Where will it end?

dock on foggy lake
I’ve had a topic sitting in my ‘Other Ideas’ file for a while now, waiting for me to tackle it, and in the meantime, an article popped up that, well, tackled it. Again, actually, because within my file were two links to different articles. They’re all related to a standpoint I fostered in a much earlier post, to wit: ‘Infinity’ is a pointless concept.

Now, the first thing I will say is, I’m much more inclined to the practical, rather than the philosophical and theoretical, and call this a personal viewpoint/stubbornness if you like. If it can’t actually be applied to solve or describe something, what’s the use? And at the same time, I recognize something that is ignored wholesale far too often in mathematics, and it’s that any number that we apply to anything is by nature inexact, and only exists as an approximation. I have two coins on my desk; therefore, by the very nature of math, either coin is exactly half the mass of both together, perfectly equal to the other, right? Of course not – even if they were exactly the same type of coin, they’re bound to have minute differences in mass and size and so on. We accept “two” only for the sake of convenience, and because this is as far as we need take it.

Anyway, the article, What Can We Gain by Losing Infinity? by Gregory Barber, is about the concept of Ultrafinitism, the idea that infinity does not actually exist and everything has an end, someplace, even if it’s extremely far away. For all practical purposes, this is indistinguishable from infinity in most applications, with one pertinent exception: that something cannot be endless. It is, admittedly, more of a philosophical distinction than a physical one, even when it specifically pertains to physics (and perhaps most physicists have already embraced it,) but it establishes a fundamental ‘law’ within mathematics, in that numbers do not represent real things, and can play by rules that exist only within mathematics and nowhere else.

As mentioned therein, a simple axiom: you can always add 1 to any number you produce, and keep this going indefinitely. Fine. Provide proof of this – demonstrate that this really is the case. You’ll die before you get even close to some of the proposed numbers in mathematics, and even if you have a computer doing the additions, billions of times a second, that computer is going to fail – probably before you do, to be honest. The present mathematical view is that, to put things into my own words, “There’s nothing stopping it,” but actually, there is – you’ll run out of resources to achieve it, no matter how you tackle it. More pertinently, however, you’ll never find a reason, an application, to actually do this. It exists only as an abstract that cannot be realized.

Here’s another example, a simple one: pi. Pi is an irrational number (look, it’s admitted right there in the name!) meaning that the decimal notation of the ratio itself is never-ending. So, we cannot actually measure an exact circle, because we cannot calculate a never-ending number against the radius we start from. So we, always, use an approximation, shortening it to the necessary decimals that allow us to get ‘close enough.’ Except that, shortening this number means our circle will actually fall short and never be complete, never actually close – there will always be a gap. And since the number never ends, the gap can never close, and we can never complete an actual circle!

But of course we do, and even if you want to argue that there’s an infinitesimal gap that we never actually jump across, this is obviously nonsense – what, do we sit here against a wall? Did we start another circle to arrive back where we started? No, the answer is much simpler: we use a base-10 number system that doesn’t handle the ratio of pi in a useful manner. Pi is not never-ending – we just have a counting system that is inadequate for the task.

[I realize that the ‘unclosed gap’ in the argument above is closed by a straight line, however small, and this demonstrates the practical application of math and its inherent inaccuracy: there is never a perfect circle no matter what – there’s always some wandering from it. But so what who cares? Even NASA doesn’t use pi beyond a mere 15 decimal places, for all of its huge orbital calculations.]

One of the major stumbling blocks in the acceptance of ultrafinitism, according to the article, is that there is as yet no axiom that addresses it, that specifies how and where we will find this end. It is not a specific theory, and has no distinct definition. Yet to me, this is backwards. Most of the other sciences require that a theory fit the known facts and serve to explain them, but a strong theory is also testable, and predicts results. In math, ‘infinity’ is an accepted theory, but based solely on ideas as simple as, literally, “You can always add one more,” or, “You can always make a smaller decimal distinction between any two given numbers.” Is this testable, and/or can it predict results? And most especially, is it applicable to anything at all that we can use in any other discipline? When you think about it, infinity is an incredibly weak idea, based more on word games than anything physical or applicable. Therefore, ultrafinitism is not a theory in itself, but the recognition that infinity shouldn’t have ever been considered one.

And too much of advanced mathematics is like this. From the article (which I had to do as a screenshot since the notation within isn’t easily rendered in any formal typesetting):

quote from What Can We Gain by Losing Infinity? article
And we can consider another, one that a few more people are familiar with: googol, defined as a one followed by 100 zeroes, which I tried to type out for giggles but the page format can’t handle it. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s googolplex, which is a one followed by a googol of zeroes. These are well known and well defined – but to what possible fucking use can any of these be put to, ever? These are word salads, not functional concepts. We really need to ask, why do these even exist?

To no small extent, however, there is also the human trait that we don’t let go of things that we believed for a long time, and this is intertwined deeply within mathematics (and indeed most philosophies, at least, but probably no small number of other sciences as well.) Mathematics relies on its axioms and functions, and can create a theory from “n+1,” the simple idea that no matter what number, you can always add to it. And since there is no number that you cannot add to, this process can go on ‘infinitely.’ Which is fine, simple and neat and all that, but this in no way implies that there actually is anything infinite, even though it is usually taken to mean that. Since there’s no stopping point, no “number so big” or rule that you can only do this so many times, it implies no end. But the end, quite simply, is when you get too goddamn tired of doing it, and all you’re really doing is repeating yourself. It’s a pattern, nothing more, exactly the same as the bare fact that we don’t have infinite numbers – we only have 0-9, and then we start over again in the next column. In seeking ‘truth’s within mathematics, axioms were created from things that really are nothing more than functions.

There is also a fundamental problem that comes up if you rephrase the approach slightly. In essence, ‘infinity’ exists because we cannot demonstrate that it doesn’t, that there is any end to n+1 and all other such axioms. But we could apply this to anything that we want, anything we can imagine – does this somehow mean that such things are allowed to exist until we can prove otherwise? And it must be said that, in a lot of concepts of an infinite universe, many people do make such claims; given some event that might have odds of 1 in 1,000,000 or even higher, in an infinite universe it is virtually guaranteed to happen – and to follow the axiom to its logical (heh!) conclusion, happen an infinite number of times. Most of the sciences, however, rely on a more practical approach: it exists when you can demonstrate or measure it. Outside of that, well, nice idea perhaps, but not worth considering until you have some proof.

