City Creek Nature Notes – Salt Lake City

June 13, 2017

June 6th

Sufficiency and Necessity

5:00 p.m. It is the fourth day of near record heat in the nineties. On the heat of the afternoon, only a few birds are heard: Warbling vireo, Black-headed grosbeak, Song sparrow and American robin. There is one each of this season’s common butterflies: Weidemeyer’s Admiral butterfly, Western tiger swallowtail, Mourning cloak butterfly, and Cabbage white butterfly. Because of the heat, there is no one on the first mile of road, although the parking lot is three-quarters full.

Returning down canyon, an American robin alights in the grass of a picnic site, cocks its head to one side, and then jabs down with its bill to pull out a fat earthworm. It comes and goes in a moment.

* * * *

In Thoreau’s “Journal” on June 6th, 1852, he notes the season’s first dragonflies. On June 6th, 1853, he records pink corydalis and side-saddle flowers, He sees blue-eyed grass, a flower, in meadows, lambkill, and huckleberries. He describes a slippery elm and hears bluebirds singing. He notes that under the summer sun, the ground is drying out and notes which spring flowers have peaked due to lack of water. On June 6th, 1854, he smells locust trees. He sees a viola by a river and examines the shapes of leaves of various trees. He again reports dragonflies and Sphinx moths. On June 6th, 1855, records seeing blue-eyed grass blooming. On June 6th, 1856, he admires that bird’s nests are well constructed. On June 6th, 1857, he notes leaves and grass dominate, i.e. not flowering plants. He notes dwarf dandelions are common. On June 6th, 1860, he notes that undergrowth foliage is becoming dense. At night, he observes bats in the sky and water bugs on a stream.

* * * *

In a 1995 article, Montgomerie of Queen’s University and Weatherhead at Carleton University conducted a series of controlled experiments concerning the most common of human experiences – seeing a robin pull of worm from underneath the ground. How do robins so expertly perform this task? It seems as if they can somehow see beneath the ground to locate their prey. I like their study because it nicely illustrates how proof of causation can be shown in laboratory controlled experiments and how designing such experiment is a difficult art. Such causation proofs are done using bi-directional “if and only if” implication, and such logic problems are the bane of graduate school candidates who sit for standardized entrance exams.

Montgomerie and Weatherhead suspected that robins use either sight, smell, vibrations, sound or some combination of the four to locate underground worms. In their experiments, Montgomerie and Weatherhead measured the success rate of robins finding mealworms in four artificial environments: First, live scent, sound, and vibration emitting mealworms were buried in the same cage as smell emitting but soundless and vibration-less dead worms. Second, robins were placed on a layer of soil that contained a buried cardboard sheet that covered soil containing live mealworms. Thus, the robins could not rely on visual cues to find their prey. Third, they buried mealworms in a vertical soil containing wall of a cage. Thus, the robins could not feel the vibrations of the buried worms. Fourth, they placed robins on soil containing buried live mealworms but used a white noise generator to mask any noises that the worms might make. The robins could find worms in the absence of sight, smell and vibration cues. They had less success when finding buried worms when sounds were masked with white noise (id).

Proving causation by bi-directional “if and only if” implication involves showing that cause implies effect using propositional logic, that is “If a (C)ause exits, then the (E)ffect occurs” or C -> E in symbolic logic. In bi-directional “if and only if”, the (E)ffect must also imply the (C)ause, or E -> C. The C -> E part is usually described using the language that “C is a sufficient cause for E”, and the E -> C part is described using the language “C is a necessary cause for E”. The mathematics of propositional logic tells us that C -> E is the same as not(C and not E). Conversely, E -> C is the same as not(E and not C). Thus, E -> C, sufficient causes and necessary causes can be expressed as an overlapping butterfly Venn diagrams. Draw two overlapping circles and label the left circle “C” for causes and the right “E” for the effect. Sufficient causes are in the left circle, and necessary causes are subsets of the effect and appear within the right circle. Necessary and sufficient causes appear in the overlapping area. All of this confusing propositional logic is normally reduced to two simple tests for the propose of analyzing causation and taking graduate school entrance examinations:

• Sufficient cause test: Any candidate Cause that is present when the Effect is absent is eliminated as a candidate sufficient cause. This is equivalent to not(C and not E) in proposition logic symbolism.

• Necessary cause test: When an Effect is present when a candidate Cause is absent is eliminated as a candidate necessary cause. This is equivalent to not(E and not C) in proposition logic symbolism.

• Necessary and sufficient cause test: Is the intersection of the remaining results after application of previous two tests.

Finding a necessary and sufficient cause is accomplished by building a table of causes and the resulting effect. Eliminate causes that fail either the sufficient or necessary causation test and take the intersection of the two lists. The remaining candidates are sufficient and necessary causes. The proof that those candidates are the cause of the effect is done. This is best illustrated by Pasteur’s experiment that demonstrates that the fermentation of liquids like grape juice and milk was caused by particles in the air and did not arise spontaneously from particles in those liquids. This was Pasteur’s proof of the germ theory of disease.

To prove that particles in the air causes liquids to ferment and not particles in the liquid, Pasteur constructed flasks with a long-thin neck. Potential causes of fermentation are air in the flask, air in the liquid, and air outside the flask. In his first test, he heated the grape juice (or milk) to destroy any bacteria in the milk and the long-neck excluded outside air. The liquid did not ferment. The result where fermentation is absent shows under the sufficient cause test, that neither particles in the liquid or in the flask’s air cause fermentation. That left the air outside the bottle as an untested candidate sufficient cause. In his second test, he again heated the liquid and air inside the flask to kill all bacteria, but then broke off the long neck that excluded outside air. The liquid fermented. This result where fermentation effect is present shows that under the necessary cause test, air outside the flask contains particles that cause fermentation, but not the sterilized air or liquid in the flask. In his third test, Pasteur heated a tilted the flask so liquid filled the long neck, exposing only the liquid to outside air. Fermentation occurred, and under the necessary cause test, this excluded the air inside the flask as a necessary cause of fermentation. The intersection of the candidate sufficient and necessary causes is the air outside the flask. Conversely, fermentation does not occur spontaneously from particles in the air or liquid inside the sterilized flask.

Applying this type of causation proof to how robins find worms, Montgomerie and Weatherhead thought that there were four candidate causes or means by which robins found worms (the effect): smell, vibration, sound or vision, or some combination of the three. The effect is present when birds found the worms and absent when they did not. In their first experiment involving scent, birds were no better at finding dead worms than chance or than finding live worms, and under the sufficient cause test, this eliminated smell as a sufficient cause. The birds did much better than chance in finding live worms using the remaining auditory, visual or vibration cues, but since smell was also present, no candidate cause was eliminated under the necessary causation test. In their second experiment that removed visual cues but left smell, vibrations and sounds, the birds found live worms better than chance. Under the necessary test, eliminated sight as a necessary cause. In their third test involving vibration, birds were still able to find worms when only vibration was removed, and vibration was eliminated as a necessary cause. In their fourth test, birds were unable to find worms when only sound was removed, and smell, vibration, and sight were eliminated as a sufficient causes. The necessary and sufficient results of their four tests can be reorganized as follows:

• Smell – Effect absent – sufficiency test: Smell-possible, Sight-impossible, Vibration-impossible, and Sound-impossible. Result: Smell was eliminated as a candidate sufficient cause.

• Sound – Effect absent – sufficiency test: Smell-possible, Sight-possible Vibration-possible, and Sound-impossible. Result: Smell, Sight and Vibration are eliminated as a candidate sufficient causes. Sound remained as a candidate sufficient cause.

• Sight – Effect present – necessary test: Smell-possible, Sight-impossible, Vibration-possible, and Sound-possible. Result: Only sight was eliminated as a necessary cause.

• Vibration – Effect present – necessary test: Smell-possible, Sight-possible, Vibration-impossible, and Sound-possible. Result: Only vibration was eliminated as a necessary cause.

• Smell – Effect present – necessary test: Smell-possible, Sight-possible, Vibration-possible, and Sound-possible. Result: This test eliminated no candidate necessary causes.

Looking at the intersection of all of these tests, only sound remains as both a sufficient and necessary cause. Thus, Montgomerie and Weatherhead concluded that, “[T]hese results strongly suggest that the robins located buried mealworms and earthworms by using auditory cues (id. at 149). Their conclusion varied from the only similar prior study that concluded that robins use visual cues to find underground worms.

For most questions involving nature (and economics and sociology), causation cannot be shown in controlled experiments, and investigators must rely only on statistical proof of sufficient causal agents. Both necessity and sufficiency can never be shown due to the multiplicity of causal factors, from ethical restraints that prevent the use of controlled experiments, or excessive cost, and proof of causation is relegated to argumentation from signs (April 27th). For such matters we are forced to rely on humanistic-based judgments when issues involving nature and biology have implications for human society. Much of modern political argumentation is based on politicians intentionally citing only one of several candidate sufficient causes, and then questionably ignoring other obvious, likely causal factors in order to fashion a passably convincing position. The only antidote is an educated citizenry armed with critical thinking skills.

When our canyon robin cocked its head to one side today, it was listening for the buried worm.

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On June 6th, 2009, three-hundred volunteers pulled invasive weeds like myrtle spurge and toadflax from the Morris Reservoir area overlooking City Creek Canyon (Salt Lake Tribune). On June 6th, 1993, the Salt Lake Tribune overviews hiking access points along the Salt Lake Valley, including at Ensign Peak, City Creek Canyon, and the Tomahawk Drive access to Little Twin Peaks in the Avenues. The Tribune notes reductions in hiking access as luxury subdivisions, such as the Turville-Robinson development below Ensign Peak, develop the foothills. Salt Lake City has regulations requiring foothill developers to include access points in their plans. On June 6th, 1905, boxer Jack O’Keefe trained by running up City Creek Canyon (Salt Lake Herald). On June 6, 1904, wildflowers are in full bloom on the foothills and in the canyons (Salt Lake Herald). City Creek has Stansbury’s phlox, that has a purple flower and yellow balsam root (id).

June 2nd

Evolution of Angiosperms

8:00 a.m. Some days are beyond beauty. This is the first official day of the five months in which cars are allowed in the canyon on alternating days, and I have decided to drive up to the end of the road to jog the uppermost canyon. It rained last night, the undergrowth and trees are all covered with thick layer of drops. As I drive up the road, the morning birds are active. With the windows open, I mentally tabulate a count as I slowly travel up the winding road. It comes to about 20 birds within earshot for every quarter mile. This suggests a population of some 800 smaller song birds along the five and three-quarters of paved road and the subsequent 2 miles of trail in a band for 50 yards on either side of the road.

Continuing the drive up canyon, Wild roses are open to Pleasant Valley, mile 1.1, and Wild geraniums are open to mile 5.0. Along the first mile, a new flowering plant, another weed, has sprung up to two feet tall seemingly overnight. It is Western salisfy (Asteraceae tragopogon dupon). Although a noxious invader, it is an admirable plant. To avoid the heat of the day, it folds closed into a pen-like tip, but now in the light morning sun, it shows sixteen thin yellow petals surrounded by hair-thin sepals. The center has a sharply contrasting black band. It lines the roadside and at Pleasant Valley, Utah Conservation Corps treated field, that removed yellow starthistle, is now covered with another invasive – salsify. A purple variant of this plant is also found along the first mile road.

