Mesa Monsoons

Storms at Hope Lake trail

The summer rains have begun, a little behind schedule but all the sweeter considering the drought and high temperatures.  The rains contained the West Fork Fires near Pagosa Springs, and brought cooler temperatures to Mesa Verde.  Colorado is experiencing a below average fire season to date.  Whew!

At Mesa Verde, we've begun sampling the Long

Long House Ruins

 Term Fire Monitoring plots.  With 100 plots, it takes some time to complete.  The goal of that study is to understand how the pinyon-juniper woodlands at Mesa Verde are recovering from its large fires.  As I've mentioned before, there is a lot of uncertainty about what seral stages the burned area will grow through, how long each stage might require, and what the species-mix is during each stage.  The classic textbook view of woodland post-fire seral-stages is grass yields to shrubs which yields to forest.

Plants are our Friends

However, the real world is never so tidy, and at Mesa Verde these classic stages are muddled by factors such as fire intensity, future fire frequency, human intervention with post fire reseeding of grasses (at unnatural densities and without forbs), unnatural feral horse grazing pressure, and post-fire recolonization with invasive plants.  These factors may create a new path of seral stages for Mesa Verde, so the climax community may end up resembling something different.  Since Mesa Verde has several endemic plants and that aerial reseeding is expensive, studying how fires and related management plans are changing the biotic community is an important goal.

Coppers feast on Arnica

Many of these factors are active areas of study, as we found out first hand at a visit to Rio Mesa Center -- a new research facility for the University of Utah.  We camped out at the new tents and learned about the current research projects, such as inventorying the plants & animals, reclaiming weedy fields to grow native seeds for restoration projects, and peering into the past to understand the past fire regime.  I met several paleoecologists and they encouraged me to learn more and come visit their department in Salt Lake City.  I've been mulling graduate school in either ecology (systems and/or restoration) or paleontology (evolutionary ecology) for a really long time... this year it seems like the fates are coalescing into new potentials to consider.

So as I walk through the mountains here, I wonder what next year will bring.  Any suggestions for my next career?

Cascade Cascades (yeah, the names here are that original)

On a Clear Day

Sheep Mountain near the old Galloping Goose Trestle

Today, June 21st, is the first official day of summer.  From our house near Dolores, we can use the distant Abajo mountains as our celestial calendar.  Last night's sunset from my observation post in the hot tub, the sun set above the northernmost peaks, the Twin Peaks.  One of my first tasks on the job this year was to scrub the cover for the USGS regional air-dust camera, which looks out over the Carrizo mountains in Arizona.  It's not the best view, but you may be able to catch a portion of our sunset skies from it.

Bear Creek Falls

Summer in the mountains also means wildfire season, and southwest Colorado continues to extend the decades long drought.  The Dark Canyon Wilderness we visited just a few weeks ago has a fire burning we could see from our porch 60 miles away.  The beetle killed fir forest on the west slopes of Wolf Creek pass is doing much worse this past week.  The afternoon smoke plume from 80 miles away looks like an H-bomb was dropped on Pagosa Springs.  That fire has tripled in size each day this week.  With luck, the monsoon rains will start soon and help snuff some of these out.

semper vigilantissimi

A new skill to add to my resume is I'm now trained to serve as a Fire Lookout.  I may fill in for our expert lookout at Park Point Tower, and perhaps  volunteer to work at the Benchmark Watchtower on days of severe weather.  In the past, Benchmark was staffed during the summer  months, but now it is vacant.  Having 2 watch towers cover a region is really important to obtain a cross-azimuth on a sighting, which is used to triangulate the position much more accurately.  Each year, a few more lookout towers are decommissioned.   Most are historic structures with antique equipment (the navy glass at MEVE served in WWII).  Attempts to preserve the old towers in the San Juans has led to novel ways to secure funding for them; you can rent them out as a weekend getaway, such as Jersey Jim Tower!

