Too cool, part 30: Not even halfway yet

You know, I started wondering why I’ve never tackled this before, and then I realized it was because I never had something handy to use for the comparison.

You remember the photo from an earlier post, showing the newborn Chinese mantids (Tenodera sinensis) clustered on a twig? You know, this one:

newborn Chinese mantises Tenodera sinensis clustering close to where they hatched
That was taken within 24 hours of hatching, and while I have nothing to provide a direct scale, I can tell you that they’re about 10mm in body length, almost able to be mistaken for ants outside of the arena of macro photography.

Recently I got another photo, of a mantis posed on the exact same twig, from almost the exact same position. Herewith, a nice size comparison:

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis posing on twig from birthing
Displays the growth well, doesn’t it?

Now, a confession. Since this is the largest mantis I see in the area, I’m almost certain it was from an earlier hatching, one I did not witness, and therefore is not one of the brood seen in the first image. However, it is safe to say that it was the exact same size when hatched, so the comparison still stands. We can’t use the image dates to determine age, but I will guesstimate this one as about six weeks of age. Also noteworthy is the bare fact that this is not even halfway to adult size yet, being 45mm at best.

Another confession. While the mantis was quite close by, I had to coax it over to the twig just so I could do this. The pose, however, is all its own.

I couldn’t let this go without compositing the two images together for a very direct comparison.

composited image of newborn and six-week Chinese mantids Tenodera sinensis
The angle was slightly different (sue me) and, believe it or not, the image of the newborns overlaid atop the more recent image is slightly transparent, so the twig is actually doubled up – it’s hard to see the different shooting angle, isn’t it? I’m satisfied with it.

Like I said, I’m surprised I never tried this before, but even the plants that they have perched on have been growing in size at the same time, so there was never anything that they appeared alongside during different growth stages that remained the same. I’m glad now that I never removed the twig, which is one I planted there because the egg case was attached to it.

Am I going to be able to do this again, when one of them finally reaches adult size? You know I’ll be trying, but I can’t predict what will happen – we’ll just have to be patient.

Just one day? Sheesh

Tuesday, June 21st, is World Humanism Day, an event sure to be celebrated with fireworks and elaborate cakes and a big ol’ music festival featuring the remaining members of Spanky and Our Gang. Or it will pass, at least in this country, largely unnoticed. One or the other.

Which is unfortunate, because it’s really hard to argue against the whole principle, especially if you refuse to resort to straw man arguments. There are various definitions of humanism, but for the most part, it’s simple: emphasis on people as a whole, without demarcations or bias, and a reliance on reason. Most forms, especially secular humanism, rule out any influence from supernaturality whatsoever – without evidence or demonstrable results, it’s clear that we have much better ways of producing beneficial outcomes.

Right off the bat, ignoring all of the butthurt responses, we will (and do) have people claiming that this is what makes humanism “against religion,” and immoral and all that shit, completely incapable of seeing that emphasis on humans is pretty much what morality even means – why else would we even need it? As for being against religion, well, no – it’s simply against both the reliance on the extremely vague and utterly worthless concept of “supernatural,” as well as the bias and classism that many religions foster. If that’s how one defines their religion (instead of, for instance, the good that it can and should produce,) then yes, they have a point – just, not a very good one. If religions truly are a force for good, then the goals are aligned with humanism in the first place; religious folk can accomplish this within the confines of a supernatural worldview, while the humanists can do so without it. No problem.

A ha ha ha ha! I’m such a wag! ‘Good’ is not exactly a hard concept to fathom, much less apply, but it gets abused unconscionably when it comes to religion, more times than not. The very first thing to remember is, actions can be beneficial or detrimental, but people can never be labeled as ‘good’ or ‘bad’; we are all a mix, a bundle of conflicted motivations and emotional reactions. Who among us can say they’ve never done something stupid simply because they were frustrated or impatient? So seeking to place an overriding label, on ourselves or others, is pointless, and in fact irrational – but it can be done much easier for individual actions. Sure, this might mean we have to think a little more often, but we’re a species advanced enough to handle this now.

One of the arguments that comes up so often with ethics and morality is that some viewpoint/ideology doesn’t have answers for everything, therefore it is incomplete and should be abandoned. “Humanism doesn’t tell us how to handle capital punishment!” comes the cry, revealing the desire to throw obstacles in its path rather than actually seeking solutions. But if we’re even asking the question, then it’s clear that no other ideology has provided an acceptable answer either. More to the point however, humanism isn’t a set of rules to inflict on a mindless population (which, within some religions, means everyone not of that particular religion,) but a mindset that encourages effective ways of reaching solutions. Sometimes it’s just a matter of approach: not, “what should we do?” but, “what are we hoping to accomplish?” Such a subtle change automatically alters the perspective, doesn’t it?

The search for, or the reliance on, absolutes is one of the biggest stumbling blocks of our species – we want to be able to pronounce things ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ and seemingly can’t handle grey areas. Yet we’re not only surrounded by nothing but, we also deal with them on a routine basis. As Sam Harris has pointed out, “health” is a ridiculously vague term, and it’s impossible to find someone perfectly healthy, yet we routinely seek health as a goal; usually it’s just a matter of picking which of our choices surpasses the others available. Even ‘species’ doesn’t have a firm definition, but for the majority of our uses we can apply it just fine – we don’t often need absolutes, just functional methods for the situation at hand.

