In due time

Two days and fifteen photos ago, I posed a challenge to find a hidden subject, and this is the reveal. Eventually. Gotta stick with my narrative.

Five weeks ago, I photographed a pair of half-sized, juvenile green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) hanging around the front lawn area – one on a potted Japanese maple, and one on the established resident. Mostly – they switched perches from night to night. Soon after that, I stopped seeing them, and the temperatures dropped to being fairly chilly at nights, their preferred time to hunt, so I suspected that the younger ones had found some soft earth to hole up for the winter. In fact, I suggested to The Girlfriend that she be very careful when unpotting any of the plants around the front porch, because the frogs could have chosen those as ideal areas to hibernate within, as we ran afoul of before.

Meanwhile, her potted trumpet flower (genus Brugmansia) sitting across the lawn a handful of meters away is laden with the giant buds that indicate it will be blooming soon, and as we examined it the other day I remarked that, though I considered it an ideal perch, I’d only ever seen one frog and one mantis taking advantage of its tall stalks and broad leaves. You can see where this is going, can’t you?

Yep.

juvenile green treefrog Hyla cinerea perched on stem of trumpet flower Brugmansia
The very next morning I found a juvenile, about the same size as the ones I’d seen weeks earlier, perched atop one of the stems of the trumpet flower. The disparity in size between the frog and the flower buds is very expressive, and probably gives a good impression; to be accurate, the frog is roughly 3cm in length while the flowers are 18-20. Where this one had been in the intervening weeks, I couldn’t say – I was only finding a couple of quite large adults. But I was happy to take advantage of the opportunity.

green treefrgo Hyla cinerea dozing atop stem of trumpet flower Brugmansia
Unlike the adults, this one was not only very aware of my presence, it shifted uncertainly as I leaned in close, not sure if it should flee or continue counting on its stillness and camouflage to avoid detection. But I had come prepared, so even though the frog was just about eye-level and the broad leaves were in the way, I got off a few flash shots.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea on trumpet flower Brugmansia stem
But seeing how it was anxious about my presence, I let it have its peace for the day and began looking around the yard for other subjects. Which is when I found the second, once again on the large established Japanese maple tree. And how I spotted it, I’m not really sure, because it’s one of the subtlest subjects that I’ve ever seen. So subtle, in fact, that on unloading the memory card, I struggled to find the frog in the foliage even though I knew just where I’d framed it; the only thing I can say is that photos are a little harder than real life, lacking depth and increasing contrast. And yet, on going back out to get better photos as the light got brighter, I had a hard time finding it again, and lost it twice even after doing so; once I thought it had taken a powder while I was adjusting settings on the camera, until I found it again right where it had been.

So anyway, go back and look at the original again if you haven’t found it already, but here it is:

highlighted green treefrog Hyla cinerea in Japanese maple foliage
I always wondered how that intersecting white stripe helped them, but in this kind of foliage that was catching sunlight at certain angles, it worked perfectly.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea in foliage of Japanese maple
And bear in mind, here the short depth-of-field is actually helping you; you wouldn’t have those leaves going so distinctly out of focus when viewing this in person.

And yes, I went in close and used the flash for this one too, having a little better view.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea within dew-laden Japanese maple
Much as it looks like it had rained recently, it was simply the overnight dew, so heavy as to even make the yard slightly muddy. No need to get out the mist-sprayer for any subjects at this time of year.

Now a bit of amusement. A little later on, I went past both of them again, and the trumpet flower one had shifted position and looked like it was about to jump away. I quickly slipped around to get a head-on perspective and produce a photo a little more dynamic than these typical poses. But as I leaned in, it blinked and shifted away, and I caught this in mid-maneuver, snagging a curious expression.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea deciding against the leap
That was too evocative, and so I staged another photo, and then spent way too much time tricking it all out. However, I’m nothing but pleased with the result:

edited photo of green treefrog playing a synth keyboard
Someday I’ll be back and go into how involved things like this are; it’s not as simple as pasting in a photo of a keyboard. But that’s for another post, especially if I decide to illustrate the steps.

Readers’ submitted photos

Autumn fenceline with Grand Tetons in background, by Wendy Hall
Well, that title’s not exactly true, because the apostrophe indicates more than one reader, plus I’m pretty sure this one is not a regular here anyway; only when I direct her attention to something, but you know, that’s her loss. Regardless, these are all photos sent to me by my friend, who took a trip out west with her SO, son, and daughter-in-law, and thus are all credited to her unless one of the others obviously took it. They all apparently did a trek out to Mordor, but it’s gotten all touristy now and looks nowhere near as ominous, plus you don’t have to walk the whole way.

