But how? Part 23: What would it take?

Al Denelsbeck

I’ve kind of covered this in portions of several different posts, but expanding on it seems warranted, as I change perspective a little just to highlight something. So let’s look at the question that religious folk often like to ask of atheists, “But what would it take for you to believe in god?”

I imagine that half of the time, it’s asked out of frustration, as the atheist displays a higher standard of evidence than the religious querist. They find it hard to believe that the factors that they found compelling could fail to impress someone else. Other times, it’s asked out of a deep suspicion that there really isn’t anything that the atheist would find convincing, that they’re emotionally or ideologically wedded to the idea of no god, and thus there’s no hope of having a rational discussion (which may actually be true, but not for the reasons that they suspect.) Both of these can be rather revealing in their nature.

First off, it should go without saying that when we’re talking about a being that supposedly created, not just a species or a planet, but the entire universe, proving such a thing is a remarkably tall order. In fact, it pretty much defines ‘impossible,’ but we’ll go ahead and grant that a simple demonstration of spontaneous vast creation would at least be a good start. It’s entirely a non-issue, however, because not one religious person can even come close to such a thing; often, they don’t perceive the huge and overriding difference between being personally convinced (or emotionally convinced, if you prefer,) and having something solid to work with.

While the second approach, the belief that atheists are being emotionally intransigent and not reasonable, is almost exactly the opposite, as if most religious folk have arrived at their standpoint through careful consideration of the evidence and all of the ramifications and possible misinterpretations – I know, I should have appended the ‘humor’ tag to this, shouldn’t I? Because, let’s be realistic, every reason ever put forth for belief has revolved around either weak personal convictions, flawed fundamental premises (such as, “Everything has to start somewhere,”) corrupt philosophical arguments, or the incredibly insipid. There really isn’t much point in engaging with someone that would use an inordinately fatuous argument such as, “The bible says it’s true!” It’s like they’ve never encountered a politician or salesperson…

But let me hasten to correct a potential wrong impression: the argument may be fatuous, but the people making it rarely are. They can, in fact, recognize questionable statements from politicians, most especially the ones they don’t like. And they can recognize weak and illogical arguments from scripture or philosophy – for all of the religions that they don’t follow. But yes, there’s virtually always a set of double-standards at work. While nearly everyone can attest to the value of extensive testing for new pharmaceuticals, or perhaps look critically at the labels of the food they buy, often their requirements for ‘proof’ of a god are remarkably thin, largely because they want such a thing to exist. And we cannot forget the simple human trait of taking one’s cue from others, not only responsible for even introducing the concept of religion in the first place, but establishing the One True Religion™ in their mind, without any need for comparing others or weighing the evidence.

There’s a certain level of humor and irony in the idea that atheists might just find that proving an omnipotent being would require some incredibly kickass evidence, and that the standards of evidence should be the same regardless of personal desire (and even that personal desire actually has nothing whatsoever to do with evidence.) Yes, this means we can be accused of being too emotional and not emotional enough while discussing the exact same topic.

I’ve addressed the personal belief angle numerous times in the past, but it bears repeating in this case. It is often argued that religion is a personal thing, akin to liking a particular food or music style, and that would be fine if that was the only way it manifested. No one, however, makes important decisions regarding how their children are raised, how they treat other people, what politicians and laws to support, and so on and so on, based on what flavor ice cream they prefer. If someone is forming a worldview, one that serves as a foundation for a large part of one’s life and decisions, how is it possible that the standards for selecting such a view are almost universally weak and facile? I’ve seen people do more research into where they’re going for vacation than the vast majority of religious folk have done when deciding on what mystical process governs the entirety of creation.

And we arrive at an interesting dichotomy. A lot of religious folk, in my experience, seem to feel that control is in god’s hands – the concept does not originate within them, of course, but is fostered by literally thousands of sources claiming such a state of affairs. And so their obligation, their onus to even make informed decisions, doesn’t actually exist; the one decision that they’re responsible for is simply to be religious, and there isn’t even a factor of which religion, because the only one that counts is the one they have direct experience with when growing up. Until and unless, of course, they run up against something that they don’t like. Then, they will manage to find (or twist) some aspect of scripture into justifying their preconceived notions, secure in the idea that they are following god’s path. All other passages, especially the ones that explicitly deny their notions or any other aspect of their current lifestyle, somehow don’t count. And while it’s easy to believe that I’m addressing a tiny subset of religious folk, the bare fact is that I’ve never encountered anyone that fails to fit into this category; I have yet to find someone devout enough to follow every tenet that their own scripture provides. In a lot of cases it’s impossible anyway, given the contradictions inherent in the passages, but it does mean that, to them, “religion” apparently means a set of guidelines specific only to themselves. Which makes it a lot easier I guess.

Admittedly, some of the blame must be placed on whatever religious leader or organization the ‘devout’ find themselves in the thrall of, since countless concepts originate solely through those. They’re responsible for so many of the ills that religions foster, now and at all times past: witch hunts and heretic purges, anti-evolution efforts and fretting over satanic whateverthefucks (it’s always something different,) what women can be stoned for doing and putting bombs in public places. The scriptural guidance towards these ranges from incredibly weak to completely nonexistent; instead, the idea of these being “god’s will” comes from voluntary conformity to whatever circle of influence someone chooses, not from anything remotely resembling divine provenance (which, as noted above, is impossible to establish anyway.) And the choice of these influential circles is made… how? Again, are we talking solid supporting facts, or liking whatever particular hotbutton of desire happens to be pushed?