Mathematicians are not unified though, and some (it’s not clear how many) recognize the difference between provable, demonstrable, applicable axioms, and the ones that cannot be and exist only in theory. There remains recognition that the value of math is how it applies to real world scenarios, problems, and circumstances. To me, that’s the only value, but there also seems to be an awful lot of emphasis on theoretical concepts that can only exist in the imagination, that have no possibility of applying to anything at all, and as long as this is considered important, the concept of infinity will continue to be protected in this Harry Potter universe of Skewes’ number and googol and i.

For consideration, the evidence for the entire universe having started 13.78 billion years ago is substantial, so substantial that we continually refine that number with further decimals. The speed with which it can expand is of course finite, because we can see and measure it. So while the phrase “infinite universe” is bandied around quite frequently, this really depends on whether you mean the actual contents like stars and gases and so on, or the empty space that it is expanding into. If the former, we actually have a calculation for that, and it’s a sphere roughly 92 billion light years across (an incomplete sphere, of course, because pi) – not infinite. And even if it’s the latter we’re referring to, well, the difference between a boundary we haven’t found and none at all is indistinguishable, except this is the only place where infinity might be found, and we couldn’t prove it anyway. It’s also possible that the expanding universe hit an outside barrier a billion years ago, and the visible effects have yet to travel back to us. Adding to all that, physicists and cosmologists operate on a fundamental concept that the matter/energy within the universe is finite and fixed, and has been from the moment of the Big Bang – not increasing, not decreasing, only concentrating or dissipating. While we cannot actually prove this in any way, we also have quite a bit of evidence that this really is the case, evidence that helped formulate the laws of thermodynamics to be exact. Most of the hard sciences don’t mess about with ‘proof,’ but rely on evidence instead, and reams of evidence provide all the support necessary, as well as functioning without any issues whatsoever. So this would mean that everything does have an end, and has to, to be contained within said universe.

Even if we try to go in the opposite direction, going perpetually smaller in size instead to demonstrate the value of infinity, we reach the Planck Constant, what quantum physicists have determined is the smallest distance we can find, measure, and use. There is no such thing as “0.1 Planck scale” and no reason to invoke such a thing.

Both of these effectively trash infinity as anything real, and while we may yet determine that we were wrong about some aspect of these measurements, what it does mean is that we have plenty of reasons to treat ‘infinity’ as flawed, an inapplicable idea, and ignore it entirely. Meanwhile, we have found the principle thing that separates math from science: math has axioms or ‘truths’ that it relies on, while science ignores the entire concept of ‘truth’ and relies on evidence instead. Ultrafinitism doesn’t have ‘truth,’ it has evidence, and so it threatens the core of mathematics – the unsupportable, untestable, inapplicable core.

We go back to something mentioned earlier, that’s exceedingly simple: numbers are just placeholders in our heads, a simple way of tracking ideas. They are not real, and cannot even be applied to real things consistently with all the axioms of mathematics. They do not define anything at all in the universe, they’re only there to help us manage our understanding – but when they cannot, when they’re dead wrong, they need to be recognized as flawed. Axiom or no, mathematical ‘theory’ or no. They’ve reached their limit of function.

Now, since there are some applications where specifying that no end is in sight is necessary, the definition of ‘infinity’ can be changed to, “beyond any reasonable or useful calculation” – which, again, is indistinguishable, but it’s more precise and explanatory without implying that there really is such a thing as ‘endless.’ It would probably be better to coin a different term, however, to avoid confusion with an established, though flawed, concept. In fact, the name is right there: BAROUC, or barouc for common usage. I deserve some credit for coming up with this…


I’m glad I stalled on this post as long as I did, because the two other articles that I had bookmarked didn’t cover as much ground, nor help guide my thoughts, as well as this one. They were The Man Who Stole Infinity, and one that is either What If Infinity Didn’t Exist? or Some Mathematicians Don’t Believe In Infinity, depending on whether you treat the page header or the URL as the title. The former is simply about the likelihood that Georg Cantor, the mathematician that formulated set theory and “different sizes of infinity,” plagiarized his main paper, while the latter is much more on-topic but also more superficial than the one I worked from for this.

If you like, you can also check out two links from within the primary article, Why Math’s Final Axiom Proved So Controversial, and Banack-Tarski and the Paradox of Infinite Cloning. The former outlines the principle axioms of mathematics, the Zermelo-Fraenkel (or Zermelo-Fraenkel Choice) set theory based on (not) Cantor’s work, wile the latter shows the utter fucking nonsense that can be produced in the Harry Potter universe of mathematics.

Estate Find 61

Looked out the garage window at the driveway yesterday afternoon and saw an odd shape that, as I watched, moved a little. I immediately hit the button to open the overhead door and scampered out to snag it, confirming my suspicions as I did so. With the exception of a glimpse of one out on Topsail Island, this is the first I’ve ever seen, certainly the first I’ve done pics of and handled (simultaneously, I might add.)

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis in grass
The stocky body with abrupt tail, and the lack of a demarcation of the neck, clued me in, and my go-to herp site confirmed the precise species. This is an eastern glass lizard (Ophisaurus ventralis,) occasionally called a glass snake, but it’s one of the various species of legless lizards. You may say, “Well, that pretty much defines a snake, doesn’t it?” but that’s not exactly true – don’t assume it’s Order. There are a few distinct differences, some of which I can illustrate, and some I can’t.

But first, a little bit of a scale shot.

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis in author's hand
The Girlfriend’s distaste of snakes extend to glass lizards, and she probably wouldn’t handle any given lizard for photographs simply from the fear of injuring them, so it’s generally up to me, until I hire a wrangler with all the ad proceeds from this site. Notice the general shape of the head, and the thickness behind it, and the fact that the eyes are aiming downwards here. Snakes have fixed eyes and no eyelids, while glass lizards (all lizards) have movable eyes that they can close, though this one was disinclined to wink at me. There’s also the lack of the small gap at the front of the mouth to extend the tongue, since only snakes sample the air with them; I got a glimpse of this one’s tongue, very dark and not long or forked like a snake’s, yet never offered for view while the camera was ready.

