“The time of the singing of birds is come” – a Nottinghamshire gravestone with a bird bath


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Yesterday Karin and I took the day off and explored an area along the Nottinghamshire/Leicestershire border with friends.  In the small village of Normanton on Soar we found a very unusual headstone in the churchyard, carved in granite and surmounted by a bird bath.  Around the bowl some lead text reads:  “The time of the singing of birds is come”

The bowl was empty when we arrived so I filled it: it’s going to be a hot weekend and the birds might appreciate it.

The headstone marks the burial place of Edward Hands and Ethel Maud Hands, presumably husband and wife; the smaller marker commemorates Derek Hands (their son?).  None had a long life; Edward was 42 when he died, Ethel 56, and Derek just 36.  The headstone was erected originally for Edward (who pre-deceased his wife by 20 years) so perhaps it was he who was keen on birds?

I’ve never seen a headstone in the form of a bird bath though I can’t believe that it’s unique: does anyone know of others?

Here’s the full grave; it was only after I took the picture that I noticed the feather.

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The text around the bird bath is from the Bible, the Song of Solomon 2:12.  The fuller version is:

“The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.”

We didn’t hear any turtles, but here were plenty of flowers around the village, including a buddleia that was smothered in very fresh looking painted lady butterflies that are likely to have been born nearby rather than migrating over from the continent:

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It was also a time of bees such as this very active feral honey bee colony in a lovely 15th century  timber framed house:



Filed under Biodiversity, Biodiversity and culture, Birds, Personal biodiversity

“Weighted” nestedness and “classical” nestedness analyses do not measure the same thing in species interaction networks

This post resulted from a question I posed on Twitter last week and hopefully summarises the issue as I see it and the results of the discussion with colleagues that followed.  Let me know if you disagree or if I have missed anything.

The use of network approaches to understanding how plants and their flower visitors interact has revolutionised the study of these and other mutualistic assemblages of species.  It’s a subject I’ve discussed on the blog before, highlighting some of the work we have published – for instance, see Plant-pollinator networks in the tropics: a new review just published and Local and regional specialization in plant–pollinator networks: a new study just published as two recent examples.

One of the recurring patterns that we see in mutualistic species networks (but not in antagonistic ones such as host-parasite and predator prey) is “nestedness”.  In a nested assemblage of species, generalists with lots of links to other species interact with other generalists and with specialists (those species which have few links to other species)Conversely, specialists tend only to link to generalists: specialist-specialist interactions are rare.  In nature, when we rank species in a network from most to least generalised, this sort of relationship looks like this:

South Africa nested

The rows are plants and the columns are pollinators, in this case from an assemblage of asclepiads and their pollinators we studied in South Africa.  A filled cell in the matrix indicates an interaction between that particular plant-pollinator combination.  It’s not perfectly nested by any means, but statistically this is not a random pattern and it comes out as nested when analysed.  There are a few ways of doing this but the most commonly used is the Nestedness metric based on Overlap and Decreasing Fill (NODF) developed by Almeida-Neto et al. (2008).

I first saw nestedness discussed in relation to plant-pollinator interactions in a presentation by Yoko Dupont of her PhD research at a SCAPE meeting in Sweden in 2001.  It was one of those “A-HA!” moments in science when the light bulb switches on and you realise that you are seeing an important new development which adds significant understanding to a field.  Yoko subsequently published her work as Structure of a plant–flower‐visitor network in the high‐altitude sub‐alpine desert of Tenerife, Canary Islands.

The nested pattern of interactions is conceptually derived from earlier work on island biogeography and species-area relationships and was initially developed to apply to interaction networks by Jordi Bascompte and colleagues in Spain and Denmark – see: The nested assembly of plant-animal mutualistic networks.

What was so exciting about this idea to me was that it provided a way to formally analyse what many of us had been observing and discussing for some time: that mutually specialised plant-pollinator interactions between species are rather rare, and that specialists tend to exploit generalists.  This makes perfect sense because specialist-specialist interactions may be more likely to go extinct, though why it does not also apply to host-parasite interactions is far from clear (and in fact the best known specialist-specialist interactions tend to derive from seed parasitism interactions such as fig-fig wasp and yucca-yucca moth relationships).

Fast forward 20 years and the plant-pollinator networks literature has exploded and our methods of analysis are much more sophisticated than they were in the late 1990s and early 2000s.  Every few months researchers are coming up with new ways in which to analyse these networks, mainly using the R environment for statistics and graphing.  Anyone entering the field would be forgiven for being bewildered as to which approaches to use: it’s bewildering enough for those of us who have been following it from the start!