Humans have a wicked tendency to want to think in binary terms, and to seek the two sides of every coin (even when coins have much more than two sides, or even faces.) When doing so, humanism is often pitted against religion as the opposite face, and of course this means countless people have to choose to abandon their religion or not. While I find binary thinking to be infantile and way beneath our capabilities, if I had to wield it at all in these circumstances, I would instead place humanism and tribalism as opposite sides. Tribalism is our inclination to make demarcations, “us” and “them,” to apply labels to groups of people just to simplify our views towards them. More often than not, this has nothing to do with any distinct set of traits, but only serves to reinforce our pre-existing biases in the first place: we find ourselves relying on concepts like, “sinners,” or, “foreigners,” “tree-huggers,” or, “abortionists,” and on and on and on – all methods to lump together people with a huge variety of approaches and viewpoints and desires within a vastly inadequate boundary so we can then pronounce judgment (yes, even “atheists” and “religious folk.”) It’s nonsense, and well beneath our abilities as a species with remarkable ways of thinking. We’re all human, and our approaches should always be with this fact firmly in mind.

So in recognition of the day, here’s my suggestion: take a few moments to tackle decisions with an approach towards what’s most beneficial. Ignore the labels, and see only actions, with the realization that any proposed actions should be able to be applied in all directions, including back towards us. Take a few news items and try to ascertain how we arrived at these circumstances – I say this in the wake of a Florida nightclub shooting with obvious religious motivations; instead of thinking that this came from some “wrong” religion, try to fathom how someone could possibly have held the idea that this was a useful approach in the first place. But even if we don’t feel up to tackling all the ramifications of that, just look at various actions throughout the day. Does the way we treat those we work with lead towards a beneficial goal? Do our actions within groups of people define anything useful, or competitive instead? Are we raising our kids with an eye towards functional goals and improvement, or simply trying to extend our personal viewpoints through them?

Most especially, does the benefit extend beyond ourselves, our immediate circle of deserving people? How do we even define who’s “deserving?”

That should be a decent start, anyway. And if you miss the opportunity on Tuesday, feel free to try it out any other day – I won’t tell.

*     *     *

A couple of outside links regarding humanism:

The Humanist

American Humanist Association

And some internal, related links:

On capital punishment

Friends with benefits

Animal ethics

Put down the Dymo, Avery

How to bake a human

Arthropopourri

Just a handful of collected arthropod photos from the past few weeks, specifically excluding mantids.

sweat bee on flower with intruding bumblebee
Above, while pinning down focus on a pollinating sweat bee, a bumblebee flew into the frame as the shutter tripped, in a pretty optimal position compositionwise. Too bad the focus was so short.

And before I get to the next image below, a brief bit of background. While out at the nearby pond one night, for some reason without my camera (I’m not sure what I was thinking,) I was seeing plenty of reflections from spider eyes in the headlamp beam – and one especially sparkling one. My suspicions were confirmed as I got closer: it was a mother wolf spider carrying her multitudinous offspring on her back, with their eyes reflecting the light as well. I’ve gotten a few photos of this before, but I’m always aiming for better ones, and she seemed inclined to remain in position, so I noted her location carefully and trotted back home to grab the camera. Unsurprisingly, she had toddled off by the time I got back, but apparently a few of the sprogs had bailed her back and were hanging out in the same location on their own, so I settled for a couple of them instead of a family portrait.

newborn wolf spider genus Lycosidae alone without mother
Now, a word of explanation. I had nothing handy to take a measurement, but this little spud was tiny – the leg spread is probably less than the leg spread of a common tick. I could spot them by their reflective eyes (which says a lot, really, if you consider how small those really are,) and had to keep my gaze carefully on that location as I drew closer and the angle got too great to maintain the reflection. It was the only way I would ever have spotted them.

Here’s another one that relied largely on luck.

red ant carrying another deceased red ant
These red ants weren’t very big at all, and the one carrying the corpse of another was moving right along, as ants tend to do. At the magnification I had to use for them, they would flash in and out of focus in less than a second, and tracking them is not as easy as it might seem; they don’t maintain a steady rate nor direction, and once you overshoot and try to backtrack, they take off randomly again. It becomes a matter of very steady movements, anticipation, and timing – plus a lot of luck. There’s a reason I’m balding; I’d probably have a luxurious full head of hair had I not taken up macro photography.

But I still like that image up there, mostly for the “Don’t jump!” impression I get from it.

leafhopper nymph on parsley stem
One evening while chasing the mantids, I spotted this leafhopper nymph slurping up fluid from the stem of a parsley blossom. The plumed, fibrous ‘tail’ is pretty much leafhopper poop, and probably serves a protective purpose, even though it seems to attract a lot more attention than the leafhopper itself would have. They go through a lot of fluid, and quite quickly too, so the production of these strands is constant when they’re feeding. Between the foreground blossoms and a cluttered background, as well as things that would have blocked the light from the flash, my choice of angles was very limited, more so than it appears here – I aimed for having a foreground blossom just off the back of the leafhopper and it came out pretty clearly.

