic floods. The riparian plant life holds the shoreline soil in place with its network of roots, while the leaves of shoreline shrubs and trees further protect the groundlayer from the pounding and erosive forces of heavy rainfall. 

            Sometimes a flood scrubs an area clean of vegetation, but most vegetation has adapted to regenerate quickly. For instance, silver maples and willows actually depend on floods, flowering and going to seed immediately in the spring, so the seeds are ready to drop on exposed riverbanks when the floodwaters recede. 

            Floods cleanse older organic materials like dead plants from the floodplain into the river, and replace them with newer materials. The floodwater also scours the long strings of filamentous algae, as well as other plants, off the riverbed. Afterward, plant populations often explode due to the nutrient-rich organic debris fueling a growth spurt all the way up the food chain.  

            Floods transport wood and rock debris that eventually drops out of the river’s flow and provides new structure within the river. Since different fish need different habitat structure for spawning, feeding, and resting, floods are actually key events in shaping and maintaining high-quality fish habitat. Recent studies on rivers have concluded that on average a river needs to “mobilize” (i.e. flood) its channel bed every other year in order to provide ideal spawning habitat. 

            During floods, rivers cut new channels, resculpt older ones, and clean silt out of spawning gravels. Floodplains work simultaneously to soak up the high water and then release it slowly, keeping the river flowing in drier months.  

            Rivers, and the life within them, survive through resilience. A healthy river is self-sustaining and self-healing. Destruction of one life leads to new life in a dynamic ebb, flow, and flood. 

            The Manitowish River where we live floods nearly every spring after snowmelt. The difference is that no one has built on the floodplains. Still, someday we may get a 100-year deluge rain, and the river will rise and flood us. But for now, we gaze on the overbank flows with curiosity, wondering where the ducks and swans are, rather than wondering if we will survive the flood.

 

Winter Severity Index to Date

            Since 1975, the Winter Severity Index (WSI) has been used across Wisconsin to predict the impact of winter on deer herds. WSl is calculated by adding the number of days with a snow depth of at least 18 inches (1 point for each day) to the number of days when the minimum temperatures were 0°F or below (1 point for each day). Days when both conditions occur are scored as 2. These points accumulate throughout the winter from December 1 to April 30. 

            A WSI of 49 or less is considered mild, 50-79 is moderate, 80-99 is severe, and 100 or greater is very severe. Many WSI snow depth readings are taken by WDNR staff biologists and additional snow depth and temperature readings come from National Weather Service stations across the state.

            As of March 31, four counties have exceeded 100 points – Douglas (117), Iron (113), Bayfield (110), and Washburn (108) (see the map). And we still have April to count, which should add more points for snow depth. Note how quickly the points decline as one goes south – Iron County, for instance, has nearly three times as many points as Oneida County. 

            What I find intriguing about this year’s index is that almost all of those points have come from snow depth exceeding 18” in the northernmost counties, and not from temperatures below 0°. We’ve had a very mild winter temperature-wise, but we’ve had a severe winter in terms of snow depth.

            There’s lots of wiggle room in WSI’s very general equation. My question is how do the impacts differ between a high score based predominately on cold winter temperatures compared to a high score based predominately on high snow levels? And how does one take into account the difference between nights that are -5° compared to those that are -35°, both of which score the same 1 point? Extreme cold temperatures require far more energy expenditure for animals to stay warm. Likewise, how does one account for the difference between 20” of snow compared to 40” of snow, the deeper snow requiring far greater effort to wade through?

            I’ll be very interested to see both the deer survival rates and the reproductive rates when our spring finally arrives. 

 

Sightings – Sparrows! Juncos! Evening Grosbeaks! Blackbirds! Oh My!

            Our remarkably warm weather during the week of April 9 to 14 brought in a lot of migrating birds. But that gorgeous weather was immediately followed by a week of snow and sleet and cold rain, which concentrated all those birds at area feeders in a frenzied attempt to survive. We had a small army of dark-eyed juncos, American goldfinches, evening grosbeaks, red-winged blackbirds, common grackles, and black-capped chickadees, among many other species, covering our decks and areas below our feeders. And the sparrows! American tree sparrows, white-throated sparrows, fox sparrows, and chipping sparrows all arrived in large numbers, as did Brewer’s and rusty blackbirds. And that’s not to mention the ever-present red squirrels. All we could do was pour out more and more sunflower seeds and hope the weather would change soon.