One thing has been particularly bewildering me for a few years now, and that’s the introduction of “weighted” nestedness.  “Weighted” in this sense means that the abundance or interaction frequencies of the species in the network is taken into account in the analyses.  Visually it could look something like this if we code the cells in the network above to represent abundance or frequency (the darker the cell, the more abundant or frequent):

South Africa nested weighted

I’ve just mocked up the network above, it’s not the actual data.  But quite often networks look like this when we weight them: generalist interactions and/or species tend to be more frequent than specialist.  So far, so obvious.  But here’s the thing: networks that are statistically significantly nested when analysed by NODF tend to be not significantly nested when analysed by a new set of weighted metrics such as wNODF or WINE – see the documentation for the bipartite package for details.   And I don’t understand why.  Or rather I don’t understand why we should be using weights in an analysis of nestedness which is, at its heart, an analysis of presence-absence.  Species are either there or they are not, they are either interacting or they are not.  Their frequency or abundance is immaterial to whether a network is nested.  Indeed, assessing frequency of interactions in plant-pollinator networks is fraught with difficulties because (a) there are so many ways in which to do it; and (b) interactions between plants and pollinators in a community can vary HUGELY between years and across the geographical ranges of the species involved.

This should concern the interaction network community because recently I’ve had reviewers and co-authors saying things like: “don’t analyse for nestedness using NODF because wNODF/WINE is The Latest Thing, use that instead”.  But as far as I and the colleagues who commented on Twitter can tell, nestedness and weighted nestedness are different concepts and are not inter-changeable.  Indeed, many of us are struggling to really define exactly what weighted nestedness analyses are actually measuring.  I can define nestedness in simple terms as a verbal concept, without using the word “nested”, as you saw above.  I can’t do that with weighted nestedness, and I have yet to encounter anyone who can.

So the consensus from the Twitter discussion seems to be that:

  • for any study we should use only those analyses that are relevant to the questions we are asking rather than simply running every available analysis because there are lots to choose from.
  • weighted interaction networks that include abundance or frequency are not necessarily superior to binary presence-absence networks.  Again, it depends on the question being asked.
  • we should not treat weighted nestedness as an upgraded or superior version of classical nestedness.  If you are interested in nestedness, use a binary analysis like NODF.

My thanks to the colleagues who contributed to the Twitter discussion:  Nacho Bartomeus, Pedro Jordano, Pedro Luna, Marco Mello, Chris Moore, Timothée Poisot, and Kit Prendergast.  If you want to follow the Twitter discussion, start here:  https://twitter.com/JeffOllerton/status/1159377089319047168



Filed under Apocynaceae, Biodiversity, Rewilding

Websites about bees and other pollinators that are not in English – can you add to my list?

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The book I’m currently completing is going to have a list of useful websites with information about bees and other pollinators, and pollination itself, that are not written in English.  Following a shout-out on Twitter I’ve come up with the following list – can anyone add to it?  There’s a lot of countries/languages missing.  Please respond in the comments section or send me an email:





















French Canadian:




















With thanks to everyone on Twitter who responded.


Filed under Bees, Biodiversity, Pollination

Bees and beer in London: an urban beekeeping experience

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One of our Christmas presents from Karin’s son (my stepson) Oli and his girlfriend Kate was an “experience” – a chance to spend half a day with an urban beekeeping collective in London called Bee Urban.  The group has a partnership with Hiver Beer which uses its honey in its brewing, and we were promised a tasting session.  Bees, beer, London – what’s not to like?  Karin and I finally made the trip down to Kennington yesterday and it was a really enjoyable experience, highly recommended.  I know a little bit about beekeeping but it was great to see a small professional apiary at work and to take part in a hive examination.  It certainly deepened my appreciation of these remarkable insects.  It also made me think about having a hive or two when I retire and have the time to devote to the hobby – beekeeping is not to be entered into lightly!  However there’s a time and a place for honeybees: in the wrong setting they can be a conservation problem by negatively affecting plant reproduction, out-competing native bees and passing on their diseases to bumblebees.

Bee Urban, however, is also doing its bit for wild bees in London by providing opportunities, such as drilled logs, for cavity nesting species.  We saw lots of evidence that leaf-cutting bees (Megachile spp.) and those that seal their nests with mud (various genera) were taking advantage of these nesting sites.

Interestingly, one of the other attendees said at the outset that she was very scared of bees.  I asked her afterwards if seeing beekeeping up close had helped and she said it had.  Perhaps this is something that you could do with any insectophobes in your life?