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis profile showing ear
Lizards also have ears while snakes don’t; this is barely visible as a small horizontal slit/dent a little ways back from the mouth. And that side pattern is groovy.

This is the part that surprised me, however – I just assumed it was more snakelike:

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis in author's hand showing cloaca
Down at the right edge of my hand you’ll see something that looks like a scar on the underside of the lizard. This is the vent or cloaca, and with snakes it’s roughly 3/4 of the way along their body length, but for these guys it’s only halfway, indicating that their digestive tract is significantly shorter. Not surprising, perhaps, since they can’t open their jaws anywhere near as wide as a snake, nor spend weeks digesting meals, so they eat more regularly, mostly arthropods.

They get their name from a common habit when captured, which is to drop their tail to distract their attacker (so they ‘break’ like glass) – this of course writhes vigorously, the motion attracting attention to allow the lizard to escape. And this one displayed its own evidence of this from the past.

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis tail showing regrowth after detaching in the past
The distinct change in coloration and the general stubbyness of it indicates that this tail is growing back, and according to that linked source above, adults without such regrowth, meaning they’ve never had to drop their tail, are actually rare. There is no indication that this does them any harm at all; it has evolved to be this way, so there’s no reason for it to be painful or debilitating or anything, and in any event, it’s significantly less traumatic than being eaten.

eastern glass lizard Ophisaurus ventralis portrait in grass
After getting enough images and confirming the species (and that I wasn’t throwing away a further opportunity for something interesting,) I sent this one on its way back where I found it. Yet another species for the area, and another Find. Very cool.

Still hoping to get pics of a wild cottonmouth, but I won’t be handling that one if and when I come across it…

Tip Jar 18: Back up!

If you’re pursuing anything even remotely ‘serious,’ much less as a profession or sideline income, some (a lot) of what you do won’t be the actual pursuit, but all of the supporting tasks that are required, and for photographers, one of those is ensuring that you always have backups of your work. Hard drives fail, sometimes without warning, and of course accidents and viruses happen, so this should be a regularly-scheduled thing. Here’s a bit of my routine, and why I’m doing it this way.

First off, there are four hard drives in my system, obviously not a laptop, though one of them is only the solid-state drive with the operating system on it (Ubuntu Studio.) One is the work drive, and two are for backups and archival stuff (and 3D printing files.) Not only that, but I maintain an additional, external hard drive with backups as well, mostly because anything that hits system-wide won’t affect that one – this would primarily be viruses, but I’ve also seen a corrupt power source affect the boot sector of all drives on the system. It’s often recommended that external backups be maintained off-site, meaning not at home, in the event of a fire or flood or whatever – I’m not presently doing this, partially because I haven’t found the way to make it work well enough.

What about cloud storage? Yeah, no, or more specifically, [vehement obscenity of your choice] no. Cloud storage is simply another computer, so the same as an external hard drive, but one that you have no idea where it is or who has access to it, how often it’s backed up and how legitimate or even solvent the business is. It is, literally, safer to bury your hard drive in an ammo can in the woods than place that kind of faith in any businesses today. Feel free to use cloud storage if you’re adventurous, but read all the fine print first, especially about their access, security, and liability, and even then, should they simply disappear, good luck pursuing that in any legal or useful manner.

How often? Depends on your volume, really, and how much stuff you can stand to lose if a failure occurs. Weekly, monthly, bi-annually, whatever you’re comfortable with, but a schedule is recommended.

Now, this has a little of the ‘do as I say, not as I do,’ aspect to it, since my image backup is not scheduled or routine, but based off of whenever I finish a major sorting job – and it’s usually major since I don’t sort as I go, which I probably should. So, the database for the blog is weekly, downloaded and compressed, because it’s always just a few minutes to do and takes place on a schedule, the same time that I check out the stats and look at the spam folders on the remote server.

[I also maintain local files of the posts, both published and in draft form, and a folder of the uploaded images, and once a month these are compared for accuracy. It’s been this way ever since a previous hosting service wiped the site and I had to rebuild from backups – which run back three months now, since I’ve also found that some updated software or plugins have issues that are not immediately apparent.]

Routinely, however, the images in my Sort folders are backed up to one of the other local hard drives, even though they will eventually all leave the Sort folders to the Catalog folders instead, such as Arthropods, Mammals, and so on. This is because, every once in a while during sorting or picking one to edit for use, I delete it accidentally. Yes, I know there are ‘Recycle Bins’ on the computer for everything deleted, and I routinely do not use them, the reasons being, they don’t actually clear any space until they’re emptied, and anyone can have access to the contents before this happens, which is shitass security for anything financial or private. So I do my own ‘Recycle Bin’ only for the Sort folder, and delete those when they hit a few weeks old.

screenshot of FreeFileSync program in Compare mode
Backup programs. I’ve been using FreeFileSync for several years now, and it works superbly. Simply pick the folders you want to compare, the source on your workhorse drive and the backup elsewhere, and click ‘Compare.’ The program selects all of the new or changed files, and allows you multiple backup options like Mirroring (make these folders identical) or Update (add in the new stuff, but don’t delete anything.) Pretty flawless, and quick as well. Whatever you use, make sure that you understand what it’s doing and keep a close eye on the projected changes before approving them – it can be too easy to wipe out something that you want to keep.

[The Linux operating system, by the way, is maintained weekly by Timeshift, which has one notable flaw: it cannot be specifically scheduled, but decides on its own when to do a weekly/whatever backup, and will tie up a lot of resources when it does. As yet, I have not done a restoration except when I was first installing Ubuntu Studio, so I can’t vouch for how effective it is.]

At the same time that I do the image folders backup, I also do the website, video projects, and documents folders as well, and usually backup the Bookmarks/Links file from the web browsers so I have a current list of saved links, which is disturbingly large.

Heed the warning signs. If your computer stalls more than occasionally, if you get any warnings on boot that a drive cannot be accessed, if you find corrupt files when reviewing images in your image/thumbnail viewer, back up immediately. Also do backups before any major changes, like upgrading operating systems or moving drives around.