At the water treatment plant at mile 3.4, the canyon narrows, and flashes of blue and black flittering into the Gambel’s oaks reveals a flock of Stellar’s jays. Stellar’s jays prefer the coolness of a montane habitat, and in contrast, their cousins, the Scrub jay, prefers the hotter lower canyon. But the Stellar’s jay is more territorial, and thus, more entertaining. When a hiker enters their territory, one will immediately swoop down to the trail and call with its repetitive “caw” in both curiosity and in complaint. The action of one will others of its tribe, and this provides the walker with an avian presidio under which one must pass inspection. Later in the afternoon, further up the trail at the end of the road, as I walk under a large moss covered log, a Stellar’s jay lands above me, its mouth full of moss intended for use as nesting material. It glances back for a quick inquisitive look and then proceeds on its business.

Resuming the drive up the road and as the walls of the canyon close in, the canyon transitions from Gambel oak forest to deciduous maple and Box elder tree forest. The road becomes a single track. The heavy moisture on the leaves is heated by the first penetrating morning sun, and as a result, the air is thick with mist and dew. Shafts of light peak make it through the dense overgrowth and illuminate the mist into yellow tubes. Here, the canyon feels most like an eastern forest. Although the dense greenery only extends for a few hundred yards on either side of the road, the narrow canyon walls cut off any vistas, and this is what I remember of my boyhood eastern forests. The green goes on forever and the all sense of direction is lost. Here, stream bed widens and the stream slows. But then, near mile 4.5, there is an abrupt transition to a Rocky Mountain forest (Peet 2000) dominated by Douglas fir and Norway spruce. The stream narrows and the stream bed becomes boulders that are angular and freshly honed from bedrock. This change is also announced by great vertically upended limestone fins on the western wall of the canyon that have been turned by earthquake faults (Sept 1st). The Wild geraniums thin out, and the first Mountain bluebells, a cool weather plant, appear and become more frequent. The air thickens more and forest becomes medieval.

Along this stretch of road between Lower and Upper Rotary Park, the bird communities, mostly of American robins, Song sparrows, Warbling vireos, and Black-headed grosbeaks are spread out into distinct communities, unlike in the warmer first mile canyon. The distinct trill call of a community of Chirping sparrows is heard. I also hear a lone Mountain chickadee calling. This is where they have come, since the lower canyon is too hot for them. This segregation of birds into unique groups along the road gives me the opportunity to stop and study the distinct songs and calls of a group of Warbling vireos.

The sun rises further and the mist burns off as I reach the end of the road at mile 5.75, and the old mining road and trail that leads to the Treasure Box mine begins. I have not been here since the end of last summer (Sept. 8th), and it feels restorative to be in the most natural of the canyon’s regions. Leaving the car and proceeding up the trail, where the direct sun penetrates, a green canopy of maples and box elders closes in, while on shaded eastern slope, Douglas firs reach to trails edge. The air is heavy with the smell of wet leaves and chlorophyll. Crossing the first and second red metal bridges affords views up the stream, and it is a torrent of white, with only hints of blue water. The stream has become a silver ribbon. After the third metal bridge, the trail rises, the canopy deepens and the undergrowth becomes impenetrable. This stretch is as the lower canyon appeared around 1900. Shipler’s photograph of the lower canyon road taken around 1903, appears nearly identical to this morning’s rise in the trail (J. Willard Marriott, Id. 459448, see also Salt Lake Tribune, May 24, 1903). The chirping call of a Green-tailed towhee is heard.

For the next half-mile, the trail is about 150 feet east of stream, and the trail consists of sharp rocks that a month ago were another snow-feed branch of the stream. Geraniums and blue bells thicken along with young stinging nettle plants. All are so covered with last night’s rain water that my shoes quickly become soaked, but I do not care. A Mourning cloak butterfly with an odd color variant flies down canyon. Instead of the yellow-white trailing band, its trailing wing band is a dusky orange. Other now common butterflies appear uniformly distributed along the trail: Western tiger swallowtails and newly-hatched smaller Spring azure butterfly butterflies. The Spring azures flock in groups of three to six, and the harsh high-altitude light brings out a new property to their colors. Depending on the sun angle, their wings flash a deep medium blue, their streaked light blue, or flat light blue. The deep blue is new variation to their iridescence. There is a new unidentified one and one-half inch butterfly. It has forewings of patterned medium dark grey and rear-wings that are a grayish black. The colder air at this high altitude, along with their lack of exposure to humans, make insects sluggish. In the lower canyon, the Red-rumped central worker bumble bees are skittish. But here, the bees remain still when approached, and I am able to take a clear pictures of several.

Song sparrows, Warbling vireos, a Spotted towhee, Yellow warblers, and Lazuli buntings, another refugee from the lower canyons, are heard in profusion. But again, they rest in distinct communities in the spacious upper reaches of the canyon instead of being distributed uniformly along the trail. Jogging uphill feels good for the legs, but my progress is slow. I cannot resist the urge to stop and listen to each community of bird and to playback stock recordings of their calls, in part to assure to identification, and in part for the simple enjoyment of somehow communicating with them. At one point, the land between trail and stream widens, but is particularly lush with a low canopy. There I hear a single American dipper, the first of the season.

For the next half mile, the trail begins to narrow travels next to the stream, and the trail crosses a series of rock outcrops. There the trail becomes broken rock interspersed with patches of stream feed marsh, and the stream water itself is so pure that individual rocks can be seen distinctly on the stream’s bottom. A few Spearleaf scorpionweeds (Phacelia hastata) that have delicate light purple, fuzzy blossoms, hide in sun sheltered spaces. Along the broken rocks, I notice the small, 5 millimeter, dried-out shells of snails covering the trail. Over a 100 feet of trail, I count about the same number of shells. On picking one up and to my astonishment, there is a miniature live snail in each shell. I am unable to identify them.

Next, the trail starts to rise towards the first of four hanging meadows, and in the first of which stills with Louis Meadows SNOTEL weather station. Aspen trees first appear, a sure sign of a Rocky Mountain meadow ahead. Mountain bluebells surround the trail on both sides, and a few Western blue elderberry trees (Sambucus nigra ssp. cerulea) rise from the surrounding bluebells. Each elderberry is heavily festooned with white, lacey panicles. In the autumn, as their dark fruit ripens, these are a favored trail snack.

As I crest the lip of Louis Meadows hanging valley, the SNOTEL station comes into view. It sits in the middle of field of Mountain bluebells the size of two football fields, and the field is surrounded by a grove of waving aspen trees to the west and Douglas firs to the east. It is an idyllic sight; one that I feel privileged to experience. I begin to feel giddy and overwhelmed by biophilia.

While my heart feels love, my intellect says my expansive feelings are not the effect of altitude at just 6,700 feet (2,042 meters), but of ultra-violet radiation. The 10 a.m. summer Sun is high in the sky, and its warmth penetrates all clothing. The exercise of hiking in Western summer mountains is a relaxing experience. The cool air makes hard, fast hiking enjoyable, but at the same time ultra-violet relaxes the muscles and the mind. Pictures taken here today all are blue tinged from the uv light. With every 1000 meters in altitude, uv light increases in intensity by 10 percent. An internet uv intensity calculator suggests this morning’s ultra-violet index is 12.

As I nearly reach the trailhead and the car, the only other hiker in the canyon today, a young man in his twenties, overtakes me, and he can only mutter, “That is so unbelievably beautiful!” as he passes by. Words escape us both. We have been closer to creation and the other world of the upper canyons of the Wasatch Mountain Range.

Driving out the lower canyon and back to that other reality of my human social and economic existence, the Mosquito Abatement District surveyors are examining their blue painted tree holes (November 7th). They are taking a census in order to estimate the canyon’s mosquito population.

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In Thoreau’s “Journal” on June 2nd, 1853, he travels through a thick fog and notes that birds are still making song. He sees cherry birds and yellow bluebead lily, an eastern plant, and red sorrel. On June 2nd, 1855, he describes a moth cocoon opening. On June 2nd, 1858, on a camping trip to a mountain top, he examines a snow bird nest, and hears a chewink, a wood-thrush, and night-hawks. On June 2nd, 1859, he finds a grossbeak nest in a blueberry bush. On June 2nd, 1860, he sees bats and a king-bird.

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Fully preserved angiosperms first appear in the fossil record about 130 million years ago and by 90 million years ago, flowering trees had dominated the forest canopy. Pamela and Douglas Soltis at the University of Washington with Mark Chase at the Royal Botanical Gardens used modern gene mapping to reconstruct the evolutionary phylogenetic clades of flowering plants (Soltis, Soltis and Chase 1999). Soltis and Soltis review state-of-the-art flowering plant clades as of 2004 (Soltis and Soltis 2004).

Magallon and Sanderson at the University of California at Davis used the rate of diversification of woody plants in the fossil record to estimate the age of the major families (Magallon and Sanderson 2001, Fig. 4). Members of the Sapindales family, which includes maples seen in the canyon, appeared about 60 million years ago. The Rosaceae family members in the canyon, which include Western serviceberry, apple trees, chokeberry, ash trees, and Woods rose, evolved relatively recently, about 45 million years ago (id). Modern oaks appear about 35 million years ago. In Utah around 35 million years ago, the Farallon Plate had passed through Utah, crustal spreading behind the plate cracked Utah’s surface, and the spreading generated Utah’s volcanic era (January 7th). The volcanic breccia at milepost 1.0 of the canyon was forming (id).

* * * *

On June 2nd, 2002, teenager Elizabeth Smart was kidnapped from her Federal Heights home and was hidden on the south slope city side slope of the Black Mountain-City Creek ridge for two months (Salt Lake Tribune, March 15, 2003). The hiding place was not found by a 2,000 person search organized by the Laura Recovery Center (id). On June 2nd, 1915, the City Commission approved plans to build a 5,000,000 gallon reservoir at Pleasant Valley (Salt Lake Herald). On Decoration Day (May 30), a picnic was held in City Creek as reported on the social page of the Deseret Evening News.

June 1, 2017

June 1st

Genetics of Angiosperm Leaf Out Times

6:30 p.m. This is the first day of summer as defined by convention in the 1800s and as used by Thoreau. Modern astronomical summer begins on June 20th, and ecological summer, the estival or hottest season of the year, begins on June 15th. A summer-like storm approaches, the sky is overcast, but the warm temperatures only threaten, but do not bring, rain. The stream is lower today. The SNOTEL station at Lookout Peak records that only about 10 inches of snow containing 5.8 inches of water remain in the high elevation snowpack. Since May 1st, the snowpack at the peak has declined from 82 inches of snow containing 36 inches of water equivalent. Per SNOTEL records on average, it will take another 8 days before the remaining balance will be gone, but my feeling is the snowpack melt will be complete in half that time. Then life in the canyon will have to rely on water stored deep underground below the Salt Lake salient.

As I leave Guardhouse Gate, grey clouds have turned to low dark clouds, horizontal lightening jumps between black clumps, and a light rain begins to fall. Birds are silent with few exceptions. Below picnic site 1, a lone Plumbeous vireo sings, and a Song sparrow calls at mile 0.4. At milepost 1.0, a lone robin tweets. Lightening increases, strong winds blow, trees wave, and the rain turns heavy. The stream swells in response. It is wet, soggy, and shirtless, but refreshing, jog back down canyon. Bicyclists stream down canyon squealing with glee. A single Chirping sparrow complains from a rain soaked River birch. As I reach the Gate again, the storm is clearing, high grey clouds return, and a Warbling vireo again sings.