The beer was great, by the way, also highly recommended!

Below are some pictures from the day.  Thanks to Lena and Barnaby for hosting us and making it such an enjoyable experience.

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When she saw this picture, Karin likened it to cult devotees attending a ritual – “All Hail the Bee Goddess!”:

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Karin and I get up close and personal with the bees:

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A real highlight of the day – seeing the queen of this hive (marked in red):

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Yum! – :

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Drilled logs being used by leaf-cutting bees (Megachile spp.):

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Filed under Bees, Biodiversity, Honey bees, Urban biodiversity

A Climate Change Tourist in America

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Following on from my recent post about A train ride through American climate change, my wife Karin has extended this and written a great piece called A Climate Change Tourist in America for Medium.

It’s a really beautifully observed and thoughtful piece of writing that weaves together themes that I would never have considered dealing with: aspects of life, love, tourism, poverty, suicide and desperation, all linked by climate change.  It’s only a 10 minute read: do yourself a favour and take a look.

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Filed under Biodiversity, Climate change

Last year’s mother, this year’s child: cinnabar moths in the garden

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Most summers we have a small colony of cinnabar moths (Tyria jacobaeae) reproducing in the garden.  The garish yellow-and-black caterpillars feed on species of ragwort and we leave a patch of common ragwort (Jacobaea vulgaris) to grow in the lawn.  The caterpillars eat for a few weeks, virtually destroy the ragwort, and in the process accumulate alkaloids from the host plant into their bodies.  This renders them toxic in much the same way as monarch butterflies accumulate toxins from their Asclepias food plants – see my recent post about the Monarchs and Milkweeds workshop.  Hence the stripes to warn birds of their unpalatability.

Ragwort is a much-maligned plant, hated by those with horses and livestock, and subject to a largely hysterical campaign of eradication – see here for example.   However John Clare clearly appreciated its virtues in a poem dedicated to the plant:

Ragwort, thou humble flower with tattered leaves
I love to see thee come & litter gold,
What time the summer binds her russet sheaves;
Decking rude spots in beauties manifold,
That without thee were dreary to behold.

The full text of the poem can be found here.

Once they have fed their fill, the caterpillars dig themselves into the soil to spend twelve months or so underground as pupae, before emerging as gorgeous adult moths, advertising their toxicity with a different colour scheme.

The adults live for a few weeks at most, during which time they feed on nectar, mate, lay eggs and die.  This (unposed) photograph that I snapped on my phone in the garden yesterday just about sums it up: an exhausted mother has laid her last batch of eggs then died, while a nearby young caterpillar munches away on the ragwort.  And so the generations pass.

Cinnabar caterpillars on ragwort


Filed under Biodiversity, Gardens, Moths, Urban biodiversity

A short history of ecology doctorates in the UK

UK ecology doctorates

Doctorate-level research qualifications (DSc, PhD, DPhil, etc.) do not have an especially long history, although as academics we take them for granted as the usual gateway drug qualification to professional research.  In the UK the first research doctorates were awarded only towards the end of the 19th century and took some time to become fully established in the university landscape.  The British Library’s EThOS site provides a searchable database of doctorates awarded by UK institutions.  Although it’s not complete, the 500,000 records it holds provides a fascinating resource for anyone curious about the history of doctoral education and in research trends in their own discipline.

I thought it would be interesting to look at the history of UK ecology doctorates and, using “ecology” as a search term discovered the following:

  • The earliest record for an ecology doctorate (actually a DSc) was for “An ecological survey of Natal: the Pietermaritzburg district” by J.W. Bews, awarded by the University of Edinburgh in 1912.
  • As far as I can tell from the names (which often give only the initials) the first woman to be awarded an ecology PhD was Mary Seaton for “A floristical and ecological survey of West Lothian” in 1927, again at the University of Edinburgh.
  • As you can see from the graph above, for the first half of the 20th century the number of ecology doctorates averaged only one or two a year, and in many years none were awarded.
  • From about 1950 onward there begins a steep rise in the number of awards.  I was expecting that this rise would be broadly exponential, in line with the widening of access to higher education and the increasing rate of scientific discovery.  However there are some interesting peaks and troughs in the observed pattern.
  •  The first bulge occurs in the early- to mid-1980s, with a second bulge from the mid-1990s until the early 2000s.  It would be interesting to speculate on what had caused those.
  • However it’s from 2010 onward that the really steep rise in ecology doctorates occurs: in the decade from 2010 to 2019 (which I have not graphed as the year has not yet ended) 3833 doctorates were awarded.  That compares to 4820 for the previous c. 100 years.
  • However, one must be careful about assigning any given thesis to the field of ecology as the word is increasingly used outside of the subject, e.g. in a thesis entitled “Understanding extra-judicial responses to young people’s offending : out of court disposals and ‘diversion’ in social context” (University of Bedfordshire 2019).
  • Possibly balancing that latter bias is the trend of using the word “biodiversity” rather than ecology; there are at least 700 such theses.  Some of these will be taxonomic rather than ecological, but by no means all.
  • I wonder whether we reached a peak in ecology doctorates in 2016 (when 506 were awarded).  As of June 2019 only 92 have been awarded so the downward trend seen in the last couple of years may be continuing.