            Some first-of-the-years (FYI):

4/7: FYI saw-whet owl calling in Manitowish

4/8: Purple finches returned in large numbers, and FYI brown-headed cowbird 

4/9: FYI northern flicker

4/10: FYI American woodcock

4/11: FYI mourning cloak and Compton tortoiseshell butterflies

4/12: FY ospreys, and FYI dragonflies (species unknown)

4/13: FYI belted kingfisher

4/14: FYI turkey vultures, Wilson’s snipe, ring-necked ducks, greater yellowlegs

4/15: FYI blue-winged teal, winter wren, bufflehead, coot, yellow-bellied sapsucker, horned larks (large flock!), rusty and Brewer’s blackbirds.

rusty blackbird photo by Bev Engstrom

4/16: FYI ruby-crowned kinglet, and 11 white pelicans at Powell Marsh WMA

4/17: FYI chipping sparrows

 

Global Temperatures

            March 2023 will go down in the books as tying for the second warmest March on record. Temperatures globally were several degrees above average in most places.

            March represents the 529th month in a row with temperatures exceeding the 20th-century average. That’s more than 44 years straight without a single comparatively cool month.

            In the United States, March was a mixed bag. The western U.S. experienced temperatures several degrees below average, whereas considerable warmth was present most of the month over the East. Boston, for example, was 2.5 degrees above average while San Francisco was 3.3 degrees below normal.

            Worldwide, March came on the heels of the fourth warmest February on record. 

            In mid-March, average ocean water temperatures surpassed 70 degrees for the first time on record.          

            Since preindustrial times, Earth has warmed 1.9 degrees F.

 

Celestial Events

            For planet-watching in May, look after dusk for brilliant Venus and Mars both high in the southwest. Before dawn, look for Jupiter low in the east-northeast and Saturn in the southeast.

            The full moon (the “Flower” or “Planting” moon) occurs on May 5.

            The peak Eta Aquarid meteor shower is best seen in the predawn of May 6, but bright moonlight will obscure most of the event.

 

Thought for the Week

            One gram of moss from the forest floor, a piece about the size of a muffin, would harbor 150,000 protozoa, 132,000 tardigrades, 3,000 springtails, 800 rotifers, 500 nematodes, 400 mites, and 200 fly larvae. These numbers tell us something about the astounding quantity of life in a handful of moss. – Robin Wall Kimmerer

 

A Northwoods Almanac for April 14, 2023

 A Northwoods Almanac for April 14-27, 2023   

Sightings: First-of-the-Year (FOY)

            With the return of spring bird migration comes the annual excitement about seeing the first robin, the first sandhill crane, the first common loon, etc. It’s like seeing old friends returning after a long getaway. And if one is lucky enough to have a banded bird return that you know has nested on your property before, that’s an added bonus of truly greeting an individual you know.

            So, here you go (note that my records only show species accounts up to a week before publication when my column is due to the paper):

            3/26: FOY red-winged blackbirds, FOY Canada geese in Manitowish

            3/27: FOY common grackle, FOY northern harrier in Manitowish 

            3/29: FOY dark-eyed juncos in Manitowish

            4/2: FOY sandhill cranes in Manitowish

            4/3: FOY American robin in Manitowish

            4/3: FOY common and hooded mergansers, John Randolph, Minocqua Fish Hatchery

hooded merganser photo by Bev Engstrom

            4/3: FOY merlin, Susan Brandt in Minocqua

Merlin photo  by Susan Brandt

            4/6: FOY yellow-rumped warbler, Bob Kovar in Manitowish Waters

            4/6: FOY song sparrow, fox sparrow, and hooded merganser in Manitowish

            Oh, I should also report that the Manitowish River opened below our house on 3/24. Last year it opened on 4/1, and in 2021, it opened on 3/17, just to show the variability.

            And I should note for the record that the last week of March was superb for crust skiing, which is a relatively infrequent winter occurrence. We have to have a deep snowpack, and then above freezing temperatures during the day, and below freezing at night to create a hard crust. 

 

Land Trusts Presentation

            Are you interested in helping to permanently protect shorelands, woodlands, and other natural resources, now and into the future? Learn how a land trust can be an important tool for conservation in this presentation with three board members from the Northwoods Land Trust (NWLT). The program is on April 17 at 7 p.m. at the Mercer Public Library (715-476-2366), and is free and open to the public. 