Tracey Aviary’s Bryant Olsen and his team returned to the canyon May 25th. In addition to the current cast of avaian characters (May 20th), they see two new birds: the Northern rough-winged swallow (Stelgidopteryx serripennis) and the Western wood-peewee (Contopus sordidulus). The diet of both consists of almost entirely of insects, and their arrival is consistent with rising temperatures and flying insects increasing numbers. Mountain chickadees, Dark-eyed Juncos, and Black-capped chickadees, who dominated winter birds and who survive the winter on conifer seeds, are now rarely heard.

Today, the United States executive branch announced action to withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement, on the grounds that American manufacturing and energy production must be unshackled from excessive regulation so the nation can compete with China and India. Implications are discussed below.

* * * *

The Blake edition of Thoreau’s “Journals” resume on June 1st, and continue with respect to his Concord observations through July 10th. Per the convention of his time, Thoreau declares summer to begin informally on June 1st (“Journal” on June 1st, 1853). In Thoreau’s “Journal” on June 1st, 1852, he notes sounds during a full Moon night including night-hawk, crickets, peet-weets, and a whippoorwill. He notes that the river waters are at their summer low level. On June 1st, 1853, he notes that the season has changed. Blooming is over and a period of rapid growth begins. Bees are swarming. Most trees are covered in leaves and berries are forming, and plants are quickly growing. White oaks have red tinge on the sun-exposed side. He examines a gall on a tree. Conversely, he notes that lupines are in full bloom, and sees snapdragons, geraniums, and lambkill. Birds are at low numbers. He examines a night-hawk nest and its eggs, and the parent night-hawk strafes his head to drive him from the nest. On June 1st 1854, he notes that within two weeks, a forest leaf canopy has developed and the forest floor is covered with new shoots. The new shoots are being eaten by numerous worms and insects. On June 1st, 1857, he examines a redwing nest and he hears a bobolink.

* * * *

Spring leaf out is governed by genetics but fall leaf loss is governed by environmental factors. Panchen and colleagues recorded the leaf out times of approximately 1,600 woody plants at eight temperate arboretums spread around the globe (Panchen et al 2014), and after controlling for latitude, they organized the average leaf out dates into phenological clade diagram (id, Table 5 and Fig. 6). Members of the Rosaceae family began leaf out on average on the 87th day of the year (s.d. 7.72 days), and this includes Woods rose, serviceberry and chokeberry in the canyon. Members of the Fagaceae family, which includes Gambel’s oaks, leafed out on average on day 109 (s.d. 1.93 days). Other relationships by tree family emerged. Angiosperms leafed out on average 19 days before gymnosperm trees. Shrubs leafed out 10 days before trees. Panchen’s team also investigated the leaf-loss, called leaf senescence or abscission at four of the eight temperature arboretums (Panchen et al 2015). Unlike spring leaf-out, autumn leaf-loss is much more variable and cannot be not organized by tree families (id, 871).

This is seen in the canyon’s Gambel’s oaks. Within broad elevation based, Gambel’s oaks turn at once. Conversely, within bands, the effect of lower temperatures at altitude are apparent. The oaks at Guardhouse Gate are fully leafed out, but broad swaths of oaks on the high slopes at mile 5.0 have not yet begun to bud.

* * * *

Today, the United States executive branch announced action to withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement, on the grounds that American manufacturing and energy production must be unshackled from excessive regulation so the nation can compete with China and India. Long-term national polling indicates that the country is not behind the executive branch as more than 50 percent of citizens in each of the 50 United States are in favor of the Agreement (Leiserowitz et al 2017), and prior to the announcement, local cities and governments issued press releases indicating that they would further the Agreement notwithstanding the federal position. I am having a disconnect while watching a broadcast of the announcement, which occurs under a clear, blue skies and beautiful spring day on the White House lawn. The World AQI monitor page shows an AQI index near Washington, D.C. of 36, but over much of China and India the AQI scales are between 150 and 400. Delhi, India has monitors reading 621 and two at the meters reach the maximum of 999. Huangshan, China, near Shanghai, that nation’s largest industrial center, reads 291. As I noted back on February 8th, one consequence of the decision in the 1980s to de-industrialize the United States through globalization in the 1980s was the transporting of pollution to other countries, and Americans have grown accustom to relatively clean air. The source of my disconnect with the President’s broadcast is that it does not acknowledge the trade-off. Bringing back heavy industry under current technology will return United States’ air quality now seen in India and China. The broadcast would have been visually more honest if it had been done against the backdrop of a Beijing bad air day. Conversely, United States de-industrialization did offshore jobs, reduced the middle class, and increased income inequality. That is not a politically stable path for the nation. But these social and economic trends also represent an opportunity, different from that of the current federal executive branch, to correct the missed vision and path at the end of Jimmy Carter’s 1979 administration. Then the vision for America’s future was energy independence and transition to a service economy with clean industries. Omitted from that vision (and later abandoned by the Reagan administration) was the development of clean manufacturing technology for basic necessities. Globalization simply moved pollution intensive manufacturing to with countries with lower pollution standards, and economists claimed, ignoring non-economic impacts, that this was more efficient, but including non-economic impacts it is not. Investment and research in clean manufacturing is the way forward; it is necessary; but it will be more expensive for the American consumer than simply exporting pollution or than the United States racing to the bottom to match India’s and China’s low pollution standards.

For the birds in the canyon, this executive action weighs in favor of further declines in continental bird populations based on Soykan and colleagues’ 2016 study (May 28th; Soykan et al. 2016). But for the canyon, this may mean increases in western bird populations as species continue to migrate north and to retrench around the best watered habitats, e.g. – City Creek Canyon. The executive branch is out of step with the rest of America and is representing a vocal minority. It remains to be seen how the matter will play out in the future.

* * * *

On June 1st, 1921, Mayor C. Clearance Nelsen and city officers inspected the City Creek watershed and reported more snow and lake water than average (Salt Lake Telegram). On June 1st, 1920, Dr. Will Ellerbeck urged the creation of a highway through City Creek Canyon to connect Salt Lake and Morgan counties (Salt Lake Telegram). On June 1st, 1919, the Salt Lake Tribune promotes a new automobile using City Creek as the backdrop. On June 1, 1904, two young men became lost in City Creek and Emigration Canyons while horseriding (Salt Lake Telegram). On June 1st 1903, fifty prisoners were assigned to work on the City Creek Road over the summer (Salt Lake Telegram).

May 25, 2017

May 23rd

Continental Scale Bird Population Trends – Part II

3 p.m. Unwittingly, I disrupt the community of birds just north of Guardhouse Gate. It is another warm, clear day, and I plan to spend this afternoon’s run developing my novice song bid, soundscape skills (May 6th). Over the weekend, I have assembled recordings of about forty-five birds from the Cornell Laboratory observing lists (May 20th), and they have been transferred to my telephone. The songs are sorted in order of similarity. Thus, I hope to learn the songs by listening to them throughout my day and by replaying the recording to identify unseen birds from their sounds alone. But this is not an easy skill to acquire. Some birds caw, others have warbling songs, and still others have four or five beat calls. The variations are endless: some warbling songs end on a high note, others on a low, some are long, others are longer. Call-like songs begin on a low-note, followed by a three or six beat high tone; others begin on a high-note, followed by a five count low-note. Others have a rapid trill. Nor is there much organization by either genus of bird or its outward appearance. The Black-headed grosbeak has song similar to the smaller Song sparrow, but the Rufous-sided towhee, which looks very similar to Black-headed grosbeak, has a two-beat call followed by a rapid, machine gun trill. The Lazuli bunting, which has a seed-crushing mouth sounds like the grosbreak and towhee, has a song that is a deeper throated version of the smaller Warbling vireo which has a mouth shaped for catching insects. Conversely, similarity of form can imply similarity of call. Some of the most colorful songbirds in the canyon are insectivores. The Warbling vireo, the Yellow warbler, and the Virginia’s warbler are similar in form and have variations on the same song, like some avian version of humanity’s proto-Indo-European language, but they do not all share the same family in the binomial nomenclature system. The Song Sparrow and House Sparrow are similar in form and voice tone, but their songs are very dissimilar.

Song birds along the first mile can be roughly divided into four communities: there is cluster between the Gate and mile 0.1 and picnic site 1 along both sides of the stream. A second group collects around the bend above picnic site 3 on the east side of the stream. A third is in a hollow below picnic site 5 on the west side, and a fourth along the western oak-covered slope near mile 1.0. These cluster at every 0.2-0.3 miles are connected by loose strings of individual avians. To these four neighborhoods, a five lays to the west of and along the Pipeline trail where the Gambel oak forest gives way to open grass and brush lands. The predators – Peregrine falcons, Red-tailed hawks, Cooper’s hawks, and American kestrels (Falco sparverius) – form their own neighborhood hovering in the sky over the song birds.

I begin at the first group near mile 0.1, where yesterday there was a riot activity. Since today, it is later in the afternoon, things are more subdued, but I can still distinguish six or seven different, unseen bird voices. Initially, I struggle with making any identification, and I become absorbed in loudly replaying about ten songs that represent the voices at mile 0.1. I listen to one song, and then try playing the two or three best candidate recordings to select the best match. After five minutes, I look up, and three birds have come out of the nearby screen of green. A Lazuli bunting perches on the top branch of a thirty foot Box Elder tree. On a nearby Gambel’s oak, a female House finch perches and stares. Across the road in the Box Elder, there is a bright flash of red and yellow midway down the tree. It is a male Western tanager in full breeding plumage, and I start replay a recording of his species in order to keep his attention. For the two months of its breeding season, the head of the tanager turns a brilliant red, and this contrasts with its vivid yellow underplumage and black back. This male has caught the lengthening rays of afternoon sunlight that is softened by moisture in the air, and its red iridescent plumes blaze.

After working with the recordings for one-half hour, I am able to make rudimentary identifications by sound alone of the the Western tanager, a Lazuli bunting, a Warbling vireo, a Song sparrow, and American robin. What strikes me about this lower community is its heterogeneity. There are perhaps seven species all sharing the same one-quarter square mile. They cooperate in sharing the space. Birds are known to share the same forest space by specializing in different food niches, it is early in season and food may be plentiful, and territorial nest building may not have been completed.

Traveling up canyon, the bird community in the hollow near picnic site 5 is populated by only Warbling vireos. Further up canyon, a lone Spotted towhee caws and trills. American robins are dispersed along the first mile road.

Spring Azure butterflies have had a mini-R reproductive explosion. Usually there are three or four larger adults along the first mile road. Today, I count 20 smaller streaked blue versions only three-quarters of an inch in size. The next generation has hatched, and they play among newly cut grass. The City has come through the canyon, and as a fire prevention measure, it has mowed down the two and three foot grass around each picnic area. The air is sweet with cut-grass smell, and further back from the sickle’s cut, the green grass is interrupted by the first loud yellow of newly opened Toad flax (Linaria vulgaris), also called Butter and Eggs plant. This common roadside noxious weed has a beautiful, intensely yellow and orange, orchard like bloom.

Coming back down canyon close to six in the evening, these bird communities are silent, and only the evening town criers of the canyon, the House finches, repeat their their one-high, two low, call of three notes. Near mile 0.5, an immature Terrestrial gartersnake (Thamnophis elegans) crawls across the road. The garter eats insects, e.g. – the Stink bugs that rest along the roadside and snails (May 16th).