[The blog fact-checkers are telling me this is actually the Grand Tetons instead, so I am obligated to go with what they say even though I’m sure they’re wrong. This is what happens when you go the corporate route.]

Grand Tetons ahead of footpath, by Wendy Hall
I wasn’t given a whole lot of background on these (actually, just an e-mail subject line to be honest,) so I can’t give many details and won’t extrapolate – lucky you. We’re just here for the slideshow.

Taggert lake with Grand Tetons in background, by Wendy Hall
This one was identified as Taggert Lake, but I can’t be sure if that’s the body of water in the foreground or the mountains in the background. Your call.

common merganser Mergus merganser on Taggert Lake, by Wendy Hall
This one was unidentified too, but I can fill in here: this is a common merganser (Mergus merganser,) adult male in nonbreeding plumage. Though with the unkempt hair and the drool, you can also call this a Dur-yay duck if you like…

Hikers in front of Taggert Lake with Grand Tetons in background, not by Wendy Hall
This is Wendy and ‘Strikes’ (Wendy is the one on the right,) doing their superhero action poses – I could possibly credit this image to her son, who was fond of action poses himself but has since entered the mind-numbing world of accountancy. And once you’ve done accounting, you can pretty much forget about ever gaining back any cool, if you even had any to begin with.

But I’ll use this image to illustrate something, because I looked at the color register and thought, This needs a boost, so I tweaked it a little. You can expect the light in the shadows to be a bit blue, because that’s what light does, but even the distant sunlit trees seemed a little off-register, so below is my edited version.

same image as previously with slight color enhancement
It’s the kind of thing that happens when you look at photos for too long, because color casts become more evident. This was a slight reduction in blue, emphasized just a little on highlights, and an increase in red, same again; tiny tweak of green in highest registers to bring out the trees. This was all done using the Curves function in GIMP, though Photoshop and its offspring have almost identical functions. I took a look at the EXIF info to see what the white balance was set for, and it turns out it was taken with a smutphone, so no further explanation needed.

hikers posing by reflecting Taggert Lake with Grand Tetons in background, by not Wendy Hall
This is them again, trying to be cute but far too old for that kind of stuff. This is why I avoid shooting people.

Lower Falls, Yellowstone National River, Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
This is Lower Falls on the Yellowstone National River, which is part of Yellowstone National Park of course (dur-yay!) Date-wise, this is the earliest photo, so I’m guessing taken as they entered the park, and most of the rest came from the two days afterward.

Except for this one.

hikers at night against Big Dipper at Yellowstone National Park, by not Wendy Hall
Pretty nicely composed shot of Wendy and ‘Strikes’ waiting out Old Faithful geyser at Yellowstone that same evening, with what was identified as the Big Dipper in the background, but this is incorrect; it’s actually Ursa Major. Nice use of a handheld light and the residual twilight from the sky, but we can blame the slight muddiness of the sky on the smutphone used. I’m probably burning all sorts of bridges here, but it’s fun…

The next day brought more Yellowstone pics.

herd of American bison Bison bison in Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
The park is, naturally, known for its wild American bison (Bison bison, yes indeed,) and also for stupid tourists occasionally getting smacked around by one. My friends were smarter than that, though. At least, they didn’t tell me about any such encounters.

American bison Bison bison in Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
I don’t see any blood, torn fabric, or bits of smutphone on those horns, so…

American bison Bison bison among steaming vents in Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
A lone survivor within the wasteland, almost certainly named Rockatansky.

I’m guessing that this is a great time of year to be visiting, because the cooler overnight temperatures will enhance the water vapor of the various hot vents much more distinctly than in warmer weather, but since I’ve never been, we’re just listening to me talking out of my ass.

[“So what else is new, Al?” Yeah, I know, shut up…]

hot spring in Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
Naturally we need to see some of the hot springs that Yellowstone is known for, and a peek at a geyser in a moment, but it occurs to me as I type this that she had a mineral deposits cascade, similar to this one, featured on her FaceBlerk page (seen from The Girlfriend’s account, not my own because no fucking way,) but not forwarded through e-mail. I’ve already been trying to get to this for a couple of days and requested two larger version of photos, so I’m not delaying it any further, but maybe it’ll turn up here later on. Or you can always check Wendy’s own blog. Or Strikes’ – I’m sure he’s a regular blogger…

Old Faithful geyser in background of hot springs runoff in Yellowstone National Park, by Wendy Hall
She identified this as Old Faithful, but this is the closest image that I have on hand right now, with decidedly toxic-looking runoff in the foreground. This is due to mineral content of course, but all the same I wouldn’t recommend making tea from it, even if it would be effortless.

