Secret Science Club Post-Lecture Recap: Meeting the Neighbors

Last night, I headed down to the beautiful Bell House in the Gowanus section of Brooklyn for the monthly Secret Science Club lecture by Dr Jason Munshi-South a professor of Urban Evolutionary Biology at Baruch College and CUNY's Graduate Center. Dr Munshi-South lectured on some of the neighbors that most New Yorkers are unacquainted with.

Dr Munshi-South began his lecture with an admission that he had been somewhat surprised upon his first visit at the amount of "nature" that is present in New York City. He displayed a map of the world's biomes and indicated that, because of the activities of humans throughout the world, it was useful to think of human-altered biomes- anthromes. Because of human activity, it could be said that we are living in the age of human-dominated environments, which could be termed the Anthropocene Epoch. Even though the majority of biomes are human dominated, most ecological studies take place in protected areas. Only four percent of these studies are conducted in an urban environment.

In urban environments, biodiversity decreases. There are fewer species in urban areas, but the populations of the species that remain typically increase. While many species are "urban avoiders", the few "urban adapters" tend to thrive. Besides the ubiquitous eastern gray squirrel (we have a fairly common melanistic variety of this squirrel as well), the most common native small mammals in NYC are the white footed mouse, the meadow vole, and the northern short-tailed shrew. The mice and voles are typically caught in traps baited with birdseed, while the shrews are caught in pitfall traps. In the Q&A, Dr Munshi-South indicated that the infamous rats of the city are not included in his study because he doesn't like them, as any rats caught in the baited traps are smelly and vicious. Additionally, the rats aren't native to the region. Larger mammals, such as racoons, squirrels, striped skunks, opossums, red foxes, feral cats, and coyotes are detected with remote cameras (great images can be found at the Fauna of NYC section of the Encyclopedia of Life. The coyote pictured in the EoL was photographed on the grounds of the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx. As an aside, coyotes are also present in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. They are fairly abundant in Westchester County- I actually saw one hanging out in the driveway of a Stop-n-Shop near my workplace last Thursday night, it looked like it owned the place.

Dr Munshi-South also discussed salamander species that still inhabit New York City. Redback salamanders (and their gray-backed variety the leadback) are fairly common in parks are areas bordering golf courses. Northern two-lined salamanders and dusky salamanders are not as common, but can be found near springs and streams in extreme Northern Manhattan (being very rocky, the northern tip of Manhattan has extensive undeveloped areas).

As far as the coyote goes, the animals arrived in the New York metro area recently. It is thought that the coyote came to the city by two routes- one population arrived from the west, while another population traveled east through Canada (the reduction of the wolf population made this movement easier, and this population of coyotes engaged in interbreeding with wolves- the coyotes also occasionally interbred with dogs, so the population is more accurately described as "Northeastern wild canids"), then turned south until it established itself in the undeveloped portions of the Bronx. From time to time, a coyote will enter Manhattan, but these incidents tend to be unreported these days, probably to avoid embarrassing coverage of the authorities.

After an overview of the fauna of the city, Dr Munshi-South discussed evolution in the urban environment. The habitats of the wild critters in the city tend to be fractured (this map of the parks of the city shows that the parks are often separated by long distances though Frederick Law Olmstead did design greenbelts to connect the parks. Isolated populations gain genetic variations through the process of genetic drift- changes in allele frequency can eventually become dominant in a population. Such changes in isolated populations accumulate until each population is genetically distinct.

The white-footed mouse is the the go-to animal in urban evolutionary studies. In one study, twenty-five mice each were collected from fifteen city parks, and tissue samples were taken so eighteen locations on the genome could be compared to determine the extent of genetic variation. In the more isolated parks, the populations were distinct, while mice in connected parks showed less variation (there is an extensive green belt in eastern Brooklyn and Queens composed of parks and cemeteries). To model the movement of populations diagrams similar to circuit diagrams can be used (warning: PDF). In the case of New York City's white-footed mice, travel from one suitable habitat to another is most feasible when there is a 70% coverage of an area by the tree canopy. Lesser canopy cover results in an impeded ability to move from suitable habitat to another. Even though the isolated populations of the city's white-footed mice are genetically distinct, they have not been isolated for enough generations for allopatric speciation to occur- they are not distinct species.