            NWLT is a nonprofit conservation organization that has helped protect over 15,000 acres of woodlands, wetlands, and wildlife habitat and 81 miles of water frontage in Iron, Vilas, Oneida, Forest, Florence, Price, and Langlade Counties in northern Wisconsin. Presenters at this program include Ron Eckstein, retired DNR wildlife manager; Cathy Techtmann, Environmental Outreach State Specialist and Professor, Community Resource Development UW Madison-Division of Extension; and me.

            There’s been a lot of misinformation tossed around about land trusts. Come find out the real stories.

 

Birdsong Returning!

            I love this writing from Rainer Maria Rilke in his book The Inner Sky: Poems, Notes, Dreams: “I’ve figured it out, something that was never clear to me before – how all creation transposes itself out of the world deeper and deeper into our inner world, and why birds cast such a spell on this path into us. The bird’s nest is, in effect, an outer womb given by nature; the bird only furnishes it and covers it rather than containing the whole thing inside itself. As a result, birds are the animals whose feelings have a very special, intimate familiarity with the outer world; they know that they share with nature their innermost mystery. That is why the bird sings its songs into the world as though it were singing into its inner self, that’s why we take a birdsong into our own inner selves so easily. It seems to us that we translate it fully, with no remainder, into our feelings; a birdsong can even, for a moment, make the whole world into a sky within us, because we feel that the bird does not distinguish between its heart and the world’s.” 

            I went out this morning, April 5^th, and was greeted by a cascade of birdsong, primarily by the 70+ American goldfinches that have taken up residence. But also by a male cardinal, by a dozen red-winged blackbirds, by another dozen common grackles, by black-capped chickadees, by red-breasted and white-breasted nuthatches, by several pine siskins, by evening grosbeaks by the first robins that have finally arrived, and by an array of other species now all awakening hormonally to spring and all that that means. 

            What a pleasure. What a blessing! Even though it was 35°, and the snow was still ridiculously deep, with more snow forecast for the afternoon, the birds were singing. I wonder sometimes what I will miss most when I finally leave this Earth, and high on the list will be birdsong. 

            It’s not only their musicality, their vitality and vituousity, their joy if you will. I think of the winter wren, a 4-inch-long bundle, whose song has been described as if “he were trying to burst his lungs,” and “as if the very atmosphere became resonant.”  Donald Kroodsma, after effusively praising the winter wren’s voice in his book The Singing Life of Birds, writes, “I experience [its] performance on another level. The wren family originated in the New World, and this wren is the only one that has escaped the New World, now occurring all across Asia and Europe, even into northern Africa . . . Literally, then, the sun always rises on this wren, and his song is heard around the world. I like to imagine waiting in the early morning darkness at Cape Spear, the easternmost point of Newfoundland, where dawn first greets North America each day. There, these wrens are among the first to sing . . . Each wren seems to shout “pass it on,” and, half a second into the infectious charge, the male on the next territory to the west responds, and the next, and the next, each with an intensity as if his own song were to be heard around the world. All along this front, where dawn’s first light sweeps over Newfoundland, “pass it on” radiates from thousands of bills thrown wide, each singer pausing after his first song only after the next hundred wrens to the west have heeded his call.

            “This dawn-and-wren-wave progresses to the west, and I imaging surfing this wave, keeping pace with the light and the song . . . In the span of 24 hours, this wren’s dawn signature sweeps the world. It knows no political boundaries, honors no demilitarized zones, around the globe, dawn is continuously celebrated. My knees are weak, my head dizzy from the intoxicating ride.”

            Yes, birdsong. What a gift.

winter wren

 

Earthworms Are Non-Native Invasives 

            I recently gave a talk on the common trees and shrubs of the Northwoods, and I was surprised to learn how few people know the story of how damaging earthworms are to our northern forests. I’ve written about this issue a number of times before, but because of its importance, the story bears repeating. 

            I realize saying earthworms are evil is deeply counter-intuitive for those of us raised on stories of how good earthworms are for soil, which is true for gardens and farms. However, it’s absolutely not true for forests.

            Earthworms are an invasive species. After the last glacial retreat, no native earthworms lived in the Great Lakes region. But in the last century, we have introduced at least 15 species of worms, spread initially by European settlers, and then hastened along by anglers using the worms as fishing bait. 