We’ll close with one of Wendy’s fartsy compositions, though exactly where this was taken I couldn’t say. Some internet sleuth that can measure the precise angles of the Tetons in the background could pin it down, I’m sure. Or I could just ask Wendy, but that’s no fun.

Grand Tetons seen through window of decrepit cabin, by Wendy Hall
And despite all my snark, I have to thank her for sending these along; she travels a lot more than I do, so it introduces a little more variety into the blog. But yeah, I hear you: not one bug or frog to be seen. [Sigh] Whatcha gonna do?

On this date 43

unidentified ant swarm on anthill
In 2009, I worked for an idiot within a park complex, which isn’t exactly germane but it needed to be said anyway, and came across this swarm of ants, and I do mean swarm; they were everywhere for roughly a four-meter-square section, even throughout the air and onto the trees, but I suspected that what you see here was the source, or as close as I could get above ground. Despite the creepiness of it, they were harmless and uninterested in my presence, so I could go in close and find that the smaller reds and the larger flying blacks were probably related, but that’s about all I can provide regarding the species or behavior. Still a damn lotta ants. And yes, I did end up with quite a few on me after leaning in this close, but they brushed away easily – I was mere geography to them.

Four years later I was engaged in pursuits only slightly less creepy (but a lot more useful and productive.)

Niesthrea louisianica on hibiscus seed pods
Down at a lakeside park, I believe with a student, I came across some remarkably colorful bugs – true bugs – chowing down on hibiscus seeds, and did a few photos in situ, then collected at least one for more details shots and identification. They turned out to be Niesthrea louisianica nymphs, no common name, and the following day I got some wonderful closeups. For a given definition of ‘wonderful,’ anyway…

A year later I got away from the arthropods for a spell, lucky you.

unidentified pink and blue wildflowers
The Girlfriend’s Sprog had to be in Greensboro for an MCAT exam, so the three of us decided to make a day of it, and while she was sweating bullets over how to treat Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia, The Girlfriend and I checked out a park, where I found these brilliant flowers. I have no idea what they are and haven’t seen them before or since, and my efforts to identify them turned up just one image, a stock photo without any identification whatsoever (which is disturbingly typical,) so that puts this site well ahead of Alamy Stock most of the time. since it’s rare that I don’t identify what you’re seeing.

And finally, in 2016 I was once again at Mason Farm Biological Reserve early in the morning.

trashline orb weaver genus Cyclosa with lambent web lines
The curious light interplay on this web of a trashline orbweaver (genus Cyclosa) caught my eye, since you can see that only certain strands shine so distinctly, while others don’t, and I can only speculate that those are the adhesive strands for entangling prey (not all strands in a web are sticky.) This appeared back then, along with another photo of a banded orbweaver, confirming that I had indeed featured one before this, but somehow the tags for either name didn’t want to appear in the list when I was writing that recent post.

That’s it for this week. Be sure to tune in next week! No ‘because’ in there, since I got nuthin’, but do it anyway.

Skill Level 2

Okay, how about now?

oak-leaf hydrangea Hydrangea quercifolia in front garden
Can you spot what I was photographing yesterday, as I was putting up the Halloween decorations (why I don’t know, because we’re not going to have trick-or-treaters this year I’m sure, which means the book stockpile isn’t going to go down either.) This one’s a little harder than the last one, so take your time.

Of course we’re going in closer.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea on dead leaf of oak-leaf hydrangea Hydrangea quercifolia
I don’t think anyone has ever proclaimed that amphibians are particularly brilliant (in intellect, I mean,) but c’mon, they’re supposed to know how camouflage works. There’s only one completely brown leaf on the whole damn plant, and that’s the one my bud here decided to hole up for the day upon.

Okay, credit where it may be due, it also curls over enough to perhaps conserve a little body heat, so maybe that was the goal. And from the size and partial concealment, it really was pretty subtle – to, you know, normal people. I spotted it instantly. From a distance. Without my glasses, even.

