Have North Dakota's Sage Grouse Winked Out Completely?
'This is the first time ever we were not able to find any male sage grouse at active leks in North Dakota,' Jesse Kolar, North Dakota Game and Fish Department upland management supervisor told E&E News in early July.
In 2024, researchers knew of two remaining active leks in North Dakota. Leks are clearings in the high desert where sage grouse gather in the spring to mate. Males prefer open, flat ground for strutting and displaying, so females can see their fanned tail feathers and popping air-bagged chests unobstructed. One of those leks had 13 males on it in 2023, but this dropped to three males in 2024, and there were no males on either lek in 2025.
Sage grouse are as faithful to their leks as they are dependent on sagebrush, which they need to survive in all stages of life. If any males were still alive in North Dakota, they should have shown up to mate this spring.
North Dakota has never been a hotbed for sage grouse, at least not in recent memory. Their range is limited to the state's southwest corner, along the border shared with Montana, and the population of male birds there has hovered below 250 birds since the early 1990s. By 2014, their numbers had fallen to around 31, and they were considered in imminent danger of extinction.
The state blames habitat fragmentation from agriculture and development, along with the West Nile Virus as the primary causes of sage grouse declines. The virus decimated the remaining population in 2007, which is also the last year the state held a sage grouse hunting season. (The first year was 1964.) Only 21 grouse were harvested that fall, and hunts ceased permanently starting in 2008.
Wyoming, which holds more sage grouse than any other western state, started supplementing North Dakota's shrinking population in 2017. The Cowboy State provided 300 transplants over four years. Estimates put 40 percent of the nation's remaining greater sage grouse in Wyoming, with 40 percent of those Wyoming birds living in Sublette County.
Sublette County credits its grouse population stability, at least partly, to weed control across its mostly undeveloped acreage where sagebrush grows. The county started spraying invasive weeds with aerial herbicides more than a decade ago. The treatments prevent non-native cheatgrass from sprouting, while native plants with deeper roots systems can still germinate.
'Most of the cheatgrass seed that is introduced in the system will germinate in the first five years. If we can have success past five years, there might not be any more residual seed there. Then, we're winning the game at that point,' Julie Kraft, Sublette County weed and pest supervisor told Outdoor Life while conducting inventory on a cheatgrass-free slope. 'It's incredibly rewarding to come out and see huge ridges without any cheatgrass, and its success that's long term.'
According to a study conducted by U.S. Geological Survey, the American West has lost 1.3 million acres of sagebrush habitat every year for the last 20 years.
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Boston Globe
a few seconds ago
- Boston Globe
Goose droppings plague Finland's short and precious summers
Now, after Sisyphean summers facing down the fowl's feces, he thinks that he just may have found a solution: a wheeled cage with a strong resemblance to an old-fashioned hand lawn mower that is meant to sift the dirtied sand and whisk up only the offending feces. The contraption may be Helsinki's most innovative poop-fighting effort yet. It is being tested this summer on about half the city's 25 public beaches. It was designed in-house by beach staff members, who drew inspiration from a public competition last year meant to crowdsource poop-scooping ideas. Advertisement Finns are hardly alone in their fight against goose droppings, which can carry dangerous germs like E. coli and Salmonella. In other places, officials fight the problem at its source: the birds themselves. In recent years, Canadians have tried to relocate the geese, New Yorkers hired a patrol dog, and Californians moved to cull them. Advertisement But Finland does not allow culling, and hunting geese in urban Helsinki would not be a feasible option anyway. The Finns are desperate for solutions because their summers are precious. They live so far north, two months are about all they get. However brief, the summers they do get can sometimes be unpredictably hot, with this past Sunday marking the 16th consecutive day that temperatures exceeded 30 degrees Celsius, or 86 degrees Fahrenheit, somewhere in Finland — a record. So on a recent afternoon — a warm day in a city where anything over 77 degrees Fahrenheit (25 Celsius) is considered hot — Pauli Puirava biked with his wife and two children to Hietsu Beach, whose formal name is Hietaranta. They brought some nuts and a few juice boxes for their children, five and eight. 