It stands noting that none of this should have any bearing whatsoever, as I’ve said before. Opinion and personal satisfaction aren’t any kind of tools towards real and useful information; it doesn’t matter how much someone likes a particular idea, since this has no affect whatsoever on any actual existence. This is the entire point of evidence: we can form a solid worldview only on what we can establish and demonstrate, not philosophically, not through debate, not through personal satisfaction, but only through dependable, repeatable, and above all predictable behaviors or responses. We know the acceleration of Earth’s gravity by careful measurements, despite the overriding belief for so long that it was entirely different, and the connection to mass has been so dependable that we can put probes in orbit around other bodies in our solar system. Who really gives a fuck whether someone believes otherwise? What’s that going to do for them?

Which brings us to another dichotomy. What I suspect is a disturbingly large percentage of religious folk arrive at their surety through rather lax manners: mostly just following family and friends, occasionally some rather lame theological arguments, and at times buttressed with something personal like a dream or a curious coincidence. And this is fine for circumstances that bear little to no consequences – I like birch beer largely because it was the soft drink of special occasions when I was growing up, and not because it’s so much better than other choices. But then, having established their choice through such banal means, many religious folk then derive the confidence that it’s remarkably supportable and robust, and use it to dictate how others should behave, or what values are useful, even (and if you get off on irony you’re going to need a lie-down,) what tenets of science established through countless experiments and measurements should instead be considered outright lies. I mean, thanks for that guidance, you certainly seem to know how to spot them…

Another just for shits and giggles: I don’t think I’ve come across a religion yet that doesn’t have humility as a virtue, or at least a commendable trait, and treating one another with respect and kindness appears very frequently too. Now, I won’t say that these are the most frequently ignored tenets of faith, but they certainly rank extremely high on the list. Even funnier is that these are two of the values that just about everyone, atheists included, actually support. Arrogance is, of course, welcomed by no one.

So we come back to the question of, “What would it take to get you to believe?” Earlier, I’d said that my favorite response is, “What have you got?” knowing that the answer is, always and dependably, superficial. But now I think I’m favoring a more elaborate response: “An omnipotent and omniscient god that created the entire universe and is remarkably involved in what we do as a species above all others? Wow, it would take a lot – give me a week or so and I’ll provide a list. Why, what did it take to convince you?“

Get your butt in gear

Al Denelsbeck

Saturday is National Get Outdoors Day (for realsies this time.) I really don’t have to explain this, do I? It’s not even National Stay Outdoors Day, so you’re not obligated to a time frame. Just get out and explore a little, put the toy phone away, try to get bitten by something new. It builds character.

I’m aiming to have something to show off for it afterward, but c’mon, I’m always showing you something from outdoors; we’re not talking about me here. And no fair reversing the door of your house and thinking this counts, as big a fan as I am of Douglas Adams. Out. Side. Sunlight, breeze, maybe rain and tornadoes, whatever. It’s national, so you’re beholden as a citizen.

The 'author' waiting to shoot the green flash at the beach
I like this photo – it almost looks like I’m in shape…

Plague me not, amphibian!

Al Denelsbeck

As the twilight waned to full night, there came a call, a hue and cry, a distinctive breeek from the aft yard. Pleased with the recent rains and the comfortable evening temperature, a grey treefrog had chosen a perch somewhere nearby and was advertising its desire for a mate. I ventured out with a flashlight, and soon located the pebbled lovestruck lothario sitting atop the fence not far from the pond, within easy sight and reach. I had not bothered to collect the camera for this brief investigation, and so merely viewed the hopeful Hylidae and left it to its own desires.

However, on my perilous journey back, I witnessed a crab spider capture a meal, and decided that if two subjects were presenting themselves, it warranted photographic imagery, and so I returned to the house to re-emerge with the camera in hand. After recording the crab spider for posterity, I again approached the eyrie of the amphibian, only to find it vacant; in the intervening time, the treefrog had sought another locale, leaving me directionless and bereft. I consoled myself with a few other subjects of opportunity, and returned to my office.

But as I busied myself with other pursuits, the cry returned. I drove it from my head, telling myself I had devoted enough time to wielding the camera tonight, and needed to accomplish other tasks. And yet the ballad persisted, clearly as close as it had been before, optimistic and bold. No matter, I avowed, I have enough images of such frogs, perhaps even of this very specimen, and must concentrate on other demands for my attention. And still the curious siren song played on, at times strident and demanding, at others soft and persuasive. I am right here, it told me distinctly. You know you want to photograph me.

I, however, am made of stronger mettle, and in a battle of wills with a diminutive quadruped, there is no question who will come out on top. Purging it from my attention, I bent to my pursuits, strong in the face of adversity. I am the Modern Man, bending emotion and desire to my bidding, at all times under the control of the rational brain. Let the compulsion of the id bay at the doors of my mind; within, all was calm and businesslike.