            This means that since the glacial retreat over 10,000 years ago, our forests developed in the complete absence of earthworms. Thus, annual leaf decomposition evolved to be controlled by fungi and bacteria, which work so slowly that the accumulation of leaf litter exceeds the rate of decomposition, resulting in the formation of a thick, spongy duff layer on the forest floor. In a rich sugar maple forest, for instance, the duff layer can be up to four inches thick, insulating the ground and keeping it cool and wet in the spring.     

            In response, herbaceous plants like trillium, bloodroot and trout lily have adapted over those thousands of years to germinate and root exclusively in this thick, moist, cool mat. 

            However, as the worm population has grown, the worms have rapidly consumed the duff layer in as little as a year or two, literally eating the duff out from under the seedling plants. By doing so, the worms have altered the physical and chemical properties of the soils, changing the pH, the nutrient and water cycles, and disrupting the symbiotic relationships between soil fungi and tree roots. By the worms removing the protective duff from on top of the soil, they expose the ground to sunlight, allowing the soil to get hotter, dryer, and more compacted, which in turn allows rainwater to run off faster.

            A 2016 study published in the journal “Global Change Biology” involved research by more than two-dozen scientists examining the impacts of worms on forest ecosystems. Scientists from the United States, Canada and the German Centre for Integrative Biodiversity Research at Leipzig University worked on this species diversity project, which joined research from 14 separate studies. They found that as worms eat the leaves on the forest floor, big trees survive, but many young seedlings perish, along with many ferns and wildflowers, all of which changes the composition of trees in a forest. The earthworms amplified the negative effects of droughts, climate warming, and deer grazing on native plants.

            The study also showed that worms helped prepare soils for invading species like buckthorn and garlic mustard which evolved over millennia in Europe right along with the worms.

            Worms also made the soil better-suited for grasses and sedges to move in. Have you noticed woodlands in our area that appear to have what looks like a lawn as an understory? Grasses do better in dry, warm soils – their fine roots can better absorb nutrients and water compared to tree roots. The grasses and sedges are native and common components of forest ecosystem – they aren’t “invasive” species. But they are able to outcompete other native species like large-flowered and nodding trillium, Solomon’s seal, blue cohosh, Canada mayflower, wild ginger, red baneberry, lady fern, bloodroot, bellwort, and the many others that do best in cool, moist soils.

            Add in the effects of browsing by over populations of white-tailed deer, and the vegetative impacts were seen as profound.

            The good news is that earthworms move very slowly, less than a half mile over 200 years. The bad news is that in northern lake districts like ours, lakes are often less than a mile apart, so the worms have eventually spread from the lakeshores and meet in the woodland middle between the lakes. 

            In some parts of southern Minnesota, with better soils, there are now 200,000 nightcrawlers per acre. And that doesn't include angleworms, which can be as thick as 400,000 per acre – all of them digesting plant material and leaving the forest floor more bare. Minnesota is probably 90 to 95 percent infested with foreign worms, the researchers say.

            Bottom line? “The earthworm invasion has altered the biodiversity, and possibly the functioning of the forest ecosystems, because it affects the entire food web as well as water and nutrient cycles,” said Dylan Craven of Leipzig University in Germany, lead author of the study. Added Lee Frelich from the University of Minnesota’s Center for Forest Ecology, “When you change the structure of the soil, which everything else is based on, the ecological cascades are going to ripple through the entire ecosystem.’’ 

            So, what can you do? Well, very little about the existing earthworms now in our forests. But if you fish and ordinarily dump your leftover worms in the woods, cease and desist. And if you have a compost pile or garden full of worms next to the woods, please bury a metal barrier around the garden to prevent the earthworms’ dispersal. 

 

 

A Northwoods Almanac for early April, 2023

 A Northwoods Almanac for March 31 – April 13, 2023  

 

Hopkins Bioclimatic Law

            With our Northwoods spring lurking somewhere over the southern horizon, the question is when we’ll see some of that warmth. Well, one way to get an estimate of when we can expect spring to arrive is via “Hopkins Law.” In the early 1900s, American entomologist Andrew Delmar Hopkins developed what he called the Bioclimatic Law, which hypothesized that phenological events in North America were shifted by four days for every 1° latitude north, every 5° longitude west, and every 400 feet of elevation increase. 

            Doing the math, (one degree of latitude is 69 miles and there’s 60 minutes in one degree of latitude), this means spring moves north at a rate of 17 miles per day. So, for example in Manitowish, we’re 250 miles from Madison. Divide 250 miles by 17, and that equals 15 days. 