Incongruous to this serenity, a group of ten people walk up the road, and two have small caliber handguns strapped to their sides. These “open carry” gun rights advocates, whose right to openly carry guns is sanctioned by the state legislature, have no need for these weapons. Discharging them in the canyon below mile 0.4 violates city and county ordinances, and regardless of the legality, their attempt to drag society back into uncivility and barbarism of some imagined historical western landscape is uniformly disapproved of by the majority of members of the surrounding neighborhoods. Regularly, such displays or the discharge of firearms results in canyon walkers making worried telephone calls to the police, and the police do respond to hand out tickets. While I have some appreciation of how individualism and capitalism can drive people into a mindset that perpetually fears others, this group is not in any danger in the canyon this evening. No one is hiding in the bushes ready to rob them, and their flashy presence in the canyon is an unwelcome intrusion. Like the songbirds around them and the red blaze of the tanager, their weapons are an overstated claim for social attention and of personal territory.

* * * *

The National Audubon Society recently has become a leader in continental scale studies of populations and of future threat forecasting. In 2013, the National Audubon Society released their report titled “Developing a Management Model of the Effects of Future Climate Change on Species: A Tool for the Landscape Conservation Cooperatives” based on its Christmas Bird Count (discussed below) and BBS data (National Audubon Society, Schuetz, Distler, Langham, 2013). Coupled with global climate models, the Audubon’s Christmas Bird Count data allowed the Society to model changes in bird summer and winter ranges, summarized in national maps, based on varying degrees of global warming. In the Great Basin (and in the canyon), their model predicted increases in bird species richness during the winter season and declines in bird species richness during the summer season (id, 27-29, Figs. 2.8-2.9). In an updated study, Langham and colleagues from the Society used further advanced modelling techniques with respect to 588 North American continental birds, and they forecasted that by 2080 under a high-emissions high-warming scenario, about 53 percent of the 588 species would find that 50 percent of their current range, particularly for summer breeding, would become unsuitable (Langham et al. 2016).

With respect to continental-scale population trend studies, the Audubon Society’s annual Christmas Bird Count has collected bird counts since 1901. Unlike professional studies, the Christmas Bird Count (CBC) suffers from a number of inherent design controls. CBC bird identifications are made by error prone amateurs at differing locations and differing types of locations, e.g. – in the field or at feeders, between each annual sampling. Fluctations in the number of observers between years can introduce observation bias. Those characteristics limit the ability to use CBC data to predict trends in bird populations using traditional statistical techniques. Conversely, the CBC has been the collecting massive amounts of data from numerous amateurs around the country for more than a century. For example, in the 2016 count, over 56 million birds were manually counted. Increases in inexpensive computing power and application of advanced statistical techniques eventually allowed for the use of this citizen science data to make reasonably statistically confident statements of about trends in bird populations sampled from a wide variety of habitats. In particular, the mathematical techniques of multi-level regression, also called hierarchical modelling, allows for the extraction of bird density trends over time from the massive, but uncontrolled, data sources collected by the Audubon Society. Since 1990, habitat change from climate warming has become an important issue. Application of these analytic improvements also allow trends to be examined in the context of varying habitats, and thus, making the CBC data useful for exploring trends in habitat change from development and climate warming affects bird populations.

Soykan and colleagues with the National Audubon Society estimated North American continental populations of 551 North American bird species and for a subset of 228 species that do not frequent bird feeders using the Society’s annual Christmas Bird Count data (Soykan et al. 2016). They found that for all 551 species, 68 percent had increasing density trends from 1966 through 2013. Thus, 32 percent have a declining trend, a fact exploited in NACBI glosssy annual “State of Birds” reports. For the subset of 228 species, Soykan et al found an 0.9 percent growth trend across 1966 to 2013. They noted the geographically, declining species were concentrated at lower latitudes and increasing species were located at higher latitudes (id), and this suggests that generally, bird populations are shifting their ranges northward. For the future canyon, this is consistent with Schuetz, Distler and Langham’s 2013 modelling suggesting that warmer climates would increase winter species diversity in the Great Basin as birds move their ranges north (above).

Soykan et al’s supplemental data provides further insight into Utah trends (Soykan et al. 2016), but it also underscores the problems and differences of professional verses amateur data collection. Conflicting with the Parrish, Norvell and Howe declining Utah trends for 1992 to 2005, Sokyan and colleagues found from CBC counts for 1966 to 2013, an increasing bird population trend of 2.7 percent for Utah (Table S.4) and 2.8 percent for the Great Basin region (Table S6). Students of introductory statistics will recall the Rule of 70: the doubling time or halving time of a population can be estimated by dividing 70 by the annual rate. Thus, the CBC trend suggests that Utah bird populations will double in 25 years, while the Parrish, Norvell and Howe rate suggests populations would halve in 70 years.

Although overall, Soykan et al’s continental population trends derived from CBC counts were statistically similar to 228 professional BBS specie trends, for a small subset of 33 species, CBC and BBS trends significantly differed (Table S.9). Some of the differences involve species frequently seen in the spring canyon. For two species, Swainson’s Hawk and the Black-headed Grosbeak, the CBC found continental declines around 3 percent per year, while the BBS surveys found increases of less than 1 percent per year. A three percent decline suggests populations will halve in about 25 years. For eight other species found in the canyon, the CBC found a slight increasing population trend, while BBS found populations declining at more than 1 percent per year: Song Sparrow, American Kestrel, Belted Kingfisher, Mourning Dove, Orange-crowned Warbler, Yellow Warbler, Chipping Sparrow, and the Broad-tailed Hummingbird.

Again, overall bird population studies continue to indicate that currently and for the near future, bird specie diversity and bird populations should remain stable or have a slight decline, as indicated by the Parrish, Norvell and Howe studies (Parrish et al. 2007). Soykan et al and Langham et al conclude overall birds are moving their summer ranges northward and they are decreasing the area of the summer and winter ranges around the best habitats in response to a warming climate, and under that scenario, Utah bird populations would increase as birds move further north. But whether population trends will decline in a severe global warming occurs scenario, whether they will increase as more birds move their ranges north in response to southern latitude warming, or whether Utah bird populations will increase after the reversal of the current Intermountain drought phase of the Pacific Quasi-Decadal Oscillation (February 7th) remains to be seen. Continued monitoring, such as that occurring through professional and citizen science surveys, is the only means to have a definitive early warning of any dramatic change, for better or worse. Other unanticipated changes, both good and bad, may also occur.

These mathematical models of bird populations, as with proof of biophilia studies, provide only the most general of signs and no clear answers. Proof to a reasonable degree of scientific certainty cannot be found in the statistics of bird populations, and thus, we are forced to fall back on human values and human judgment in deciding what to and how to protect nature. But as with local weather and the Pacific Quasi-Decadal Oscillation, it is only by looking on a continental scale that over-arching patterns in nature can be seen. A local-only perspective, like Plato’s prisoners in his allegorical cave, can give us a limited, uninformed, and wrong view of the world.

There is a further brilliance to the CBC data and Schuetz, Distler and Langham’s 2013 study. They provide detailed ranged summer and winter maps for 36 bird species of concern (id, 114-181) on a continental scale and with previously unseen fidelity (Schuetz, Distler and Langham’s 2013). Presumably, such maps can be generated for all birds in the CBC study. Previously, bird summer and winter range maps were rendered with broad colored areas across a U.S. map with northern and summer range lines, e.g. – those seen in my old 1990 Peterson’s Western Birds guide or my favored, dog-earred 1966 Guide to Field Identification of North American Birds, illustrated by Arthur Singer. The ranges of migration were indicated by broad directional lines. By combining CBC bird observations with satellite habitat data, Schuetz et al render detailed core range maps.

* * * *

On May 23rd, 2012, Lowell Bodily, Salt Lake Valley Health Department, again reported on homeless tent camps in the valley, and he notes that some homeless camp along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail in and near City Creek Canyon (Salt Lake Tribune). On May 23rd, 2006, the Lion House reports that it hosts about 82,000 visitors per year (Salt Lake Tribune). (In the 1850s, the Lion House sat next to the tollgate that controlled access to City Creek Can yon.) On May 23rd, 2002, in a letter to editors of the Salt Lake Tribune, a Sandy resident decries how a new luxury home has defaced the beauty of Ensign Peak and City Creek Canyon (Salt Lake Tribune). On May 23rd, 1996, Anschutz Ranch East Pipeline Inc. proposes to build a crude oil pipeline from Park City that would cross through City Creek near the water treatment plant (Salt Lake Tribune, June, 24, 1996). On May 23rd, 1914, the Salt Lake Telegram published a photograph layout and description of driving the new scenic boulevard up City Creek, along 11th Avenue and down 1300 East (Salt Lake Telegram). On May 23rd, 1905, Land and Water Commission Ben D. Luce requested that the City council to ban automobiles from driving up City Creek Canyon due to the possibility that they will cause accidents by frightening horses (Salt Lake Herald).

May 22, 2017

May 22nd (Revised)

Continental Scale Bird Population Trends – Part I

(Science Section Revised May 28th.)

1:30 p.m. It will be a good day. As I ready to leave for the canyon and before even starting the car, a brilliant red House finch lands on a nearby telephone wire and sings happily for five minutes. Bright sunlight floods the canyon, and spring life explodes. There is too much to see, and I am overwhelmed. The roadside heats up with smells of fresh growth, and it mixes with the crisp cool air that rises from the transparent, chilled water of the swift stream. In the first mile, fifty birds are active, all singing in cacophony. The red ozier dogwood bushes are covered with small one-half inch bees with yellow and black abdomens and similarly miniature wasps with black and white striped abdomens. The first Western Yellowjacket wasp of the season lands. Nine Yellow swallowtail butterflies line the first mile with Mourning cloak, White cabbage, Painted Lady, and Spring Azure butterflies. Two Blue-eyed darner dragonflies fly above the road, and one unceremoniously defecates as it passes.

Immediately past Guardhouse Gate, three Warbling vireos exchange calls from the surrounding trees. Along the road to mile 0.3, I can distinguish about fifteen bird songs and calls, but by sound, I can identify the American robin, a Mountain chickadee, the Black-headed grosbeak, and the Song sparrow. A small Blue-gray gnatcatcher (Polioptilidae Polioptila caerulea) jumps parallel to the road along oak branches. Black-chinned hummingbird wings beat loudly.

At the bend in the road above picnic site 3, there is another riot of bird songs in a small cluster. Songs of the House finch, Mountain chickadee and others blend together. Then a blazing Yellow warbler comes of the screen of trees and lands in a nearby branch. The warbler leaves and finally, a Western scrub jay lands on a another branch. I play a recording of one of its kind squawking, the blue shouldered bird replies. This way we have an odd conversation. There is more, but this is enough.

This is the green explosion that the vernal season (February 16th) has been building to since the first of May.

* * * *

Parrish, Norvell and Howe’s Utah bird study covers one state – Utah (Parrish et al. 2007; Novell, Howe and Parrish 2005), but birds are international travellers. Olsen’s Pacific Flyway data is international but regional (Olsen 2017). Because of their dispersal, bird trends also need analysis on the continental scale. In 1966 in response to DDT’s impact on birds, the U.S.G.S. and the Canadian Wildlife Service began the first North American continental Breeding Bird Survey (BBS). However, design of the BBS did not cover weighted areas of differing habitat types (Bart 2005; Parrish et al. 2007 at 11). All survey sites were along roads, and this introduced a bias that would not allow for the study of how changes in habitat affects bird populations (id). Acknowledgement of the need to have coordinated continental scale non-game, longitudinal bird population data led to the establishment of the Partner-in-Fight Working Group (Bart 2005) to supplement the Breeding Bird Survey, and Parrish, Norvell and Howe’s work on Utah riparian habitats was part of the Partners’ system. Governmental agencies, including Utah, consolidate results into the national Breeding Bird Survey database (Sauer 2017; Pardieck 2016). Both the BBS and the Partners-in-Flight programs focus on professionally trained biologists working for or associated with many governmental agencies collecting high quality data by conducting transect surveys over time at the same sites.

