A little bit

On an outing this past Wednesday, we found just a wee bit to photograph, mostly since the day had warmed considerably and this sparked a little activity. Not a lot – it’s still winter, so don’t go getting your expectations up, but at least there’s a smidgen to post that isn’t about being young and stupid, or old and cranky. Lucky you.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus enjoying the sun, maybe
We were paying no attention to the trees, and would have missed this red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) entirely if it hadn’t vented a call as we were nearby. It sat still long enough for us to affix our long lenses, then took flight immediately afterwards, switching to another perch in much lousier lighting only fifty meters off. But it’s that season, and the behavior of remaining fairly close was suspicious, so I began looking around carefully. Sure enough, there was a nest not too far from where it had originally been perched, but at this distance and angle I couldn’t be sure if it was a hawk’s nest or perhaps a grey squirrel’s.

unidentified, but possibly red-shouldered hawk's nest
I took a few frames in the hopes that close examination might show someone peeking over the lip, and I tried circling it to a better vantage, but the density of trees wasn’t allowing it, and I never saw any signs of occupants, so right now this remains unidentified. Something to try and keep an eye on, but this was in a park a dozen kilometers or so away, so it won’t be frequent checks. I’ve got a couple of promising nests right nearby to concentrate on, anyway.

Even the songbirds were scarce, though being out at midday might have had a little to do with it, since they like dawn and dusk better. A Carolina wren (Thryothorus ludovicianus – seriously, stick with the common name and don’t hurt yourself) posed nicely just long enough for me to unzip the camera bag, then moved to a spot with worse light and background, but I fired off a few frames anyway, because winter.

Carolina wren Thryothorus ludovicianus not quite posing
Annnddd for living, moving subjects, that was almost it. We’re getting close to the old and cranky thing again.

The frequent rains had flooded the banks of the river in places, and created a lot of mud. In one such puddle was clear evidence of a recent visit, but of course this took place in the dead of night and not in the live of afternoon while we were there.

tracks of North American raccoon Procyon lotor in shallow mud puddle
These are the tracks of a North American raccoon (Procyon lotor,) which was likely checking out the water, as they do, for fun edible stuff – not like it was going to find anything in this minimal puddle. But elsewhere, there were some pickings, for both raccoons and nature photographers. This was largely determined by the creaking calls, heard while we were still a short ways off and halting as we got close. However, a lot of close examination eventually turned up the vocalists, taking advantage of the warmer day (which may not yet herald spring, but they tend to get an early start regardless.)

barely submerged upland chorus frog Pseudacris feriarum posing in open
I had initially identified the call as coming from an American toad, but I was wrong! Instead, it proved to be upland chorus frogs (Pseudacris feriarum,) much smaller and about a hundred times more adept at remaining camouflaged and hidden, this photo notwithstanding. This was because I had spooked one from its cover at the edge of the water and it went a little further out into the puddle in a spot lacking stuff that it could get under, so it held still instead and counted on camouflage, not realizing that the common orange clay of North Carolina wasn’t matching the frog’s own coloration. They’re stupid, is what I’m saying.

pair of upland chorus frogs Pseudacris feriarum almost hidden in shallows
This image is a little more accurate representation of their habits, but still makes it seems like they wouldn’t be that hard to spot. However, the one on the left (you didn’t miss that one, did you?) would simply duck under that leaf as soon as anyone drew near, doing so again as we were getting the shots, and most times they sit right up against clumps of grass or leaves and appear as nothing more that a mud lump. Given that their maximum body length is about 30mm, it’s usually more than effective.

Their calls, by the way, are way out of proportion to their size; you really expect to see something a lot bigger than this, and standing at the edge of a pond or basin (or a mere ditch, as this was) when they start calling again, it’s almost confusing how distinct they sound, perhaps right there, and yet you can see nothing.

upland chorus frog Pseudacris feriarum peeking from water for portrait
This one was way too cooperative, but were we complaining? Having been spooked into the water, it peeked back out again after a few minutes, and our slower movements weren’t enough to chase it down again. The clump of grass and the bubbles help give an idea of scale: smaller that the treefrogs that I find so often, and way smaller than American toads. For some reason they’re not that common in my immediate surroundings (like within walking distance,) so I don’t have easy access to them to capture their life cycle, but perhaps I can find a key spot not too far away, because they’re common enough in the general area. We’ll just have to see what happens.

Well, okay, you’ll have to see – I’m gonna have to be actively searching. Typically this is anything from puddles to decent ponds, within or very close to wooded areas, so I at least know what to be looking for. You’ll know of my success, or lack thereof, soon enough.

