Monday color 18

Al Denelsbeck

primrosesThis is one example of matching light to your subject. I often recommend that, when the light is bright and high-contrast, photographers should seek low-contrast subjects, and this is an example of the opposite: a high-contrast subject shot in low-contrast, near overcast lighting. The shadows are kept under control, but more importantly, the highlights don’t get too strong and start to wash out the colors, or worse, bleach out entirely to white. Delicate textures and contours can be seen easily, and all of the different colors still fall in the middle registers, being rich without fading towards white.

Shooting at f4 helped keep the two lower blossoms isolated in focus from background leaves, but the natural white edges of the primrose petals helped delineate them as well. Though it’s not like they would have gotten lost against the background colors otherwise…

You animal!

Al Denelsbeck

You know, there are a lot of misconceptions about animal psychology and behavior out there, and they’re all over the map. I’m going to address a few of the more prevalent ones here, with the hopes of at least promoting a little more perspective and forethought among the topics.

Let’s get one thing out of the way right from the start: “animal” is a simple but broad definition that, yes, includes humans – not to be flippant, but we are not vegetables or minerals. More on this shortly.

Curiously, our own behavioral traits bear a lot of responsibility for these misconceptions, in two different directions too. The first is the egotistical aspect, hinted at above. We place ourselves quite high in importance, which is a useful survival trait, and not only separate ourselves from other species, but from other humans on remarkably arbitrary criteria. We look at other species that cannot talk or build bicycles and find them “lower,” unworthy of our awesome status. We are the only species with “culture” and behavioral standards (or so we often believe,) and thus, when we see critters that mate right out in public or won’t say, “Bless you,” when we sneeze, we find them savage and unworthy. Therefore, calling someone an animal is usually an insult to varying degrees, except for those overheated occasions when it’s a naughty compliment (lots of psychological angles on that alone, but we’ll leave them for another post.)

Yet a lot of our own behavior is cultural, which only exists because we’re inordinately focused on what other people think. Saying, “Bless you,” is remarkably stupid, for countless reasons, but it’s not hard to find those who agonize over the necessity of it following a sneeze – because they think everyone else expects it, and this is pertinent somehow. Not exactly an example of higher intellect, though. And there are other cultural influences as well, such as the religious angle that mankind was created with a special status, a separation from “the animals” [get used to a lot of sarcasm-quotes in this post] and of course the special intentions and attentions from the creator. Much of the resistance to evolution in this country focuses on this perspective and the distaste this fosters for those lower life forms. But we are not in any way distinctive in terms of life on this planet – while we have traits that are unique to our species, so does every other species. From an ecological standpoint, if a species is surviving, it has the necessary traits and behaviors for its niche in the system. And for all our vaunted intellect, we’re in a constant battle with microorganisms – seriously, viruses! Not even able to move on their own, yet capable of killing us by co-opting our own cells against us. Let’s not let our egos carry us away.

I feel the need to mention that nothing we do on this planet is “unnatural,” either – we weren’t introduced here by aliens or whatever. Having distaste over pollution and industrialization is fine, commendable really, but this doesn’t make them any less a part of the ecosystem than the devastation wrought by “pest” insects. It would be nice if that intellect we treasure made us capable of preventing the bits we find distasteful, handling our garbage and overcrowding in much better ways, but we’re also pretty focused on convenience, for all the importance that has…

Contemplative green anole
While my previous use of this image implied an introspective air, this green anole is not only well aware of my presence, it had dashed to this area for safety and was examining other routes of escape at this moment

And then we have the other behavioral trait that leads to so many instances of misconceptions and bizarre expectations, and that’s the assumption that other species actually think like we do. This appears everywhere, from those who get frustrated because their dogs are not following instructions to those who find some spiritual bond with dolphins or whatever. Let’s be direct: there are no other species that think like we do, and no reason for them to do so. They have their own demands for survival, their own behavioral traits to assist with this. There are, in some cases, analogs of human ideas. Singular examples of two different species might become “friends,” or at least, enjoy and prefer one another’s company. Dogs can display recognition of particular words. Yet it’s important to realize that not everything is as we interpret it; dogs are far more likely to respond not to words, but to their delivery, the apparent emotions behind them, and the patterns of our own behavior, since dogs are far more attuned to behavior than speech, which they have no use for nor the areas of the brain necessary to comprehend them. Their environment, bred into them for millions of years, embraces pack behavior above all else, which requires reading the unspoken cues from others within the pack, but with thousands of years of human-directed breeding, this is often packaged with herding instincts, or chasing down particular prey, or aggressive defense of a territory. While we might gauge behavior from a standpoint of abstracts and language, dogs will usually gauge their behavior on pack dynamics and whether some action warrants a specific response. Part of the difficulty is, we honestly don’t know, and it’s only through some esoteric tricks that we can have any inkling.

Look at it this way. A significant amount of human interaction can revolve around not knowing whether someone’s comment was innocent or snarky, an unthinking rejoinder or a calculated slight; we spend a lot of time “reading between the lines” to try and correctly interpret words that we have firm definitions for. Step into another culture, and we may provoke grave offense from being unaware that showing the sole of our foot to someone is insulting there, which bears just as much fault from the people within that culture not understanding that we don’t interpret the gesture in that manner. To think that we can confidently interpret the thought processes of other species is being remarkably naïve.