Another new experience, but much more solemn, was working on a Search and Rescue team at Mesa Verde.  Lost hikers are very uncommon at Mesa Verde, so this was the first time most of us had been involved on a SAR assignment.  We used canine teams, helicopters, and lots and lots of man-power sweeping the canyons where he was last known to be, but after a week still had not found him.

Wasatch Trail

For some weekend R&R, we hiked along Bear Creek (no, the other Bear Creek) from Telluride.  There were still patches of snow by the falls, and especially up along the Wasatch trail.  I wanted to see what the upper falls looked like, so I bushwhacked down an avalanche chute to finally get a good view.  Sadly, even this remote area could become the next victim of sprawl... I didn't realize it during my peaceful hike, but the Wasatch trail is under assault by a greedy tycoon that makes his riches through aggressive and dubious hostage tactics (multiple avalanche chutes imply you'd be a moron to build or stay there).  Further up the trail are some beautiful cascades.  After hiking across a snow field and a rickety, old bridge over troubled waters, I arrived at an old gold mill site now occupied by yellow-bellied marmots.  There were many funky-rusted contraptions on the ground, so I've nicknamed it Steampunk Mine.

Nellie Mine (aka Steampunk), Wasatch Trail

I'd like to close with this quote from the late Dr. Derek Main's dissertation on the Arlington Archosaur Site:

“Come my friends, 
tis not too late to seek a newer world. 
Push off and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows, 
for my purpose holds to sail 
off the bathes of all the western stars, until I die. 
To pursue knowledge like a sinking star. 

To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield. “

---- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Behind the Bear's Ears

Before I leave the topic of the brave new world of genetic engineering on the back-burner, I just wanted to share an exciting story about using this technology to potential heal our eastern forests: restoring the Chestnut Tree.

Edge of Cedars, ceremonial pottery

Summer has arrived in the Four Corners, and the little bit of snow left on the La Platas is fading fast.  We had ventured into Cedar Mesa country in Utah, and stopped in Blanding to tour the wonderful museum at Edge of the Cedars.  The museum is full of interesting artifacts, including a thousand year old sash made from macaw feathers.  Outside is the ancient Anasazi pueblo, and just beyond is one of my favorite "modern art" pieces.  We had learned of it at a campfire talk in Chaco canyon led by famous Ranger Cornucopia.  He discussed Chacoan archaeo-astronomy, and then mentioned this modern sculpture designed as part experiment.  It stuck in my mind as a wonderful idea, so it was excellent to see it in person:  Inspired by the Sun Dagger and other interesting archaeological sites, an artist had decided to create a modern timepiece using ancient pueblo motifs: meet the Sun Marker.

Sun Marker

This sculpture is designed to get people thinking about ways to mark the passing of time using the sun.  Is it time to plant?  Time to hunt?  Winter Solstice?  When archaeologists discover a potential astronomical alignment within a site, it is sometimes difficult to be certain what ways the Ancients may have used those alignments.  Were some coincidental?  Are the often more to the calendar than meets the eye?  After completing the sculpture, students had found more ways to use the Sun Marker than the artist realized, such as predicting lunar events.

It was fun playing with the interactive archive at the museum, and the pottery designs are inspiring to me.  Maybe one day I'll take up pottery?  After walking like an Anasazi, we traipsed over to the Blanding Dinosaur Museum.  The entrance is filled with three enormous petrified trees found nearby and one of the largest ammonites I had ever seen.  There are lots of interesting replicas and specimens, including a mosasaur.  However, the most interesting thing was learning about the contentious cladistics behind the evolution of birds.

Cave on Comb Ridge

Off we went to my favorite formation in southern Utah, Comb Ridge.  The previous weekend, we had visited a few granaries, cliff houses, and a huge cave.  Each time I visit, I have a unique experience, as if I'm gleaning a little understanding of the metaphysics of Anasazi life just from osmosis off the fluid sands turned to white sandstone.  I often wonder what these canyons were like before they were ransacked by pothunters, but maybe these little pieces I find are somehow better for myself - leaving room to merge my imagination with history and geology.