Oh that’s sneaky

So as I said last year, I was endeavoring to photograph a Chinese mantis creating an egg sac, or ootheca, and never managed it. Actually, in all my years of chasing hexapods, I’ve done it just once – one lousy frame. Last fall, I had a likely candidate in the form of an obviously pregnant female (she said so on her FronsBook page, so I never had to ask or assume,) hanging out on the Japanese maple, but saw, and found, nothing. As the year waned and the leaves fell, I examined that tree minutely, and there is no ootheca on it – several bagworm moth chrysalises, but no mantis eggs. And none to be seen on the property anywhere else.

Over the winter, then, I began gathering oothecas out in the North Carolina boondocks as I came across them, but wasn’t finding many. I had two, up until an outing with Buggato this past Wednesday where I gathered three more. That’s enough, though they were all Chinese mantises (Tenodera sinensis) and so far no Carolina mantises (Stagmomantis carolina) – I’m still looking to add one or two of those if I find any.

But today, I elected to mount all of those found and place them in the yard for spring. They overwinter quite well, but should have the rains at least, so it was time to get them out. I went around to the old locations and collected the previous year’s mounting sticks to use again.

In explanation: mantids attach their egg sacs with a strong adhesive ‘foam’ that hardens into a husk, akin to that expanding insulation foam stuff you can get, and they always do this on the stiff stem of a hardy weed, or the small branches of a tree. When I collect them I keep a decent length of this supporting structure as well, and tie the far ends of this to a loose branch of my own, with the string well out of the immediate environs of the sac; this way, it all looks natural for photos, and I can place them in areas that I can easily (more or less, anyway) access for photos while providing a good habitat for the bebbies. Most of last year’s were still in place, so I opted to reuse them.

Gathering one branch from the front yard a few meters from the Japanese maple, I noticed that its ootheca was still intact, which happens often enough; they’re pretty hardy and may last for a few years before disintegrating. Though I thought I’d removed all of the old ones so I could easily tell when a new one was present.

You can see this coming, can’t you?

egg sac ootheca of Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis on small tree in front yard
So close that it was even slightly adhered to one of my planted branches, an egg sac had been sitting right under my nose for months – I undoubtedly walked past it several times thinking it was the old one that I’d never removed. Worse, she placed it on an unidentified sapling that I had been about to remove as unwanted in the yard – gotta stay for a while now.

The evidence for this being the same mantis that I saw last year (linked above) is fairly high, though not conclusive – she was seen before and after depositing on a tree maybe four meters off, the only mantis that I’d spotted in the yard for quite a while. However, there’s enough cover that others may have been around and I simply missed them, though I won’t ever admit that here. The proximity to the location of the old one was mere centimeters; do they try to return to the site of their birth? There’s little reason to believe this, since breeding adults have wings, but there may be some genetic prod towards it given that the area is a successful habitat (obviously, if she survived to reproduction) – or there may be no prod at all, and it’s just a matter of happenstance anyway. Regardless, I have plenty of oothecas to watch, and perhaps shoot video of.

Completely different person

I’ve got a nice head start on the holiday today, which can serve as a reminder for others to produce their own contributions. People have a tendency to forget, perhaps conveniently, that February 26th is Remember The Dumb Shit That You’ve Done Day, but I’m happy to contribute because I figured, Why not? There’s no one reading anyway. True enough, it may well affect my job prospects at some point in the future, but then again, it’s right here under the ‘Ask an atheist’ banner and posts regarding my tastes for Duran Duran, so how much worse could it get?

The timeframe is the early 90s. Directly behind the apartment complex where I lived meandered a creek, but, you know, a respectable one, six to eight meters across? I’m going from memory, and we all (all none of us) know how that is, but bigger than a drainage ditch and smaller than the Mississippi, to give you the ballpark. I used to wander on trails alongside quite often, and at one point noticed with curiosity that a few thick, tough grapevines actually climbed into trees overhanging roughly the midpoint of the creek.

Now, you should know that I grew up watching reruns of Tarzan, the 60s version with Ron Ely and Manuel Padilla Jr, and thus heavy vines were the sole means of crossing the jungle without stepping in Cheetah poo. This meant that, as I eyed these vines on the banks of the creek, I pondered whether, cut free at the base, they would serve as this very mode of transportation. It was idle, never-gonna-happen thinking – up until one day, I found that a beaver had gnawed through the base of a prime vine and it now hung freely out over the middle of the water, but with a fallen log stretching within reach. That’s a sign, that is.

Coincident with this was being out with my cousin and a friend, and (despite all being in our late twenties) you know what happens when you get a group of boys together. This idea had to be tested, and there was no argument that I was going to be the one to test it.

I scampered out on the log, fetched the now-hanging end of the vine, and brought it back to the shoreline for firm footing. We all eyeballed the distance, and I tugged on the vine to determine that it really was deeply anchored high overhead in the branches. It all looked feasible, and I prepared for the launch.