You do, of course, remember the massive fishing spider that was hanging out around the pond liner in the backyard? That one eventually disappeared, not being seen again within a night or two of finding it missing a couple of legs, and I think it likely that it fell prey to the resident frogs. But a few weeks ago as I moved some of the plants within the pond, I saw a little spider skate across the surface of the water, and when I located it again and examined it closely, it turns out to be the same species (high likelihood, anyway) as the large one.

juvenile fishing spider Dolomedes tenebrosus at base of scouring rush Equisetum hyemale
Is this an offspring of the mother, as I speculated upon then? I consider that doubtful myself, since as small as it is, it’s a lot larger than I would have expected, given the time frame – newborns are tiny. I also would have expected the frogs to make quick work of it, but as of tonight it’s still around even though it lives right under their noses.

At the botanical garden the other day, I snagged a newly-emerged adult dragonfly, which leads to a bit of trivia.

newly emerged adult draginfly final instar next to molted exoskeleton
The pale color, and the fact that the wings are sitting upright and not flat out to the sides, indicates that this is a new emergence. The brown insect to the upper right isn’t something else, however – it’s the old exoskeleton that the adult just emerged from. Yes, that big ol’ dragonfly came from that little brown skin, and while you might imagine that the skin shrank considerably after drying out, that’s not the case; the adults really do expand that much as they emerge. I have yet to capture this happening, and now I really have to, because we all have to see it, don’t we?

Here’s a look at one during the nymph stage, which is spent entirely underwater.

dragonfly nymph underwater
Yes, indeed, the eyes are much smaller, the abdomen greatly truncated, and those little flaps on the shoulders will someday become those elaborate dragonfly wings. At this stage in its life, a dragonfly is adapted to an entirely different set of habits and prey – it’s just that the transition between the two isn’t gradual, but takes place in hours.

I mentioned George Hrab’s Geologic podcast before, and I’m going to give you a direct link to one now, because he talks about their peculiar anatomy within – something I didn’t know myself, to be honest. And he does so with his own style, so definitely click here to listen. There’s a lot of other stuff in there too, but it’s hardly a detraction from the specific topic here. Consider it bonus content.

More is coming shortly, or as shortly as I can make it. You know where to find me.

I predict…

… there will be more posts coming in the uncertain future, with photos and trivia, and perhaps some changes to the regular content.

There. That sounds much better than my excuses for not posting something substantial now, right?

Maybe not.

reflection of Canada goose Branta canadensisAnyway, I’ve been juggling various tasks and projects, and I have two posts definitely in the works – the problem is, one is about mantids again and I want to space it out, even though it’s by far the easiest to write, while the other will take more prep time than I’ve been able to give. So, you get this semi-abstract image while I fill a little space telling you about some idle thoughts.

One possible change is, again, podcasting. I tried it some time back, carried it for a year, then let it go – I wasn’t sure it added anything except a lot of preparation. But on listening to George Hrab’s Geologic podcast recently, I have been toying with the idea of changing the format a bit; instead of just reading off a longer philosophical post, I may try recounting various experiences when out doing nature photography. You see, I’d settled on the ‘audiobook’ format because I didn’t want a lot of pauses and “uhhh”s in there, and because I felt that some of the stuff I’d written gained more emphasis from verbal delivery, making it the obvious choice for the experiment. Trying the new approach does mean that I will be working (poetic license abused there) off-the-cuff, with all the oral foibles that I am prone, while attempting a coherent story, an interesting delivery, and an acceptable amount of humor. This may be a serious mistake on all of those counts, but I will be trying some dry runs first, so they’ll have to pass my standards before they appear here (like that’s reassuring.) If nothing ever appears, well, let’s just say you were spared.

The podcasting thing was resurrected from my photography habits, which is possibly not what you’re imagining; it’s not all just taking pictures. I often end up with a lot of images to sort, which means deleting those which don’t pass muster, pondering if any particular image passes muster, and shifting the keepers into the appropriate categories, as well as adding the information about the image to a database (the part that I’m really behind on right now.) It’s time-consuming, and I usually have music playing when it’s going on, but recently tried finding some decent podcasts to let play while I work. After doing a search for the better comedy podcasts, Geologic won out over the others by a wide margin; most of them were too scattered, had a clash of too many voices, or simply lacked anything interesting to say. George Hrab is engaging, involved in the content, and not overly-concerned with trying to “be more funny,” nor competing with other voices; it is, as far as I’m concerned, how it should be done. Plus, anyone that can rip off a subtle quote from Midnight Run gains a lot of Brownie points from Al. So many, in fact, that he’s now been added to the blogroll on the sidebar.

Will my attempts even approach Geologic’s level? No. Will I be trying to shamelessly copy his style? No – despite my obvious shamelessness. Is this something I shouldn’t be doing at all? Quite possibly. We’ll just have to see what happens.

