The Field

How dirty is Obama's clean energy goal?

My first blog entry over at ThisorThat:

http://thisorthat.com/blog/how-dirty-is-obamas-clean-energy-goal

Goodbye Worldchanging

I just read the disheartening news that Worldchanging is closing its virtual doors.   Where will I go now for thought provoking sustainability essays?  I hope the idea of bright green environmentalism will live on and thrive regardless.

Free day at the Denver Zoo part 2: the animals

It was cold today, but it was a free day at the zoo, and it turns out that winter is a good time to go to the zoo since many of the animals are sporting beautiful winter coats. We saw the African wild dogs, a first for me, and the spotted hyenas, striped hyenas (my favorite of the two) the servals, a quickly pacing fossa, an amur leopard (which, if you’ve seen Planet Earth, makes you feel like you’re looking at a caged ghost) the always gorgeous snow leopard, a lounging polar bear, the arctic foxes, which get the cuteness award for being all curled up into big, fluffy white balls; the otters, a close second in the cuteness category; a swimming tapir and an elephant, among many others. Aside from the arctic foxes and a few others, most of the animals were very active and provided better than average viewing. My favorites were the Siberian tigers and the wolves, who were asleep the first time we looked, but provided a show later on.

To see a full grown Siberian tiger a few feet away is to be awed (is it really that big? It totally is. Look how big it is! You keep dumbly thinking to yourself.) To see it is also to be awwwed when it starts playing with the four already large five-month old cubs nearby. It was hard to be impressed by anything after that, but the three white wolves did a good job of it when, around sunset, they gathered and howled.

The Denver Zoo free day part 1: stupid people

Crowds gathered round to see the beautiful animals at the zoo today, and displayed a frightful amount of ignorance as they did so.  I feel I must report: 

People mistook the African wild dogs for spotted hyenas because the two are rotated through the same enclosures and apparently, if there’s a sign that says “hyena” on it, that must be what you’re looking at, even if it’s actually a multi-colored canine that looks nothing like the picture of a spotted hyena on the same sign, and even if the actual hyenas can be seen simply by turning your head to the left and looking in the adjacent enclosure.

“It’s a Savannah Stalker!” This is what people think servals are called, because the sign giving information about them is titled “The Savannah Stalker,” with “serval” written in smaller type down below.  There's no excuse for the person who thought that this was a bobcat.

 “It’s an anteater. I didn’t know they got so big!”  They don’t, lady, and they don’t spend much time submerged in water, either.  Ok, apparently they are capable swimmers, but think about it: do ants live under water?  Don't answer that.  You’re in the pachyderm house, and you’re looking at a Malayan tapir. Don’t worry, your small son is smarter than you and is happy to correct you.

Finally, parents seem to have slacked off on their duty to tell their children not to pound on aquarium glass as it harasses the fish or other animals inside.  I'm not saying the kids are  dumb, because they're just kids.  All I'm saying is that a responsible adult needs to step up and threaten to throw them in with the Siamese crocodile if they don't stop tapping on its glass. 

Luckily people weren't the only thing on display, and I'll talk about the actual animals in a minute.

 

Dispatch from Open Space 5/14/2010

14 May Friday.  So the week was cold and wet, and we couldn’t even come in on Wednesday because there was too much snow, so when we came in today and it was only partly cloudy and relatively warm, it felt great.  We spent the morning finishing up a dense patch of myrtle spurge that we started the previous day, and then our crew leader broke off to do some office work while my two crewmates and I got the good job: delve into the Heart of Darkest Boulder to GPS any big infestations of garlic mustard we find.  I speak of course of the Cottonwood Grove Habitat Conservation Area along Boulder Creek.  Surrounded by roads and industry, the area is an unusually dense and overgrown riparian forest, a green patch easily visible on aerial maps of Boulder but fenced off from the public and generally unknown outside the transients who take advantage of the extreme complexity and density of the understory to camp in seclusion.  In fact, the transients, along with the proximity to a polluting chemical plant, are often cited as the real reasons for making the area an HCA in the first place – the designation provided an excuse to build an excluding fence around it. 