Pause here while we deal with reality, and the bare fact that vines only have to hold their own weight, without the addition of an albeit (Hah!) ridiculously skinny nitwit, and anchor only among branches, not knotted around thick boughs like an OSHA-overseen climbing rope would have been. Yes, TV really does prompt kids and even immature adults to believe silly things. We have the recipe all laid out now.

I drew back, I kicked off, I swung…

… and I MADE IT! All the way, smoothly, and only getting my ass wet since I hadn’t gripped quite high enough on the vine, but I scrambled triumphantly up the opposite bank to the cheers and laughter of the other two, who I must admit still declined the honor themselves. It’s hard to describe the manic feeling of success and amusement, and naturally I wished there had been more witnesses. We never thought to photograph this, because of course the initial odds of success were not encouraging, and who wants to document getting dunked in a muddy creek?

But the vine was still there…

The following day we returned, armed with two cameras. Again, early nineties: no smutphones, no video cameras (those existed, but were too expensive for any of us to purchase for such occasional use.) I had my trusty Olympus OM-10 I believe, and my cousin had some point-and-shoot jobby. Our friend went to the landing bank with my camera while I once again snagged the vine and girded my loins or some such rot.

the author preparing to do something foolish for the second time
Yes, that’s really me, though I’ll deny it if anyone I know asks, while my unrecognizable cousin is backing me up from a safe location. But we already knew it would work, so this was just for the record. I remembered to take a higher grip to keep from getting wet. And with assurances that the cameras were ready, I kicked off.

the author realizing the folly
This is pretty much the exact time that I knew something was amiss, because the branches, so sturdy the day before, began to relinquish their hold on the upper reaches of the vine, allowing it to slip downwards. Again, it’s hard to describe the feeling, but OhFuck works well enough I suppose.

Bunched up as I was, just able to clear the water had the vine remained steadfast, the extension of a meter or so was enough to plunge me almost completely into the creek. It was still early spring, so not really swimming weather, but I never let go of the vine and could use it to help haul myself out of the water; the fallen log that had allowed me to snag it in the first place now gave me a way to get out without slogging to the bank. No cheers this time, but they were kind enough to maintain the laughter at least.

the author regretting nothing
The reason that I have no qualms about posting this here is that no one who knows what I look like now would ever believe that I once looked like this. Oh, no, that’s some other Al Denelsbeck, I could say dismissively. It’s a ridiculously common name. And they, looking at that flat belly, full head of hair, and not-at-all-dashing-or-sophisticated smile, would readily believe it.

And yes, those pipecleaner arms were still capable of holding me firmly to the vine; it was the vine that failed to keep up its end of the bargain, apparently having never watched Tarzan to know what was expected of it. Meanwhile, on seeing these for the first time, The Girlfriend remarked that I hadn’t managed to lose my glasses even with the dunking, a cheap shot (but accurate.)

I believe it was the same span of days when we discovered a swinging rope, a proper one, strung out on another section of the creek; this one was obviously not intended to facilitate crossing, but only to deposit someone out into a deeper expanse of the water. As I said, not really swimming weather, but we still decided to try it out, just electing not to let go on the far end, but swing back to shore again. This went without mishap save for one exception, when our friend (I’ll call him ‘Vic’ for convenience, because who the hell is named Vic anymore?) lost a bit of momentum during an odd maneuver and was in danger of stalling out over open water. While he was still barely coming within reach, I stretched out to try and draw him back in and, through his spinning and my flawless aim, managed to sock him squarely in the jaw – it was an accident, I swear. I still vividly recall his head rocking back – and then he burst into laughter (see pipecleaners, above.) It was that kind of weekend.

*     *     *     *

Oh, hell, while I’m here. This all reminded me of a similar story, from many years previous. The same cousin mentioned above has a brother, by a curious fluke of genetics also my cousin, and back when I lived in New York and they lived in New Jersey, I would go down for visits. Their immediate neighbor had a climbing/swinging rope out behind their house, bordering a small patch of woods. Once, idly screwing around as adolescents do (we were middle school age, if I recall,) I was swinging on said rope, which had been there for years, and heard a couple of telltale pops up near the anchor point. I immediately dismounted and peered up at the top, noting that it was stained darker at the knot; it was beginning to rot away. Cousin 1 witnessed this, but Cousin 2 was elsewhere at the time, and later on when we saw him, we warned him about the failing rope.

Fast forward to the next day, when Cousin 1 and I were not too far from this rope, and Cousin 2 came barreling around the corner towards us. Veering off at the last second, he hit the hanging rope at full speed and swept up into the air even as we were reminding him of the danger. The rope could have parted right at the highest stress point near the end of his arc, hurling him up and out into the woods, but it held just long enough to shed all of his momentum, whereupon it gave way completely and dropped him without ceremony flat on his back from roughly three meters up – it was quite a sight, punctuated by his tortured whimper a moment later. We ended up half-carrying him back to the house for triage, where he was determined to be only bruised, in both body and ego. But yeah, how badly we needed action cams back then.