            However, we’re also over 700 feet higher in elevation – Madison is 873’ and Manitowish is 1600’ – so we have to add another 7 days to spring’s march northward. 

            Thus, in Manitowish, we’re 22 days behind Madison in the arrival of spring. Tulips just blooming in Madison on April 1 will bloom up here on average on April 22. 

            The Bioclimatic Law was established through observation of the Hessian fly (Mayetiola destructor), an insect pest on many cereal crops. Hopkins proposed his rule of thumb to predict when wheat could safely be sown without risk of attack. Years later, Hopkins suggested that the Bioclimatic Law could be applied generally to many phenological events in plants, insects, and animals.

            To be sure, Hopkins law is by no means universally accepted. One researchers writes, “The depiction of the relationships involved is too rigidly defined to fit the diversity that I have come to know in nature.” So, for instance, proximity to the Great Lakes throws the law off, as does proximity to mountains. 

            Nevertheless, Hopkins’ work continues to be cited almost a century later, and for mixed forest communities like where we live, one analysis showed that spring green‐up varies predictably along broad geographic gradients consistent with the Bioclimatic Law. The researcher does throw in the caveat that variation in timing at individual sites will occur with unusual temperature and precipitation events, so there are lots of exceptions.

            All this is to say, hang in there. Cabin fever is running amuck, I know, but spring is near.

 

Sightings: American Goldfinches, Sharp-shinned Hawk, Pine Siskins

            At our feeders in Manitowish, we are currently inundated with American goldfinches – 80 or so! They arrived in force about a month ago, and continue to enjoy the bounty of sunflowers seeds that we provide.

            To complicate matters, however, a sharp-shinned hawk arrived two weeks ago, and is a frequent presence in the trees above our feeders. The birds scatter to the four winds whenever he/she is outed, usually by the alarm calls of the local blue jays, so we know to look for the hawk whenever the feeders are bereft of birds.

            I have a devil of a time differentiating a sharp-shinned hawk from a Cooper’s hawk. They’re virtually identical, though a Cooper’s is substantially larger on average than a sharpie. But a female sharpie can almost be as big as a male Cooper’s (female raptors are larger than males), so size can’t always be used as a determinant. You have to use a combination of field marks to draw a conclusion, and even then, I’m seldom 100% certain. So, we may have an adult male Cooper’s, but that’s an ID differentiation that is meaningless to the birds at our feeders since both species avidly eat songbirds. 

            Meanwhile, the goldfinches are starting to molt, which clearly tells us spring is on the way. All birds molt at least once a year to replace weathered and/or worn-out feathers. Some only molt once a year, like blue jays, but others molt twice, the spring (breeding) molt usually resulting in more brilliant coloration in particular for the males.

            Finally, a small flock of pine siskins showed up at our feeders on 3/20 after being absent nearly all winter.

            

Turtles Still “On Ice”

            Our northern turtles survive the winter underwater either on top of the sediments or buried in them, but are also known to move around on occasion. Their body temperature goes down to around 34°F and remains that cold all winter long, which allows them to reduce the amount of oxygen they need. Once underwater, their lungs shut down, their blood oxygen levels drop to near zero, and they start to rely on cloacal respiration. The blood vessels around the cloaca (their butt) are able to take up oxygen directly from the water. 

            If oxygen levels drop very low, snapping and painted turtles can switch to anaerobic respiration, which does not require oxygen. This can cause lactic acid build-up, but they can deal with it because they've got a heavy shell with a lot of calcium and carbonates in it that neutralize the acids. So, the shell, in addition to offering physical protection, helps maintain their body chemistry while they're living underwater.                                                                  

            

Sandhill Cranes Returning, and Time for The Crane Count

            Sandhill cranes usually begin returning to our area by the first week of April. Like great blue herons, they return before the ice is off our lakes, often feeding along the shorelines of creeks and rivers that open well before our lakes. 

            Cranes are socially monogamous, often with long-term pair bonds, so most return already mated. In our area, they typically select nest sites in or near seasonally flooded (non-woody) wetlands, while avoiding forested uplands. The presence of shallow water with emergent aquatic vegetation is very important. The nests are constructed of a mound of aquatic vegetation, grass, mud, sticks, and moss.