Inside the fence is an area as close to jungle as you will find in Boulder.  Though surrounded by the city of Boulder, other than the trash left by transients (seriously, what’s with all the flip-flops?) dim road noise and the occasional, dystopian sound of a garbled loudspeaker at the chemical plant, there is no visible or audible sign of human civilization.  Non-native trees and shrubs of various shapes and sizes vie for sunlight with massive cottonwoods, and the ground, where visible, is intensely green (often with weeds.)  Moving through the area requires constantly climbing over or moving around the tangled hulks of fallen trees and branches which themselves support new plants and strange fungi.  The visibility is so limited that choosing a path requires a fair amount of guesswork.  If you chose to climb over those tree trunks rather than take the long way around and under a forbidding stand of poison hemlock, you may find your way blocked by a dense hedge of rose bushes.  With all the climbing, meandering and doubling back it is possible to spend the better part of a day making only a few thousand feet of progress.  In other words, it’s a really fun place to explore on a scouting mission. 

We saw a small group of deer as we attempted to follow the creek, and soon after finding a small patch of garlic mustard things got interesting.  I was pulling up some garlic mustard when I happened to look over to my right.  One of my crewmates was pulling another little patch some thirty or forty feet away, and no more than fifteen feet beyond her, a coyote was walking by.  Focused on the weeds, my crewmate didn’t even notice the medium sized carnivorous mammal passing silently on her right.  I called her and pointed urgently, but stupidly couldn’t seem to get out the word coyote.  She looked at me, trying to figure out what I was so excited about, and by the time I got her looking in the right direction the coyote was gone.  But with some searching we saw it again, lingering in the foliage, looking back at us for a minute before departing.  I tried to get a picture but my camera malfunctioned.  I’ve seen plenty of coyotes before, but it felt different seeing one in a forest rather than out on the prairie, as though it were more mysterious and wolf-like, and its ability to pass unnoticed in plain sight impressed me.  We continued with our work and cleared the patch before lunch. 

We watched beautiful yellow, black and red Western tanagers and yellow and green yellow warblers as we ate by the creek.  After lunch, the coyote came back, and this time she decided to stay.  As we worked a dense garlic mustard patch she came and lay down some thirty feet away and watched us lazily.  If we snapped a loud twig or got within twenty feet she would take notice and perhaps move off for a minute before settling in a new location at a comfortable distance and continuing to keep an eye on us.  She watched us for well over an hour this way, even apparently taking a nap now and then.  I finally got my pictures, and while I wanted to take this as an awesome wildlife experience, the strangeness of her behavior was enough to make me wonder if she wasn’t sick or tame from transients giving handouts.  Yet I couldn’t help thinking about how this is what the origin of dogs must have looked like, with wolves lying just outside a human camp, waiting for a bone to get tossed their way, wolves who edged closer and closer until they divorced the rest of their kin to join us permanently, and how we rewarded their loyalty and the voluntary sacrifice of their freedom by mutating them into Boston terriers.  Despite the knowledge that something must be wrong about a coyote behaving this way, it nonetheless remained a surreally cool experience, watched over by a coyote as we worked. 

She followed us at a distance throughout the afternoon, always mildly interested, just keeping an eye on us.  We saw at least three dead raccoons in various states of decay (including a beautifully intact skull that I couldn’t resist keeping) which might have been the coyote’s handiwork, perhaps indicating that she isn’t sick or overly tame after all.  Once, reentering the HCA after going out to drop off our trash bags full of garlic mustard, I saw a rabbit dash into the bushes, followed closely by the coyote, who looked over as if to ask why I interrupted the hunt.  When we split up for a last pass through the western end of the grove she followed me at a distance through the forest. 

An off-limits jungle, unexpected wildlife viewing and a close, extended encounter with a wild representative of that place in the form of a coyote.  Yeah, I was on the clock for that.

Dispatch from Open Space, 4/21/2010

Andrea hill 4/2010, originally uploaded by JohnGiez-.

Despite the fact that I’m usually solar powered when it comes to work and the sky was drearily gray and threatening rain and it was quite cool again today, I felt strangely energetic rather than lethargic. Maybe because the northern properties of Ryan, Andrea and Jacob are some of my favorite in the whole system. They feel remote and quiet and there’s a beautiful valley surrounded by hills whose steep slopes bear dark shale, the favorite habitat of the endemic Bell’s twinpod (e.g. these and these). It was the first place I saw a sand lily, and on this day another flower new to me. So despite the abundant cacti and steep slopes I always enjoy working in this area.