Through 2015, the Breeding Bird Survey shows a declining population at 1.4 percent per year in its Western region (Sauer 2017). Plumbeous vireos decline at 2.3 percent per year.

Since the 1990s, concerns grew over what impact climate warming might have on bird populations and a need was perceived to develop management tools to early identify adversely effected bird species, and a management tool, the Partners-in-Flight the Conservation Concern Index was develop to provide guidance under the conditions of uncertainty in estimating local and global bird populations and their trends. The Partners-in-Flight methodology rates stresses on bird populations for 1,154 bird North American bird species (Panjabi et al 2012) based on five non-dimensional, ascending scales ranging from 1 (least concern) to 5 (most concern). The five indices are global population size, breeding geographical distribution, non-breeding geographical distribution, threats to surviving the summer breeding season, threats to surviving the non-breeding season, and population trends, and the combined indices yield a maximum total score of at most 25 denoted as the “Conservation Concern Index”.

Of the five indices, the global breeding population size is the most sensitive. It varies by a geometric growth rate of 10 denoted by a logarithmic index:

5 – World breeding population is less than 50,000 or 5 x 10^4.

4 – World breeding population greater or equal to 50,000 (5 x 10^4) and is less than 500,000 (5 x 10^5).

3 – World breeding population greater or equal to 500,000 (5 x 10^5) and is less than 5,000,000 (5 x 10^6).

2 – World breeding population greater or equal to 5,000,000 (5 x 10^6) and is less than 50,000,000 (5 x 10^7).

1 – World breeding population greater or equal to 500,000,000 (5 x 10^8) (Panjabi et al 2012).

The global breeding distribution index is the second most sensitive. It varies by a geometric growth rate of 3 denoted by a logarithmic index. An index of “5”, or highest concern, corresponds to 80,000 square kilometers or a U.S. state size of about 300 kilometers square. A breeding distribution index of “1”, or least concern, corresponds to 4,000,000 square kilometers, or a continent-sized 2,000 kilometer square(Panjabi et al 2012).

The Populations growth index is the least sensitive. An annual growth decline rate between 0 and 15 percent is rated “3”. Only crashing populations with a growth rate of greater than 50 percent are have an index of “5”.

Logarithmic risk indices are intended to overcome human compression bias, i.e. – our tendency to misinterpret risk over a large range of outcomes (Adams and Smith). Humans overestimate the risk of rare events, like botulism, and under estimate the risk of common events, like heart attack (id) and many natural processes, for example from our hearing and sight, increase sensitivity by a geometric scale. Thus, a logarithm index is a useful abstraction, but it is still often misperceived. If a risk level is expressed in terms of raw data, e.g. a world population breeding size of 50,000 to 500,000,000, this lends to unwarranted accusations of overstating for conservation. Conversely, when confronted with a logarithmic index, the natural human tendency is to erroneously interpret risk as an arithmetic sum. The earthquake Richter scale is a useful, common analogy. An earthquake of 5.0 on the Richter scale will shake the picture frames on your walls, but an earthquake of 7.5, will turn your home into a pile of sticks. The effects are perceived as additive, but in reality the effects are exponential.

To supplement the governmental North American Breeding Bird Survey by applying the Panjabi et al criteria on a global scale, private groups and industry from the North American Bird Conservation Initiative (NABCI). NABCI analyses are reported in annual glossy “North American State of the Bird” reports, – e.g. North American Bird Conservation Initiative (2009) and North American Bird Conservation Initiative (2016a). Another useful form of the their results is the annual NABCI Assessment Database, a spreadsheet that allows the user to sort and select birds by risk and habitat North American Bird Conservation Initiative (2016b). The mean of the index is 11.5, and a Conservation Concern Index higher than 13.5 suggests a high level of concern for which further study and action should be taken. A Conservation Concern Index (CCI) of 8.5 to 13.5 denotes moderate concern. This continental scale study provides insights into future threats that might change the currently stable bird diversity and populations totals seen in the canyon. But again, the CCI is a management tool and it does not report additive risk. Because its two key component scales, global breeding size and global breeding area, are logarithmic, the CCI scale conveys an expert opinion of a geometrically or exponentially increasing risk.

Two spring species that are regularly seen in the canyon (May 6th, May 20th) have CCI’s of 13 at the borderline of high concern: Virginia’s warbler and Plumbeous vireo. Others in the moderate concern category and their concern indices are: Broad-tailed Hummingbird (12), Steller’s Jay (11), Dusky Flycatcher (10), American Dipper (10), Black-chinned Hummingbird (10), Mountain Chickadee (10), Townsend’s Solitaire (10), Lazuli Bunting (9), Northwestern Crow (9), Orange-crowned Warbler (9), Western Scrub-Jay (9), and the Western Tanager (9). One commonality between these 13 species of 149 known to visit the canyon are that their non-breeding season ranges are in the southern Mexican highlands or the Pacific Coast lowlands. In short, land development in distant places might reduce their annual appearance in the canyon. But these results should be read in context. The NABCI indices for species found in the canyon generally indicate there is low concern of immediate threats to most species. The diversity of bird species in the canyon is stable. The NABCI “State of Birds” reports are not a trend-based forecast, although their short annual narrative report incorporates conclusions from Christmas Bird Count trend studies by the Audubon Society and governmental Breeding Bird Surveys.

* * * *

On May 22nd, 1914, the newly completed scenic automobile drive up City Creek and along 11th Avenue to be called Wasatch Boulevard will be opened to the public (Salt Lake Tribune). Other park improvements include the new Thirteenth Street Reservoir Park and adding lawn areas to Liberty Park (id).

May 20, 2017

May 20th

Spring Bird List

3:30 p.m. In the morning I am woken by the cawing of an American crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) standing outside my window, but then I drift back off to sleep. Around noon, neighbors are buzzing over their photographs of a common Red fox (Vuplus vulpes) hunting mice in the city cemetery about one-third of a mile from my home and on the south-City side of the east-south canyon ridgeline.

In the afternoon, the cold snap of the last few days has ended and the canyon is again warming into the sixties under blue, ideal spring skies. Driving into the canyon along Bonneville Drive, the grasses have reached up to three feet high, but in the canyon they remain between one foot to eighteen inches in height. Along Bonneville Drive, young Curly dock plants rise, but there are none in the fields at mile 1.5. Arrowleaf balsamroot has noticeably disappeared from the surrounding hillsides through mile 1.5, and its yellow color has been replaced by the duller yellow of fields of Dyer’s woad. Along the first mile, where a few days ago there was a single Sticky Wild Geranium, there are now ten, and four blue penstemons are blooming. The other major blossom are the white inflorescences of chokecherry bushes or trees. Blue is the color of canyon near the stream, but at the Pleasant Valley lower field, I scan the surrounding hillsides for a hint of Arrowleaf balsamroot. There is none, only the green of the balsamroot’s wide bases surrounded by wide swaths of Dyer’s woad. A pattern repeats in the many sun-exposed small gullies that lead to the western salient’s ridgeline and below the eastern salient’s cliffs: Groves of green Gambel’s oak or Red Maple fill the damp soil or seeps along side canyon gullies, but where the side canyons begin to flare out, the dryer soils, formerly covered with balsamroot, are now covered in Dyer’s woad. At lower elevations along the western slope above the Pipeline Trail and above Bonneville Drive, some balsamroots remain in bloom, but their numbers are rapidly dwindling from their shriveling flowers.

Butterflies are recovering in the rising heat. Yesterday’s Western tiger swallowtail and Desert Elfin butterflies are joined by a few Spring Azure and White cabbage butterflies. About eight new, small and black unidentified butterflies appear. They move too fast to see any detail. Two examples of a new unidentified small black spider are on the road, and a small black ant is carrying a whole insect pupae, about eight times it size, back to its underground ant lair. Common houseflies are active on the road, and a larger Blue-eyed darner dragonfly patrols up and down the road. Along the Pipeline Trail, I flush out two Mormon crickets. Instead of red underwings (May 8th), they now flash muted orange underwings.

Where the chokecherry bushes are warmed by the sunlight, they are the buffet for the insects. The best of these is along the Pipeline Trail near mile 0.9, and the chokecherry bush is covered in about seventy bees, flies and a American Lady butterfly. The bush sits near a seep in a bend in the trail. It is in a large-tree shaded area, but a single shaft of light penetrates and warms the bush and its nearby air to fifteen degrees more than its surroundings. Another shaded chokecherry bush about fifteen feet away is ignored by these flighted insects. On the chokecherry inflorescences there are also two types of flies, one large and one small, and three types of bees, including a red-rumped worker bumble bee, wild common honey bee (Apis var.) and one of two Utah varieties of the Carpenter bee (Xylocopa californica) (Hodgson and Trina 2008). Near this seep, a tiny unidentified slug, about 1 centimeters by 3 millimeters in diameter crawls up the trail, and I help to the mud next to the seep. Three other chokecherry bushes fifty yards up from Guardhouse Gate and a full chokecherry tree at picnic site 4 are similarly covered, but to a lesser degree. These are also sunbathed.

A flock of four distant raptors circle and glide up canyon. Birds along the first 1.5 miles of road can be divided roughly into seven neighborhoods or groups: at Guardhouse Gate, at road mile 0.4, at road mile 1.0, the lower half of Pleasant Valley, mile 1.1 to 0.9 of the Pipeline Trail, the Trail between mile 0.9 and 0.5, and the Trail between mile 0.5 back to the Gate. There are more calls than yesterday, with between 5 to 10 birds in each neighborhood. By sound alone, I can pick up a few of the easiest out of a chorus of ten different songs: the Lazuli Bunting at the Gate; a Song sparrow and an American Robin near mile 0.5; a near road mile 1.0,; and a Black-chinned hummingbird flying near Trail mile 1.0. I have gathered recordings of about 40 spring birds on my smart telephone, and have begun to replay them constantly in the hopes of building a beginner’s skill for distinguishing their songs. The avian soundscape is being to make more sense to my untrained ear.

As I reach Guardhouse Gate, there is a young woman standing 50 feet from the road, half obscured by blinds made leafed branches of Gambel’s oak, and she is singing gospel and folk songs in a loud but beautiful voice. She has long-black hair, is wearing a short, summer dress of yellow printed ethnic cotton, and is illuminated by that special warm light before dusk. Several strolling couples and myself discreetly walk up to the side of the road for an impromptu concert. For a moment, my mind is momentarily transported back to my adolescence and a similar scene from 1971. After a few minutes, everyone wanders away, leaving her to practice her singing without disturbance, but grateful for a unique moment.

* * * *

The slate of spring canyon birds for this year has sufficiently filled out that a list is timely. The 54 species represented shows the diversity of bird life that is finding living niches in the canyon and making connections between its plants and insects.