No, I lie shamelessly – it did take a moment or so before I realized that the green treefrog (Hyla cinerea) had returned to the plant after being gone for several days. But full credit to it, because it stayed put while I marched around it, trying to give it as much distance as possible, which wasn’t that much, maybe a meter, ladder clanging and everything. Though the reason behind this might be found with a closer look.

decidedly bleary-looking green treefrog Hyla cinerea hiding within dead leaf
That – is the look of someone who was up too late Friday night, doing things they shouldn’t have. I can’t imagine the adjusting of the ladder, and my ubiquitous cursing, helped that in any way.

You may well scoff that I’m reading too much into it, but this has further support with another discovery around by the back porch.

Copes grey treefrog Hyla chrysoscelis trying not to vom
Just look at this Copes grey treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) clutching the drain hose from the rainbarrel, especially those eyes, and tell me that it isn’t desperately wishing for the world to stop spinning. I’ve seen this look far too many times from coworkers. I don’t know what kind of amphibian celebration I missed the night before, but it was certainly enthusiastic.

By the way, I have to pass along that, early yesterday evening (and thus a few hours after seeing the green one in its hiding spot,) I tried to point it out to someone else and noticed it missing – along with the leaf it had been perched upon, which was found down underneath the hydrangea. A little tip from your Uncle Al: don’t pick the dead leaves that are about to fall to go to sleep upon. I’m betting that did nothing at all for the frog’s state of mind.

But back during the afternoon, while photographing those two subjects, I began hearing a soft almost-squeaking, like someone trying to rub ink stains off of a balloon, and said, I know that sound. In fact, I featured it almost exactly ten years ago.

trio of northern flickers Colaptes auratus congregating in pine tree
Careful observation showed four northern flickers (Colaptes auratus) flitting among several trees on and around the property, deeply engrossed in some kind of conversation, though what it was all about I couldn’t say for sure; my Flickerese is a little rusty now since I don’t live there anymore. I could only get three of them in the frame at any one time, and aiming up into the bright sky trying for subjects in shadow, I was lucky to even get this; most of the other frames have been tossed already, and this one had to still be lightened for display here despite dialing in exposure compensation for that sky. Still, their positions are expressive, which is great, but why they continued to hang out so close together and talk so much, I can’t say. There was no squabbling going on, no apparent courting behavior, no apparent begging behavior, and they tended to split off into pairs which also takes away support for such ideas. Potentially just discussing whatever was on Tubi last night. Or maybe the godawful racket from the frogs’ party…

Consistency is important, so I hear

Hey! You know what’s coming up again within the next few days? That’s right – the Orionids meteor shower.

You know what I’m going to get no worthwhile images of at all? By the most astounding of coincidences, it’s also the Orionids meteor shower.

It’s not like I don’t try, but between work schedules, weather, temperature, and just plain motivation, I only get out to less than a third of the showers that occur, any given year, but dependably, when I do there’s nothing to see. I’ve been coasting on the promises made back in 2001 by the Leonids, a truly spectacular storm, and believing that such conditions may one day repeat so I will be able to get some rewarding images this time around, but you know, nineteen years is a long time to go with no success, and I’m getting jaded. I mean, it’s bad enough to go that long with just the Leonids, but no storm that I’ve been out to observe has panned out, at all, so…

And yes, I’m aware that by anticipating and announcing the disappointment, I could be jinxing it, thereby having good luck this year, but you and I both know that’s not gonna happen.

Feel free to try on your own, however – the moon will be gone most of the observing hours. Stellarium and Heaven’s Above can both help you find other sky objects, and Mars is still near opposition and pretty big in the sky (you know, for Mars,) so there are other things you can be trying while out there, especially if you have a spare camera and/or a telescope. I may, in open defiance of fate and history and pessimism, try myself, and there are a few experiments that I can attempt.

But getting photos of meteors? Psscchhhffff….

Midmonth abstract

[Oh nuts. I wrote this back on the 8th, intending to post it on the fifteenth, but didn’t schedule it at the time, figuring I’d come back to it. Then it got pushed down in the queue, and after a bit without seeing it I just had the impression that I’d already posted it. So here it is a day late.]

I’m just throwing down this image that I’d selected for September’s end-of-month abstract, before I realized that it was too similar to the On This Date post scheduled for the same day. By the way, I already have several abstracts taken during October, so maybe we’ll have a special month-end post, or maybe year-end post – who knows?

Anyway, the image in question:

lone sapling in fog on Jordan Lake
This is actually the second version, because the first showed some artifacts from my typical jpeg (pronounced “gif”) compression. So let’s mention how this works.