Mantodea reditum

That means, “return to the mantids.” Maybe. Probably not – it’s Latinish, one of many languages I have mastered not in the slightest form whatsoever.

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis poised on parsley flower
Lest you think something has terrible happened to my mind, I hasten to assure you that I have been keeping tabs on the mantises, even when I haven’t been posting anything. There is now a vast size difference between individuals, but no easy way of demonstrating this, so you’ll just have to take my word on it for now.

unidentified mantis on Dracaena grass
First off, the Carolina mantids (Stagmomantis carolina) seem to have dispersed entirely from their hatching point in the backyard, appearing nowhere that I have seen, though there’s a slim possibility, going only from the size, that the specimen above is one that made it around to the front porch area. Right now, I cannot say whether the Carolina mantids largely vacated the area or fell prey to various hazards, among them quite possibly their own cousins. The Chinese mantids (Tenodera sinensis) had hatched around the front of the house – mostly; I’ve seen a couple in the back – and have spread out a bit to various locations in the yard, with a handful still occupying the immediate environs of the egg case that I witnessed hatching (more or less.) This means the front garden with the day lilies and peonies, and the Japanese maple sitting on the other side of the front door. All of these locations served as their habitat all summer long last year, so I’m expecting the same again this year, but we’ll see how that goes. It’s handy to have photo subjects so close by.

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis on rosemary plant
A few have even made it over to the rosemary plants, where at their present size they camouflage amazingly well. This won’t last long; they’re going to get a lot bigger than the rosemary leaves/needles ever will, but right now they’re almost invisible. You did see the one above, right?

Carolina mantis Tenodera sinensis on eating black ant on pokeweed plant Phytolacca americana
There’s not a whole lot of behavior to photograph – they eat, and on rare occasion they molt their exoskeletons, which so far I haven’t spotted (I think I just missed one.) But I occasionally catch them eating, and for two of them, they initially dodged me as I drew close with the camera, but after only a half-minute they felt it was safe enough and thereafter ignored me. Above, this one looks like a distant aunt bestowing an unwanted kiss on a reluctant nephew, which is sorta right I guess. Most aunts don’t eat their nephews around here, but I can’t speak for other cultures…

Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis with roach
I shot this one just a few hours ago, as it partook of an average-sized roach (they can get a hell of a lot bigger around here.) This one was a measured 40 mm in body length, so about four times the size it was when first hatched, and the biggest in the area to my knowledge – it’s perched on a peony leaf, if that helps at all. It might, in fact, be the same one I photographed three nights ago on the mint plants, but that one was bright green at the time. They can change colors, but I believe it only happens after a molt, and I’m not sure how soon afterward, whether they emerge in a different color or the chitin becomes that hue over time as it hardens. This is one of those things that I’m hoping to witness someday, since so far no source that I’ve found has clarified this matter.

Chiinese mantis Tenodera sinensis in profile showing eye color
This is the photo from three days ago, left until the end for the fartistic merit. The translucence visible in the exoskeleton lends a little weight to this being soon after a molt, but I never saw the discarded skin so I’m only speculating. More noticeable is the eye color. I’ve mentioned before that, at night, mantis eyes turn black, presumably to help them see better, but it only takes place after a certain age, and this one appears to be on the border of that – two of the images above were taken at night, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the eyes. The eyes of this one are incompletely black, still bearing some of the daytime stripe on the sides, even though this was well after nightfall. At some point I might stake one out at dusk and photograph a whole sequence of the change.

Right now I’m still pondering potential methods of telling them apart. Since they molt their skins periodically, a little dab of paint or dye will be discarded then, and there are no other markings that are unique to individuals; I’m not even contemplating any body modifications that would be retained after a molt, such as lopping off a foot. Maybe I just need to teach myself DNA sequencing…

But how? Part 21: Assertion

So, I started this category many moons ago with the idea that it would be used to answer (mostly unasked) questions that religious folk like to pose towards atheists, essentially showing how a secular standpoint covers more bases than it’s usually given credit for. At times since, the structure of posing an initial question hasn’t really worked, yet I still felt that the topic fit in with the overall theme. We’re going to completely subvert the concept with this one, because today’s topic is assertion, which is about as far removed from seeking answers as one can get.

The vast majority of religions rely distinctly on assertions – statements of supposed Truth™ that come without any supporting evidence or even rationale. At best, there are references to scripture, which is a term used for stories that are asserted as being not just true, but divinely-inspired – in complete disregard of the entire concept of fiction, including the bare fact that it’s thousands of times easier to write than absolute truth. Challenge any religious person to provide support at all for the idea that their scripture is factual, and the vast majority of the times all you’ll hear is, “Because it says so right inside!” It’s extremely hard to treat such claims with dignity rather than blurting out, “You’re just not grasping how fiction works, are you?”

Much worse, however, are the millions of direct claims made without even the support of scripture, ranging from what was really meant to radical reinterpretations and, at times, completely unrelated statements. While most of the major religions rely on a specific set of scripture, they somehow manage to section off into thousands of variations, each with their own sets of rules and truths. If you think about it, scripture should certainly be able to stand on its own, without any authority figure to express or interpret it – no priests or rabbis or imams or other holy folk – but this is hardly the case, is it? And from these myriad religious leaders comes a huge selection of verities, many at remarkable odds to one another despite supposedly coming from the same source. Saying nothing, naturally, of the wide variety of religions the world over, all laying claim to truth and purity.