List of Spring Birds in City Creek Canyon March through May, 2017 by Order and-or Family (N=54)

Orders Accipitriformes and Falconiformes – Hawks, Eagles and Falcons – Birds that Hunt Other Birds

• Bald Eagle (immature) (Haliaeetus leucocephalus).*

• Cooper’s Hawk (Accipiter cooperii).

• Golden Eagle (Aquila chrysaetos).

• Northern Goshawk (Accipiter gentilis).

• Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus).

• Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis).

• Sharp-Shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus).

Order Anatidae – Ducks

• Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos).

Order Apodiformes – Swifts and Hummingbirds

• Black-chinned Hummingbird (Archilocus alexandri).

Order Galliformes – Pheasants and Guineafowl

• California Quail (Callipepla californica).

• Chukar (Alectoris chukar).

• Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo).

Orders Piciformes and Coraciiformes – Woodpeckers and Kingfishers

• Belted Kingfisher (Ceryle alcyon).

• Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens).

• Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus).

Order Strigiformes – Owls

• Western Screech-Owl (Otus kennicottii).*

Order Passeriformes – Larger Perching Birds

Family Corvidae – Crows, Jays and Magpies

• American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos).

• Black-billed Magpie (Pica pica)

• Common Raven (Corvus corax).

• Steller’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri).*

• Western Scrub-Jay (Aphelocoma californica).

Order Passeriformes – Mid-sized and Smaller Perching Birds

Family Cardinalidae – Cardinals and Grosbeaks

• Black-headed Grosbeak (Pheucticus melanocephalus).

• Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena).

• Western Tanager (Piranga ludoviciana).

Family Columbidae – Pigeons and Doves

• Eurasian-collared Dove (Streptopelia decaocto) (invasive).

• Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura).

Family Emberizidae – Sparrows and Buntings

• Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina).

• Dark-eyed Junco, Slate type (Junco hyemalis).*

• Green-tailed Towhee (Pipilo chlorurus).

• House Sparrow aka European Sparrow (Passer domesticus) (invasive).

• Rufous-sided Towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus).

• Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia).

• Spotted Towhee (Pipilo maculatus).

Family Fringillidae – Finches

• House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus).

• Lesser Goldfinch (Carduelis psaltria).

Family Hirundinidae – Swallows

• Bank Swallow (Riparia riparia).

• Cliff Swallow (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota).

• Northern Rough-winged Swallow (Stelgidopteryx serripennis).

• Violet-green Swallow (Tachycineta thalassina).

Family Paridae – Chickadees

• Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus).

• Mountain Chickadee (Poecile gambeli).

Family Parulidae – Wood-Warblers

• Orange-crowned Warbler (Oreothylpis celata).

• Virginia’s Warbler (Oreothylpis virginiae).

• Yellow Warbler (Dendroica petechia).

Family Turdidae – Thrushes

• American Robin (Turdus migratorius).

• Townsend’s Solitaire (Myadestes townsendi).

Family Tyrannidae – Tyrant Flycatchers

• Dusky Flycatcher (Empidonax oberholseri).

• Olive-sided Flycatcher (Contopus cooperi).

Family Vireonidae – Vireos

• Plumbeous Vireo (Vireo plumbeus).

• Warbling Vireo (Vireo gilvus).

Family – Other with Family Name

• Blue-gray Gnatcatcher (Polioptilidae Polioptila caerulea).

• European Starling (Sturnidae Sturnus vulgaris) (invasive).

• Red-breasted Nuthatch (Sittidae Sitta canadensis).

• Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulidae Regulus calendula).

Sources: Cornell Lab. 2017 Ebird Observation Lists by Bryant Olsen with Joshua Hunt; Author’s Observations. * – Author only sighting claimed.

* * * *

The Wasatch Front Mountain Range has not seen a decline in the number of avian species since the Euroamerican arrival, but no opinion is expressed on any decline in the population of these birds. As noted before (March 4th), ornithologist Robert Ridgeway conducted a survey of birds in Parley’s Park at the summit of Parley’s canyon about ten miles from City Creek Canyon between June 23rd and August 16th, 1869 (Rawley, 69-79). He found 116 bird species. Comparing Ridgeway’s list with Cornell Ornithology Laboratory’s Ebird List for City Creek Canyon for 1900 through 2017 shows 149 species (Cornell Ornithology Lab. 2016, Cornell Ornithology Lab. 2017). For the years 2000 to 2017, 147 species are listed, and for 2012 to 2017, Cornell totals 143 species (id). There are some minor non-duplicates between the historical and modern lists. The Yellow-bellied sapsucker is not currently found in City Creek, and the range of other birds has changed. Birds such as sandpipers and Sandhill Cranes do not presently frequent City Creek but can still be found at the Great Salt Lake’s beaches and marshes. But essentially, the avian diversity of Ridgeway’s 1869 mountain birds is still intact at City Creek Canyon after 148 years.

That the diversity of Utah’s many migrant birds is stable is also shown by Parrish, Norvell, and Howe of the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources in a multi-year study from 1992 to 2005 (Parrish et al. 2007; Norvell, Howe and Parrish 2005). Examining 202 statewide bird species over 12 years at 37 Utah sites, Parrish and colleagues found no significant trend in mean annual species richness (id, p. 27, Fig. 4).

* * * *

On May 20th, 2014, Salt Lake Fire Captain Scott Winkler reports that the City has spent $650,000 on six new firetrucks specialized from fighting fires in grass brush areas around luxury homes near Ensign Peak and in City Creek Canyon (Deseret News). On May 20th, 1903, the City Council and Mayor considered issue bonds to construct reservoirs including a 5,000,000 gallon reservoir at Pleasant Valley (Salt Lake Telegram). On May 20th, 1901, an estimated three-hundred people went up City Creek Canyon, one-thousand to Liberty Park, and three-hundred for recreation (Salt Lake Tribune). On May 20, 1896, the City council considered moving the responsibility for maintaining City Creek watershed protection to the health department and the duties of the City Creek Canyon patrolman were described (Salt Lake Tribune). There were five full-time patrolmen. Three men are employed at the lower Brick Tanks keeping the screens clear of debris. Two men are employed for 12 hours per day to service the upper high-line tank screens and to patrol the upper canyon to prevent sheep grazing. Two other men service the Twentieth ward tank and the Capitol Hill Reservoir (id). City Creek has been rip-rapped for two miles above the lower Brick Tanks. On May 20th, 1896, high spring run-off has turned City Creek into muddy water and the water is clearing (Salt Lake Herald).

May 9, 2017

May 6th

Wizards of the Canyon Soundscape

7:00 a.m. The entrance to the canyon along Bonneville Drive is closed today for one of the many social 5K runs that occur during the summer. This adds an extra mile jogging along the drive to reach Guardhouse Gate. As I start, the sun line is just beginning to descend the snow capped peaks of the western Qquirrh Mountains and the small sliver of the southern tip of the Great Salt Lake reflects slate blue. The clear western sky shows the last vestiges of dark slate band of the Earth’s shadow retreating from the sun. Along the first stretch of road there are many sage brush bushes that provide cover to chukars. I stop to pick and crush a bracket of this pungent bush to remind myself of what Utah smells like during the heat of summer. About one-half mile from the gate and around a bend, the canyon explodes with the sounds of stream and birds. Although hidden, a male Lazuli bunting peaks from behind some red maple leaves, singing loudly. His colors are muted, since he perches in early morning shadow of the canyon’s east ridge. The sound of the stream is overwhelming, and this indicates the vernal season’s heat is melting the high snowpack. At the gate, the parking lot is full, and includes the enormous truck of the wild turkey bow hunter (May 4th). I must have just missed the race organizer’s closing of the road.

Along the road, the grasses are now twelve to eighteen inches thick, and the first quarter-mile is nearing full leaf out. Near mile 0.3, I look up through the trees to the step slope above, and there a young female mule deer idly grazes on the new grass. I stop to watch and after some minutes, she takes notice of me, stares back, and knowing that it is not hunting season and she is in no immediate danger, she slow walks and disappears into the Gambel’s oak forest. A bird loudly chirps from a nearby tree, and I catch a fleeting glance of black, white and red-brown from below. It is probably a Rufus-sided towhee (Pipilo maculatus). I count about forty or bird separate birds calling the forest thickets in the first mile.

I am not a morning person, most of my daily observations are in the afternoon, and the morning spring canyon is a new place. The warm morning light crawls down the western ridge of the canyon, and makes the thick grasses of spring bathed in an inviting green light. Although it is a pleasant high fifties along the road, one can feel the advancing daytime heat in the seventies approaching. Between mile 0.5 and 1.0, large overhanging trees in partial leaf-out form a series of green tubes through which the rising south-eastern sun penetrates. The lighted end of these tubes with the darkened green leafed foregrounds reminds me of the religious ceiling paintings of European cathedrals. I am overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

In this half-lit morning reflected light, the canyon has a different character. I have misjudged the Starry solomon’s seal. In the afternoon, I have found two or three open out of an estimated 20,000 plants (May 4th). This morning, most are open, and I easily count 200 open blossoms in the solomon grove surrounding the seep below picnic site 5. The number of active birds is astounding, and a multiple of several times over my afternoon encounters.

At the entrance to Pleasant Valley, I run into the Tracey Aviary sponsored birding, a course directed by and led today by aviary biologists Bryant Olsen and Cooper Farr. I am happy to find the group; I have followed their Cornell birding logs in the canyon for some years; and in the spring, they regularly return to the canyon. Other seasons draw them to other habitats. Traveling down canyon, there seven group members including the leaders, and their five students are a diverse group that range from their thirties to eighties. They allow me to tag along as they proceed down the Pipeline Trail for the one mile walk back to the parking lot. Since I have been frustrated for some years in identifying the thicket hidden birds by sound, and I hope to gain some insight into the process by watching and learning. I quickly learn that I am in the presence of masters. Many birding skills quickly become apparent that explain the large number of birds that they record each week in the Cornell University E-bird log system (Cornell Ornithology Laboratory 2016).

First, birding in groups greatly increases detection. I first encountered this in amateur astronomy. Looking for detail in nature, which involves rare events, is more likely with more eyeballs that can cover the whole sky. In addition to the chance of making a sighting, the ability to perceive rare events also differs greatly by both the ability to perceive and by the knowledge to understand what one is seeing or hearing. The seven of the birders stare intently towards a sound coming from a clump of leaves, and one or two of the seven will first detect the bird, and then direct the others to it. Seven sets of eyes scanning the sky’s dome catch fleeting glances of bird movements in opposite directions, and this greatly increases the number of exclamations that one or another of some species has been seen.

Second, time explains the groups many sightings. As we descend the trail, younger runners and bikers wisk by at six to fifteen miles per hour. They traverse the mile of Pipeline trail in five to ten minutes. When I was younger, I has one of these. They smile as they pass, confident in their belief that in their superiority that their youthful ability to exercise makes them the most important denizens of the canyon. My slow jogging takes twenty minutes, but the birding group takes about one and one-half hours to walk this mile. Perception and time are inversely related. The slow see more; much more. Chance visual sightings reveal common sightings such as the cliff-soaring Red-tailed hawks. In this way, the group quickly seeings a Peregrine falcon resting on the top of the western massif at the entrance to Pleasant Valley and a brood of cliff dwelling Violet-green swallow (Tachycineta thalassina) living nearby in the crumbling deposits of Van Horn and Crittenden’s Triassic conglomerate No 2. sandstone. Are these the peregrine’s prey? Peregrines prey on many of the plentiful birds and mammals in the canyon, including mallads, swallows, Mourning doves, Northern flickers, starlings, American robins, Black-billed magpies, American crow, hummingbirds, owls, mice and Rock squirrels. Thoreau used the Peregrine’s historical name – the duck hawk – and Audubon memorialized this predator-prey relationship in a noted 1827 oil painting (Audubon 1827). The peregrines are in turn fed upon by larger birds of prey like Bald eagles and Red-tailed hawks. The birding group has great interest in following the falcon back to its nest, since these birds, although removed from the United States endangered species list in 1999, remain popular and are known to raise young near Pleasant Valley.