Jpeg, or .jpg, is an algorithm for reducing image file size, to save on load times and server space for websites, and even hard drive space in personal computers; the more compressed an image is, the smaller it is in Kb, but also, the worse the file quality, producing those jaggy, blocky, pixelated images we’ve all seen somewhere. So there’s a balance point between quality desired and how small the image can be made, and for me, most of my resized images for the blog and website fall at about 75, on a scale of 1-100, 100 being virtually no compression (even though jpeg is automatically smaller than .raw or .tif formats.) My standard setting produced a noticeable effect however, and I ended up redoing the image with very little compression – and then, redid it at slightly higher to illustrate the effect even better. The minimal compression, high-quality version is the one above, while the over-compressed one (setting of 65) is below:

slightly over-compressed version of same image
At first glance it may pass muster, but look at the blank sky. If you have halfway decent settings on your monitor, you will likely see a ‘bullseye’ effect in the center, where the compression algorithm produced steps in color a little too distinct from each other. In a more complicated photo, there may have been no visible effect, but here where we expect to find a nice gentle gradient, we see instead a ‘water stain’ in the sky.

Note that most editing programs do not actively show this when you choose to save the image file as a jpeg; it only shows when you open it again, or view it in another program (like a thumbnail viewer.) There was nothing to see as I was editing it in GIMP, only afterwards as I was preparing to post, so it’s a good idea to carefully examine your photos before posting and/or in drafts before finalizing.

Also note that, if you open a compressed jpeg, edit it, and re-save it at the same compression, you’re actually compounding the effect, so if you realize a compressed image needs more editing, it’s better to go back to the original instead. The same can be said of mp3 sound files; do all of your editing in a lossless format like .wav, and only save the finalized version as an mp3, preferably a copy (new name) so you still have the original to work with if needed.

But how? Part 28: But why?

Various aspects and versions of this one have been tackled before, but I decided to approach this directly when reading about some of the alternate theories (other than the Big Bang) regarding the beginning of the known universe. The author said that there were two approaches to some of the traits that have been proposed as alternate scenarios:

  1. We can attempt to devise a theoretical mechanism to explain those phenomena, while simultaneously maintaining all the successes of the prior theory and making novel predictions that are distinct from the prior theory’s predictions.
  2. Or we can simply assume that there is no explanation, and the Universe was simply born with the properties necessary to give us the Universe we observe.

The second outright announces that no one’s even going to try and piece together any explanation or attempt to understand why it is the way it is. But the first is how science works, and what we endeavor to do all of the time; it’s how we get answers, the only way, really. And this approach has stood up well for centuries, and is responsible for damn near all of our accomplishments as a species. It is, in fact, the primary thing that we consider sets us apart from all other species, not acting on ‘instinct’ or mere survival traits, but puzzling out our world to wring the most from it.

Immediately, I recognized this disparity in terms of religion, most especially of an active god, no matter what the concept, or how active anyone considers it. The moment we apply the idea that there is a deliberate, conscious being that is directing any portion of the universe, or even just our single species’ affairs, we immediately raise the question of Why? And, to be honest, the questions of How? and even Where did it originate? spring up too. Except, not to 99.99% of religious folk, the ‘Number Twos’ who dismiss such questions and simply assert that this is the way things are – no need to know anything more, no need to find answers. But like the alternate theories of the universe’s origin, the very act of asking the questions shows the flaws in the entire premise.

Now, for the past decade or better, I’ve been inclined to view all life from a perspective of evolutionary psychology. Each species has the traits that it does, including its behavior and instincts and drives, because these were what worked best among the variations that sprung up over the millennia, what promoted its survival and reproduction. We may consider cannibalism among insect species to be distasteful and worse, but that’s because our perspective tells us that this is detrimental – and it would be, to us as a social species with specific cooperative needs, but we can’t (or shouldn’t) judge other species by our own standards, because we don’t have the same demands from the environment. And when it comes down to it, many of our decisions – probably most – are at the very least influenced more by the instincts that we developed, the inherent perspective and desires, than by our vaunted reasoning powers. Even when we do something as frivolous and unnecessary to our survival as creating artwork of some kind, we do it because it provokes specific emotions within us and, most often, because we want recognition or at least some ‘fellow feelings’ from others, that social interaction thing. To say nothing of actually getting paid for such things and the survival benefits that that promotes. We are not a singular, independent species such as snakes, on their own from birth and gaining no benefit from group/pack behavior, nor a rigidly cooperative species like bees, relegated to a specific task and engaged in a hive-wide quest for reproduction of a single queen’s genes. We have a niche, and are this way because of the environment in which we developed. Had it required either more or less competition, we would be entirely different in outlook and behavior.

