
In 1960, the Aral Sea, at 26,250 sq. mi. was the fourth largest lake in the world. Located in the Central Asia desert, southern Kazakhstan and northern Uzbekistan, in the '60's it was part of the Soviet Union along with all the other 'stans except Afghani.
The Soviets determined to turn the desert green, and grow mostly cotton.
So they began using the Anu Darya, the Oxus of antiquity, a 1500 mile long river feeding from the south, and the Syr Darya, 1370 miles long and flowing into the northeast area of the Aral.
The project was a success, but at a price.
Well, prices, actually. Cotton is a very demanding plant, and desert soils gave up their nutrients quickly, leaving, largely, salt and sand. And lengths of the canals are not sealed, and as much as 60% of the water diverted for irrigation is lost in transit. What little remains of the Aral is heavily polluted from weapons testing, including bio-weapons, industrial activities, pesticides, and fertilizer runoff.
In 1948, a top-secret laboratory was established by the Soviets on an island in the center of the Aral Sea. The base was abandoned in 1992. Scientific expeditions proved that this had been a site for production, testing and later dumping of pathogenic weapons. In 2002, through a project organized by the US and with Uzbeki assistance, 10 anthrax burial sites were decontaminated.
The loss of such a large body of water has caused local climate change, with shorter, hotter summers and longer, hotter winters reported.
There are proposed plans and project to undo this nightmare, but there are local problems - for instance, Uzbekistan is one of the world's leading cotton producers, and the necessary closing of the irrigation canals would demolish that nation's economy.
Driving to a favorite walking space this morning, I passed over the Mississinewa River at Jalapa, site of a ford (to the battlefield, but not for that purpose) and an early mill and store. By habit I check the river as I pass over it, and to the south was a most unexpected treat. In a pool about fifty yards upstream were four Great Blue Herons and four Great Egrets. I have never seen one of either from this bridge, in either direction. Fishing must have been good.
The first four red tails I saw were perched in trees, well away from the road. Heading home across Red Bridge there was a deer just around the curve. She stood and looked at us as Abbe tried to pass through the glass. While theoretically possible, it wasn't happening this morning.
On around this curve, a red tail came up out of the berm grass, without prey, and lit on the nearest powerpole. An eighth-mile on, at the intersection, another red tail perched just past the crossroad. I have seen a pair in the area for several weeks, and they are old, if distant, friends.
I haven't noticed any Indigo Buntings, or Eastern Bluebirds, lately. Better slow down.
There are American Goldfinches, though, still resplendent. They are also beginning to flock. According to Kaufman's "Lives of North American Birds" they are late nesters, midsummer, July and August, perhaps to capitalize on the late summer seed crop to feed the young. They are solitary during breeding season.
Yesterday evening I saw a hawk on a wire, unsteady, and the first I have seen on a wire. I expected it to be a pretty easy ID and didn't give it much study. According to Brian Wheeler, "Raptors of Eastern North America", every species of hawk found in Indiana uses utility wires, except two: both accipiters, the Sharp-shinned Hawk and the Northern Goshawk.
Another "easy" ID in the UNK (unknown) pile.



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