Overall, though, it’s not hard to see why assertion is even used in the first place. Our nature as a species is to puzzle things out, to seek answers, and we especially don’t like uncertainty – there are strong indications that uncertainty sets up negative reactions in our brains. The physical world isn’t very accommodating in such regards; lots of things that we deal with have no certainty to them, no absolutes, no clear demarcations. Nature has but a few laws, and beyond those constraints everything exists in a vast grey area. We are the ones that impose names and numbers, that rely on Olympics and Guinness Books, that determine species and states and speed limits, that even have a concept of best. The only comparisons in nature take place on extremely limited scales, determining what’s better right at the moment. While there may be a fastest springbok in the world, the sole thing that matters is if any of them are fast enough to avoid the predator currently bearing down.

Yet, with all this plainly evident around us, we take solace in absolutes; we want answers that will remain the same regardless, so we never have to compare, never have to think about them again. And we want this bad enough that we’ll actually fall for assertions, readily ignoring the fact that there is no method of absolute certainty, and no examples of such. We even use worthless shortcuts in our thinking to produce such states, believing, for instance, that the most expensive product is the best. Advertisers, restricted by laws against fraud or unsubstantiated claims, nevertheless find ways to assure us of their product’s superiority with such statements as, “the most efficient in its class,” never telling us what the class consists of or exactly how few others inhabit it. Time and again, we’re told to speak confidently – it will help us in public speaking, in sales pitches, in interactions with potential mates; we’re almost never told to back up our claims, just to sound like we’re assured of ourselves. Such a simple and transparent thing, and we’ve been relying on it for centuries, if not millennia.

There’s more to it than that, however. We’re also ridiculously prone to following the flock, eschewing individuality of thought and decision in favor of group acceptance and support. If enough other people believe it, then hey, it must be true, assuming unconsciously that they’ve done the legwork, at least. Conformity and social dynamics takes precedence, far too often, over rational consideration, making us more afraid of standing out than of making a wrong decision. Churches, unsurprisingly, prey on this, usually requiring weekly (at least) devotionals in the biggest roomful of people they can manage – with commensurate fees, of course. While we can receive schooling in our youth and somehow, miraculously, retain most of this throughout our lives, basic ethical guidelines from a single set of scripture seem to flee our minds within days. Funny, that.

It is interesting comparing this approach with that used within most forms of schooling, and maintained throughout all scientific endeavor. Certainty is considered unattainable, and truth is a lie; we have only what we can demonstrate, the effects that stem from the causes. The binary yes/no, true/false ideology is ignored in favor of probability, the confidence we can have in seeing the same results over and over again. No one has to assure us that heat will dissipate among its surroundings, or assert that gravity really exists; there’s no point to it because it’s readily observable. Questioning is just fine, even encouraged, and usually results in answers and demonstrations – no faith is necessary nor requested. In fact, this callback to our school days is informative in itself, because the worst teachers were the ones that asserted and failed to explain. Aside from that, it was the bullies that shouted to try and drive their points home, unable to make a plausible case and too insecure to consider other alternatives. How many among them were trying to drown out not just the voices of dissent among the others, but the voices of uncertainty within their own heads?

When it comes to religious ‘discussions,’ especially online and anonymous, the assertions come flying fast and thick. It’s easy to understand why so many religious folk find it necessary to separate the schooling of their children from the public offerings, and easy to spot those that have received this little gift. The only thing that one can do with an assertion is repeat it, more forcefully if necessary – who hasn’t seen the ALL CAPS tactic? – or perhaps buttressed with the threats of damnation. It’s unfortunate that too many adults fail to perceive of the disservice they do to children in this regard, terrified of the possibility of ‘straying’ or perhaps assured that this was the best way, but those who cannot handle a logical chain of thought, that know only how to repeat, cannot fare well in countless aspects of our culture; bearing a self-imposed title of superiority isn’t one percent as useful as being functional and able to think on one’s own.

More numerous are the ones who straddle the fence, willing to engage in actual discussion but unable to relinquish the hold of the assertion. Faced with the myriad things imparted to them in their religious schooling that are not reflected in any form in our physical world, they cannot entertain the thought that the assertions were dead wrong, but instead try to find ways to excuse the discrepancies, often creating entirely new assertions just to shore up the original ones. From such tactics we have the oft-repeated ideas that the vast fossil record is a test of faith, or that the six days of creation were metaphorical days (because, you know, we feeble-minded humans needed an easier term to grasp than, “thousands of years.”) Very frequently, these new explanations, springing only from the imagination of those proposing them, are then treated as unassailable facts, instead of just one of many thousands of possible explanations for the discrepancies. It’s commendable to be open-minded, as we are often urged, and consider other explanations – but this should also (if we are being honest and truly open-minded) include explanations that do not support the assertions, rather than whatever one works best to shore up the faith, all others be damned. Moreover, there isn’t a lot of value to considering the thousands of different explanations, unless we actually stop and consider which ones fit best, and especially, which predict future results; this is probability, the functional application of considering the options, because it serves to start selecting out the unlikely ones and culling our options down to the fewest possible.