Which is why the idea of a supernatural, thinking, and deliberate being is so hard to fathom. First off, from nearly all accounts, this being is perpetual, so there are no survival needs or demands. Monotheism, the idea that there is only one god, is a relatively recent development in cultural history; if we allow for multiple gods, then the ideas of interaction and competition among them may foster some traits with a faint similarity to our own – or they may not because, again, such traits are there to support survival and reproduction, not something that would be any kind of necessity to gods. But if we embrace monotheism, then the very idea of social interaction, and everything that this entails, makes absolutely no sense. There isn’t even any concept of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ because there is no possibility of positive or negative outcomes: this being does what it does, and no consequences can accrue. There is no reason, purpose, or function over caring about anything.

This even boils down to any actions such a being would take. Why bother? Why do anything? What would this being’s goals or even desires entail? How could it even have such? Traits such as omnipotence and immortality don’t lend themselves to any kind of progress, and we can only imagine how the passage of time is even viewed. We may posit, for instance, that boredom is the motivation for this being to create the universe, or us, or whatever – which isn’t a particularly comforting thought, since it quickly leads to what else this being would get up to under the same impetus. Does it need to stimulate its intellect by playing games, setting arbitrary rules (for itself or its creation) just to see what happens? Such a posit immediately dismisses the idea of omniscience, since the outcome would already be known then – as would everything else.

And no one wants to examine this idea of an immortal being that could possibly get bored, because it would – far beyond our ability to comprehend, to be honest. Our own species took a few billion years to develop to the point that we could start even understanding the rules that this being created, and in that time – what? What was it doing while that was happening? Okay, fine, let’s posit that the passage of time weighs differently for it. But this would then mean that all of human day-to-day interactions, or even those of the last several centuries, are but a single tick on its cosmic clock, as inconsequential as any such thing to us. Moreover, the idea that we are an experiment to see what develops doesn’t exactly have any meaning, to us or the creator, so why should we care what the intentions or rules are? Who’s to say that our entire universe won’t be discarded on a whim? Are we to believe that such a powerful being is supposed to have some feelings for us, when it could produce anything at all instantly? If it even had any analog of ‘feelings’ in the first place, which would serve no purpose and have no reason to develop.

I’m going to highlight something here too, because it’s a curious trait regarding religion. At any given point, and indeed throughout the entire recorded history of religion on this planet, people have forwarded ideas and possibilities to explain the anachronisms and contradictions that their religion proposes, and this is fine, really. Again, this is part of learning and advancement – to a degree. Because serious advancement only comes when such things are tested, or at the very least examined for supporting evidence – which isn’t the case for the vast majority of possibilities that are raised in the name of religion. The word, ‘excuses,’ comes to mind here, but no matter. The bigger point is that, if anyone wants to start raising possibilities outside of the rigidly defined scriptural passages, then the door is opened, and honesty dictates that we examine all possibilities, as many as might apply – and that’s a lot, far beyond what I’m covering here. The only way to narrow the field down is to find which ones have the greatest probabilities of existing, and/or the greatest evidence.

Or let’s accept the idea that we were made in god’s image, and thus, think like god would (thus negating what I said above about evolved instincts.) Fine. Why, then, do we have evidence of a vast development from much simpler mammals? Why do other mammals exhibit variations of the same thinking processes? Why do we have a sex drive, or indeed, sex or even genders? Oh, that evolving development was intended? Sure, okay – who’s to say that we’ve reached the goal yet? Or the other side of that argument, that all the evidence of an ancient Earth and the evolution of species is all false, a test of faith or whatever? I’m game; how do you differentiate the ‘tests’ from the ‘truth’? If we can’t trust any aspect of our senses and reasoning, what can we trust? Let’s be real: it’s a hell of a lot easier to fake some scattered writings than it is to fake a few million kilograms of fossils, and the vast expanses of energy that we detect from space.

From time to time, people ponder about how insects or fish or whatever view our interactions; neither could possibly comprehend what cities are, or that we could go into space. And this disconnectedness is then extrapolated to any proposed gods: we couldn’t possibly comprehend how such beings think, and so on. Which I’m good with – it makes more sense than the vast majority of scripture. But this also means that what we do, the actions we take, our interpretations of religion in its entirety, are just as inconsequential, near-total ignorance of the master plan, so where does that leave us? Just getting on with life, it seems. Doing what works best to the limits of our awareness. Certainly, losing the fucking ego trip that comprises religiosity and treating others on the same level as ourselves, just as likely to be right as to be wrong. Since there are thousands of religions, picking any one means the odds are stacked heavily against it being correct – if, indeed, any are.