            Once the eggs are laid, they share incubation duties equally during daylight hours, but only females incubate at night; thus females perform about 70% of the total incubation.

            The annual Midwest sandhill crane count takes place on April 15. In 2022, over 1,200 people in Wisconsin participated, their effort resulting in a count of 11,513 cranes. In Oneida County, 41 sites were observed by 51 counters, with 153 cranes tallied.

            If you’re interested in participating in Oneida County, email Bob and Jan Dall at janbobdall@gmail.com, or call 715-401-3214.

            For Vilas and Iron counties, email Hannah Gargrave at the North Lakeland Discovery center at hannah@discoverycenter.net, or call 715-543-2085.

            Sandhill cranes have had an incredible recovery over the last 70 years. Only a dozen pairs were known to occur in Wisconsin in 1936, but through various concerted conservation efforts, now an estimated 90,000 thrive in the Eastern United States.

            By the way, counting is actually very easy – the hard part is getting up early! So, if you are worried that you don’t know enough to participate, it’s really rather simple to listen for their exceptionally loud unison calls, and jot down when you hear them. That’s fundamentally all there is to it.

 

2023 Great Backyard Bird Count 

            The 2023 Great Backyard Bird Count in February exceeded all expectations. Organizers estimate that more than 555,000 participants from 202 participating countries made the latest count the best ever. Participants reported 7,538 bird species and uploaded more than 151,000 photos, videos, and sounds. The highest number of checklists submitted came from the U..S., with India second, and Canada third.

            Colombia took the crown as the country with the most species reported, with a mind-boggling 1,293. Ecuador and India followed, both reporting more than 1,000 species. The U.S. ranked tenth with 669 species.

            In Wisconsin, 134 species were reported on 4,807 checklists from all 72 counties.

 

IPCC Report

            The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, or IPCC, recently issued a report that marks the conclusion of an eight-year, international effort to analyze the best and most current scientific understanding about climate change. It synthesizes a voluminous amount of research on everything from the physical science of the world’s climate system, to the vulnerabilities of economies and ecosystems, to ways of reducing the impact of global warming and building resilience.

            Here’s the bottom line: Without major policy and behavior changes, the average global temperature is likely to rise above the internationally determined benchmark of 2.7°F above pre-industrial temperatures, likely within the next decade. Scientists estimate that’s the point beyond which climate disasters may risk irreversible damage to Earth’s ecosystems.

            The report is crystal clear about the cause: “Human activities, principally through emissions of greenhouse gases, have unequivocally caused global warming. Widespread and rapid changes in the atmosphere, ocean, cryosphere and biosphere have occurred. Human-caused climate change is already affecting many weather and climate extremes in every region across the globe.”

            Here's the final kicker if we choose to not act: No matter what we do now, temperatures will continue to increase because greenhouse gas emissions are cumulative. Think of the atmosphere as a bucket – what we put into the air 50 years ago is still there, and what carbon dioxide that we continue to put in will be there for another 300 to 1,000 years. Other heat-trapping gases, such as methane, have shorter lives, but they cause greater increases in temperature.

            So, what do we have to do? We literally have no choice but to limit human-caused global warming to net zero CO2 emissions. Please remember that net zero does NOT mean we don’t emit any more carbon – that’s impossible. It means instead that we figure out how to remove carbon from the atmosphere at the same rate we are emitting it, and that IS possible.

            See the report for yourself: https://www.ipcc.ch/report/sixth-assessment-report-cycle/. This is the very best science the world has to offer. We all owe it to our children and grandchildren to actually read it and not play politics.

            

Celestial Events

            For planet watching in April, look after dusk for brilliant Venus high in the west, and for Mars high in the southwest. 

            Before sunrise, look for Saturn rising in the southeast.

            The full moon – the “Awakening/Grass Appearing/Maple Sugar Moon” – occurs on April 5, and we’re up now to 13 hours of sunlight. Who knows – the snow may actually start melting!

            The average date for ice-off in the Minocqua area is April 17, so we’re getting close.

 

Thought for the Week

            “The more you watch the river, the more you understand what it means to apply the adjective “alive.” And it’s in those ways, just with regard to the river, the birds, or other components of the place that we separate out and name, that you begin to get an understanding of what this place is . . . The place itself is not all that important. It’s your intimacy with the place that’s really important. You can learn about God anywhere is what it comes down to. You just have to pay attention.” – Barry Lopez, Syntax of the River