Is it necessary? Enough people telling you to do this should be reason enough, but also, think how bad you’ll be kicking yourself if/when the failure does occur and you’ve lost irreplaceable images or work. We are, for reasons unknown, a gambling species, and we like to bet on events not happening if it’s the slightest bit inconvenient to be prepared for them – a bet with trivial payoff and significant losses. Recognize how stupid this really is.

As a personal account, I’ve only had one drive fail when I was unprepared, and that was at the worst possible time: when I was migrating to a new computer and had my digital images solely on one hard drive, with only a few of them backed up to CD-ROMs (this occurred 22 years ago, so hush.) A significant number of images taken in Florida were lost, trapped on a drive that became inaccessible. I actually still have it, having tried several different tricks to get into it, and it awaits a time when I’m willing to dismantle it and switch read/write heads, which is not likely to be the problem but my last resort. Data recovery services are available that can read raw data from a hard drive, by dismantling it and installing the media in a specialty unit – and they charge out the ass for such things.

Backup CD-ROMs and failed hard driveThat said, I’ve had several failures which turned out to be the SATA ports on the motherboard going bad while the drive was still good, and have used my Sort backup to restore images an unknown number of times (a dozen or so?) I have had warning signs from drives and switched over, one of which did indeed fail soon afterward and is now inaccessible even from an external drive dock – nothing lost, since I acted quickly. Worth noting is that I also learned ages ago how to avoid viruses, of which Linux is largely resistant to in the first place; a friend of mine has learned no such thing, and has been infected to the point of reformatting drives at least three times (good rule to follow: if it seems too good to be true, it is – don’t click.)

Another little tip that may be useful. I discovered after much trial and error that having this many drives is a load on the power source, and even if it has enough SATA power connections, this doesn’t necessarily mean it can provide adequate power to all of them simultaneously. Also, this might simply have been, instead, individual power leads going bad, but it’s the same symptoms as a hard drive going bad, so don’t assume anything. Switching drives and power leads can help pinpoint this, but be warned; you’re also risking a power warble affecting the boot sector of a drive and rendering it inaccessible.

So, if you’re not doing backups routinely, change that right now. Don’t lose work that you can easily maintain with some good habits.

This is success(?)

Just past full moon, waning gibbous
So, checking out the ISS Transit Finder site, I had warning that early this morning (like, 4:21 AM) the Chinese Tiangong space station would transit (pass in front of) the nearly-full moon. The weather looked like it was going to be right, so I set my alarm and made sure I was up and ready, camera focus locked in, exposure set for 1/800 second (f8, ISO 800,) smutphone synced closely with UTC (it was off by not quite a second, but I could work with that,) and waited for my moment.

Don’t bother looking at that image up there, since that was a focus test before the event. And I can tell you that the actual transit took 1.01 second, so I was prepared to simply fire off a sequence of frames at the higher frame rate of the 70D (about six a second) starting a little before the time and extending afterward, to ensure that I captured it. Behold!

Nearly full moon with smudge of Tiangong space station roughly centered
Booyah! Nailed it!

What? You don’t see it? It’s right there!

Nah, don’t feel bad – it took me four or five passes through the images before I spotted it, and I knew much better where to look, but it’s that little dark smudge right in the center of this crop, above and to the right of the prominent crater (which is Plato.) I was seriously hoping for better than this.

Let’s see it in five frames in an animated gif (pronounced, “ger-VASE“):

animated gif of five frames as Tiangong transits the moon
Five frames, 200ms delay between each, pegs this at close to real time. But if that’s still hard (and I’m there with you – remember, five passes looking specifically for this,) we have the annotated version, at half-speed:

animation of five frames as Tiangong transits the nearly-full moon, marked
Better?

Now, a bit of info. These frames were all taken from a tripod with a remote shutter release and overlaid at full res before being cropped down, so the movement you see is not my lousy editing, and might be slightly due to the tripod twitching a little, but it’s mostly a) the moon shifting to the right naturally, as it does, and b) atmospheric distortion, which was egregious this morning. Look at the details on the right side and how they warble and smear – that’s not camera motion, that’s just the distortion from the air. And within a single second too. It’s no wonder I didn’t get anything more distinct from Tiangong.

Funny, when I put this on my calendar to remind me, I failed to notice that today is Not… Really Worth the Effort Day, otherwise I would have skipped it and stayed in bed. I have to tackle things like this from a place with much lower humidity and high-altitude wind shear. Or not at all…

Trying to sneak out without paying

Yep, that would be April, ducking out too quickly hoping to escape the end-of-month abstract toll. And while I was going to do some pun about the other meaning of “toll” since I was completely unprepared less than two hours ago, I don’t think our features this month are all that bad, really. A little too much the same, perhaps, but passable, especially for all having been shot just now to meet the deadline. At least if you ask me, and since I’m running the show…

So, let’s see here, we have this:

star jasmine Trachelospermum jasminoides blossom and bud
The star jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides) that was growing at the old place got transplanted too late last year to really kick in, but it’s making up for lost time this year. The flowers are quite curious when seen very close, seeming to turn inside-out as they open spirally. Might have to try a time-lapse someday…

And then:

cluster of red Japanese maple Acer palmatum samaras
One of the newer Japanese maples (Acer palmatum) planted last year, though shorter than I am, has produced a serious crop of samaras, considered a seed pod but technically a fruit, and I went in close for the overlap. Meanwhile, both resident Japanese maples, the ones already here when we moved in, have sported a serious batch of young on the ground underneath their canopies, all new maples that The Girlfriend is trying to foster into full trees. We’ll see what happens, but so far, so good.

Further:

buds blossoming out on oak-leaf hydrangea Hydrangea quercifolia
We have planted two new oak-leaf hydrangeas (Hydrangea quercifolia) now, both appearing to be doing well, and both started to blossom out already – this is the first, and largest.

I have to admit, the latest iteration of the macro softbox is holding its own quite well, having been used for all of these (including below.) Directional enough light to have shadows and shaping, yet diffuse enough to illuminate widely and not harshly at all, filling in shadows pretty well. Groovy.