Ancient Anasazi Granary

This time at the Ridge, I hiked again past a strange landscape of stones, cactus, and wildflowers that led past a few looted granaries and finally to an expansive overlook.  I gaze out and the sweeping landscape as a wind gust blows my hat off.  I look down to pick up my hat and find a tiny sherd of black-on-white pottery in the red sand.  As I trace the fading pattern, a raven flies over head and "cahs" as he barrel-rolls past me.  I think I'm turning Anasazi.

Comb Ridge, Utah

From there, we drive near the entrance of Natural Bridges National Monument, a place we had visited Auto-tour style several years ago.  This time, we took a dirt road that ends up winding up to Elk Park in the Manti La-Sal Forest and goes right between the Bears Ears.  I recall reading about a big site behind the Ears in the excellent book House of Rain, and sure enough, it's there.  I take the remaining daylight's gift to huff up the eastern Ear to see another wonderful view and unexpectedly stumble across a USGS benchmark.

Ears

After logging a few geocaches, we camp out near Butt's Point among ponderosa, aspen, fir, juniper, and pinyon trees all trying to decide who belongs in the forest.  The following day, we make the steep hike down to Three Finger Ruins (named for the massive natural pillars guarding the entrance to the side canyon).  I was running out of time, so didn't make the hike up to the ruins, but on the way, found a spring gushing from the hillside.  Cool, clear water in a desert canyon welling up is nothing but miraculous, so I take several deep drinks (ignoring the modern voice in my head telling me to treat the water) and refill my canteen.  Ancient cultures around the world, even in rainy Europe, considered springs sacred.  Now see this desert spring from Anasazi eyes.

Abandoned Kiva

The canyons now are getting hot as summer has arrived.  In keeping with the Bear theme, we went to Bear Creek in Telluride, Colorado.  More on that trip later.

Welcome to the Anthropocene

Cutthroat Castle, Hovenweep

The open skies and sweeping views of the Four Corners lend themselves to wondering and philosophizing.  When I hike out to the ruins of an ancient dwelling built precariously upon the boulders at the head of a forlorn canyon, the remains of a village abandoned 700 years ago, a common reaction is to reflect upon who I am and where my civilization is going.

The Anasazi ruins of Cutthroat Castle are part of Hovenweep, which is a Ute word for deserted canyon.  These days, only a few miles from the Canyons of the Ancients, dryland farming of beans, sunflowers, and winter wheat again reform many acres that were once vast sagebrush scrublands.  All rivers in the southwest are dammed for irrigation, with cattle ranching and sheep grazing occurring on all lands too steep and rocky for cultivation, including even alpine mountains so remote to be designated Wilderness Areas.  The mountains have supported 200 years of mining and logging, and has changed the composition and resiliency of our forests.  Overgrazing in some areas has resulted in desertification and disruption of soils, causing dust storms to transport topsoil vast distances.  The locals here have even adopted a Dust Bowl era cliche' when the strong south winds blow, "I expect Arizona is coming to visit today."  Open pit mines of copper, uranium,  palladium, and molybdenum  near the Four Corners can be seen from space, as well as our brilliant night lights powered by the coal that leaves tell-tale traces of mercury, sulfur and nitrates in sediments.

Tortured Utah Juniper and Cryptobiotic Soil

Some of this man-made geologic epoc, termed the Anthropocene, is really interesting to see in satellite images; particularly time-lapse LANDSAT images, such as urban development, disappearing seas, island building, forest clearing, and a plethora of other signs of human "progress".  Considering most of these images are less than 25 years old, it is stunning to witness the scope, magnitude, and pace of change.  However, these changes have been happening in North America since the Holocene.  In the book, The Call of Distant Mammoths, the extinction of most of our large mammals and their predators are linked to the shockwave of human expansion radiating from the Bering Land Bridge, which is stunning to consider how low the population density that can accomplish such irrevocable loss.  Soon, a new stasis of North American biota was achieved, such as the expansion of great grasslands aided by the frequent fires humans intentionally set.  This would soon change again as the next migrants arrived in North America, the Industrialists, and set in motion the next wave of extinction events that are still in progress.

