Willie Nelson once sang that he only missed his ex-lover on three days: yesterday, today and tomorrow. This simple division of time works as well for invasive species as it does for heartbreak.
When people think about climate change, the first thing that usually comes to mind is blazing hot summer days, severe droughts, or super-size hurricanes. But climate change is actually more significant in winter than in summer.
Most of us learned in school that plants produce oxygen and consume carbon dioxide, while animals (like us) consume organic matter (such as carrots and burritos) and oxygen and produce carbon dioxide.
The recent hacking of e-mails at the Climatic Research Unit at the University of East Anglia Center — one of the world's foremost institutions for the study of climate change — offers a disconcerting view of how modern science is done.
Last month's news that the invasive silver carp had crossed the electric barrier in a canal in Chicago ― and were only a short day's swim from invading Lake Michigan ― caused outcries from the outdoor community and tourist industry across the Great Lakes region.
Few of us think about the state of the atmosphere until it fails to provide us with a hospitable environment. More often than not, human activities are behind atmospheric ills.
The lion's share (more than 90 percent) of the organic matter in the Hudson River comes from the landscape surrounding the river, rather than from plants and algae that live in the river.
Imagine hiking through a forest on the Cary Institute's 2,000-acre property and wondering why the hemlock trees grow just in certain areas or whether the annual influx of tent caterpillars causes long-lasting damage.
Accidentally imported from Asia into the eastern U.S. in the 1950s, the adelgid spread through the mid-Atlantic States and reached our area several years ago.
If you were to pick up the Appalachian Trail in New York State, and hike 600 miles south, after passing through some of the nation's most scenic vistas, you'd reach some very disturbing topography. Treeless hills rising to a flat top—much like the arid mesas of the desert Southwest—are separated by valleys filled with broken rock and barren streams. Welcome to mountaintop removal coal mining.
Specific trails and roads on our 2,000 acre research campus have been designated for public access, and our grounds provide visitors with a unique opportunity to connect with nature and view local wildlife.
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