And finally:

leaf color variety of swamp maple Acer rubrum as abstract
Actually this was much better than expected, and is not cropped at all. These swamp maple (Acer rubrum) leaves just stood out, almost separate elements and looking just about like paper cutouts attached to the page rather than a photo. Really, I was after the colors more than anything and wasn’t considering this for an abstract entry, but it turned out to be the best when the background simply vanished.

Say, “Au revoir,” to April, at least in about 23 hours, and get ready for May’s onslaught. Should be fun.

We all knew they were coming

… it was just a matter of time.

mother wood duck Aix sponsa and six ducklings onshore
The first reappearance (after a long hiatus) of the wood ducklings (Aix sponsa) came just as we were running out the door, because of course. Then the barest of video clips that evening, before it rained for about 16 hours. Once it cleared, however, things picked up, and by this past Monday, we were seeing them just about every hour, cycling through.

A little too much dead air in this one – I’m still working on syncing voiceover with video. In the past, I’ve tried to cram in too much information and ended up having more than I had video for and having to truncate. But too little is bad too. Meanwhile, certain comments have to match up with what’s happening in the video, so there’s a juggling act that I’m still trying to improve.

[Yes, I do the voiceover while watching the edited video tracks, but mistakes mean things get out of sync, plus I forget some stuff and have to go back and work it in somehow. I could spend twice as long editing these as I do, but that means eight hours instead of four, kind of thing. Talk to me when it’s a paid gig…]

And then there’s noise reduction, which definitely didn’t do well this time. The background hiss reduction ended up producing some warble, but here’s the thing: This wasn’t a fraction as noticeable when cleaning up in Audacity (the audio editing program) as it was when imported into Kdenlive (the video editing program,) and I have no clue why this is. It’s kind of a bitch to control noise when you can’t hear it until it’s already been exported for use.

But enough whining. Enjoy the ducklings, while I psych myself out for the other video clips that are piling up in the system…

Tip Jar 17: Stalking

green heron Butorides virescens looking globular
Knowing it might be there, and being patient with the approach – can’t complain about the results at all

If you’re like me, even as often as I do it I still picture something like Elmer Fudd when I hear this word, or someone creeping up with a detached bush as camouflage while pizzicato strings play with their footsteps (I think that’s the term, but I’m not a music person.) This is misleading, even in the circumstances when it’s not entirely inaccurate, and there’s a lot more to it than that anyway. So what do I mean when I’m using the term, or better yet, what’s my advice on how to do it?

Sounds. Silence, of course, is optimum, but also next to impossible to accomplish most times. Learning how to walk quietly is key, and takes practice, but the general idea is to put your feet down as gently as possible, almost rolling them onto the ground. At the same time, finding those areas to walk in that make the least sound helps this tremendously; picking mossy areas over leaves, grass over gravel, and so on. This often means getting to the side of the regular path if it consists of noisemaking substrate, though at other times (parks and frequented trails most often,) the path has been cleared by the passage of others and is the quietest option. Avoiding sticks of any kind is important, naturally, and this means keeping a close eye on where you put your feet – not a bad idea anyway in areas that have venomous snakes or poison ivy or those irritating tiny cacti.

Following a rain or overnight dew can help a lot, since sodden conditions will reduce the noise in most cases, certainly better than dry leaves. And one that a lot of people don’t think about, but breezy or windy days can help mask the sounds you do make.

When you realize that any experienced outdoors person can tell the difference in footsteps between a deer, a squirrel, a lizard, and a human just by sound, you’re recognize that you should break up your pattern, making it irregular with differing size steps, as random as reasonable.

And of course, shutting up is paramount too, but you’d be amazed at how few people understand this. Human speech is instantly recognizable even at a distance, so learn to be silent in that respect. I often communicate with someone else by short, quiet whistles – no Morse code or agreed-upon sequences, just a couple of quiet attention-getters until they look my way and I can nod or mime something. I have yet to find a species that reacts to quiet whistles in any way, even when I have to do it a few times at increasing volume until I attract the attention of who I need to.

Many, many species are attuned to motion. Like in Jurassic Park, staying still is often enough to escape attention, no matter what you’re wearing. Amusingly, certain species respond to certain kinds of motion more than others, generally resembling the predator (or prey) species that they’re most aware of. Best practice: move when they’re not looking. Also, directly towards a species is often the best move, since if they can’t get two eyes on you for depth-perception, they may not even realize you’re closer. Eventually, this fails and your target will become aware that you’re there and something is going on – hopefully this is once you’re close enough for decent shots. And now you have the challenge of raising the camera to your eye, and believe me, this is instantly suspicious to a lot of species, because what else does anything of this nature? It helps to have the camera mostly raised and leveled towards your subject to begin with, as tiring as this might be to your arm muscles, since then all you have to do is raise it subtly. And sometimes, with practice, you can even fire off shots without using the viewfinder, though I’ve been doing this for a long time and still haven’t gotten to where the camera is actually pointing where I think it is, far too often.

Staring. Don’t, any time you can avoid it. This is predatory behavior and a lot of species become acutely aware of it. Once a species even suspects you’re there, it’s time to go casual and look around lazily, often down more at the ground, or just out towards the horizon, never in one place too long. Many species freeze and ‘point’ with their gaze towards something suspicious, so avoid that. For any species that has reason to fear airborne predators, looking to the sky is out too.

Mimicking their browsing or casual behavior. This works far more often than you might ever suspect it should. Many, many species rely more on behavior traits than actual appearance, so even though you might not look anything like a heron or a deer, mimicking their behavior (once you know they’re aware of you) can actually put them at ease, and yes, I’ve mimed browsing deer and preening birds many times with good results – it’s actually amusing. In such circumstances, taking a couple of casual, aimless steps can actually work better than holding still – again, predators hold still, just before the pounce or charge.

trio of white-tailed deer Odocoileus virginianus next to Cape Hatteras lighthouse
My earliest example of both closing when they weren’t looking, and mimicking behavior. All three deer started staring at me once they realized I was close, but I turned and acted like I was browsing, and the two on the right immediate went back to doing the same

Some species, like rabbits, get confused by diagonals. You can get closer by moving more to one side than directly, even when this clearly shows you crossing against a background.