Profiles of Nature 8

newborn Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis hiding among azalea blossoms
This week we’re getting acquainted with Mordecai, part of our Street People series, candid slices of urban blighted hellscape. Mordecai is a member of the “Mants,” a gang that holds sway over the Azalea Bush On The Right, and takes no shit from anyone; he’s been known to spray-paint trite, unoriginal designs onto walls where the cops can’t see him if anyone even rolls their eyes at his manner of dress, that’s how badass he is. He’s proud to tell anyone that he doesn’t care what they think. Frequently. But when we got him to open up a little, we found that he’s actually quite talented, adept at bending paperclips back into original shape and not getting his crotch wet when he does the dishes. In his youth (well, more youth,) he persevered until he memorized the titles of every Schoolhouse Rock short, which certainly took a lot of Saturdays. Among his pet peeves he lists, “Putting the knife edge-side out on a place setting,” and, “People that pay any attention at all to personal trivia.” Mordecai is wont to inform listeners that, when the shit was going down, he was right in the middle of it, not realizing that this is all usually meant figuratively. His favorite spin is 32h.

Join us next week – you made it this far, you might as well find out if it really can get worse!

Dittyday 1: Eastern Bloc

I have decided that, from time to time, I should feature some more music here – maybe something obscure, maybe just a favorite, maybe something profound. It seemed Tuesday was a good day to do this, so it has become Dittyday. I mean, what else was I gonna call it? Songday? Musicday?

It won’t be every week, so we’ll still have plain ol’ Tuesdays, but here and there it’ll become Dittyday.

As a start (even though I’ve done this numerous times before, just without a supremely catchy topic name,) I’m featuring an obscure one that not too many people have heard, and it mostly didn’t chart well. Definitely a bit different, but it’s by Thomas Dolby, and if you know anything about his work, you’re just nodding knowingly right now. So let’s just jump into, ‘Eastern Bloc.’

Eastern Bloc – Thomas Dolby

I went looking for more information about this, but there exists little that I could find, which is a shame because there’s this enigmatic little aspect to it. First off, it’s subtitled, ‘Sequel to Europa and the Pirate Twins,’ and while ‘Eastern Bloc’ was released in 1992, ‘Europa and the Pirate Twins’ was a single released by Dolby in 1982 – the third bar in ‘Eastern Bloc’ is taken directly from ‘Europa and the Pirate Twins.’ The first bar opens with some obscure metaphors, potentially referring to the Cold War, but the second bar is more compelling. When watching the news reports of the fall of the Berlin Wall, he suddenly spots someone he’s sure he knew (the whispered, “Europa,” hints at his emotions at that moment.) And he realizes that this glimpse is all he’s going to get, with no ability to confirm. This leads, after the chorus, into the third bar of reminiscing, and we realize that Europa was the childhood sweetheart that he left behind, now freed from the communist state herself.

The chorus has the curious line that, despite the singer’s own escape from the Eastern Bloc, it’s the woman who stayed behind (up until the Wall fell, anyway) that is supposed to rescue him, giving some indication that it’s not the country or the regime that traps one.

Musically, it’s light and catchy, almost frivolous in the face of the subject, with a lot of eclectic instruments that you may be hard-pressed to even identify. The one place where it becomes mainstream, the guitar solo, is performed by none other than Eddie Van Halen, who guested on two songs from the album (this being Astronauts and Heretics.) Dolby had reached his best success in the eighties, and by the nineties the interest in his music was waning, thus the obscurity of this track. Yet it’s fun and dynamic, even as it maintains the standard pop music scheme. And, it leaves us (or at least me) wanting to know a little more of this story, even as we realize there may be no more.

Here in England, it’s so green
Martian men can move unseen
Apparatus underground
Monitor the crunching sound

Joey’s gone and Georgie’s gone
Put their best torn trousers on
Found a crowbar and a drill
Headed for the Berlin Wall

Last night I swear I saw her face
As they stormed the gates on satellite TV (Europa)
Too bad I don’t get News At Ten
‘Cause the CNN would tell a different story

Eastern Bloc, Eastern Bloc
You’re never gonna break that deadbolt
How can I shake that gridlock shellshock?

Tune it out, tune it in, Europa, Europa
Shine across these waves and rescue me
Loud and clear, through thick and thin, Europa, Europa
Come in, come in, come in, come in, do you read?
Are you receiving me?

So I was fourteen, she was twelve
Father traveled, hers as well
Down the beaches hand in hand
Twelfth of Never on the sand

And we said,

We’d be the Pirate Twins again
In the freezing rain of the Eastern Bloc
And I used to think each time we kissed it was for real
But tonight I feel that the wind has changed

Eastern Bloc, Eastern Bloc
You’re never gonna break that deadbolt
How can I shake that gridlock shellshock?