Still the serenade sounded; still the nearness of the treefrog was evident. It could not have been more than a waltz from my very office window, ringing clearly even through the closed panes. The message is not for me, I avowed, staring at the keyboard to remain focused and resolute. That story does not require my involvement. Undoubtedly many such dramas played out so close at hand, but here I had my own actions to take, my own importances to address. The simple frog was surely itself unaware of the items before me, the consequences and impacts of those far beyond its comprehension. Natural instincts towards procreation could not hold a candle to the tasks self-entrusted to me, ones only able to be controlled and manipulated by a single species on the planet. Let the trivia of courtship play on, while within these walls bigger tales unfolded.

Yet even above the clicking of the keyboard and the creaking of the chair came the reedy solo. Now taunting, it defied me, claiming with its subtle overtones that the amphibian had thwarted my attempts at producing an image, successfully avoiding me despite my vast knowledge of nature and exponentially larger brain. I just moved a short distance away, and this confused you more than it would a snake, it told me. A few moments of silence to allow your attention to wander, and I escape your intentions with a minimum of fuss. And so we see the value of rational thought pitted against base instinct and evolved coloration, the competition of…

Aw, the hell with it.

Copes grey treefrog Hyla chrysoscelis cheekily perched on tree

Sunday slide 23

Al Denelsbeck

time exposure of section of Minnehaha Falls, Georgia
At some point long ago, a friend handed me over a couple of photocopied pages (this was before I had e-mail, or even internet access) with directions to a few waterfalls around Lake Rabun in north Georgia. It was a bit of a drive from where I lived in Raleigh, but I made a couple of trips out there, I believe. At least, I seem to recall two, but I only remember visiting these falls once. This is only a dramatic portion of Minnehaha Falls, one of several that feeds into a lake that resides in a deep narrow valley, very photogenic and pretty easy to get to as waterfalls go; two of the others were a significant hike up the side of the valley, and ridiculously dry when I visited them.

This was 1999, not too long after I switched over to slides at the advice of a professional nature photographer – editors simply didn’t consider negative (print) film at that time. And the increase in quality was undeniable, to say nothing of the longevity, since a lot of my negatives are degrading significantly while most of the slides are pristine.

The trick behind the milky water is easy: all it takes is a longer exposure, perhaps a little less than a second if the water is really flowing, but several seconds will produce the effect no matter what, as long as there’s white water. This of course means a tripod, but also dark enough conditions to let the shutter drag out. The ISO 100 film helped, as did stopping down to f16, but the main contributor was the deeply shadowed conditions where the falls lay. If such things aren’t available, the other trick is to use a circular polarizing filter, which will darken the image some, but the best tool is a set of neutral density filters. If you’re like me, you consider “neutral density” to mean “clear,” but instead it means a darkening filter without a color cast, thus neutral (a lot of things in photography could be named better.) In other words, tinted glass. I didn’t have any at the time, but didn’t need them for these conditions.

Another view can be seen here, a small cascade high up the falls – it’s possible, but tricky footing, and any attempt to scale them should be done with extreme care, as far from the wet portions as possible.

I’m pretty sure I just let the exposure meter of the camera set the shutter speed, after stopping down to f16, but the original slide had a bluish color cast, courtesy of the shade and my lack of foresight in bringing a slight warming filter. Digital has two significant advantages for these kind of photos now, both in giving an immediate preview of how the exposure looks at different shutter speeds, and in changing color cast on the fly. Some day I’ll return, and we’ll see some comparison images…

Whatever happened to…?

Al Denelsbeck

… the mantises that we watched hatch?

Well, they’re still around, I just hadn’t seen much of them from shortly after the hatching, coupled with being pretty busy myself. There’s a vague suspicion that a skink that we have living under the front steps might have feasted on a lot of them, but at least a few can still be found, now grown to about 30mm.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis posing on day lily leaf at night
They remain pretty easy to spook, so decent detail shots of their minuscule stature is still challenging. More challenging, however, is getting something other than basic poses – behavior, for instance. Now let’s face it: arthropods don’t exactly have a wild social calendar, their lives consisting mostly of eating and avoiding being eaten at this age, with the occasional molt. Later on, I might capture two specific actions that I haven’t done justice to yet, which is mating and producing an egg sac – the latter I’ve got some half-ass slides of, but the mantis was in contrasty light and yet buried within the needles of a pine, so, no, not useful by my current standards anymore.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis looking back over shoulder
“Who’s that singing back there?”

Which means that right, now, we just have fartsy poses.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis not looking back over shoulder
“Oh. Michael McDonald. Right”

While the hatching took place underneath the Japanese maple, some of them, as usual, have moved on to other locations in the yard. The day lily plants on the other side of the porch are always a crowd favorite, and several have taken up residence there, at least temporarily, so when the blooms finally come out (there are some buds visible now,) I’ll have a little more variety in setting to play with. At least one other has moved over to one of the rosemary bushes, now coming along nicely, which is gratifying.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis on rosemary plant
At the old place that we left three years ago this week, we’d had a rosemary bush that became too big to bring along in the move, and attempts to get new ones established here failed a couple of times over, but now we have three going strong, which is important because we use a good bit of rosemary in our cooking. A couple of times a year we have a roasted duck, and when everything’s removed from the carcass, it gets tossed into a pot with some onions and rosemary to make soup, which produces the best aroma in the world. Seriously, I’ll leave the house for a minute and come back in with cleansed nostrils just to inhale it all fresh again. You think I’m lying.