Background. Better to have something behind you that is dark and convoluted, rather than something like open sky. Dense foliage often doesn’t provide any reference point against which a species can recognize your movement, even when your own attire isn’t actually blending in. Most especially at night, never cross in front of any light source, and this includes as you’re leaving and your headlamp or flashlight is shining on tree trunks or foliage – try not to silhouette yourself against something brighter. You have to be aware of what’s behind you, from your subject’s perspective – tricky, and takes extra awareness of where you are and what you’re doing.

Camouflage. Okay, I almost never use anything even close, so while it can’t hurt and probably helps in a lot of cases, it also probably doesn’t help half as much as the other habits outlined here. Now, garish and obviously contrasting clothes aren’t going to help in any way, so browns and greys and so on are certainly much better choices overall. But is a full camo kit a bonus, much less necessary? Probably not. especially when you’re in an area that the target species frequents. They know their environment, so you’re still likely to attract attention just by being ‘not that.’

Blinds. Better than camo, to a small extent, and certainly a boon towards masking your movements – as long as you’re doing them silently. But bear in mind, you also have to have blinds set up well ahead of time, preferably long enough to thwart that ‘something different’ concept above, and most especially, you have to be in them before the species come into the area. So, useful for having a very specific goal and the ability to wait for it, perhaps for hours, but not so much otherwise. You can often reproduce the benefits of a blind by just waiting in a deeply shaded area – as long as you hold fairly still.

Plant your feet. We fidget a lot as a species, and without military training, we’re often uncomfortable with standing perfectly still all the time. But those little movements can give us away, so ‘growing roots’ is a good practice to develop – where it doesn’t conflict with the advice above.

Use your own ears. Just hearing the approach of something has netted me more good frames than nearly anything else, and knowing what’s ‘typical’ (rustling of leaves in breezes, common songbird calls) versus what’s beneficial to our pursuits (actual movements of species, calls of something far more interesting) is extremely helpful. That sudden rustle nearby will always cause me to freeze and watch carefully in that direction, and it often pays off.

At the same time, this makes us acutely aware of how much noise we’re making ourselves, and helps us reduce this significantly.

summer tanager Piranga rubra peeking from foliage
Only photographed because I heard a call that I’d never heard before

My directional hearing is pretty specific, at least if I can judge against the other people I’ve been out with and how quickly I can home in on something, but how to develop this? I can’t advise, except to practice a lot. Home in visually on any calling bird in the sky, or airplanes can work well in this regard, though be aware: the faster and/or higher they are, the more the sound lags behind their actual position due to the speed of sound. Turn your head slightly when you know where the noisemaker is, so you can learn the difference in your ears when you’re off-axis. But when this is developed, you can immediately be looking in the right direction for further movement, once you hear that initial sound.

Splitting attention. One of the hardest aspects of all this, since you might want to be watching the skies for interesting birds approaching, the foliage around you for any nearby species (seeing them before they see you,) and where you’re putting your feet, which takes a very high precedent, to avoid both noise and danger. The most useful trick is to examine the ground ahead of you carefully while standing still, know what’s there for a couple of meters, then you can move forward that much while you watch for other subjects. But if the footing is more obscured or provides too much camouflage for snakes for instance, you examine the surroundings when you’re standing still, and watch your footing closely as you move forward. Get in the habit of doing small incremental advances rather than maintaining any kind of pace, and look around frequently in as many directions as feasible.

We will miss things. We don’t have 360° vision, far from it, and can’t look everywhere at once. This isn’t a failure on our part, just the way things are, so don’t fret about it. But don’t miss the venomous snake or that ankle-twisting hole.

Get in the habit of pausing within the shadows or cover of surrounding trees before venturing out into the open, where you can be seen easily, and carefully survey the open areas – again, see them before they see you. This even applies to bends on the path or where the foliage parts at the edge of the water. Use the cover that’s available, and reveal yourself only when you’ve at least tried to check the area.

By the way, autumn is a very tricky time, since fallen leaves can obscure a lot, including deeper holes, and of course make a lot of noise. Slow and careful are the bywords here.

Also, with snow, think about your composition. If you like that pristine snowfield as an element, don’t walk across it but skirt it instead, outside where you’ll be framing your shots. Same with a smooth beach, like after high tide. If you don’t want your footprints in the shot, don’t put them there.

Water and wading. Big one here – falling in the water is bad enough, but with your equipment is extra damaging. Best to pack everything away in your protective bags before even venturing out, so it has a little protection anyway – a tightly-closed bag is proof against submersion for a second or two, which may be enough.

Rocks and unsure footing abound, and are often obscured by sediment. Keeping your weight still firmly planted on the steady foot, extend the other out ahead of you until it seems to have solid purchase, then slowly shift your weight onto it, ready to shift back if it doesn’t seem stable. Arms out for balance, and a walking stick is usually a good idea. Take it slow and easy.

Larger and shallower rocks, while they look like they might be nice stepping stones, are more often covered with a layer of algae or silt and can be the slipperiest surface imaginable – don’t trust them at all. Better to stick to the deeper stream bottom than to slide uncontrollably off of your footing.

Avoid hopping to a new purchase, but if you have to, only choose a level, flat, and dry one. Land with your weight straight down, not traveling forward – don’t count on firm footing, but balance instead. I’ve done this enough that I can actually jump across a small stream onto a slippery muddy shore – though now that I’ve put that in writing, I’m guaranteed to blow it the next time because the law of jinxing is a measurable force in the universe…

I always wear closed-toe sandals, and I don’t have to tell you why. The amount of times they’ve saved my feet when I slipped into a gap between rocks or roots cannot be tallied anymore.

Even with a smooth and clear bottom, learn to move your legs gently and smoothly, to avoid making a lot of splashy water sounds – you should be able to do this almost silently.

Don’t push it. By this I mean, trying to get so close to a species that you put yourself into danger. Any species can react badly when threatened, and we’re a very poor judge of what’s threatening to them. Never get to a point where you can’t flee if charged, or have your escape blocked off, or most especially, the animals’ escape blocked off – that can induce a panic right there. Always remember, just because nothing has happened doesn’t mean nothing will continue to happen, and who knows what might trigger a species? You may think you’re non-threatening and mellow, but the animal is mighty suspicious and beginning to think you’re getting too damn close – and then a bird gives an alarm call or a tree branch falls. Even if you’re not the target of aggression, you might be in the way of the panicked fleeing, and with a white-tailed deer, this can be dangerous.