Further studies compared mouse populations from more rural areas (such as Harriman State Park) to the city mouse populations (yes, the obligatory joke was made). The city mice tended to have changes in the region of the genome that influences the immune system- remember that biodiversity decreases in urban areas, but the population density of successful urban adapters tends to increase. Natural selection would result in these populations having more robust immune systems.

In the case of the dusky salamander, there are two populations separated by the insurmountable obstacle posed by the Alexander Hamilton Bridge. The populations on either side of the bridge (180th St and 167th St) are genetically distinct.

In the Q&A, Dr Munshi-South addressed such topics as the explosion in the raccoon population in New York City, and the relatively high opossum population in less developed neighborhoods in Queens and Brooklyn. He discussed the discovery of a second beaver in the Bronx (dubbed Justin Beaver). He discussed the movement of fishers from the Albany area to the south (for the record, there's a fisher at one of my worksites in northern Westchester county- luckily, it's nowhere near my primary workplace because fishers tend to kill cats and I would be really upset if anything happened to mah preshus kittehs). Some bastard in the crowd asked about conservation measures taken to protect salamander habitats in city parks and Dr Munshi-South spoke of the need to balance human recreational needs with the needs of animals... a proposed mountain biking path was scratched to protect Northern Manhattan's dusky salamanders.

The lecture was yet another stellar Secret Science Club event. For a taste of this lecture's subject matter, crack open a beer and watch this video featuring Dr Munshi-South:

Discretion Being the Better Part of Valor... or Yips, Yikes!

It's a doleful sound, at the onset, one could misinterpret it as a human cry, especially when one is a fifteen minute drive from the border of the most populous city in the United States. Then as it builds into a chorus of an indeterminate number of intertwined vocal parts, a sonic mélange of howls and yips, it becomes as unmistakable as it is unheimlich- it is a pack of coyotes singing. I tend not to be timorous about coyotes, having had several encounters with them in the past. I decided that I would proceed in the direction of the coyote-chorus so I could attempt to get some idea of how many there were (count the tapeta lucida, then divide by two, hoping that there are no individuals which are monocular due to disease or misadventure)- then, in typical horror movie fashion, just as I was about to march forth (tee hee), the battery of my rechargeable flashlight gave out. I'm not afraid of the dark, nor am I afraid of coyotes, but, despite the fact that I have worked nights for the past ten years, from an evolutionary standpoint, I am a diurnal animal, so the prospect of walking into an area occupied by an indeterminate number of sizeable, clever predators wasn't exactly appealing. It was around 4AM, a time perfectly described by Fred Saberhagen as "the darkest morning hours, when human powers are known to wane, and others may reach their peak". ADVANTAGE: CANINE!

Lightless, I made my way to the brighter precincts of the site, then back to my office. I swear I didn't cry, but I didn't exactly feel very heroic until I was inside. If there's one thing I've learned by perusing lurid Man's Life magazine covers on the internet, it's that even the manliest manly man of manliness can prevail against a critter onslaught only during the daylight hours. If that one guy had run into those weasels at night, they would have ripped his flesh right down to the bone, marrow even.

On a felicitous note, because of the bitterly cold, windy weather, one of the managers took Fred and Ginger home for the weekend. Typically, I feed these two around 4AM on Saturday mornings, and the idea of having them out and about while coyotes are roaming around without me being able to see them would not have made me comfortable.

ADDENDUM: Given the frigid temperature, and the fact that the eastern coyote is about one-quarter wolf, this could have been the title of my post:

Quiet Down, It's After 4AM!