Mariposa Lily

These new changes to the landscape, such as farming, logging, roads, and concrete do leave a geologic imprint that will be recorded in sedimentary layers for eons.  The predicted moderate sea-level rise is much more notable, but it's not as if Florida hasn't been submerged before just 20 million years ago.  Impressive (frightening?) as these facts are, they pale in comparison to geologic changes such as the Great Cretaceous Western Interior Seaway, Ice Ages, Lake Bonneville Flood, or the Laramide Orogeny.

What is more subtle yet powerful than geographical change is the recent fossil record of the biosphere.  Not only is our biosphere changing in species composition and radical ecosystem shifts, but with the advent of the 21st century technology, we now have the power to shuffle 4 billion years of evolution, opening up an incredible potential and a new Pandora's Box.

Cutthroat Tower

I just finished reading a book called "Frankenstein's Cat", which briefly presents several new bio-technologies that are rapidly developing and, in my opinion, will be the next technological revolution with the potential to change our way of life and the world as we know it.  The book discusses current technologies including cloning, wiring the brains of mammals with micro-circuitry to become remote controlled toys and tools, and the big game changer... genetic engineering.  The author briefly describes a few pros and cons of these technologies, but more importantly, wants us to think hard about how we want to use these new technologies.  Is cloning species to prevent extinction good (especially if the habitat has been lost)?  How about cloning extinct species (particularly if their extinction was directly caused by humans... like Neanderthals)?  How about cloning your dead pet for fun, or a prize steer with robust traits for profit, or your Supreme Leader?  How about tweaking modern elephants to resemble their long-lost cousins and help them stave off the next potential Canfield Ocean cycle?

Scarlet Cup Cactus

And cloning is the least complex of the moral and secular problems.  Pharming goats with genes spliced from bacteria to produce cancer drugs, GMO crops with genes from pigs, jellyfish, or even synthetic genes to resist drought, disease, or trademarked herbicides?  How about corn with human genes?  How about splicing in the FOXP2 gene to dolphins and creating a new evolutionary path for civilized cetaceans?  How about gene therapy to cure diseases, increase longevity, or make your next transhuman child "advanced"?  So much potential and topics that it's easy for someone like me who cannot even clearly define my own ethical standards to animals to wallow in a mire of hypocrisy.  Perhaps the best thing I learned from Frankenstein's Cat is that it is normal to be stuck in the troubled middle, where rational thought and emotions blend together in contradictions.

Anazasi were awesome architects

Every week a new article or radio broadcast makes me ponder this huge quagmire all over.  Clearly, I need a walk in the glow-in-the-dark woods to help me see more clearly.  The home I currently live in is built next door to some long-ago crumbled Anazazi ruins, I wonder who/what will be living here in another thousand years?

So welcome to the Antropocene and the brave, new world that awaits us.  After all, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself (and perhaps mutant-cyborg-sentient-terrestrial-jellyfish Overlords).

Happy Earth Day!

I can tell spring has arrived this week.  Violet-green Swallows are circling the ponds and rivers, perfectly timed to catch the first round of bugs.  Waterfowl are on the move too, and we saw Canada Geese, Northern Shovelers, Cinnamon Teals, Common Mergansers, and Buffleheads.  A pair of red-shafted flickers were nest-building in the snag of an old cottonwood along the Dolores River, and a Bald Eagle Flew far overhead.

old growth pondorosa

Here's an interesting art project to celebrate Earth Day and remind me why I'm out here:http://www.lostbirdfilm.org/
This afternoon, I was privileged to watch a swan reach orbit for the first time!
To celebrate, I went for a hike up a ridge, past a raven's nest, to a sandstone arch near Taylor Creek to watch the moon rise in the window of rock.