Tune it out, tune it in, Europa, Europa
Shine across these waves and rescue me
Loud and clear, through thick and thin, Europa, Europa
Come in, come in, come in, come in, do you read?
Are you receiving me?

Eastern Bloc, Eastern Bloc
You’re never gonna break that deadbolt
How can I shake that gridlock shellshock?

Tune it out, tune it in, Europa, Europa
Shine across these waves and rescue me
Down the years, through thick and thin, Europa, Europa
Come in, come in, come in, come in, do you read?
Are you receiving me?

Tune it out, tune it in, Europa, Europa
Shine across these waves and rescue me
Loud and clear, through thick and thin, Europa, Europa
Come in, come in, come in, come in, do you read?

Are you receiving me?

Winter’s currency

Man, winter is seriously my least-favorite time of year. There’s so little to photograph, and even the temperature isn’t conducive to other, outdoor projects. What idiot approved this season, anyway?

But today actually got into a decent temperature, clear and sunny to boot, so I did a circuit of the pond looking for photo subjects. And to be honest, they weren’t any different from the last time around, so we’re just gonna have a handful of photos to prove that I really did shoot something. Don’t be harsh.

red-eared slider Trachemys scripta elegans sunning itself while semi-hidden
The turtles were out taking advantage of the sun and being just about as spooky as they normally are, so most of them slipped into the water almost as soon as we hove into view, but this red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) felt reasonably safe half-hidden within a thicket of dead weeds, and I could finagle a perspective for a portrait at least. The number of red-eared sliders and painted turtles seem to be increasing within the pond, but I swear I had nothing to do with that. Well, almost nothing…

And while they’re damn hard to tell apart, it would appear that the pair of great blue herons (Ardea herodias) that we saw last time are sill around.

great blue heron Ardea herodias trying to remain unobtrusive in tree
For the first one, we spotted each other simultaneously, so it was flying off as I was bringing the camera to bear, but I tracked it visually until I knew roughly where it had landed, further along my path. Before I reached that point, however, there was a short flurry of mad croaking and two herons broke from cover, very close to one another, and sought refuge higher in the trees. This I could work with, and slowly stalked along the shoreline, circling around their positions. The first views, as above, were facing largely south and so I was aiming too much into the sun, but eventually I could almost reverse the position, even while shooting over a larger distance, and get some better light at least.

great blue heron Ardea herodias perched in longneedle pine thicket
I would have considered this the most likely place for the pair to build a nest: a dense longneedle pine on a small island overlooking the broadest expanse of water. However, in doing a little research into habits, I learned that herons tend to congregate their nests together in prime locations (which, to be honest, are very much like this one.) The only time I’ve seen a heron nest was in the Venice Area Audubon Society Rookery, and true to form, there were a lot of them there. I had put this down to the birds recognizing such a prime locale, but it appears that great blues, at least, aim for those conditions. So while it’d be nice to see them nest here, I’m no longer holding my breath.

great blue heron Ardea herodias on lookout
Mapwise, ground-level kinda thing, these two were right next to one another, but the separation was vertical by five or six meters, this one appearing to serve as lookout while the other stayed almost hidden among the branches. Again, good nesting behavior I thought, but only if we get a lot more. More likely, I should examine Jordan Lake for promising islands and start doing kayak excursions in search of heron nests.

Meanwhile, I’m keeping my eye on the tree that has housed the green heron families for a few years running. There’s been no sign of the greens yet, but I’m hoping to be on my toes this year and witness at least a smidgen of nesting behavior from them. Keep your fingers crossed and your socks pointing northwest!

Too cool, part 46: Perseverance

This is far from the first place you’re likely to have seen this, but there’s also no way I can let this go past. You have almost certainly heard about the touchdown of the Perseverance rover on Mars a few days back; now we have the videos of that touchdown, even taken from multiple perspectives. This is a distinct first: no surface probe, or even orbiting satellite, has had video capabilities for the landing before (and possibly not even on the surface – I have to check that.)

Why couldn’t we see this when it was happened, back on the 18th? First off, the distance of Mars means that it takes eleven minutes (plus or minus – the distance changes as our two planets orbit) for any transmissions to reach here in the first place. But the factor having more effect is simply having a system ready to transmit it. This takes either a lot of power (because video bandwidth is quite high,) or a bit of time, and NASA of course opted for the latter. There was also the possibility of post-processing to be done before transmission, and certainly post-processing after receiving back on Earth, at least for the clip that I’m going to show below.

But first, we need to know what we’re looking at, so let’s see the pertinent aspects of the landing mission.