In the course of my regular on-the-job walkabout, I heard a chorus of coyotes howling to beat the band not far from our grounds. I work about fifteen miles north of New York City, one of the most densely populated areas of the planet. Of course, coyotes have established a presence in New York City, particularly in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx, but it's still odd to hear them singing in the suburbs.

Back in December, I had a funny run-in with a local coyote. During the course of a low-key fundraising event, I was walking through the parking lot to assess the number of available spaces (we had several "showtimes", so we had adequate parking as long as too many people didn't linger too long after each performance). While I was walking through the lot, I saw a rather handsome dog about thirty feet away from me. A few weeks earlier, a neighbor's whippet had gotten loose and ended up at our front door. We took the dog in and called the number on her tag so her owner could retrieve her. I figured I'd do the same for this nice-looking dog, which I thought could have been a Collie-German Shepherd mix. So there I was, standing in the parking lot calling out, "Nice doggie! Good doggie! C'mere doggie!" Meanwhile, this beast is looking at me as if to say, "What the hell are you up to, you dumb, hairless primate?" Then the "nice doggie" turned around, and I noticed the bushy tail canted at an angle... nice doggie, my ass! The coyote then leisurely sauntered off, then disappeared between two nearby houses. Saucy beast, it acted as if it owned the whole neighborhood.

Strangely, I didn't blog about this back in December, probably because I was too busy posting Yukon Cornelius/Abominable Snow Monster slashfic.

Rock On, On Rock

During the week, I work the overnight shift, but on Saturdays and Sundays, I start work in the late afternoon. It's typically on the weekend when I get decent pictures of my feline co-workers. I typically carry a small bag of kitty treats with me when I walk the site, for bribery purposes. Whenever the cats hear the crackling of a plastic pouch, their attention is immediately drawn. I used this to good effect to line them up on a particularly nice rock:

This picture perfectly encapsulates the dispositions of these two animals- Fred, with his eyes half-closed, is all blissed-out while Ginger, wide-eyed and alert, is looking out for number one... better make it with the treats, hairless ape, so nobody gets hurt. The same dichotomy between these feline siblings is evident in this picture too.

Recently, there's been quite a bit of coyote activity in the area- last Sunday night, I heard a chorus of the critters, and a couple of nights I've caught a quick glance of a fast-moving critter that I am confident is a Northeastern wild canid. The local geese are all on edge as well. I have made sure to limit Fred and Ginger's outdoor time to the daylight hours, and keep them close to me. I typically like to have them tag along when I do the periodic walkabout, but I really have to play things safe for my cat companions.

Creature Discomfort

Last weekend, there was a spot of drama amidst our re-opening for the season... a raccoon which was active during the daylight hours. When you see a raccoon walking around by daylight, it's typical to err on the side of "OMG, RABIES!!!!" Accordingly, on Friday afternoon, the Manager on Duty called the local gendarmes to report this potential hazard to the public health... to compound matters, a coyote recently attacked two children not too far from the site. I arrived on the job before the police arrived, and the raccoon was curled up on top of the sewer grate:

I stood in the vicinity for the rest of the afternoon and waved people away from the area until a police officer arrived. The village doesn't have a dedicated animal control officer, so there was no prospect of trapping the animal. The one time I had witnessed the putting down of a possibly rabid animal took place along the Bronx River Greenway, which falls under County Police jurisdiction- the county sent an officer with a tranquilizer gun, and they shot the raccoon with a dart with a lethal sedative dose. The procedure among the local police is to use a 9mm round loaded with shot, instead of a bullet, to kill an animal. After a brief discussion, we decided that it would be inappropriate to engage in any gunplay until after everyone but myself had cleared the property- it's not good to shoot when people and cars are in the parking lot, and I didn't want to subject nice tourists from France or Japan to see a particularly cute, and exotic, critter being executed, even if for the public good. Luckily, the raccoon climbed back down into the sewer, and I grabbed a couple of benches and used them to block off egress. The responding officer and I then made the plan to have him return after hours so we could deal with the beast.