Most importantly, plenty of species are seriously protective of their young – always give them a wide berth. Mating season can also be hazardous with some species, since the males become territorial and aggressive. Assume the worst, and pass on the shot in favor of staying safe and respecting the animals. Don’t be one of those idiots.

Overall, take your time and be patient, but practice your best habits as often as possible, until they become second nature. Observe, and learn from experience. There’s always room for improvement.

North American beaver Castor canadensis gnawing on bark chip

Just because, part 57

five-lined skink Plestiodon fasciatus slinking out from under garage door
I haven’t been shooting a lot, but I do have a handful of video clips to put together, that might wait until I have a couple more to flesh them out. In the meantime, an anecdote and recent exchange.

The Girlfriend commented that there was a frog sounding off quite close by, she suspected inside the garage. This isn’t farfetched in the slightest; since the lizards absolutely delight in running in there and disappearing every time the overhead door is open, we usually leave the door cracked a few centimeters now so we don’t trap any. But since the garage is a big space with lots of hiding spots, I didn’t bother attempting to find it.

Later on, I heard it directly, a barking call in midday that I have no idea what the purpose is, and soon zeroed in on one corner of the garage, naturally the junk corner filled with tools and building materials. The Girlfriend and I surveyed this area, and I said, “It could be anywhere in here – we probably wouldn’t find it unless we tore this spot apart. They like tucking themselves into nooks like this,” and saying so, I turned around a two-meter section of J-channel for siding. Sure enough, that’s exactly where the frog was hiding, up until I actually moved its bed, whereupon it leapt out onto my shoulder. A small rodeo ensued, culminating when I convinced it to stay on something long enough to carry it out to the azalea bush outside the door, what I considered a much better day and nighttime perch. But at least it wasn’t trapped in the garage trying to find its way out a window or whatever.

Two days later, however, we heard it again, and yes indeed, back on the same J-channel.

green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus tucked into J-channel within garage
The lower spot, almost hidden

We let it be, since it seemed to be finding this spot on its own, but by nightfall when we were taking the trash out, it was on the move and I shooed it out the door and off to the side.

Next day, back again.

closeup of green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus tucked into J-channel
I went back inside and said to The Girlfriend, “I was just out in the garage…” and left it hanging.

She picked it up immediately. “He’s back again?”

“Yup, same spot. Higher this time though – he’s moving on up.”

She didn’t miss her cue. “To the east side?”

“Mm hmm,” I confirmed, then a pregnant pause. “He finally got a piece of the fly…”

I am not ashamed.

Estate Find 60: Been a while

When I had this as a weekly topic last year, there were times when I was struggling to have something to feature, and punted it once or twice, though at others I had subjects waiting in the wings, and overall didn’t do too bad at all for finding something new for every week. I like this way better though, in that I can feature things as I find them and not stick to a schedule.

Poking around late last night (as in, right before it became “today.”) looking to see who was about and not finding much of anything, I finally spotted a patch of paler green within the foliage of the large Japanese maple in the backyard. It was about the right hue for an anole in night coloration, but didn’t look quite right for it, and a close examination confirmed this: it was not an anole.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus coiled asleep in foliage of Japanese maple tree
I was delighted at this, because it’s been – holy shit, has it been ten years? – since I last photographed one, so I’m sure you’ll understand my pleasure. This is a rough green snake (Opheodrys aestivus) coiled up asleep in the leaves, because that’s what they do – they’re very arboreal, and growing up we always called them green tree snakes, since you’ll rarely find them on the ground at all. This perspective simply wouldn’t do, however, so I crawled underneath the tree to see more of it.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus seen from underneath just as it's waking up
I made a small mistake in doing so, however, because I was used to stalking the anoles at night and they pay little attention to the headlamp bobbing around or the flash going off. But snakes don’t have eyelids and thus sleep with their eyes open, and from experience, I’m fairly certain that a distinct change in light wakes them up right away. Normally, this is throwing your shadow across them, but here it was likely the light passing in and out of the shadows of the leaves, so this little guy was awake and starting to seek a safer place as I was underneath framing the shots.

And little it was, even smaller than average, as we can see because I couldn’t let it go at these, and had to get some scale and better detail images.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus coiling for leverage within author's hand
The muscles of most snakes are impressive, but rough green snakes can suspend themselves way out from minimal purchase, or in this case, abandon the established support of my hand to throw its hindbody out for a different grip to try and escape – you can see the tailtip curled over one finger, while it looks like I’m demonstrating knot tying. Naturally, this is going on in my left hand while the camera is held in my right.

Overall length was probably a little over 30 cm, but they can easily get better than twice this, and twice this girth so, you know, huge.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus extending out away from author's hand
Here I’d finally convinced it to use my hand as support – for a moment, anyway. Even at this size/age, you can see the scars from past encounters, though I’m inclined to think ‘songbird that wasn’t happy to find it within the leaves’ and not your typical predators of snakes, since it wouldn’t have survived most of them. And the scars were not likely from battles with its own prey either, since those are slugs and spiders and so on.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus  facing camera while coiled in author's hand
I did a lot of frames, partially because it was moving around so much I was never sure that focus was correct, but also trying for a decent portrait. I would have liked to have captured this one with the tongue out, but it held the pose for less than a half-second. Meanwhile, notice the tail extended out to the left.

small rough green snake Opheodrys aestivus with tail tip coiled over nose while in author's hand
And the last one, for giggles, since it had now coiled its tailtip over its own head, actually holding it there for a little bit, perhaps secure in its grip.

I released it back into the tree where I found it after this session, and it slipped deeper into the foliage and out of sight quite quickly. Will it stick around in the immediate area? Will I see it again? Can’t predict that, but I’ll keep you posted.

The stories I could tell ya…

… and usually do, without a filter even.