As mentioned in the video, they wanted the rover to be in a fairly precise location, and even a small degree of randomness could spell the end (or simply just the uselessness) of a multi-million dollar mission. But they also had to, in order, slow the entry vehicle down in Mars’ very thin atmosphere, then deploy a rocket-directed landing craft equipped with ground-mapping radar that would find a precise location, as well as determining various hazards and avoiding them. Keep in mind this is all autonomously; the 22+ minutes it would take for images (had they been transmitted ‘real-time’) to reach Earth, then for Earth to send back instructions, would have been far too late. So the Perseverance entry vehicle was programmed to suss out all of this on its own.

There’s also the potential issue of colliding with or being obstructed by the various apparatus used for landing, so all of these were intended to separate distinctly – Perseverance would not be covered by its own parachute, for example. But it also had to touch down in a relatively undisturbed area, not affected by hard rocket blasts, so once they got within a few meters of the surface, the rover itself would be lowered by cables to touch down gently, then the rocket shell would lift higher and shear off to a safe distance before crashing down out of the way. And now we get to see what this all looked like.


The video quality is amazing, and the descent speed almost harrowing, but bear in mind, Mars’ atmosphere is less than 1% as dense as Earth’s, while the gravity is only 38%. The parachute had far less to grab, but (the same as the rockets) had less to fight against in the form of gravitational pull. And it all worked quite well. One of the things I had found was that the lander wasn’t intended to stir up too much dust, partially because this might settle again on instruments and solar panels, but it was enough to obscure the lander entirely right before touchdown; hopefully this was within tolerances.

And there’s one more bit: Perseverance has a freaking helicopter on board!


Named Ingenuity, this drone (in the true meaning of the word) spans 1.2 meters across the rotors, and is merely a proof-of-concept demonstrator right now; if all goes well, it could open up the possibility of exploring Mars by helicopter instead of plodding rovers. Remember: 1% of Earth’s atmospheric density and 38% of its gravity. This makes designing a helicopter for those conditions quite challenging, and as an example, the rotors spin at 2,400 RPM; full-size helicopters here operate at roughly 300 RPM, though quadcopters and the like are faster. We should eventually see the lift-off of Ingenuity taken from Perseverance, and a handful of still photos taken by Ingenuity on its brief flight above another planet. Rotorcraft enthusiast that I am, I’m psyched by this one.

There are tons more videos out there (like this fabulous one,) going into greater detail if you have the desire (and you should.) Check them out, but be prepared to go down a rabbit-hole or three. It’ll be well worth the time.

Just because, part 39

I knew it was supposed to be sunny today, and so I held off in the thought that maybe I’d get out to shoot something, but the temperature remained quite low and I felt ratty all day, so nothing new right now. Yet, I did finish a minor project (which will appear here eventually, because [spoiler alert] it’s a podcast,) so this is in recognition of that. Don’t ask me how, or what that means, just go with it.

I’d run across this one in search of something else, and liked it, so it became a winter ‘Just because.’

juvenile black rat snake eastern rat snake Pantherophis alleghaniensis clinging to tree bark
If this looks familiar, that’s because it’s Durwood; if it doesn’t, then it obviously isn’t. But either way, ya gotta admit it’s a slick perspective. Juvenile black rat snakes/eastern rat snakes (Pantherophis alleghaniensis) look markedly different from adults, and this one was quite small – as I remarked back when I first found it, I initially mistook it for a length of bicycle chain. And we can see how well the pattern actually works in keeping them unobtrusive, at least while climbing trees – less so when crossing a hospital surgery floor. Not that this happens often, which is good, because that’s evolutionarily negative, as no one says; I think I just coined a new word. Make sure you give me credit every time you use it, you hear?

Here’s why, part 3: Bigfoot and related

I haven’t followed through on this category of posts for a while, and now is as good a time as any, so let’s delve into why science doesn’t take Bigfoot/Yeti/Skunk Ape et al seriously. And while I focused on the giant humanoid accounts here, a lot of this will be equally applicable to other cryptids such as the Loch Ness Monster and Chupacabra and so on. So let’s see, where to begin?

Basic biology. In order for any species to keep going, it needs a population, a larger number of individuals to breed with in order to prevent the genetic crashes of inbreeding; this is a constant vigil of biologists among endangered species, because once a population drops too low, it’s likely doomed without intervention. Low populations also make a species susceptible to even minor climate and environmental changes, viruses, habitat loss, and so on – it becomes a knife edge situation. There’s also the question of food sources of an appropriate type to sustain massive humanoids with, for instance, the protein demands of a large-brained species. What, exactly, is this supposed to be, especially among the Himalayan counterparts which have extremely limited plant life available for at least six months out of every year, which means the other critters that might form part of a food chain also have nothing to eat at those times (which is where the idea of hibernation came from in the first place.)