[A lot more ingredients and spices gets added in the later stages, by the way.]

The one on the rosemary displayed a curious pose that I’ve never seen before. Already well aware of my presence and having dodged around a little to try and escape my attention, it paused and stretched out, and might have been attempting to emulate the rosemary leaves and camouflage itself.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis possibly attempting to emulate the shape of rosemary leaves
It wasn’t reaching for another stalk, it hadn’t apparently sighted any prey, and it held the position for well over a minute – it certainly looked like mimicking behavior. I’ve just never seen a mantis do any such thing, with the possible exception of swaying to mimic breeze-blown leaves, and I’m not sure that wasn’t just a visual thing to help distinguish potential prey; I’ve seen raptors do that quite a bit.

So for now, we just have the fartsy shots – perhaps there will be something different later on. If I get the chance to do video of one capturing a meal, that would be a cool feature post, but I’ve only ever seen it a couple of times myself. Maybe I just have to stake them out for a while…

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis emoting

You knew this was coming

Al Denelsbeck

… because it’s the month’s end, of course.

surreal high contrast sunrise colors on North Topsail Beach
And naturally I had to use another shot from the trip – I’ll probably be finding excuses for that for a while yet.

It’s easy to believe this one has been altered, but not really – this is how it came from the camera. Like I said earlier, I had contrast and saturation boosted a little to enhance the colors, but no more than these, for instance. And I had adjusted exposure compensation down 2/3 of a stop, except not really – this camera tends to over-expose a little in my opinion, so ‘default’ setting for me is underexposed by 1/3 stop, so this is, again, a minor change. Most of what this comes from is simply getting the exposure reading from the bright sky, which the camera tried to render down more into a middle tone, and that had the greatest influence on what you see here. The orange only went a little way up into the sky, which the wet sand caught at its flattest angle, but the rest of the sky was pre-dawn indigo, reflected by the sand at the bottom of the pic and by the majority of the ocean; thus the notable contrast. Either by themselves you could accept easily as natural conditions, but both together seem to stretch plausibility, don’t they? It’s rare that you can use a straightforward landscape shot as an abstract, so I’m happy with it.

Just close your eyes and swallow. For Nixon

Al Denelsbeck

Here at Walkabout, I’m always happy to use my enormous reader base to help spread awareness, and I suspect there are a few people out there that don’t know that today is also a holiday – they usually don’t line up this close together, but the proximity might still have had a lot to do with how little it’s observed. So let’s join together to celebrate National “What The Fuck Did I Just Eat?” Day.

It’s always been intended to help spread diversity and cultural awareness, since cultures are so often defined by (and occasionally denigrated for) the foods considered common within. While it had been proposed back in 1946, as a method of becoming more open and accepting following World War II, it didn’t actually get adopted as an official national holiday until 1972 under Richard Nixon, since he was the only president who would approve its language. Yet its first official observance the following year was overshadowed by both Watergate and excitement over the new version of Match Game, and it largely dropped into obscurity, with occasional attempted resurrections by Allen Funt and the debut of Outback Steakhouse. It’s a shame, because everyone should try something new once in a while, if only to confirm their suspicions.

So, as you read this over your morning coffee, stir a spoonful of Vegemite into it. Make plans to eat lunch at Chick-Fil-A. Or stop by your supermarket on the way home and ask, “What have you got that nobody buys?” It’s just one way to broaden your horizons and enrich your life. And maybe even cleanse your colon.

Crustocean

Al Denelsbeck

Atlantic blue crab Callinectes sapidus under water's surface with abstract reflection overlaid
I’ve been saving these images specifically for this post, because I figured I’d slap them all up together. On this past beach trip, I ended up seeing more crab species than anything else, and producing some of the best images of the trip with them – of course, that’s a matter of opinion. And as I said, I did almost no insect photos, a rarity for me, but plenty of arthropod images: crustaceans are a subphylum of the Arthropoda, so more closely related to bugs and spiders than to the molluscs and fish that they hang around with.

So I open with the image above, which I like for the bizarre effect. This was an Atlantic blue crab (Callinectes sapidus) hanging out in the shallows of the sound, shot through the water from the deck, and the reflection not only produced a surreal overlay, it’s actually a selfie – I can be seen leaning over the rail with the camera raised.

The "author" emptying a crab potThe place we rented actually provided a crab pot for our use, so we had blue crabs for a couple of the meals that week – the first, just as an appetizer since we didn’t catch enough that day, but later in the week the haul was better and the people to be fed fewer, so The Girlfriend and I got a decent meal of them. Blue crabs are notoriously aggressive, as I already knew from Florida, and challenging to handle – I managed to get pinched a couple of times, even drawing blood once. But they’re tasty, and easy to prepare if not exactly easy to get the meat from.

[Yes, that’s me, sporting my fashionable pink yarmulke. I promise not to appear again in this post.]