'The summer is so short,' said Puirava, an entrepreneur, pharmacist, and restaurateur. 'We really have to make the most out of it.' Helsinki's humans are not the only ones who gravitate to the beach in summer. Last July, according to the Finnish Environment Institute, researchers counted about 5,300 geese in the Helsinki area. The plump birds are everywhere. They jaywalk across bike paths, swagger through crosswalks barefoot like the Beatles, preen in the parks, and sometimes strut between office buildings and cultural landmarks in the city center. In parks, the problem can be even worse, with the droppings matting the grass and squishing into the treads of shoes. At the beach, sunbathers must check the sand before they lay down their blankets. Beach volleyball players hope that a dive does not bring them face-to-face with the feces. And parents, like Puirava, keep a watchful eye out so their young children do not end up putting the droppings in their mouths. Advertisement 'You have to watch your every step,' he said. 'Wherever you go outdoors in Helsinki, there is nowhere without goose poop.' To keep up with the cleaning demands, the ranks of summer maintenance workers have grown in the past decade, Lundgren said. Some beaches can see well over 40 pounds of excrement a day, he said. His team keeps looking for new solutions. They once tried to mix the poop into the sand, which just dirtied the water, he said. They tried to scare the geese by broadcasting the sounds of sea eagles, but the geese quickly got wise to it. He even considered hiring gig workers, in this case, skilled patrol dogs, as have other Finnish cities. But, he said, the few eligible dogs would have been too expensive. 'And,' he lamented, 'they would have been able to get there only a couple of times per week.' The latest hope was the new wheeled contraption that the summer maintenance crew at Hietsu Beach rolled out to use, said crew leader Minni Aakko. But they soon found it was heavy, she said, dragging on wet sand. Now, the machine that was supposed to be the solution mostly sits in the storage room. So Aakko has returned to the old-fashioned method: scooping up goose poop with a spade and rubbery gloves. She finds the work almost meditative, she said. But the smell — grassy, a little mildewy, and undeniably fecal — can linger. 'It's not bad work,' she said. 'But it's not my favorite job here.' This article originally appeared in Advertisement

Business Insider
a day ago
- Business Insider
NATO's flying radar is an old plane, but E-3 crews say it's still a mission workhorse
NATO AIR BASE GEILENKIRCHEN — Stepping aboard the E-3 Sentry feels a bit like walking into a museum. The modified Boeing 707/320 passenger jet is decades old, and the dated interior is a constant reminder. But don't let the jet's age fool you. The E-3, an Airborne Warning and Control System, or AWACS, is packed with highly advanced technology that enables it to perform surveillance, communications tasks, and battlefield command and control. "It's an aging aircraft, but it's still relevant," Capt. Jasper, a Dutch surveillance controller who monitors air and surface activity, explained. Over the past couple of decades, he said, whenever there was a conflict, "the NATO AWACS was always the first one to deploy." In the early days of the Ukraine war, these aircraft were just about flying around the clock. Business Insider recently flew aboard a NATO AWACS from Geilenkirchen, in western Germany, to the Baltic region and back. The eight-hour surveillance mission was tasked to support an alliance security operation in the Baltic Sea following the sabotage of critical undersea infrastructure. The modified E-3 began engineering, testing, and evaluation in 1975, and two years later, the first operational aircraft was delivered to the US Air Force. NATO received its first of 17 E-3s in early 1982; 14 planes are operating out of Geilenkirchen