Then we have the anatomy. An upright stance evolved for active hunting purposes, running down ungulates across a prairie; compare a gorilla skeleton against a human one to see the drastic differences from a sedentary, largely herbivorous primate settled deep within an extremely lush environment. Humans maintained their active, running-hunter existence until very recently (especially in the Americas,) when farming and domestication of stock animals could fill in, something that no humanoid cryptid is claimed to be capable of, and we’ll touch on this aspect in a moment.

Traces. For all of the stories, we have shit-all in the way of evidence: no distinct remains, no shelters or sleeping areas, no paths, no tools, no feces, no evidence of food foraging (much less hunting, and forget about fire usage) – add anything you like to the list, because we don’t have that either. Game trail cameras turn up nothing. Cleared woods turn up nothing. We don’t even have a tooth, and they last an incredibly long time (as I can attest personally, having found teeth from both Native Americans and a long extinct ungulate species with only casual efforts.) Somehow, the only thing we have are sporadic eyewitness accounts and the occasional shitty pic or film clip. How can that be possible?

Except, of course, the footprints, or to be more specific, the casts thereof. And they’re all the same, aren’t they? No smaller/female/child examples, no partial prints, no running prints, no wounded prints. Next time you’re at a beach (or running around barefoot in semi-soft mud,) examine your footprints. Are they all nice and neat, full foot flat impressions? No digging, no twisting, no pronation, no toe spread, no forefoot only? You see, that’s what real footprints are like, because feet flex and twist. What we have as evidence of these giant humanoids are only what someone that hasn’t a clue about real footprints would imagine a footprint to always look like…

Folklore. We have accounts, the world over, of mysterious humanoids, and the list is remarkably long. About the only thing they have in common is two arms, two legs, and a head – all else is up for grabs, including size, hairiness, capabilities, habitat, and so on (and note how this even holds true for supposed aliens, despite the idea that they wouldn’t have the same ancestral stock that would have sparked that body plan in the first place.) Virtually all of the gods, the demons, and the spirits are humanoid. Also worth noting is that, by a wide margin, human shapes fill our nightmares more than anything else, widely reflected in the bulk of horror films and even in the creation of Slender Man (and note how very recent this is, with a firmly-documented origin, and then the disturbing number of people who consider this potentially real.) We have a tendency to not only see humanoids everywhere, but to find them the most threatening as well, a very telling trait.

One can point to the various Native American accounts/legends that supposedly give support to the North American Sasquatch, but examination shows that they differ drastically in size and appearance and locale. Moreover, Native American folklore has stories for just about everything, from the origins of landmarks to the spirits that inhabit or guide all of the animal species they encountered – and these all varied widely between tribes, as well. These can be considered ‘evidence’ only with a great deal of selectivity; no rational criteria can be applied that would not then also allow stories about pixies, dragons, giants, leprechauns, cyclops, and a few thousand other legends to be considered evidence. Not to mention that we actually have good documentation of when the Bigfoot stories began to be popular in the US.

Media. It’s surprising how few people understand that media exists to make money, and while the more reputable news sources at least try to avoid lawsuits, they still have no issues with presenting things selectively and with a bias towards what’s going to be more popular, which often is synonymous with ‘controversial.’ They’re under no obligations whatsoever, and thus have no reason to seek a consensus on whether their interview subject is a loon or not, much less that they have no clue what a mountain lion sounds like. Are they gonna diminish the impact of their story by finding a podiatrist that can ascertain quite firmly that this is not a real footprint? Why, when the lack thereof will produce more witnesses and accounts of some shadowy figure seen fifteen years ago? And the bandwagon effect is quite distinctive, both from other media outlets and from members of the public, because we adore our stories. There are times when there was an explosion of new books regarding Bigfoot, not from a huge upsurge in sightings, but because they sold well. Most of them repeated the exact same stories, often decades old. The funniest ones combined all of the most popular folklore and beliefs all together, tying humanoids into pyramids, UFOs, and the Bermuda Triangle (I’m perfectly serious.) And if you have any doubts about either media skewing perception, or our overriding desire to retain favored concepts, you should know that the Bermuda Triangle was entirely created with a handful of magazine articles, which were effectively blasted as nonsense by a book only a few years later, this being 1972. That took care of that silly idea, didn’t it?