Third, these are the wizards of the canyon’s bird soundscape. Raw knowledge, expertise, and practice allows the group to identify many birds by sound alone or first by sound and then by sight. A member will hear a call of interest, and all will stop intently listening while leaning in one direction; some cup hands around their ears. Someone will call out a name, there is a discussion, and then a final determination is made as to the species. Sometimes, this is accompanied by a pointing figure and the exclamation “There it is!”, and all binoculars are raised in unison. I humbly learn the calls of one or two common canyon residents, like the chirping of the Rufus-sided towhee, and can notice distinct obvious sounds, like the wing-beat of a passing Broad-tailed hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus) and the obnoxious squawking of the Red-breasted nuthatch (Sitta canadensis). But the group’s ability to identify unseen colorful birds by sound alone is astounding. They hear a Green tailed towhee (Pipilo chlorurus), an Orange-crowned warbler (Vermivora celata), and a Western tanager (Piranga ludoviciana).

The group’s ability is distinguish between similar calls is uncanny. I have a particular interest in the rapid chirping call of the Rufous towhee. Later at home, I compare audio recordings and spectrographs of several species found along the trail that all include to my uneducated ears, subtle variations on a series of four to six rapid fire trill chirps, preceded or followed by two tones. The songs of the Rufous-sided towhee, the Green-tailed towhee, and Orange-crowned warbler, are all variations on a theme.

The group continues down the trail as the bright line of sunlight engulfs them. The celebrity bird of the afternoon are many Lazuli buntings. On the western brightly lit slopes, perching on a Gambel’s oak, several of these buntings are seen. They males are aflame in their cloaks of brilliant iridescent blue. Bryant notes that a bird’s coloring are the result of their feathers refracting sunlight. The explains why colorful birds have dulled colors in diffused light, but radiant colors in full sun. Near trail mile 0.5, a Black-chinned hummingbird (Archilochus alexandri) sits on a powerline and obligingly ignores the birders as they take photographs. In the last third of trail mile, the sun and temperature has risen, the birds are less active, and the group quickly exits back to the road. A mallard rests in the flood retention pond.

I point out the cliff nest site that I followed last spring near mile 1.0 (Dec. 9th, 40°48.227 N, 111°52.204 W), but only about one-half of the group can see the nest. I had previously thought it was built by Peregrine falcons or Cooper’s hawks, but Bryant notes I am mistaken. Peregrines and Cooper’s hawks do not build stick nests, he says, a point supported in literature (Utah Legacy Raptor 2011). A later search on the internet returns many photographs of peregrines nesting in nearly identical stick nests. A probably resolution of the difference is found elsewhere: peregrine falcons sometimes will take over the stick nests of other raptors like eagles (White et al 2002).

Comparing the group’s Cornell Ornithology Lab birding logs for the canyon since April 30th reveals the arrival of many small migratory song birds with the abrupt rise in temperatures and the arrival of the vernal season (April 29th and May 1st). Common canyon birds in their logs in April through May 6th include mallards, European starlings, American robins, House finches, Song sparrows, Dark-eyed Juncos, Black-billed magpies, Mourning doves, Ravens, American crows, Red-tailed hawks, and Cooper’s hawks. New spring heat-seeking migrants that arrived just as the temperature switch tripped two or three days ago include the Peregrine falcons, Plumbeous vireo (Vireo plumbeus), Warbling vireo (Vireo gilvus), Orange-crowned warbler, Yellow warbler, Virginia’s warbler, Chipping sparrow (Spizella passerina), Green-tailed towhee, the Western tanager (Piranga ludoviciana), Broad-tailed hummingbird (Archilochus alexandri), Black-chinned hummingbird, Lazuli bunting, the Lesser Goldfinch (Spinus psaltria). These new colorful arrivals have followed the north running heat wave from the southern states and Mexico for a thousand miles to this northern canyon, and now that they have arrived, their next tasks will be mating and beginning the construction of nests.

I ask a question about what some of the most common canyon birds eat. I am interested in not only the simple phenological list of what bird species arrives when (this is what Thoreau did), but also how the web of insects, plants, and birds link together. The aviary experts’ answers are general and unsatisfying. “Seeds” (there are none), “grass” (they have not developed grains), and “insects” (there are still few, given the newly higher temperatures). The same vague discussions are found in my various paper and internet birding guides. I have witnessed a few instances in which canyon birds actually eating something over an entire year. A scrub jay ate acorns in the fall (Oct. 6th); wild turkeys ate winter acorns (Dec. 29th); chickadees ate winter fruit; spring kingfishers fish along the ponds and stream, although I have never seen them catch anything (March 19, April 6, 11, and 18); in the mallards eat spring algae from the stream; hummingbirds and dragonflies feasted on summer gnats (August 1st and August 11th), and a few days later, cliff swallows gorged on the dragonflies (August 22nd). In the spring of 2015, two falcons ate a mouse. But what are they, in particular the new arrivals, eating now? After this morning with the soundscape wizards and a subsequent literature search, I am struck both about how much science knows about the birds and how little science knows about birds. All things cannot be known, and I suspect there is little grant money available to fully construct and quantify the ecological relationships of even close natural areas, since minerals, logs, and skiers only have economic value and iridescent sheen of the Lazuli buntings do not.

A lone mallard sleeps near the shore of the flood retention pond. Jogging out of the canyon, the social-cause, 5k fun-run has begun, and three or four-hundred joggers are going towards milepost 0.5, along the opposite western leg along Bonneville Drive. A loudspeaker blares out popular music. Groups of racing bicyclists stopped by the police to allow the race to pass joke about blindly coming around a curve into such a mass of humanity. Their focus on life is different from mine, and neither, as they go about their respective enjoyment of the canyon, will perceive the dazzling blue of the Lazuli buntings seen by the wizards of the canyon soundscape.

* * * *

Iridescence in birds is caused by both pigments and the refracting structure of their feathers (Doucet and Meadows 2009; Rajchard 2009), and many birds also perceive light, including the iridescent refraction, in the ultra-violet spectrum (id). The view that humans see of birds is not what they see of each other. The blue feathers of birds, like the Lazuli bunting, may be hint that a bird can see ultra-violet light (see Doucet and Meadows, S118). Falcons use the ultra-violet reflection of mole and mouse urine to determine the density of their mammalian prey in fields (Rajchard). Fruit seeking birds like crows better see mature fruits because the ripe fruit better reflect ultra-violet light (id). Blue tits switch to the ultra-violet spectrum to see insects against non-contrasting backgrounds (id). The iridescent patches also help birds to distinguish their sexes, just as human birders do, but in some birds, the ultra-violet spectrum of their iridescent patches enhance the sex difference of their pigments seen in the human visual spectrum (id). Another study suggests that in the ultra-violet spectrum, some birds find it easier to distinguish eggs (id). Iridescence can also be an indicator of fitness to breed. Male birds lose iridescence as they age and when they are sick (Doucet and Meadows, S120-S121).

The iridescent patches of birds involve a trade-off. Iridescent patches, like those of the front-chin of the Broad-tailed Hummingbird and the side-neck of the Black-chinned hummingbird seen today, may be more visible to their predators, but they are also more visible to their potential mates (Doucet and Meadows). To reduce the predation cost of these patches, some patches are directional. A bird living in a diffusely, dark lit forest can perch in a ray of sunlight and send a narrow beam “flash” to other members of its own species and to potential mates (id). Predators circling above will not see this visual chatter. Conversely, the bright Lazuli bunting simply shines like a beacon. What do the hawks and falcons circling above see of these beautiful song birds in the shorter-bands of light that we human birders are unaware of?

* * * *

On May 6th, 1899, work to replace the City Creek water main with a larger diameter pipe was underway (Salt Lake Herald), although a suit seeking an injunction against the construction had been filed. On May 6th, 1888, Z. Jacobs canvassed citizens for suggestions on how to increase the city’s water supply, including Fire Chief Ottinger (Salt Lake Herald). Jacobs argued against building a dam in City Creek Canyon, since failure of the dam would destroy the downtown (id).

April 26, 2017

April 23rd

Benefits of Nature – Part I – The Restorative Effects of Simulated and Wild Nature

3:00 p.m. On this overcast day, the parking lot is full and the stream still runs higher from recent rains. At mile 0.3, a round a bend in the road and startle a female mallard who is stand overlooking the stream. Ten feet in front of me, she rises in a flight response that is a flurry of molted dark browns mixed with light browns and white. Her receding figure is punctuated by bright rump feathers.

Local bird observer Brian Olsen reported at Cornell University Ornithology Laboratory’s “E-bird” list (Cornell 2016) that on April 21st, he saw or heard a extensive list of native and spring migratory visitors including Turkey vultures, a Red-tailed hawk, a Cooper’s hawk, Peregrine falcon, a Scrub jay, Northern flicker, Chukar, California quail, American robin, two Black-capped chickadees, House finch, a Lesser goldfinch (Spinus psaltria), and a Broad-tailed hummingbird (Selasphour platycercus)

* * * *

Ulrich also cites human health and cognitive restoration responses to nature therapy also provides indirect support for the biophilia hypothesis (Ulrich 98-108). Patients exposed to to nature while confined to a hospital accelerates their healing (id), and resting in an unstressed natural environment accelerates the brains recovery of executive and cognitive functions after they have been dulled by stress (id). This idea has given rise to an entire architectural philosophy called biophilia design, and its impact can be seen in many new urban buildings that seek to integrate wide natural lighting windows with views of natural environments into office working spaces.

Whether or not study of nature restoration supports the biophilia hypothesis, the restorative and healing quality of nature continued as an active area of research between Ulrich’s 1993 summary and the present. Ninety-percent of all time spent by humans of developed nations are spent indoors and between 1982 and 2008, there was a declining per capita trend in the amount of time that developed nation residents spend outdoors, although total recreation days continues to increase (Pergams and Zaradic, 2008). This trend raised concerns about the impact of that time on both physical health and mental health. Research conclusions about the effects of nature exposure provides scientific support for the commonplace that nature heals and restores. Capaldi at Carleton University and colleagues review benefits of exposure to nature on ones sense of well-being (Capaldi et al 2015). Those benefits can be characterized as increasing or maintaining hedonic well-being, that is a subjective emotional well-being consistent of positive feelings and satisfaction with ones life, and increasing or maintaining eudaimonic well-being, that is a general sense that one is functioning well with a sense of meaning, autonomy and vitality (id).

In 2015, McMahan of Western Oregon University and Estes of the University of Wyoming conducted a meta-analysis of thirty-two studies involving 2,356 participants concerning the effects of exposure of nature on emotional well-being (McMahan and Estes 2015). They reviewed studies that involved actually going into nature as opposed to viewing images of natural environments. They found an moderate increase in positive affect from short-term exposure to nature, found no difference between the effect of exposure between managed nature (e.g. urban parks) and natural environments, and they suggested how future research programs could be improved to provide better results. For example, research has not addressed dose-dependent exposure. Does increasing the amount of time spent in nature have an increasing affect on emotional well-being? Coon and colleagues performed a meta-analysis of 11 studies with 833 participants that compared the effect of exercising outdoors in nature verses indoors, and they found an increased sense of well-being from exercising outdoors as opposed to indoors (Coon et al 2011). Lohr summarized how studies from 1984 through 2000 have indicated that exposure to nature reduces stress, improves social interactions, speeds recovery from illness, reduces mental fatigue, increases attention and reduces violence (Lohr 2007).