That ‘future use’ bit is the primary and overriding benefit of knowledge. If we learn something that can tell us what will happen, it’s hard to argue the usefulness of this, isn’t it? Religion and scripture are notoriously bad about this, the vast majority of predictions related through them having already failed to occur (and still conveniently dodged with even more assertions.) As we learned about physical laws and properties, we put them to continual and ever-expanding use, improving our living conditions hugely, and even informing us of what can go wrong – while religion has been attempting to guide mankind in moral and behavioral manners for centuries to millennia with remarkably little to show for it. Instead, most of what assertion accomplishes is the indulgence of the religious individual, permitting them to avoid ever having to admit to being wrong, denying the value of certainty through dependable results and replacing it with certainty by declaration, all evidence to the contrary being dismissed. And all that this accomplishes is a sop to their own ego.

We, as a species, have a hard time admitting to being wrong, a peculiar facet of competition and social judgment. The ugly truth is, we simply cannot avoid being wrong – it’s going to happen, every day in fact. We can deny that this occurs, or we can learn from it, using it to guide our future selves into more accurate and useful decisions – and this is actually the way our brains work, their primary purpose in fact. Sometimes it’s easy; sometimes it takes a lot of thought. Yet nothing about thinking is actually hard – the only hard part is not getting the answer right away, the indulgence that we desire (especially one that panders to our egos.) But, you tell me: is it better to work for this indulgence, and arrive at answers that provide future benefit, or is it better to find ways to fake it just for the immediate gratification?

And finally, a simple observation: truth should be plainly self-evident – I mean, how could it not? Yet if we ever have to insist that this is how things must be – if we ever have to assert a state of affairs to convince others because the evidence simply doesn’t support it – how can we, in any manner, consider this truth? Why would such a thing even be necessary?

In my defense

… he says, with a touch of self-consciousness and insecurity.

First off, an apology for being away as long as I have, especially when I said I’d be following the progress of the hawks. I’d actually started this post many days ago, but while it was in draft form, a little over a week back, I was away for the day and the hawk fledglings chose that day to leave the nest. I’d been monitoring their progress by their size and feathers, and while they were big enough, I didn’t think their feather coverage was adequate yet – so much for my judgment. I have seen no sign of them since, though I occasionally hear an adult sounding off with territorial cries, but basically I lost a lot of desire to follow up when I had zilcho to follow up with. Just for the sake of it, I’m going ahead with the original post immediately below.

You might have noticed that the photos of the red-shouldered hawk family are not up to the same quality seen throughout the blog and main site; if you haven’t, well, good, but your eyes suck. As a regular visitor to Why Evolution Is True and his featuring of readers’ wildlife photos a few times a week, I don’t even bother submitting the hawk photos since I feel they’re not up to the standards already set therein.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus juveniles standing erect on nest near sunset
I’d like them to be better myself of course, but it likely isn’t going to happen anytime soon, and isn’t possible right now. Here’s why.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus nest in full frame without croppingFirst off, recognize that the nest is fairly distant, and even my longest lens doesn’t get all that ‘close’ – the Sigma 170-500mm can only do so much. The image to the right is full-frame, my typical view in the viewfinder before cropping down to provide a better image of the subjects. Then, autofocus is out of the question; even in the center of the frame, the distance of everything that it might lock onto varies by several meters, so it’s much better to go with manual focus where I know it’s on precisely the subject I want it to be on, and can’t suddenly decide to wander off to something else right as interesting behavior is being displayed.

But the viewfinder is only so clear; the catchlight in the eyes, visible in the top, cropped version of the same image, is barely visible when I’m focusing, and that’s only when the hawks are in a position and the light is bright enough to provide this, which isn’t often. At all other times, I’m trying to nail sharpest focus by picking the speckled plumage, or the edge of a beak. There’s too much room for slop.

The Sigma 170-500 is an ‘okay’ performer – all right for non-critical uses, but not up to the quality of many other lenses. All of those cost quite a bit more, however, and I have a simple operating principle. While I take my nature photography seriously, it brings in a very limited income, and amounts to just slightly more than a hobby; I make more from students than I do from selling these images. It would be nice to think that, by investing in a better lens, I’ll get more income, but the macro lenses I use are ridiculously sharp and haven’t been resulting in more sales, so that assumption isn’t holding up. I don’t have a lot of disposable income and am notably frugal; if it will pay for itself, I’ll drop the money, but that isn’t being demonstrated, and I have more important things to direct that money towards.