There is no doubt much more that could be discovered by someone with an interest in the history of science and the time to dig further into the topic.  If anyone wants a copy of the raw data, drop me an email and I will happily send it.


Filed under Biodiversity, History of science

Chequered skippers are back: extinct English butterfly breeds for the first time in over 40 years!


Last year I wrote about our involvement with the chequered skipper reintroduction project that’s happening in north Northamptonshire, and specifically the work of University of Northampton postgraduate researcher Jamie Wildman.  For the past month we’ve been sitting on some news that we were not allowed reveal: the reintroduction has been a success!  That is to say, adult butterflies emerged in May this year, having overwintered as pupae, and have been seen breeding in Rockingham Forest.  The secrecy was to prevent hordes of butterfly twitchers (buttwitchers?) descending on the site and possibly doing unintentional harm as they searched for the adults.  The population just isn’t large enough to be able to withstand that sort of pressure.

The BBC has run with the story this morning – here’s the link – and we have issued a piece via the university’s press team: the link to that is here.

In a time when the media is dominated by profoundly depressing stories about wildlife and the environment it’s great to be able to end the week with some positive news.  Here’s to the long-term success of this lovely little critter!



Filed under Biodiversity, Butterflies, University of Northampton

Monarchs and Milkweeds Workshop summary, Oak Spring, Virginia, June 2019

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As I recounted in my last post about a train ride through American climate change, my wife Karin and I have been in the USA for the past couple of weeks, visiting colleagues in the west and ultimately heading eastwards to Virginia for a workshop on monarch butterflies and their milkweed hosts.  The meeting was organised by Anurag Agrawal, professor at Cornell University and author of the recent book Monarchs and Milkweed, highly recommended to anyone interested in the natural history of plants and insects.  The monarch (Danaus plexippus) is an iconic migrating  species that travels from Mexico to Canada and back, over the course of a few generations.  This behaviour, and their vast over-wintering assemblages, have become the focus of intense efforts to understand their ecology and biology.  Their caterpillar host plants are mainly milkweeds (Asclepias spp.) and bringing together both plant and animal scientists is important for gaining a fuller over view of the issues facing the monarchs and the milkweeds, and how both can be conserved in a time of anthropogenic change.

The venue for the workshop was Oak Spring, Upperville, the former home of Paul and Rachel (“Bunny”) Mellon which has been turned into the base of operations for a philanthropic foundation specialising in plant science, horticulture, and botanical art.  The Oak Spring Garden Foundation (OSGF) is “dedicated to inspiring and facilitating scholarship and public dialogue on the history and future of plants, including the culture of gardens and landscapes and the importance of plants for human well-being”.  The OSGF generously funded the workshop, including accommodation and travel for participants.  This brought together a small group of scientists from the USA, the UK and Brazil, together with an artist, a milkweed horticulturalist, and two science writers.  Their brief was to discuss the latest developments in our understanding of monarch butterflies, their decline and conservation, and the taxonomy, evolution and ecology of milkweeds and the wider groups of Lepidoptera and the plant family Apocynaceae to which these organisms belong.  My invitation to take part was due to the research on the pollination ecology of this family I’ve conducted, spanning about twenty five years and culminating in a recently published assessment of the diversity of pollination systems in Apocynaceae.

First things first: Oak Spring is one of the most tranquil, beautiful, and inspiring places where it’s ever been my privilege to stay.  Here’s a few photographs, but they really do not do justice to the buildings and garden, their setting, nor to the unique atmosphere of Oak Spring.

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So to the science.  The workshop started with a set of short presentations on our recent research findings and the motivations for our interests in these organisms.  On the second day we then moved on to discussing ideas for future collaborations between the participants and how that work might be funded in the future.  Presentations and discussions were mainly held in the Basket House, named for obvious reasons:

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Each of us was also interviewed on camera to build an online archive of the work we do and why we do it.