Ancestry. While some dates remain in dispute, we still have more than adequate evidence that humans first populated the American continents between fifteen and twenty thousand years ago – and by that time, they were full, modern humans: tools and fire had been in routine use for perhaps over a million years by then, while we were still different species. And no, the various Sasquatch/Yeti descriptions don’t even come close to Neanderthals, either; in fact, they come close to no species of hominin ever found. So when did they split off, and how did they evolve so quickly? Moreover, why did they evolve into giant, slow, lumbering bipeds in an environment far more suited to agility, nomadism, and tribal cooperation? There remains a slim chance that, given a much longer history in Asia and colder conditions, that something vaguely like that kind of body plan could evolve, though our evidence and simple biology show that shorter, thicker torsos are much better at conserving heat and making the most out of available food. But there yet remains no evidence of their lineage, and/or an apparent very rapid development into the typical description. Note that in hominin history, body fur evolved away in the interests of shedding heat on the savannah, some millions of years ago, and despite the cold climate across most of Asia and the Siberian land bridge, the route that the American peoples took to populate the Western Hemisphere, this fur cover never came back; we made do with clothes instead. Except, somehow, for this one curious species…

Additionally, by the time of this migration into the western hemisphere, humans were making tools, building shelters, making fires, farming, creating artworks, and certainly had more than a rudimentary language – but all of that is supposed to have vanished for a closely-related species? How, and more importantly, why? All of these were the factors that assured our competition and survival, that catapulted us into our advancements as a species; losing any one of them could easily spell extinction, and lacking all of them would almost guarantee being wiped out (intentionally or consequentially) by the humans that still retained them.

Possibilities versus Probabilities. Most of those who favor and support the idea of the various humanoids are quick to wield that it could be possible, often followed by something like, “science doesn’t know everything.” But that’s resorting to wishful thinking, pure and simple, which is something that most scientists have steered away from. Instead, it’s the weight of the evidence (shitty pictures and plaster casts) and the probability of such a species yet remaining unknown, by example, remains, or spoor, that guide their focus. Weighing all of the factors above (and more not listed, such as the power of suggestion, the gullibility of people, the poor track record of observations, and of course the wishful thinking just mentioned,) the chances of such reports being anywhere near accurate drop abysmally low. If there’s one thing that’s almost universal in science, it’s the emphasis on reasonable expectations and the avoidance of biasing one’s certainty with emotions or, “Wouldn’t it be cool if?” ideas.

Naturalists, biologists, paleontologists, and any other professionals who might still have the faintest interest in researching a new class of hominin don’t just do whatever they want; they have bills to pay, just like everyone else, as well as research projects often well in hand. Far too many of them struggle to obtain funding for studies of known benefit and return to even consider chasing little more than rumors, out of their own pockets as well. Plus, where would any research begin? The most anyone has pinned down for a locale to start within are regions like, “the Pacific Northwest,” or, “the Himalayas.” And when was the last report of a sighting anyway?

Species research starts with gathering as much info as possible: frequency/location/currency of sightings, the collection of physical evidence, and the knowledge of habitat/habits/food. With this, researchers can then place trail cameras or mount expeditions to prime locales and see how much more evidence can be obtained. Most of these we don’t have, and what we do is so sporadic and separated by such vast distances that there’s no pattern to discern, and thus no place to begin. It’d be a fool’s errand to even propose research with that kind of background info.

Nothing is stopping the independent investigator, of course – anyone is welcome to do their own research, since it’s not like getting evidence of a land-based mammal takes special training or equipment. Maybe someday we’ll even find a witness that can follow their departing quarry, or some elaborate technique of that nature. Naturally, it would help if anyone inclined to such pursuits gained at least a little familiarity with the common species that inhabit the same region, so we don’t have screech owl calls and raccoon hair brought back triumphantly as ‘evidence,’ but since what we’d really like to see would be clear, steady, focused images or, even better, some decent remains, the bar is not set impossibly high here. By all means, go for it.

As for scientific investigation? It’s probably going to remain more focused on research that is not rife with inconsistencies, improbabilities, and a dearth of unambiguous evidence; stories are far too easy to come by and have a poor track record of reliability. That’s just the way it is.

Profiles of Nature 7

red-crested pochard Netta rufina bathing
If you’ve ever wondered whether waterfowl exhibit flatulence, this should answer your question. It has been said that birds do not pass gas, but this isn’t true; it only happens once in their lifetime, and as you might imagine, it’s a sphincter-stresser. Bijou Ambrosia here (born Faknatz Naifispuni) has studied her entire life to become the next top model, so we’re not going to have a whole lot to say in this biography. In school, she used to carry her entire locker on her head instead of just a book (you know, for posture,) and would only raise her hand if the light was perfect. There are numerous photos of her being caught unawares, then dashing away in annoyance, but they’re all selfies. She has sleeping makeup. Bijou doesn’t understand why anyone would get prescription sunglasses because no one can tell on top of your head, and they don’t taste any different when chewing seductively on the earpieces. She owns two cars but cannot drive; they’re just there to lean on with one foot lifted. During a photo shoot in Cancun, her running-on-the-beach scarf got caught in a passing bicycle and she was dragged six kilometers before she thought to let go, but the scarf matched her beak gloss perfectly so we can all relate. In her spare time she holds open books, hoping to convince the tabloids, and her favorite toaster setting is pointing at the bottom of the “4.”

Join us next week but, you know, only virtually because of that thing.

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