Air Base. During its more than 40 years in service, the Sentry has flown to support missions and conflict operations around the world, including over North America, Europe, and the Middle East. More recently, the NATO alliance has increased its focus on Eastern Europe and monitoring of Russian activity following Moscow's invasion of Ukraine. For a "very old aircraft," it is "still very relevant nowadays," said Capt. Jasper, who, like other members of the multinational crew that BI spoke with during the flight, could only be identified by his rank and first name for security reasons. Every year 'will be more challenging' While the interior of the E-3 gives off Cold War relic vibes, the aircraft is a highly sophisticated flying radar and airborne command post packed with sensitive technology and computer monitors displaying a range of highly classified information that was sanitized thoroughly before BI was allowed to take a look. The aircraft is equipped with a large 360-degree rotating radar dome, which can see over 300 miles across the air and surface, and advanced sensors that can detect friendly or hostile objects from far away. Data collected by the E-3 can then be distributed in real time to allied aircraft, ships, or ground stations, giving battlefield commanders essential situational awareness in war or peacetime. And unlike fixed land-based radars, the aircraft is not restricted by terrain or the curvature of the Earth. "We have a unique capability," Capt. Jasper explained. "We can fly, we can see a little bit further, we can see a little bit lower, and we can take maritime assets as well." The E-3 is a flexible command and control platform capable of battle management; it can coordinate with other aircraft — fighter jets, bombers, or tankers — whether during a conflict sortie or just during a training run. Maj. Ben, an American officer and the AWACS' fighter allocator in charge of coordinating with other aircraft, described the E-3 as a "critical C2 (command and control) node," explaining that "it provides that long reach of a radar for our higher headquarters, as well as communications." "We have the radar, we have the radios, to be able to reach out at long ranges and communicate, coordinate, and control any aircraft that we can see, and then we can talk to," he said. "We're also able to reach back to higher headquarters and pass along any critical information so they can make better decisions" with that real-time data. The E-3 doesn't necessarily look any different than it did back in the 1980s, but even though the airframe remains the same, the systems have continuously been updated over the years, explained Dutch Capt. Donny Demmers, a public affairs officer who was permitted to share his full name. A recent $1 billion final modernization effort, for instance, is intended to provide the AWACS with new communications and networking capabilities, according to a NATO fact sheet. The E-3's system upgrades over the years have been so significant that Capt. Jasper, who previously flew with the plane from 2010 to 2015, needed to renew his training when he returned in 2022. There had been so many changes. However, as time goes on, Demmers said the logistics of maintaining the aircraft have become increasingly challenging, especially because production lines are not cranking out readily available spare parts, like the engines. "It's still safe, but every year we pass, it will be more challenging" to keep the aircraft up to standard, he said. NATO announced plans in 2023 to eventually replace the E-3 fleet with Boeing's E-7 Wedgetail, a derivative of the US aerospace giant's next-generation 737 aircraft. The first new aircraft is expected to be ready for operational duty by the early 2030s, with the E-3s set to retire after 2035. But until that day comes, the E-3 crew is more than happy with its performance and believes that the mission will continue on uninterrupted. "It's still a good jet and we are performing our task. We are fulfilling the higher command's objectives that they're giving us," Capt. Marek, a Polish passive controller who works with the AWACS' advanced sensors, said of the E-3. "NATO is planning to change the platform," but this process takes time, he said. "So our maintainers, our logistics, are doing their best to keep these jets in that perfect status. And I have no doubts that it will still be an operational jet for many years."