This morning as we attempted a difficult grid around one of the hills we were serenaded by snipes, whose ethereal call always seems nearby and all around even though the birds themselves are difficult to spot. And a peacock or two on a nearby farm, whose blaring cry is better suited to a humid jungle and reminds me of the Denver zoo. And a little later, a rooster’s crowing, the sound of which, after all these years, still reminds me of daybreak in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. We found noticeably less Med sage than in my previous summers, a welcome change, and I always enjoy the great view to be had from the hilltops.  Turning to the east, away from the valley, you can see a tipi on another hill a ways off, and to the south, two giant radio dishes at the table mountain antenna site. It always seems surreal to me, to be in a grassland well outside the city where the sparse human inhabitants operate goat dairies and pick-and-pay organic vegetable farms, and here are these monumental pieces of advanced technology just sitting on the hillside, isolated from any obvious origin, purpose or user. Kind of sci-fi.

Also, the rattlesnakes wisely stay inside when it’s cold.

At the corner of sapling and nowhere 1

at the corner of sapling and nowhere 1, originally uploaded by JohnGiez-.

A corner of a hypothetical street yet to be built, slowly going back to nature in the meantime.

What to do during Earth Hour

This post comes early or late, depending on your geographic position, but we've still got a few minutes yet till 8:30 local time, so it's not technically late from my point of view.  I was thinking of things to do during Earth Hour:

*Trivial Pursuit, anyone?  Play board games. 

*A stroll through the neighborhood at night can be fun.

*Munch on food prepared without electricity. 

*Try to read by candlelight and be thankful for electricity.

*Your electronic toys are all effectively broken for an hour and reading isn't much of an option.  After you've played a game or two, what could you and your significant other possibly do to pass the time in your dark, romantically candlelit dwelling?  Hmm...

Ghost streets of a non-development

Wow, what a wasteland this blog is, huh?  Not updated in three quarters of a year.  Maybe its purpose no longer seemed defined to me, since my fiance and I moved to a new neighborhood and I no longer visit or clean up the field regularly.  Also, laziness. 

Speaking of wastelands, there are two empty lots, one west of the restaurants and another east of the clubhouse, on opposite sides of the pleasant apartment/townhouse neighborhood we live in now.  The west one was graded at the same time as the rest of the neighborhood back in 2002, and since then a bank has been built in one corner and some townhomes in another corner, and a strange road to nowhere paved through the middle of it, but most of it remains ceded to the weeds.  The developers haven't even gotten that far with the other one.  Neatly hidden from view in the neighborhood by a fence, the area was graded in 2006, and the development that was started has yet to be finished.  Concrete gutters define streets never paved and the edges of nonexistent sidewalks.  Water lines were apparently installed, shown by manhole covers, fire hydrants and sewer line caps.  And that's it.  Concrete lines and rusting iron circles that will disappear beneath colonizing plants in a few years time if no one does anything with it.  Prairie dogs will return, and snakes likely already find the heaps of broken concrete piled down the middle of one of the non-streets to be excellent habitat.

I find it interesting to explore, as I would any ruin, although it isn't so much a ruin as a complete failure to build in the first place, which is itself an interesting occurrence.  And if, as I suspect, this and the other lot represent small ruins of the unsustainable, then its return to nature is fine with me.  But if someone built a dense, walkable neighborhood with a few more restaurants or other businesses to add to the local repertoire there, I wouldn't mind. 

"If I had a shotgun..." Snippets from Open Space, week of 6/22

The other day I sat in the boughs of a rather horizontal cottonwood, the only nearby source of shade in the middle of a rolling prairie, crunching a ripe apple. That was a good break. Later I saw a very yellow bumble bee land on a white larkspur, and the contrast between the white flowers and the yellow and black bumble bee was very cool.

The day before I found some fossil clamshells in a shale outcropping. I left them there, of course, but took a picture.

A few days earlier I was inside a bird closure area, near an osprey nest. I asked Christian, a wildlife tech and avid birder, if those people over there were allowed to fly their buzzing model planes so close to the bird closure. His expression soured and his tone betrayed the truth of his desire as he said, "If I had a shotgun, I would shoot that fucking thing down." I guess they are allowed to fly their planes that close to the raptor closure, but the people who favor the birds don't like it, not one bit.

We've been working hard, really hard, to kill all the flowering Mediterranean sage plants before they go to seed, but the wet climate this year has brought up an order of magnitude more plants than there were last year while the economy has seen to it that we have fewer staff members to deal with it. We were supposed to be done by now, but there's still hundreds of plants on our land out there, dropping their flowers and starting to dry out as they go to seed. Hopefully we'll be able to get almost all of them next week.