The advantage of face-to-face meetings such as this, and why Skype and so forth can never fully replace them, is the free-flowing conversations that occur within the formal sessions and outside them.  Among the many things that I learned from presentations and discussions were:

  • The California monarch population has declined by almost 90% this year and there’s an urgent need to understand why this has happened.  Climate change has been implicated, especially in relation to the increased frequency of wildfires in this region.
  • Existing methods of nectar extraction from milkweed flowers may strongly underestimate the volume available to flower visitors, and overestimate the sugar concentration.  Using a small centrifuge to spin out the nectar seems to be the most effective method.
  • Asclepias arrived in the Americas (probably from Africa) some 10 million years ago (mya).  However Danaus only arrived about 3.7 mya, so there was a long period of time in which the plant was not co-evolving with one of its major herbivores.
  • There is strong evidence of migrations along the Andes by a close relative of the monarch, Danaus erippus.  Migrations in this group of butterflies therefore extends beyond the iconic D. plexippus.
  • Sonoran Desert Asclepias are sister group to the rest of the New World Asclepias spp.  The exact route by which the African ancestors made it to the Americas is unknown, it could be via Asia and the Bering Strait, or across the Atlantic by way of island stepping stones.  Either way, the phylogenetic position of the Sonoran milkweeds implies that a lot of Asclepias species have gone extinct over the past 10 million years.
  • Climate change seems to be resulting in more complex and unpredictable windows of opportunity for monarch egg laying and caterpillar development.  The monarchs are most successful in late spring and late summer, but not in all years.
  • Likewise, extreme precipitation of the kind I recently documented in the USA is also likely to have a negative impact on the monarchs and their host plants.
  • There is molecular evidence that monarch butterflies went through a huge genetic bottleneck in the 1960s-1970s, for reasons that are not altogether clear.

All of these findings, and more that there isn’t space to document, point to a need for further research to better understand these organisms if we wish to secure their futures.

By the end of the workshop we had made some concrete decisions on future steps:

  •  The African members of the genus Asclepias, plus about 20 other closely related genera, require more critical taxonomic and phylogenetic assessment in order to understand their systematic relationship to the North and South American Asclepias species.
  • A poster (or possibly series of posters) will be produced that explain the ecology of the monarch, its relationship with milkweeds, the patterns of migration, and the value of milkweeds as nectar sources for a diverse range of pollinators.
  • We will explore a multi-agency grant application to further develop the collaborations between participants.

The final day of the workshop involved a field trip around Virginia to see some of the local milkweed species, many of which live in woodland.  That surprised me: I always envision Asclepias spp. as grassland or desert plants.  The leader of the field trip, Mark Fishbein, had a hit list of 8 species that he wanted us to see and in the end we located all of them, including a rare hybrid population of A. syriaca x A. exaltata, plus the tropical milkweed Asclepias curassavica planted in the OSGF garden, plus the distant relative dogbane Apocynum cannabinum.  Here are some images from that day:

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Searching for milkweeds along Skyline Drive, Shenandoah National Park


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Poke milkweed – Asclepias exaltata


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Hunting that elusive hybrid milkweed!


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Caterpillar of the monarch butterfly feeding on a milkweed


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Alessandro Rapini intent on getting a good photo of the A. syriaca x A. exaltata hybrid


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A bumblebee and a butterfly visiting A. exaltata


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Purple milkweed – Asclepias purpurascens


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Common milkweed – Asclepias syriaca – with a visiting skipper butterfly


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Climbing milkvine – Matelea obliqua – a member of a largely fly-pollinated group of New World asclepiads


Thanks to my fellow workshoppers for such a stimulating and enjoyable meeting, and to all the staff at Oak Spring for making us feel so welcome.  Particular thanks go to Prof. Sir Peter Crane who, as President of the Oak Spring Garden Foundation, was hugely supportive of the workshop, and to Angie Ritterpusch, Head of Events and Guest Services, for logistical and organisational support.



Filed under Biodiversity, Biogeography, Butterflies, Climate change, Evolution

A train ride through American climate change

For the past week Karin and I have been travelling in the USA, starting in Denver, driving to Gunnison, then on to Grand Junction, Colorado, to catch the Amtrak California Zephyr train for a 36 hour trip to Chicago. Our final destination is a workshop on conservation of monarch butterflies and their milkweed host plants near Washington DC next week.