Do true natural environments have the same effect as managed open spaces like parks? McMahan and Estes’s meta-analysis did not find a difference, but other researchers have reported a distinction. White at the University of Exeter and colleagues analyzed survey results of 4,255 participants in a national survey of English residents (White et al 2013). They found that respondents reported the level of restoration achieved was associated with a declining level of urbanization stretching from coastal areas, natural woodland forests, and urban parks. White et al also found that restoration was dose-dependent: higher levels of outdoor activities in a natural setting resulted in a higher level of restoration (id). Korpela and colleagues surveyed 1,273 randomly chosen urban Finnish residents for their emotional responses when using urban woodlands verses managed urban parks, and the restorative experiences of people using urban woodlands was stronger than those using urban parks (Korpela et al 2010). Korpela et al also found the the degree of worry over daily life, e.g. such as money worries, was negatively associated with utilizing the outdoors.

* * * *

Exercise outdoors has a higher restorative effect than indoor exercise. As time indoors increases and increased urbanization raises barriers to outdoor recreation, the issue of whether indoor verses outdoor recreation has the same health benefits and restoration of emotional well-being become significant. Hug at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology and colleagues surveyed 319 persons at Swiss exercise centers during the winter months regarding their exercise preferences (Hug et al 2009). Persons who exercised outdoors during the winter months reported higher levels of restoration than those who exercised indoors, but Hug et al noted that this does not imply that exercising in nature is necessarily better than indoor exercise. People who exercise indoors also seek social connections and rate indoor exercise as better satisfying that equally important need. Hug suggested that the higher restoration from outdoor exercise is consistent with exercising alone. Outdoor exercise provides a release from social constraints and worries that would not be found in a social exercise setting, even where the social ethic of a club permits members to exercise alone and without social interruption from others.

* * * *

On April 23rd, 1997, a group of prominent locals who ran regularly in City Creek Canyon, remembered Tony Cannon on his passing (Salt Lake Tribune). Cannon was a descendant of the 1847 advance party. They were informally known as the “City Creek Maintenance Crew”. Tony Cannon, who ran in City Creek Canyon every day for years, dies from a stroke (Deseret News). Cannon knew “every landmark, among them Little Black, Smuggler’s Notch, Rudy’s Flat, Pleasant Valley and North Fork.” (id). On April 23rd, 1993, City officials warned about increasing coliform levels from unleashed dogs being found at the mouth of City Creek Canyon (Salt Lake Tribune). On April 23rd, 1997, Tony Cannon, who ran in City Creek Canyon every day for years, dies from a stroke (Deseret News). Cannon knew “every landmark, among them Little Black, Smuggler’s Notch, Rudy’s Flat, Pleasant Valley and North Fork.” (id). Cannon was also known for hauling “armloads” of trash from the canyon during his runs. On April 23rd, 1916, 1916, the Salt Lake Tribune in a real estate promotional piece, noted that there was a housing construction boom occurring and that among the amenities of living in Salt Lake was the closeness of City Creek Canyon. On April 23rd, 1913, the City Commission refereed Morgan County’s request to construct a highway down City Creek Canyon to the Health Commissioner. On April 23, 1888, the Salt Lake Herald suggested that to solve the city’s water shortage, a dam could be constructed across the entrance to Pleasant Valley in City Creek Canyon.

March 27, 2017

March 27th

This is Not the Natural Place. – Part VIII – Water Infrastructure

9:30 a.m. Another great Coriolis effect band of clouds and rain that stretches from central Canada to New Mexico sweeps over the canyon. This is the second in three days, and it rains continuously overnight and into the morning. The canyon freezes overnight. Except for a single gnat, insects are absent. A lone robin and chickadee calls from the thicket far from the road. Some plants respond, but most canyon trees continue their wait for spring’s true warmth. A lone river birch below picnic site 3 blooms, but along the stream, many small birch shots have bloomed and extended small leaves. Service berry bushes are among those that thrive despite the early spring cold. They have bloomed and in the last few days have grown one to one-and-one-half inch leaves. The forest understory is greening first. Whether beneath Box Elder or Gambel’s oak trees, small sucker shoots are blooming with leaves. Their mature parents stay dormant. Near mile 0.1, buds on an unusual tree swell and prepare to open. When sap surged up its grey trunk and branches, the wood’s skin has turned a dull orange. The rain floods the canyon with a pleasing earthy smell.

The events of the last week reveal the pattern of early spring in the canyon. Plants respond primarily to the lengthening of daylight, but insects are waiting for overnight temperatures above fifty and daytime temperatures in the sixties. Days alternate between sun and cold nourishing rain with an overall pattern of increasing temperatures, but an early heat wave fools the insects into an early exit from winter’s hibernation. All wait for the dominate forest trees to swell their buds and to deploy this year’s leaves.

The last few days have also given me a new appreciation for the few water seeps and springs in the first mile of the canyon (January 20th). They are signs of the larger sub-surface migration of water from the surrounding canyon walls and beneath the Gambel’s oak forest. Refreshing rain falls on the high ridges and leeches through the high sandstone layers picking up minerals, and these nutrients then seep underneath the earth to the stream below. Along the way, forest roots dip below to sip the mineral rich broth to obtain the necessary building blocks of life.

* * * *

In Thoreau’s “Journal” on March 27th, 1842, he sees birches and pines reflecting light as they wave. He watches two fledgling hawks and an eagle. On March 27th, 1853, he notes flowering hazel. On March 27th, 1859, he notes alder trees are in bloom. On Thoreau’s “Journal” on March 28th, 1858, he sees a flock of shelldrakes, a flock of ducks, two dippers, and two herring gulls.

* * * *

The third era of utilization of City Creek Canyon was water infrastructure development. As previously noted (Dec. 27th), City initially developed infrastructure in the canyon between 1870 and the early 1900s. Construction began in 1872 with the installation of an enclosed piped water main up City Creek, dug by City prison labor (Cater, 94). Three enclosed take-off points were developed that went to the business district, Central City, the low Avenues below 6th Avenue, and the Ensign Peak 20th Ward. The “high-line” went from a head gate in City Creek at 5030 feet in elevation to a reservoir in the high Avenues and provided water to the high Avenues district. The “mid-line” went from a head gate at 4712 feet to the low Avenues and Central City districts. A second head gate at 4676 feet went to Capitol Hill and west-side districts. The “low-line” went from a head gate at 4579 feet to serve the business district (Hooten, 21-26; Salt Lake Tribune, Dec. 27, 1903). Two take-offs in City Creek from the main pipeline still serve Capitol Hill and the high Avenues. The take-offs are at westbound water line trail at picnic site 4, mile 0.5 at the site of the old Twentieth Ward aqueduct head gate, and a southeast bound line at the red bridge on the south side of the road at mile 0.9, the site of the old mid-line headgate. In 1915, the City completed construction of the 5,000,000 gallon reservoir at the up-canyon east end of Pleasant Valley (Salt Lake Tribune, Jan. 2, 1916).

* * * *

On March 27th, 1920, the snow depth at the High Line station in City Creek was 17 inches (Salt Lake Telegram). On March 27th, 1900 in order to increase the City’s water supply, the City Board of Public Works approved the bid of Moran Construction to install a 30 inch iron water main from City Creek Canyon for $61,854 (Salt Lake Herald).

March 14, 2017

March 14th

Flooding of City Creek’s Delta – Part V

1:30 p.m. An early spring arrives; the temperature is in the seventies. The canyon continues to be flooded with walkers, runners and bicyclists during the middle of a workday, and this may be driven in part by the fact that the local university is on spring break. Near mile 0.4, I watch a large raptor soaring next to the high cliff walls on the canyon’s west-side for several minutes, and then it dives into a nesting site in cliff wall. Raptors are known to nest there through mid-June. Although trees continue in their somnolence, insects respond instantly overnight. I estimate 500 Box Elder bugs are active in the first mile. Their abdominal segments are a bright red-orange, and this aids them in locating each other for their many mating orgies that I pass on the road. Gnats are in abundance, the first houseflies appear, and I see the first wasp of the season. I count five butterflies of four different types. The first is a large black butterfly with a white trailing edge, probably a Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa), and the second mid-size butterfly with black wings and a trailing red-orange band is probably an early Red Admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta). A White Cabbage butterfly is seen on the Pipeline Trail. The fourth is the inverse of the Red Admiral: orange-winged with a black trailing edge. These are early hatchlings. The annual butterfly explosion, in which up to one-thousand butterflies can be seen on the road, is several weeks away. One regret that I have from the winter is that despite my searches, I was unable to locate any butterfly or moth cocoons hanging from trees. That is where the butterflies hibernate through the winter.

Near mile 0.4 where the Gambel’s oak forest spreads up the western canyon slope, the oak thicket hides small birds, but I can hear about five distinct calls. Only a robin’s call can be definitely identified. Along the stream, a startled thrush runs under the tangle of a bush’s roots. I jog down the Pipeline Trail. In April and May and after the oaks renew their leafs, smaller migrating song birds can be seen perching on the electrical power lines that parallel the trail, but today, I see none. Below Shark Fin Rock near trail mile 0.5, a mid-sized bird, screened by the trees, calls with a loud “chirp-cheep”. I cannot see it, but from the changes of its calls’ levels, I can tell that the bird is standing in place and rotating around, probably advertising for a mate.

In Thoreau’s “Journal” on March 14th, 1854, he hears a large flock of song-sparrows in the trees. On March 14th, 1855, he sees sparrow tracks in the snow leading to blue curls, a plant that contains dried seeds.

The weather and increased ability to forecast flooding works against City residents’ tendency to forget extreme events. The National Weather Service, the National Soil Conservation Service and the U.S. Geological Survey maintain an extensive system of flood gauge monitors and a sophisticated national flood prediction system, the Advanced Hydrographic Prediction Service, the data from which is publicly available (U.S.G.S. 2017, NSCS 2017, NWS 2017b, 2017c). The NWS regularly publishes probability predictions of annual flooding whenever the snowpack is high (Salt Lake Tribune, April 29, 2011). For example, although 2017 has not resulted in flooding in City Creek, flooding in northern Utah towns like Tremonton fill the news.

When City Creek returns to flood its delta, the waters will find a much changed city. In the 2000s, when the North Temple shopping district was rebuilt at the cost of over $1 billion USD. Since 1983, the business district has seen construction of numerous large buildings on both sides or Main and State Streets, and pursuant with City policy, each has constructed many large underground parking lots. For example, between South Temple and 100 South and State and Main, the entire 10 acre block now contains a multi-level underground parking structure. The same is true between 200 South and 300 South between State and Main. The doors that close off entry to these underground cavities are simple thin roll-down affairs that will not keep flood water out. Although during the 1983 flood, sandbagging kept water out of the then only underground garage, when City Creek again floods the downtown, these underground lots will be susceptible to filling with water, and the economic cost of the next extreme flood – which still can overwhelm the post-1983 increased capacity of the storm water system – will be much higher.

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