Miami Herald
2 days ago
- Miami Herald
‘Ahead of his time': Loved ones remember G. Holmes Braddock and his legacy
Garrett Holmes Braddock remembers being both exhilarated and bored when he, as a 7-year-old child, attended University of Miami football games with his grandfather, G. Holmes Braddock. Garrett said he found the games partly boring because he couldn't see well from the stands as a young boy. But he found them exhilarating because he witnessed his grandfather's passion for the Hurricanes. Addressing dozens of mourners from the church's pulpit, Garrett wriggled his body as he shouted UM's 'C-A-N-E-S' chant, which echoed inside the church. 'Growing up in Miami, it was like being related to a superstar,' Braddock's grandson quipped, referencing Braddock's public service. '...His name and his love will always live on in all of our hearts and our memories.' On Sunday afternoon, loved ones and community members honored the life and legacy of Braddock at the church he attended for decades, Kendall United Methodist Church, 7600 SW 104th St. Braddock served on the Miami-Dade County School Board for 38 years and was well-known for his involvement at his alma mater — UM — and for his support of the university's sports programs. READ MORE: 'He shaped the futures of millions of students.' G. Holmes Braddock dies at 100 Braddock died Thursday, just one day after turning 100 years old. During his decades-long tenure on the school board, Braddock championed desegregation efforts, bilingual education in schools and collective bargaining for public school employees. In 1989, the School Board named a high school after him, G. Holmes Braddock Senior High, 3601 SW 147th Ave. He called the designation a career highlight. 'It would have to be having a senior high school named for me. I never expected it,' Braddock told the Herald in 2000. Braddock enrolled at UM in 1946, after serving aboard a medic ship during World War II. He was heavily involved at the university, serving as an assistant to the director of admissions, and held season tickets to Canes football and baseball games since 1946. In 2024, Braddock became one of 11 recipients of UM's President's Distinguished Service Award from UMiami's Sports Hall of Fame and Museum. While beginning the service, the Rev. Ruben Velasco quipped that they were starting 'right on time because that's exactly what [Braddock] would have wanted.' Braddock, Velasco said, planned the service with him, from the quoted scripture to the hymns. 'Like many of you, I am a product of the Miami-Dade County public school system, since kindergarten all the way to high school,' he said. 'And without knowing it, Holmes Braddock has been a major influence in my educational life...' But Velasco said Braddock, too, impacted his life on a personal level. He shared anecdotes of his lunches with Braddock at Chuck Wagon, where the pair talked about sports, public service and faith. Braddock, the reverend said, 'lived out what it means to be a Christian.' 'I am so certain that on the day he... passed away and he went up to be with the Lord, he heard 'Well done, good and faithful servant. Welcome home. I understand you have some questions. Let's talk,'' Velasco said. Turning to the crowd, Braddock's son George Braddock recounted the story of Braddock's life from the beginning. Braddock was raised by a single mother, a school teacher, during the Great Depression. Braddock dedicated his life's work to education. His leadership, most notably in desegregation and bilingual instruction, brought Braddock admirers but also enemies, George said. 'Wow, was he ahead of his time,' he said. Braddock's daughter Rebecca Nimmer, 72, told the Miami Herald she recalled how she and her brothers Bob, George and Jim, would travel across the continuous U.S. in their father's station wagon as he worked as an insurance salesman. One of her most notable memories, she said, was witnessing the horrors of segregation while traveling in the South. 'I didn't realize how much that affected me as a human,' Nimmer said, adding that her father is the reason she values travel and learning about different cultures. Braddock, she said, used his life experiences to serve others. 'Everyone he touched, he left an imprint,' Nimmer said. Daniel Armstrong, 69, grew close with Braddock over the last 35 years during their Sunday morning hangouts at church. Armstrong said their decades-long friendship blossomed over the pair's shared love for ties. Armstrong said he and Braddock would wear different ties and share the stories of how they obtained them. At Christmas time, they held a friendly competition over who had the best holiday-themed tie. Braddock, Armstrong said, was not only a pillar in the community — but at the church. 'He was a gentle, very strong, but a very gentle person,' Armstrong said. 'Compassionate, and very humble.' Braddock's funeral ended with military honors. Uniformed service members folded the American flag that was draped over his casket. They handed the flag to his widow, Virginia 'Ginny' Braddock, as tears streamed down her face. Some of Braddock's eight grandchildren escorted his casket out of the church, as an ode to UM — the university's fight song — played. Braddock was a lifelong supporter of Hurricane athletics, said John Routh and Mark Drobiarz, of the UM Hall of Fame. 'Even in the heat on Sunday, he would go,' Drobiarz told the Herald. 'I'd ask, 'How can you take this?' He would say, 'It's baseball.'' 'He was an icon,' Routh said.