[I’m going to sidetrack here to address an argument that I’ve heard far too often, in that someone’s choice of religion – virtually always the only one they’ve ever known anyway – just feels right, as if the emotional aspect was a key factor. If humans could feel what’s correct, there wouldn’t be the huge number of religions that there are. There wouldn’t be divorces, there wouldn’t be failed businesses. We wouldn’t need the scientific method; we wouldn’t need schooling at all. It’s a remarkably stupid argument that needs to be treated as such, and it’s generally only used when someone cannot rationally explain their standpoint yet won’t abandon their emotional attachment to it.]

Parsimony comes into play here, the reminder that Occam’s Razor serves; in order to rescue so many aspects of religion from the contradictions, the unobserved properties, and the huge failures to explain what we see and test every day, more and more ‘possibilities’ are proposed, an edifice of traits or extra-physical doodads to permit dismissal of these problems – and never answering them. Remember, real answers give us information that is useful later on, that predicts what will happen, that fits with everything else. But the simpler answer has the highest probability of being correct, and becomes more so with the better it fits into everything else. Seriously, what sounds more likely: that the universe contains a huge amount of properties and events that never show physical evidence, with at least one extra-everything being that’s responsible to some degree, or that tribal elders centuries ago told tall tales in order to sound wise and consolidate their position of importance?

I have to close on a fun note, one that I’ve always enjoyed pointing out: if we accept the premise that some being granted us the power of reasoning, or at least knew that it was likely to develop, then we were made to find all of these flaws; the very act of questioning and seeking is what propels us forward, improves our cultures and living standards, even reveals to us the idiotic and unproductive tribalism that we carried for so long (and that a disturbing number of scriptural stories try to encourage.) Too many ‘holy’ leaders tell us to ignore the benefits of reasoning and accept their version of reality ‘because they say so’ – but we can’t dismiss our investigative, cause-and-effect minds so readily. So you tell me: what are we actually intended to find?

Mason Farm 2: Arachnidy

unidentified tiny orbweaver strung between tips of goldenrod Solidago
We now return to Mason Farm Biological Reserve, only not really because all these photos were taken during one visit that’s already days past now, so all we’re doing is seeing more photos – vacation slides from your creepy neighbor. And as the name implies (well, outright announces,) it’s gonna be spider heavy.

Part of this is because, late in the season and with chilly nights, there really isn’t a lot else active at the moment, especially not first thing in the morning. Truth be told, the spiders weren’t very active either, but the morning mist and dew certainly highlighted how damn many webs there were. Like another example of what appears to be the same species in the teaser from the previous Mason Farm post.

unidentified spider in horizontal orb web
Many years back, I’d done photographs of twisted, horizontal orb webs like the one seen here, and suspected the same species, but in comparing them, the markings aren’t similar at all, so my vote is no. And none of them were in such a position to allow me detailed shots, because they were in thickets of dense, tall weeds, soaking wet with dew, that almost certainly would have been disturbed with any attempt at approaching them. Plus I wasn’t all that motivated anyway. We’re still being slightly fartsy here.

banded argiope Argiope trifasciata in sunlit web
This one, however, I can identify – this is Hortense. Hortense is a banded argiope (Argiope trifasciata,) large and rude because, like the black-and-yellow argiopes, she builds her webs at roughly waist height, meaning they’re often discovered right before you walk through them. And at half a meter in span, this isn’t something you brush away easily. Hortense herself was roughly 40mm in body length, so much larger counting the legs (8,) and busy with her meal, so I tried to use the light on the web as best I could from the best angle I could get. I could have sworn I’d featured one of these here before, but the species names didn’t exist in the tag list, so maybe not.

The abundant goldenrod plants played host to numerous spiders and a few other arthropods.

nursery web spider genus Pisaurina on goldenrod Solidago
The most that I’m going to identify this one as is a nursery web spider, genus Pisaurina, because I didn’t get enough details to pin down exact species – I didn’t even get close enough to distinguish male from female. The sun had risen high enough to brightly illuminate it, but also cast a slightly distracting shadow across the abdomen. Ah well.