Then there are the traits of the lens itself. It gets noticeably sharper as it’s stopped down to f11 or so, and backed off slightly from 500mm. Stopping down, naturally, means longer shutter speeds or a higher ISO, both of which can degrade the image. It’s easy enough for the hawks to move just a little during a slower shutter speed and blur themselves away from critical sharpness, to say nothing of the tree swaying. Also, the focus ring is designed with a very short travel, handy for quick focusing, but it means that a very small twitch can make the difference between ideal focus and being far enough off to wreck image quality.

non-magnified view of nest
Roughly what the normal, unaided view of the nest is – that bright spot in the double-fork, upper right
On top of that, there are the facets of shooting with any long lens. The more the magnification, the more chance that camera shake will actually be seen in the image as motion blur, and there’s only so much that a tripod can do. The vibrations of the mirror slapping up and the shutter opening actually start the camera shaking, very slightly, but at 450mm or so it’s occasionally enough, worsened by a longer shutter speed where the camera has time to bounce back and forth a tiny bit while the shutter is open. To counteract this slightly, I’ve been using a remote release cord so I’m not even touching the camera, but that only eradicates my vibrations, and not the camera’s. Somewhere around here I have a secondary support arm to help stabilize the camera when using a long lens but I haven’t actually dug it out for these photos; that’s my laziness, since it greatly increases the setup time, but I really should be using it.

Since I’m 183 cm in height (6 feet,) the tripod has to be tall to hold the camera at eye level, more so when it’s aimed up and thus should be slightly higher. But the higher and more extended the tripod, the more vibration it’s prone to. The simple improvement for this was to move a handy chair to my shooting location and lower the tripod down to eye-level when seated; I could have lowered it further and just sat on the ground too, but my shooting location was not ideal for this.

All of these present things to consider when pursuing nature photography. One can spend a lot of money on it, but even the best lenses won’t overcome all of these issues, and there will always be a situation that exceeds the capabilities of one’s equipment. As I’ve always recommended, the first thing that you do is concentrate on overcoming the limitations with what’s immediately available: stabilizing the lens and camera more, or getting closer (or more light.) Using the equipment in its optimal configurations, like stopping down the aperture. Finding subjects that are more ideally situated. There is often a lot that can be done first without throwing new equipment (and thus more money) at the problem. And on top of this, it helps to know what the equipment can do for you, and what it can’t. While another 100mm in focal length is nice, it’s not that much more magnification, and if it comes at the expense of sharpness or maximum aperture, it won’t improve things much, if at all.

And all of it depends on how cooperative, or not, your subjects are ;-)

The real May abstract

ginkgo Ginkgo biloba leaves against sky
For reasons unknown, I had it in my head yesterday that we were in June, with only thirty days, and thus had to post the month-end abstract yesterday. After midnight, a glance down at the date/time bar on the computer screen reminded me of my error, which I was willing to let go until I spotted a better abstract while sorting images just now. The blog auditors will be wondering how we ended up with extra abstract images at the fiscal year end, but by then I plan to be long out of the country.

These are the leaves of a ginkgo tree, Ginkgo biloba, and there’s a bit of trivia regarding this species in that it is a living fossil. Which doesn’t actually make any senses – it’s a stupid phrase, really – but what is usually meant by it is that we have evidence of very similar species going way back in the fossil record with very little visible change, and this is the only example we have; nothing else shares its class, order, or genus, which is exceptionally rare in the plant or animal kingdoms. You can see the difference in the leaf structure, not branching like most leaves, but the veins all originating directly from the stem. I have a book on curiosities of evolution that features the ginkgo, and once I actually set aside time to read it (I have a shelf of books I’ve been trying to get to,) I may be back with some more details. For now, it’s here as visual appreciation. So appreciate it, dammit!

Not completely irredeemable

Okay, after that last post we needed something a little more pleasant to look upon (which means, since they display in reverse order and I’m posting this almost immediately after the previous, that you’re receiving a warning of what will be found further down.) So how about a few images from one evening at the nearby pond? You even have the chance to express which one you like the most.

Let’s start with a green heron (Butorides virescens) that was hunting near sunset in a highly visible position. They’re notoriously shy birds and hard to get close to, but this one was intent on its hunting and we were able to creep closer than they normally allow. They’re not big birds, about the body size of crows, so many times smaller than the common great blue herons seen so often.

green heron Butorides virescens hunting at pond's edge
I wasn’t using a particularly long lens, so this was as good as it got – I’m pleased that, with all the distortion in the reflection, the eye itself stood out so well, and in such good light. Almost immediately after this shot, the heron took a stab at a minnow, missed, and flew off, having tolerated our presence for as long as it dared.

Only a few minutes before that, a trio of semi-resident Canada geese (Branta canadensis) decided it was time to wrap it up for the day and took flight, heading off to wherever they settled for the evening; others that were raising young on the pond spend the nights there. As they passed by at low level, wings whirring like faint bullroarers, I tracked them, panning the camera with their movement while firing off several frames. It’s not often that I have the opportunity to try out this technique, and most times it hasn’t produced anything worthwhile, but this time around I liked the results.