Of course we had a lot of seafood while out there: huge shrimp, tender mussels, red snapper, a few various whitefish, some scallops and oysters, and the blue crabs. All of it was caught the day we had it, and while this isn’t a huge difference from fresh-frozen stuff available at the local supermarket here, it’s still noticeable, especially the mussels. But yeah, I’d rather have the shrimp prepared at least…

As noted from last year’s Outer Banks trip, the area is home to the Atlantic ghost crab (Ocypode quadrata,) which I saw fewer of than expected, but I wasn’t really out on a serious hunt for them this time. Navigating by flashlight on the beaches at night, they can easily be found near the surf line, and they’re not as readily confused as frogs; even when you keep the light on them, they’re usually aware of your approach, and will skitter off into the waves when they feel it’s getting too dangerous. By day they’re usually burrowed down into the sand, though at early morning you might still find them foraging, or excavating their dens. One day we went up to the end of the island by the New River Inlet, and The Girlfriend spotted a large specimen far from its protective burrow. This began a short modeling session, with great reluctance on the crab’s part.

Atlantic ghost crab Ocypode quadrata blocked from a safe retreat
After a brief chase across the sand, I positioned myself for best use of the light while The Girlfriend shifted to block the crab’s retreat, and I managed to crawl in close for a portrait. With average leg spread as seen here, this one measured roughly 12cm, and those compound eyestalks provided a 360° field of view horizontally and perhaps a full 180° vertically. And, as noted, a useful amount of distance vision – it occurs to me now that I should have experimented when approaching them at night with the flashlight, attempting to keep it in the same vertical and horizontal position so it didn’t apparently shift with my approach, to see if that kept them from being spooked. Next time, I guess.

Atlantic ghost crab Ocypode quadrata showing trail across beachTheir trails across the beach are distinctive, but subtle: lots of little hash marks with no visible toes or clear two-legged patterns, and typically a bit of wandering. Of course, if this leads up to a hole with a fresh mound of sand at the edges, identification is not really an issue. Or if, you know, you find the culprit still standing at the end of the trail. You can always feel pretty confident about what made the tracks when you find a tableau like seen here – that’s a little nature photographers’ secret (that I stole from a little nature photographer. Though I suppose if you parse it a certain way you could call me a little nature photographer, at least until I go to Africa and start shooting elephants and such.)

This crab had a definite idea of where safety lay, even if it had lost track of exactly where its burrow was located, because once we shifted position past a certain point, the anxious crustacean made a break for it and scampered off across the sand at an appreciable turn of speed, faster than a human walking pace certainly, and was several meters away when it just vanished. Curious, since it didn’t look like the mouth of a burrow, I followed it again to find that it had simply reached sand that was much looser and less-packed than the tidally-flattened stuff where we had first encountered it. The process of burying itself was near-instantaneous, and while the grey patch atop the carapace didn’t exactly blend in with the sand, it became subtle enough to be mistaken for a seashell by the seashore – at least, if you were paying no attention to the trail leading up to it or the curious mounding pattern of the sand. But of course no one reading this blog would miss those.

Atlantic ghost crab Ocypode quadrata having hidden itself in soft sand
On the same day, and in the same location, that we encountered the sea hare/sea slug/angel loogie, The Girlfriend spotted a couple of little fiddler crabs on the beach. Fiddlers can be notoriously hard to identify, since there are only a hundred species in North America with subtle differences between many, but I’m going to tentatively identify these as the Atlantic sand fiddler (Uca pugilator, so named for their boxing-style behavior, as opposed to Uca thurman, which does more of a sword-fighting style. That’s a, I say, that’s a joke, son! I made a funny.) I managed to slip in pretty close to one for a portrait session, then scooped up another so The Girlfriend could do a scale shot.

fiddler crab, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, posed on tidal flat

fiddler crab, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, in palm for scaleFiddlers tend to congregate, mostly on mud flats or among marsh grasses, but may be found wandering just about anywhere near the beach – they just require occasional moisture. The last few times I’ve seen them, they were doing territorial displays, waving the big pincer in the air like a flag, even though there wasn’t a taxi to be found.

That portion of the beach had a swale, a low-lying area that would obviously flood inland in a small channel during high tide, and the channel was still damp when we were there. And suddenly, I focused better on the ground, and realized I wasn’t seeing gravel or shells.

thousands of fiddler crabs, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, following tidal channel inland
It would be nice to say the ground was crawling with them, but they actually weren’t moving much. When I waded into their midst (the masses parting for me daintily,) the ground was covered with the little sand balls that’s evidence of their eating habits, so I figure it’s safe to say that the tide brought in lots of the microorganisms that they like. What puzzles me is why there weren’t hordes of seagulls gorging themselves on such easy targets, but maybe an army of fiddlers is just something you don’t mess with. I was safe because they recognized my benign intentions. Yeah that must be it.

The pilgrimage went at least fifty meters inland to its terminus at a micro-pond, little more than a puddle but giving indications that it was semi-permanent. There, the crabs clustered so tightly at the water’s edge that the ground was invisible beneath them.

fiddler crabs, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, clustered at water's edge
Only the males have an oversized claw, and while it looks like a lot of males in the pic, there were definitely females among them. It would be easy to believe that this was a cluster of dead and washed-up crab bodies, but they were all very much alive in this pic.

fiddler crabs, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, crowding the edge of a tiny pond
They’d largely halted at the edge, though a couple had waded in like the die-hards at the beach when the water’s too cold. Which wasn’t the best of moves on their part.

fiddler crabs, possibly Atlantic sand fiddler Uca pugilator, being preyed upon by unidentified aquatic crab in shallowsI saw a flash of movement from within the pond/puddle, and realized that a medium-small unidentified aquatic crab lived within the water, and had dashed forward to snatch a fiddler to snack upon. It can be seen here, with its meal, towards the top of the image, while another daring/stupid fiddler sits not far off towards the bottom – all of this is through the water’s surface so it’s a tad murky. Spending a little time in observation, I could see that there were several of the larger crab species within the pond, but they seemed reluctant to leave the water even with abundant meals right at the edge.