On certain nightsWhen the angles are rightAnd the moon is a slender crescent

It's circle showsIn a ghostly glowOf earthly luminescence - Earthshine

Fantastic Fourth

My fourth season at Mesa Verde National Park has begun.  Between politics and career decisions, it was not a sure thing.  All my co-workers from the past two years have also moved on, so I am the only returning employee.  The crew will have the same structure as last year, 3 experienced technicians with 1 college-grad. We also should have a vegetation ecologist to lead the group, but a hiring freeze has kept that position empty.  I'm hoping I know enough from past experience, even though I am not formally trained as a botanist. 

My new crew starts next week.  I began work with a little lead time to plan our work and organize some training.  I hope one day to have time to visit the brand new visitor center.

This year, the San Juan snowpack is down 30% from normal, but recent snows are slowly reducing the deficit.  Last year, the spring was very warm and dry, so the already low snowpack faded too fast and Colorado experienced the 2nd worst fire season since 1960.  New Mexico and Arizona also had bad fire years, with the Gila Wilderness burning many acres.  The prescribed burn I attended at Zion last year was postponed due to exceptionally hot, windy weather and the Front range in Colorado had a prescribed burn that rekindled with tragic results.

It's a tricky problem, since continued fire suppression in some types of forests can increase the chance of severe fires.  Combined with the past decade of warmer than average weather causing insect damage and drier forests, the severity of fires in the Rocky Mountains continues to be a looming threat each year.  So far, the Four Corners is off to a slightly better spring than 2012, but New Mexico and California have much worse snowpack deficits.

This weekend, we went for a short hike up the old Pinkerton Trail that follows Scotch Creek.  Snow still lined the road, so it was a game trying to stay on the packed ski-trail so we wouldn't bust the crust and end up post-holing.  A short hike up, and we were rewarded with a gallery of majestic rock formations (and cold feet).  We drove up to Trout Lake, which always looks like Alaska this time of year, and then watched the winds whip snow of the summit of Sunshine and Mount Wilson.


Sunday was a nice lecture about photographing astronomical events that are tied to archaeological sites; such as the Lunar Standstill events at Chimney Rock, the Sun Dagger of Fajada Butte, and fascinating alignments between the sun, moon, and Great Houses.  I learned many new things, like the siting of Yucca House National Monument can view the winter solstice rise from Sleeping Ute's big toe.  Like a good puebloan farmer, I planted my crops (most inside in seed trays, except for frost hardy spinach).  There's occasional mule deer in our yard, so I have a feeling that I won't get much to myself.

Speaking of astronomical events, I hope to catch a glimpse of the comet to the west tonight.  This week, Antares might make its inaugural flight.  My brother is busy as a beaver building the Orion spacecraft, which now has a scheduled launch date too (Sept 2014)!  I expect tickets to the launch.

Happy Darwin Day!

Whew, I'm glad we made it past the Mayan Apocalypse!    It would be fun to research a list of all the purported doomsdays I've survived since my birthday.

Meanwhile, I've found some more fun citizen science projects to keep myself entertained and thought I'd post them here to share:

• http://www.zooniverse.org  -- my favorite is the Ocean Floor Explorer
• http://cosmoquest.org/Citizen_Science -- exciting to think you could help discover a new minor planet!
• http://www.scientificamerican.com/citizen-science/ -- just found this site, need to check it out
• http://www.birds.cornell.edu/citsci/projects -- the Great Backyard Birdcount is nigh!

Of course, there's many other volunteer science projects.  Museums, universities, hobby clubs, are all great places to get plugged into a project.  I've helped a little at the Heard museum preparing a mosasaur, and hope to get out to the Arlington Archosaur Site sometime this spring.

We recently saw the movie The Big Year.  It was a fun show and the paralleled story-line of the ruby-throated hummingbird will be in my mind this spring... although for us we have our resident chimney swifts that come to roost soon, at about the same time our juncos migrate north.