At dusk, I unblocked the sewer grate and peered into the sewer... not exactly fun. After about twenty minutes, the creature emerged from the sewer and I called the non-emergency number of the police- they were on another call. By the time the original responding officer returned, the raccoon had gone back underground, so we weren't able to resolve the issue.

After the police officer left, I went to my office and texted my boss about the inability to resolve the issue, then sent out a memorandum to all of the MODs for the weekend, plus several other managers. As luck would have it, the raccoon never made an appearance on Saturday afternoon, so I am hoping that it expired in peace. Better yet, I hope it recovered, because, as much as the local raccoons are a pain in the ass, I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the suckers.

Pokémon Patrolman

Tonight is my first night on Pokémon Patrol, I'm here because one of the guys in my department had a big conference for his day job, and the two other guys in the department were needed for regular shift coverage. It's a pretty cushy gig, and a rare opportunity for overtime. It also took me to the site where I work the least, so it was great to see people I haven't seen since the big all-staff meeting in the Spring. Like all of our worksites, this is a very pretty area of the world. I don't have any funny feline co-workers here, but there are two golf carts on which I can zip around... I really shouldn't talk about how fun this particular job is, though I'll be the first person to admit that the job is very cushy, except when it's not, even to my bosses.

Right now, the sun is going down, and there is an aerial shift change going on- the birds are retiring for the night, while the bats are heading out on their insect-abatement assignments. I've long had a fondness for bats, and I enjoy their aerobatics. This site also has a lot of deer- pretty, shy ones unlike the bolder deer of other sites. I chalk their shyness up to a greater coyote presence in this area.

All told, I can't complain about Pokémon Patrol, I haven't even had any Pokémongers show up- maybe the 'Site Closed' sign and the presence of a parked car is inspiring them to turn away. The only people that I've had interactions with so far were an exterminator who was responding to a call about a large hornets nest onsite (I should have told my boss that I could deal with it- knocking down hornets nests after dark, when the insects cannot function, is one of my specialties), a contractor who had done work for us in the past who was just driving through the vicinity with a friend (I had a nice conversation with the guy, and told him to call our main office to ascertain whether there was any need for his services), and a woman who was asking for directions, but didn't want to drive on any of the main roads to get to her destination...

"I don't live around here, but I would suggest you take the *REDACTED* parkway."
"I don't want to drive on the parkway."
"Then you can take Route *Redacted*."
"I don't want to take Route *Redacted*"
"Then you can take Route *Redacted-B*."
"I don't want to take Route *Redacted-B*."
"Then I can't help you, there aren't any alternatives that I know."
"I'll take Route *Redacted*."

I think I would have preferred a Pokémonger. A 'squirtle' is less elusive than a mystical highway that this woman would have wanted to drive.

Now that the sun has gone down, things should be real quiet. It's a Monday night, the site is pretty remote, and I think that the 'navigation' system of the game is a bit screwed up now, so people have a harder time locating their Pokémon sites. I haven't received word of the site being removed from the system, so the 'patrol' is going on until the end of the week, when we will re-assess the need. It's not a bad gig, and at this point in time, everyone in the department has gotten overtime.

I'm not complaining, things are pretty sweet.

Cry Wolf? No, Coywolf!

A week and a half ago, PBS ran a documentary about the coyote/wolf hybrids that have populated the Northeast. Just over a year ago, I had a rather comical run-in with one of the beasts on the job. I finally got an opportunity to watch Meet the Coywolf (link for Canadian readers).

Personally, I love these critters, they are handsome beasts, and merely having them around in the precincts of one of the world's largest cities is a testimony to their adaptability. Being a few miles north of Manhattan and hearing a chorus of them singing in the wee hours of the morning is stirring... a little taste of the great wilderness in the world's most urban environment.

Also, after watching it, how could I not want one of those pups?