By the way, I did return the next day with the video SLR, arriving while the tide was high enough to provide a complete channel to the pond, and could see the aquatic crabs, but never snagged one capturing any prey. They were also aware of my presence and would tend to hide as I approached, and between the sun and The Girlfriend waiting nearby, I could only devote so much time to the pursuit, especially since I’d been snorkeling a little earlier and had reached my limit for exposure.

By the way, while I was stepping carefully through the band of fiddler crabs that filled the swale, on the first day, I spied a tiny crab on the sand, and carefully captured it for another pic. I’m fairly certain that this isn’t a fiddler, but I’m not sure what it is; in carapace shape, it vaguely looks like the next species I’m going to talk about.

unidentified tiny crab species in palm
While I wasn’t sure about finding the fiddlers or this tiny one, I was pretty certain I’d see examples of everything else that I’ve covered, including one that I haven’t mentioned yet. The marshy and reedy area bordering the sound was ideal habitat for marsh crabs, primarily nocturnal crustaceans that can often be found plying the peat between reeds, if not climbing the reeds and docks themselves. Which is exactly where I found them.

march crab Sesarma cinereum on edge of deck
I feel pretty confident that this is a Sesarma cinereum, because the other closest species has a distinctive difference, another point to the carapace right at the eye orbit. They seemed even less dazzled by the bright flashlight than the ghost crabs, and endeavored to slip from sight when I found them; this one in particular had gone over the edge of the wood, easily able to cling to it, but was flushed back up on top by my fingers coming in from the underside.

marsh crab Sesarma cinereum climbing stalk of water reedGenerally, they’re placid little beasts, ambling slowly along the pilings and reeds that climb from the wetlands of their home, and they feed mostly on the new vegetation, and occasionally on fiddlers (which I did not see anywhere near this area, right outside the back of the condo.) I was lucky enough to find a few on the deck, and a few on the reeds alongside, all within relatively easy reach while photographing. They can get themselves into some pretty tight cracks, for instance between boards, but I wanted to do some detail pics and so I had a small container to scoop up a few if I got the chance. It turned out to be relatively easy, but then again I got it going on, so I make it look easy. You’d probably have a much harder time of it, if not finding it completely impossible…

One of the two specimens that I collected had a little surprise for me, one that I didn’t make out until I got the light just right, and then I had to make sure the flash angle was adequate so it came out in the photos. This actually is an issue that I run into more than occasionally: while the light that I’m using to spot the critters at night may be shining directly on them, the flash is off to the side of the camera at a different angle, and the results from the photos can be different. So I made sure that I got what I needed, and produced one of my favorite animal photos from the trip, and perhaps even so far this year:

female marsh crab Sesarma cinereum showing clutch of eggs within pleopods
Yes, those are her eggs, which according to one source may number from 5,000 to 13,000, held in her pleopods. So okay, you’re familiar with shrimp, which have a lot of little fins under their abdomens/tails with which they swim? Crabs have them in a way too, belly ‘scales’ that usually remain tightly folded against their undersides, but they carry their eggs in them (as do shrimp) and can even use them to swim – we watched a very small blue crab doing this near the deck one day while we were out there. I naturally hadn’t realized she was packing when I caught her, but I’m not sure how much difference it makes – she was out foraging with the others on the deck, and nothing that I did would have affected the eggs in any way. She was returned to where I found her as soon as I was done that night, less than an hour after capture, and now she has a story to tell the kids.

And that’s going to wrap it up with the post-trip posts, though the occasional image will undoubtedly creep in here and there. It was a great vacation and we got to indulge a lot, with little marring it at all; too often, the drive or the prep or the conditions or something else make such trips less than ideal – we all have memories of those, don’t we? This one was largely all positive. And so I close with one last marsh crab, the morning after my modeling session above, peeking up from between the boards of the deck immediately after sunrise – the same sunrise, in fact, as the first pic from the first post about the trip, just ten minutes later. I loved the subtle aspect of it, made less subtle by the elongated shadow. We now return to our regularly scheduled bugs…

marsh crab Sesarma cinereum peeking up between deck boards at sunrise

Sunday slide 22

Al Denelsbeck

Cuban treefrog Osteopilus septentrionalis dozing on light globe
For this week’s slide, we go back to one of the first photos I took when I’d moved to Florida in 2002, a curious thing that I saw as I pulled into the apartment complex one evening. This Cuban treefrog (Osteopilus septentrionalis) had chosen to perch on one of the series of light globes that lined the road. It wasn’t exactly subtle, but then again from a short distance away it just looked like a smudge or a bird dropping, and the light was doing its part in attracting insects, so maybe this was a good move? But I only ever saw it once, while I know the treefrogs lived nearby in more than adequate numbers, so who knows? But it’s a nice little abstract, isn’t it?