So I did go out this morning just before the peak of the Lyrids meteor shower (which was supposed to be around 4 AM locally,) and fired off a lot of frames. Stars were visible but not distinctly so, leading me to believe either the humidity was very high or a faint haze was obscuring the sky (which is the same thing I guess.) I was largely watching the area of sky I was aimed at the whole time, and wasn’t seeing anything happening, until a two-minute exposure close to when I was going to wrap it up. I saw the meteor clearly and was pretty certain that it was within the field of view of the camera, and sure enough, it was visible as a faint streak.

two-minute time exposure of night sky with captured meteor
This is full-frame, and it just barely shows at this resolution. See it? No, not that dotted line near top center – that’s simply four stars nearly in a line along the plane of movement (likely the base of the constellation Corona Borealis, The Crown, just to the right of Bootes, The Fatass.) Try looking instead at the bottom of the frame to the left. This, by the way, constitutes about half of the visible sky from the backyard here, with straight up being at the top of the frame – I could shift below this and turn the camera to landscape instead to get the rest, but that also aims towards the town lights and so gets brighter and less distinct because of that. At full resolution though, the meteor looks like this:

inset of two-minute time exposure of night sky with captured meteor
There it is, that vertical streak just left of center. Since this was aimed at longer exposures, the aperture was f8 (ISO 2000,) and so not ideal for capturing the faint ‘shooting star’ type meteors like this one. Like these, actually – there’s a second in there that I didn’t see at the time, to the right, just barely discernible because it’s not following the same star paths. I enhanced contrast significantly to bring them both out better:

inset of two-minute time exposure of night sky with captured meteor, contrast-enhanced
Really brings out the noise of ISO 2000, doesn’t it? I was normally firing off frames of 15 seconds, f3.5, to bring out the fainter and brief traces that might occur, so the higher ISO was intended to help with that, but I don’t think 2000 is useful, really – it’s certainly messy. But you should be able to see that second one anyway.

Immediately afterward, bolstered by the one I’d seen and a couple other suspicions of faint, quick ones, I switched back to 15-second exposures at f3.5, and captured some more streaks even when I was seeing nothing. Here are two of them in the same frame, opposite corners of the full-resolution inset:

inset of time-exposure of night sky with two satellite trails
Except, these appear in subsequent frames as well, slightly further along their paths, indicating that these were both satellites and not meteors – it was getting closer to sunrise and so some of the satellites were able to catch sunlight again.

I have yet to examine all of the frames at full resolution, and might for giggles, but who cares about pissant little streaks like those above? I was after nice brilliant fireballs, and I haven’t seen one of those in years. So much for this storm.

Now, part two, of which I will tell you right now there are no images to illustrate, so we’re stuck with prose. Just as I was getting ready to detach the camera from the tripod, I heard a sharp crack from the direction of the pond, and thought, The beavers just took down a small tree. So leaving the camera where it was, I walked over there slowly since I was already wearing the headlamp. Initially, I just saw two heads with reflecting eyes slinking past, dark and low in the water, just inside the lily line. I wandered further, looking for stumps or fallen trunks and finding none, but on returning to the apron where we throw down the corn, I saw again a head cruising through the water (well, there was a body attached too, I just couldn’t see that.) In typical beaver style, it did a back-and-forth pass, ensuring that nothing dangerous seemed to lurk (only seeing the glare of the headlamp in my direction,) and came up to shore about four meters away. This was a big beaver, biggest I’ve seen since this one, and jet black – I’ve never spotted this one before.

Curiously, for the size of the body, the head was fairly small, and I’m slightly inclined to think it was a pregnant female, but that’s more an impression that an experienced naturalist’s opinion – I’ll stick with ‘she’ though. She began scarfing down corn from the shallows just offshore, quite nonchalantly, while not too far away, roughly the border of the pond and The Bayou (so, 20-30 meters,) another beaver slapped the water loudly, twice. She never even twitched. I had of course gone down without the camera or camcorder, so I was only observing.

Then she started working closer, and I was beginning to get concerned – not because beavers tend to be aggressive, because they’re not, but because anything can have a bad reaction if startled, and she was closing to about two meters, close enough for her to feel threatened if she suddenly detected that I was there looming overhead. This did give me a chance to measure her entire length against landmarks though, and it was in the realm of 70 cm nose to tail (having checked later on with a tape measure,) estimated weight at least 15 kilos. I waited until she had abandoned her one feeding spot and started edging to the side, and I gently moved one foot, a tiny scuffing sound. She became alert and moved off slightly, and I did it again a little louder. This was enough to send her into a turn and dive, not frantically, but playing the discretion card, and I was able to go back to the tripod and collect the camera.

This causes me to relate two anecdotes about beavers from the past. While I was working for a humane society, we had a moderately-sized beaver come in with a leg injury, largely superficial, but the vet recommended a warm compress twice a day to help with any potential infections, and since I was part of the Beaver Project at that time, it fell to me to administer this. Bearing in mind that this is a perfectly wild animal in a foreign environment, the beaver would allow me to pick it up and sit next to it on the floor of the kennel, one hand holding the warm towel around its injured forelimb – the worst reaction was to try and push my hand away. I’ve been in far more danger trying to clip the cats’ nails. However, by the end of the week, the noise of the dogs nearby was beginning to take its toll and the beaver was getting visibly agitated, so we halted the compresses and elected to release it back where it was found. Rather than taking off like a shot the moment its carrier was opened, it ambled out and over to the streambank nearby, slipping into the water with all casualness.

Then the other side of the coin. A few weeks later, a former employee heard her two Brittany spaniels kicking up a fuss on the back of her property at night, and went down to investigate. It turns out they had cornered a beaver, a big one, and it was very angry. She got too close without realizing the situation (given the darkness and likely a handheld flashlight in the pre-LED days, not hard at all,) and the beaver decided she was as much a threat as the dogs, attacking here viciously. Her legs got seriously torn up, requiring (if I recall correctly) over a hundred stitches, and she told us she couldn’t get away from the beaver and had to pick it up bodily to hurl it away. Thankfully, this was also before rabies had moved into the area, even though she probably received a booster anyway (we all had preventative rabies vaccines if we were handling wildlife.) So, overall, beavers are mellow and not prone to aggression, but can get that way if provoked – it’s always a bad idea to assume any lack of danger from wild species.

Though I am glad this attack occurred well after I was tasked with going into a kennel and handling one closely…

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