The next came a little earlier from a more tree-shrouded field, so it’s more muted, but a better pic.

nursery web spider Pisaurina mira stretched out on dewy goldenrod Solidago
Another nursery web, hanging out before the dew had cleared, which added some nice elements to the photos. Especially when we go in for a cropped closeup.

inset of previous nursery web spider Pisaurina mira in closeup
Isn’t that dew great? I know I like it at least; your taste may vary.

And that straight bottom row of eyes pins this down as a Pisaurina mira, because the other species in the area all have a curved bottom row. Little lesson for you: when you spot a nursery web spider, try to see the eyes clearly.

Which might be a little challenging, given that the spider may average 4mm in body width and often faces head down, so better to call in a professional. My rates are reasonable.

On another stand of goldenrod, the feathery tops being twisted over and clumped together told me to take a closer look, and this time the flash was necessary.

green lynx spider Peucetia viridans on egg sac deep within web-shielded hollow
I’d been expecting to see more of these than I did, but I’d also been expecting to see more praying mantises too, so we see how strong my powers of prediction are. I know it’s not easy to make out down there, but this is a green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) snuggled in with her egg sac. Her head is down and to the right, facing slightly away from us, while her abdomen, almost centered in the frame, blends in so well with the goldenrod that it’s nearly indistinguishable. If she hadn’t given herself away with the unnatural clumpiness of her webbed-together lair, she would have been extremely easy to miss. Right, Buggato?

And I did say that it wouldn’t be all spiders, you’re correct. Let’s see, what do we have here?

unidentified dew-covered carpenter bee on goldenrod Solidago
This carpenter bee – or perhaps bumblebee, I’m not bothering to look it up – was almost perfectly motionless, definitely not at all fired up about the morning, at least until it got warmer out there. None of my subjects here were likely to die of thirst, that was certain. Maybe one day I’ll do a time-lapse of something like this in the morning where we can watch the dew evaporate away – that might be cool.

All of these, the previous post and this, were taken around the open field portion of the farm, with one exception in earlier post (the mushrooms.) Because there wasn’t a lot to see in the portion that ran along a small feeder creek, but as our time was coming to an end, we (well, I) found two subjects in quick succession. The first I’d almost mistaken for something else, given how far it was stretched out of the water initially.

common snapping turtle Chelydra serpentina eyeing photographer distrustfully
This common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) was clambering over an exposed log when I spotted it, half hidden behind the edge weeds, and I’d suspected a beaver, but it settled down more like a turtle by the time I maneuvered around for a clear shot. In carapace length it was at least 35cm, so not a small specimen. Tucked in among the logs, it had no easy retreat, and so it viewed us stoically and wished for us to go away. Which worked, eventually, so maybe someone should look into the telekinetic powers of turtles. I mean, why not?

And just a little further on, I got a peek of something not quite right under some leaves, and bent down for a closer look. In science fiction movies this is a bad idea, but for nature photographers it should be a routine habit.

female Carolina mantis Stagmomantis carolina well due to deposit egg sac
This Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina) looked to be in her fifth trimester, ready to deposit an egg sac any second, but I knew this might take hours and may not even occur if she noticed us and felt threatened, plus we were at the end of our session, so while the opportunity to finally get photos of this was there, I really couldn’t take advantage of it. So much for dedicated nature photographer. But as I’ve said, let me know how much you’d pay to see that and we’ll make some arrangements – I can always work some flexibility (the key word there being, “work,” and not, “obsessive hobby.”)

So that’s it for the Mason Farm photos, except it’s not – we’ll see more before the month is out. But that’s enough for this post at least.

On this date 42

Like I said last week, not a lot to work with, since I really hadn’t shot a lot on this date. To be more specific, there are only two years (in the digital folders, anyway) that have entries, and one’s pretty sparse.

full moon - what else can I say?
In 2008, we had a full moon, and apparently clear skies where I was. I was shooting with the old Sigma 170-500 on the original Canon Digital Rebel, otherwise known as the 300D, the 6 megapixel model, so what you see here is full resolution – compare that to the second photo here from the 7D.

And the next year that I shot something was… last year. It was a lot, granted.

head-on shot of osprey Pandion haliaetus in flight
I featured the best of the hundreds of frames that I did that day in a post (more than one, really,) so we have this random pic that I like for its symmetry and faint air of malice. I’m not sure why this osprey (Pandion haliaetus) seems so dark, but roll with it – it’s not nice to comment. The speckled leading edges of its wings puts me in mind of WWII aircraft, their paint pitted and chipped from striking flak and debris during the missions.

It gets better next week – I have hundreds taken among six different years.

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