Various and sundry

Al Denelsbeck

sunrise on Big Hammock, shamelessly edited
It occurred to me, as I was thinking of this title, that I wasn’t absolutely sure of the meaning of “sundry,” and looked it up – it means, “various,” so this common usage is actually redundant and repetitive. However, I also like the alternate concept of “sun dry,” which is how my clothes were at least half of the time, so we’re good. But while I’m confessing, I’ll keep going and admit that the image above is edited: when I was shooting the houses across the sound in the sunrise light, the ospreys (Pandion haliaetus) in the nest weren’t posing at all. The male was out wheeling around someplace and the female was so low only the top of her head was visible, so I dubbed in the pair from a photo that The Girlfriend took later in the day, partially for artistic effect, and mostly because she’s going to paint this image later on; I’ll show it to you when she’s done. There, now she’s obligated to get on it, and not take too long either, because all of my regular commenters will be asking about it…

By the way, both the ospreys and the barn swallows seen in the previous post were sitting on eggs, which has me curious since it seems way past that season; the titmice young had fledged out while we were away, and I watched starling fledglings chasing a parent around on the lawn in the place we stayed at, learning how to find their own food. But it’s the beach, which means timetables are strictly casual (a nice oxymoron.)

longish exposure, moon reflected in wet sand with surf rolling outThere’s going to be an entire post dedicated to just one subject soon, so for now, we’re going to jump around with several different subjects encountered during the beach trip. The moon was a little past full when we arrived, dropping to last quarter during our stay, so as a scenic element it wasn’t perfect, but it was still very visible and so appears in several of my photos. Here, I was waiting on sunrise while it shone brightly off to the south, so I set up a quick composition with its reflection in the wet sand at the tide line. The low light meant letting the shutter drag for a few seconds, which turned the receding foam into a ghostly blanket. I have it as a goal to do a very long exposure of the breakers in moonlight, but due to astronomical timing that would have meant in the 1 to 5 AM range on this trip, and it wasn’t happening – better to catch the moon approaching full when it’s high and bright before midnight.

Another goal has been to see the “green flash,” a curious meteorological phenomenon. When the sun is just over the horizon with the barest peek of light coming right at the edge of the earth, the atmosphere can, at times, produce a deep green color from the sun, but it takes place for less than a second right as the sun disappears. To see this, you not only need the right conditions, you need an unobstructed view of the lowest horizon, and this generally means over water. Here on the east coast, about the only opportunity you get is the gulf side of Florida; everywhere else, there is something that makes the horizon too high/close for the effect. But it can happen at sunrise too, you just have to really have your timing down for the first appearance of the sun – and of course know right where it’s going to appear.

On my first two attempts, it wasn’t hard to tell where the sun would appear, since the humidity provided a nice highlight practically pointing at the sun, and all I had to do was be ready. But the conditions didn’t quite come together, so while I got the moment of appearance above the horizon, I got yellow and not green.

first appearance of sun over horizon at North Topsail Beach
And then, I screwed up. I did a couple of days in other locations, where I couldn’t see the immediate horizon – well, okay, let’s be pedantic. You can always see the horizon, even if it’s the roof of the house right in front of you. That’s kinda how horizon is defined: where the sky stops. The goal is to see the most distant horizon possible, so the flattest landscape that can be found. And I skipped it for a few days, going for other locations (like the sound behind our condo,) before returning again Friday morning, and this time The Girlfriend accompanied me. And as we waited, I was chatting with her and taking other opportunities for pics, like the silhouette of a distant sandpiper against the orange beach. Then I suddenly spot the light, but I’d been looking away at the crucial moment, and also had focus slightly shorter than it should have been. Because, dammit, I probably would have caught it this time.

slightly out-of-focus sunrise showing distinct green edging
This is increased saturation, but white balance set for sunlight so essentially no correction/alteration, and that’s pretty distinctly green at the edges. Shit, anyway.

But, see that blob over to the left? That’s the lead of a trio of fishing boats (they probably got the see the flash) heading out from the inlet. This time I got focus corrected, as they passed in front of the still-rising sun. Okay then.

fishing boats seen in front of rising sun, North Topsail Beach
No, that’s not the only one I have. The Canon 100-300 L was mounted, so I kept shooting.

fishing boat silhouetted against rising sun
This is a tight crop of the original frame, with a slight contrast tweak to keep a faint detail when sized down for web use: if you look closely, you can see the two deep sea fishing rods rising diagonally off the back like whip antennas. Knowing these boats were almost certainly coming out of the New River Inlet, the estimated distance is 2.5 kilometers. I can live with that.

And then I screwed up (again.) I had a borrowed underwater camera, and wanted to try for a fartsy shot that I’ve seen variations of: a pic down the inside of a curler, a wave just before breaking. And the conditions were ideal, with medium-small waves coming in at about waist height, almost perfectly aligned to place the rising sun at the end of the tube. I can’t see well without my glasses, and wasn’t planning on swimming or even getting wet much above the waist, so I kept my glasses on and dodged back and forth in the surf for opportunities. You can see this coming, can’t you?