I’ll post something about the Gunnison leg of our journey at a later date, and of course the workshop.  But as I write the first draft of this post, we are passing through flooded Iowa farmland and I wanted to get some thoughts down about a repeating theme of our travels so far: climate change.

Our original destination in Colorado was the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory (RMBL), an almost legendary research venue for pollination ecologists. We were meeting up with my long-time friends and colleagues Nick Waser and Mary Price, with whom I’ve collaborated on various papers since the mid-90s. However we never made it to RMBL: unseasonably late snow had not yet been ploughed from the road up to the site and the only way in and out was with skis or snowshoes. Some hardy researchers were already there, but the limited time we had in Colorado made it impractical for us to make the journey:

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Unseasonable snow does not, of course, climate change make; but that was our first hint that there’s something odd about the weather in North America at the moment.

Fast forward a few days and we picked up the Zephyr in Grand Junction, the start of an incredible journey through spectacular Rocky Mountain scenery and then down into the flat agricultural lands of Nebraska and Iowa. We had a sleeping cabin and, following a stop in Denver, we drifted off to the slow chug-a-chug of the Zephyr’s wheels and the occasional distant whistle from the front engine – it’s a loooong train!

The next morning we were still in Nebraska and it was then that things started to get both interesting and worrisome. One of the conductors gave us a running commentary about the heavy rainfall that had caused flooding in this region during May and June – see this recent account from NASA’s Earth Observatory.  As you can see from the images below (snapped from the train as we passed, so excuse the quality), flooding is still an issue along the Platt and Missouri Rivers, both of which had over-topped their adjacent levees at various points. A conservation area, the Fontanelle Forest Preserve, had turned from woodland into wooded swamp:

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This is not the river Missouri – it’s actually about quarter of a mile beyond those trees:

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Adjacent farmland was completely flooded shortly after corn crops had been planted. Farm buildings were washed out and their occupants had been forced to leave with little notice. These are areas that do not normally flood and the impact of this heavy rain has been significant and will last long into the future:2019-06-05 09.51.37

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Infrastructure such as roads and bridges were also damaged.  The Union Pacific rail bridge across the Platt was partly washed away and has had to be rapidly rebuilt, but only after a new access road was established:

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Everywhere we looked there was flooding:

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A nearby industrial estate and trailer park had also been flooded, with a lock-up garage of classic American cars under seven feet of water, and the residents and businesses have been told to leave permanently. This area cannot be guaranteed flood-free in the future and will be leveled and allowed to return to nature:

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A local portaloo company was also flooded out and we observed the plastic toilets washed up along a lakeside that used to be a field of corn.  Superficially amusing, until you realise that this represents the loss of someone’s livelihood:

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Along the train tracks ballast had been piled up to begin a programme of raising the track bed. Residents of the nearby town of Pacific Junction (population about 470) have been told to either sell their homes to the government, and move out, or face ever-rising costs of flood insurance – see this recent local newspaper article. Pacific Junction used to be an important rail terminus and some of the families have been there for generations.   Let’s be clear what this means for these people – they are displaced from their homes, they are climate refugees in their own country.

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After we had passed through this area I chatted with one of the train stewards who mentioned that his Louisiana home had been flooded out in August 2016. He was forced to pay $400 per year flood insurance to protect his belongings and home from future events, in a part of the state that had no prior history of flooding.  “But your President says that climate change is not a problem” I probed.  He gave me a look that said more than words could ever convey. “Don’t get me started on that” he replied. A nearby passenger, a young guy, chimed in: “We’d be here all day!”  Trump’s rhetoric is changing slightly and, if anything, becoming less coherent and more deranged as he talked yesterday of “good climate” and “weather going both ways”.

All along the train route to Chicago we saw the same thing, over hundreds of miles and hour after hour – partially or completely flooded fields, crops washed away or submerged under water.  Large ponds in otherwise pristine, planted fields of parallel lines where the first growth of wheat was showing:

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Karin tells me that the flooding around the Mississippi was even worse, but I’m afraid that I slept through it; long train journeys are wonderful, but tiring!

This is just a snap shot of what climate change is doing to the USA at the moment; it’s creating climate refugees in a number of states – see this article for instance. Wildlife seems to be the only thing that’s benefiting as nature reclaims farmland and urban areas: the flooded fields we passed were full of herons, wildfowl, and other water birds. But in the longer term who knows what these changing weather patterns will bring for biodiversity and human society. The only certainty is that change is coming.


Filed under Biodiversity, Climate change