Canada geese Branta canandensis taking flight over pond
While it would be ideal to catch the wings in a particular position for best fartistic effect, this isn’t something that I can suggest pursuing – the wing beats are too fast that even catching one goose at just the right point would take exquisite timing; three of them would be entirely luck. These two images are at 1/100 and 1/125 second. Had I held still and fired off my frames as the geese crossed (or stopped my panning motion as I tripped the shutter,) they would have blurred from the lateral movement of the geese – this becomes clear when you look at the blur of the background, streaked horizontally from the camera motion. So I’m pleased that the geese are as sharp as they are. In fact, you can even find a hint of catchlight, sunlight reflecting off of the eye, in both images.

Canada geese Branta canandensis taking flight over pond
Now, I’m torn between these two in regards to which I like the most. I prefer the top one for the positions and clarity of the geese, but the bottom one for the background. Had I only posted one, it might be easy to judge it on its own merits, but with the two close together to compare how they could be different (which is something I do all the time when sorting images,) picking the one that’s best becomes a little trickier. Or it does to me anyway; you might have no problem with dismissing them both. Fine. Be that way.

The real mindset, the one that I encourage everyone to have (and not just with photography,) is to keep thinking of how it could be better. Good shot? Great – be proud of it! But go get a better one now…

A select few

It’s true; only a few special people would not only notice details like this, but photograph it in fine detail. I’ll let you supply your own definition of ‘special’ for these circumstances…

In clearing out some areas of the yard the other day, I disturbed some wet leaves and wood pulp and exposed my friend here, obviously suited to a hidden and protected existence. I had to include a scale shot – this is easily the biggest grub I’ve ever seen, and my best guess is this being a patent-leather beetle (Odontotaenius disjunctus,) judging from the size and the habitat. But the size isn’t the most interesting bit.

scale photo of grub, possibly patent-leather beetle Odontotaenius disjunctus
I don’t know if this image really conveys the correct impression or not (don’t worry – I’m on it,) but the grub was both seriously distended and almost completely transparent. This allowed me to illustrate two particular facets, which of course I will inflict upon present to you.

large grub possibly patent leather beetle Odontotaenius disjunctus showing internal anatomy
The entire hind-end of the abdomen, taking up 1/3 the mass of the whole insect, was engorged with a brown mass that was likely wood pulp under digestion, but resembled brains more than anything else, especially due to the bi-lateral ‘lobes’ appearance. If I’m correct in my assessment, this would seem to indicate that the digestive tract of the beetle (?) is bifurcated, and thus significantly different from our own – no surprise there of course, but it’s little reminders like this that carry us away from the assumptions of similarity that we’re prone to make. And while I’m here I have to say that, as I was getting these photos, the grub would perform an occasional ‘contraction’ and the brown mass would shift under the skin, and not all at once either, but in different sections. There’s something very different about seeing working internal anatomy.

It’s easy to think that the lobed appearance might indicate lungs or something, but that’s completely on the wrong track, and the second facet that is being illustrated. As I’ve posted about twice before, here and here, arthropods have an entirely different respiratory system. In most cases, they have little openings along the thorax and abdomen, called spiracles, that feed into a branching network of tracheoles that carry oxygen to the tissues directly, without having to use a circulatory system like mammals do. I was lucky enough to find some caterpillars that showed this visibly through their skin (the first link above,) but this guy didn’t even require magnification – the networks were easily visible by eye. And in fact, so visible that, under magnification, the bigger branches actually had a translucent appearance.

visible tracheole network of grub possibly patent-leather beetle Odontotaenius disjunctus
[Yes, there’s a little piece of bright blue fiber next to a rust-orange spiracle that looks like somebody was being careless with a pen – don’t ask me where it came from, and I didn’t see it when taking the photos.]

There is no muscular mechanism for pumping air in and out of the body for insects, or at least the majority of them – it just comes in largely through the flexing of the abdomen and internal organs. Arthropods don’t actually need much oxygen, both because of their size and because their metabolism doesn’t require it as a catalyst as much as mammals do – a little goes a long way. This is why exterminators that treat a house must evacuate everyone and seal it up, since the concentrations of pesticide that are required are a lot higher than what would affect us, weaklings that we are.

The spiracles themselves were also big, larger than I’ve seen on any arthropod, and peculiarly-shaped – right now I could only speculate as to why, so we’ll just leave my ignorance sitting quietly in a corner rather than parading it around for all to see.

spiracle detail for grub, possibly patent-leather beetle Odontotaenius disjunctus
The exoskeleton around the spiracles seemed to take on a thicker and more opaque appearance, giving the impression of being ‘reinforced’ there for some reason, but on very close inspection it looked more like a spray of tiny tracheole to feed the closest tissue. Where would you be without people like me to present the wonders of the arthropod world to you? Probably sleeping better at night, is my guess…

While those chelicerae (‘fangs,’ ‘jaws,’ whatever you like) in the top photo look capable of dealing a serious pinch at least, I never encountered them in that manner, and the grub stayed mostly curled up tight in a defensive posture, not helped at all by me shifting it to a better angle for images every time it decided it was safe and started unrolling again. After these photos, and grossing out The Girlfriend, I returned it to where I had found it. It might have been interesting to see what it eventually morphed into as an adult, but I don’t really have any method of housing it for such. And I think it was actually too big to consider feeding to the resident green frogs, who seem to be keeping the spider populations in the yard down anyway.

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