I feel I should tell you, this is way harder than it sounds. There is a crucial second where the wave is the right shape, and these occur in many different positions along the beach; just sit and watch some day to see what I mean. It’s very easy to be just a little ahead of or behind optimum position, to say nothing of waves breaking several meters from where you stand. So no, I didn’t get what I was after. And then a larger-than-average breaker caught me at the wrong time and I stumbled, getting half-submerged. When I stood back up, the glasses were gone.

This was bad – I can’t drive without them, and can only read if it’s held close to my face. Our plans to visit the aquarium that day faded, as did just about everything else. I quickly told The Girlfriend, and we started walking the surf line back and forth, hoping to see my glasses washing up (in my case, made much harder by my inability to see shit.) In my head, I was planning to find an ophthalmologist nearby as soon as it hit 8 AM, then seek out a place that could do glasses quickly, since my spare pair was over 200 kilometers away. The tide was coming in, which was more promising, and I concentrated my search in the direction that the waves were rolling up the beach, which meant walking and looking into the sun.

And after a half-hour, not quite a hundred meters up from where I’d lost them, I saw my glasses tumbling in the foam right in front of me. Yay! They were, and are, quite a bit more beat-up now, with a lot of little pits from collisions with beachy material, but I needed a new pair anyway, so this is more incentive. But yeah, that could have been much worse. And we did get down to the aquarium.

green sea turtle Chelonia mydas in NC Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores
A couple of days before all that, we had gone down to the southern tip of Topsail Island, an undeveloped area of thin beaches bordering an expanse of scrub grass and dunes. On the sound side, the water is placid but possesses a noticeable current (as I was to find out when snorkeling.) And for reasons unknown, several bizarre specimens of sea life were being brought right to the water’s edge, in a couple of cases washing onshore. I did not recognize them, so I circumspectly pushed them back into the water with my sandal, where they started swimming gently with a fascinating motion. And supported within the water, the photographs of them came out much better.

Mottled sea hare Aplysia fasciata swimming

Mottled sea hare Aplysia fasciata swimming
This is, I believe, a mottled sea hare (Aplysia fasciata,) with an overall length of roughly 20-22 cm; closed up, it was about the thickness of my wrist, but with ‘wings’ spread it became nearly as wide as it was long. And kindly excuse me for this next bit, because it was taken with [*shudder*] a smutphone, but it’s what I had available. When I returned the next day with a camera that could do proper video, the sea hares were nowhere to be seen.


Freaky, right? But there’s something else. Back in Florida, I captured a tiny, paper-thin aquatic animal smaller than your pinky nail, and wondered about it ever since. A few years later, I ran across some images that led me to believe it might have been a juvenile nudibranch, and even put up a page on the main site about it. But now, I suspect that I found a juvenile stage of sea hare. Check the video that I got way back then in Florida (with something even worse than a smutphone):


So let’s step away from the beach awhile, and cover a couple other subjects found in the region. As I said in the previous post, the sound’s edge behind the condo was shrouded in in dense reeds, nearly twice as tall as I was, and I expected to be able to find treefrogs in there, but there wasn’t the faintest sign, visually or aurally. In fact, the only amphibian that I saw on the entire trip (save for the aquarium) was found on two evenings on an upper deck chair. I’ve got plenty of pictures of green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea,) including residents of the property right here, but I needed to record the encounter anyway.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea hanging out on deck chair
And while wandering around the edges of the reeds one evening, just to see what might be residing there, I spotted a small green anole (Anolis carolinensis) trying to sleep deep among the fronds of a spiky plant that might have been a yucca; something like that, anyway.

green anole Anolis carolinensis hiding within fronds of plant, possibly yucca
It was a significant challenge to get the flash at an angle to illuminate the narrow space it had chosen for shelter, but eventually I got a couple of pics that worked while the lizard eyed me with sleepy suspicion.

green anole Anolis carolinensis watching me attempt to get a decent photo
I have other shots where it’s more fully illuminated, but I liked this one for the position of the leaves and the faintly menacing impression. At least, if you didn’t know how docile anoles are.

The sound played host to a species of fish that habitually leapt from the water, virtually always three times. I never got a close look at them, and had I hung out there long enough I might have framed something really scenic, but the initial challenge was just to snag an image in the first place. One began its series of jumps while I was out trying to photograph the ospreys better, and I managed to anticipate the location of third jump. Still not enough to identify it, or at least not enough for me, but if you think you know what it was feel free to chime in.

fish leaping from Big Hammock Sound
And so, we will return to the ocean for the closing shot, another experiment that didn’t come out too badly. One night I’d been out on the beach casually chasing crabs (which will feature in a later post,) and noticed that I’d just missed moonrise, blood-red and right smack on the horizon like the sun was, even though it was way off in another position – I admit to being a little surprised at how far separated their rise positions were. So the next night I went out to capture it, before it got too late and before the moon got too small; not only does the phase keep changing, but the moon rises an hour later each night. But somehow, the clear days had produced a bank of clouds on the horizon by moonrise, and I didn’t see a hint of it until a half hour after it had risen. While it was still painting the edges of the clouds, I did some quick exposures over the surf line, illuminating the water close to me with an LED flashlight. It took a few tries to get the light levels balanced, but I like the effect.

gibbous moon over clouds and surf, North Topsail Beach

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