Moreover, the vast majority of it is simply wishful thinking. While we might like to believe that Koko the gorilla recognized Robin Williams’ unique traits enough to actually be sad at his passing, some critical examination is definitely called for. A lot of species might have recognition of positive interactions with another species, or just individuals therein, and this may truly result in some regret when the interaction ends. Is it safe to call this “friendship,” or any analog thereof? That’s probably jumping the gun by a significant margin, especially considering all of the implications and assumptions that the term fosters within us. And did Koko place Robin Williams higher in “esteem” than anyone else that engaged in tickle bouts with her? How often does it occur to anyone to even wonder about that? We cannot, in good science or good conscience, view this interaction through the perspective that we view interactions within our own species. Hell, even a human toddler informed of “bedtime” may erupt into an end-of-the-world tantrum, all out of proportion to the nature of the offense – we may be used to it, but not really understand it (or some other behaviors as well,) and this is our own species.

From my years working in animal shelters, I had plenty of exposure to feral cats – domestic cat breeds that had adapted to living on their own in “the wild.” I had a basic guideline measurement for kittens: if they’d reached four months of age without human interaction, they were highly unlikely to tame down to being a house pet. At all. In fact, two of my former pets were cats specifically on this border, who I’d taken home and fostered to try and get them used to people. One took to me well but remained wary enough of strangers that I didn’t believe she would ever get adopted when brought back into the shelter; the other remained somewhat spastic her entire life – 16 years, and still capable of hissing at me in alarm if I walked into the room suddenly (but otherwise normally affectionate.) Bear in mind these are a species that has been domesticated for thousands of years – it doesn’t hold a candle to the millions of years of developing survival traits, and is testament to the idea that acceptance of humans is likely more conditioning since birth than an actual trait the species possesses.

Most other species, of course, have no such conditioning, much less the domestication. They live in environments where danger is frequent, and their interactions among their own kind is geared towards that which is specific to their niche in the ecosystem. Humans have tribes, and require a cohesiveness for cooperative functions such as hunting, harvesting, and maintaining large scale shelters, which now extends to grocery stores and maintained roads. We might feel a parallel with the herding behavior of deer, but these are only weakly related; deer have specific ideas of who belongs in the herd and what behavior is acceptable therein. They also have specific ideas of defense, used against dogs and coyotes and wolves and even other deer, and are quite capable of wielding these whenever they feel it’s necessary – and unless we’ve spent a lot of time observing deer (while asking, like Koko above, exactly what we’re observing,) we can never be sure when we’re crossing the line until the attack comes. That’s not really a good time to find out.

White-tailed deer Odocoileus virginianus in urban backyard
We can’t, naturally, use our own judgment as to what will trigger defensive behavior, because we inhabit different environments with different demands. The concept of “too close” depends on how fast the threatened species can run, which escape route is the best, and wildly variable factors such as whether young are involved or whether it’s mating season. These might seem obvious – we’ve all seen nature documentaries, and know not to mess with bear cubs and all that – but one of the biggest stumbling blocks is never having the presence of mind to even think about it. Far too often, we can see some species and think, “Awwwwww,” reacting to appearance without engaging in rational examination. We believe that approaching a trapped or injured animal will be viewed with appreciation because we’re only trying to help it, and somehow the animal will not feel extra-threatened because it is far more vulnerable. We examine wildlife with the assurance that “it doesn’t look angry,” without having the faintest idea what angry looks like. Also quite often, we figure that we’ve gotten this far and nothing bad has happened, so it must be okay to go further. Just thinking about that for a moment reveals the absurdity of the conclusion, but it takes that moment of thought.

Worse, far worse, are the claims of “spirituality,” and “connection,” and any related ideas where humans somehow have a bond or mystical attachment with any other species. Addressing the mindset which leads to such conclusions would take far more effort than I’m going to put into it here, and far more experience in psycho-analysis than I have, so let’s just put it simply: it’s horseshit. We’ve been studying animal behavior for a long time, and have determined some very nuanced aspects, and nothing whatsoever has come up to support some paranormal method of bonding or communicating with any other species, even as we have discovered how many species can detect magnetic lines and just how sensitive their olfactory receptors can be. Evidence of how often humans can misinterpret awe and desire as something transcendent, however, we have abundant examples of, millions. The problem with such egotistical beliefs is that they provoke people into ignoring everything that rational thought can tell them, every advantage that big elaborate brains can provide, in favor of some base emotional prod that only spells misappplied survival instincts. But if it helps, had humans or our ancestors ever developed the sense of bonding with any species in order to approach it safely, it would have eliminated the need for hunting with weapons – at least until the same species evolved away from believing that shit.

Eastern fence lizard Sceloporus undulatus motionless on tree
This Eastern fence lizard isn’t motionless because it doesn’t see me as a threat, but because it’s camouflaged, and many predatory animals are attuned to movement
At the risk of selling a lot of species short, here’s a basic guideline to follow: assume the worst, and credit any species only with base instincts. There are three main survival factors, and these carry all the way ‘up’ to us: finding food, escaping predation, and reproducing. Even as we watch cats play, we can recognize that the very same actions are reflected in hunting; we can watch dogs play and realize, with a sharp eye, that they’re determining where they fall in this new pack that’s been developed within the dog park. Any and every wild species that we encounter is going to consider us a threat, mostly through long experience. I may be castigated for making such blanket statements, and I’m well aware that there are exceptions; the point is, exceptions are rare, and counting on them is stupid. By starting with low and simple expectations, we are more likely to build up to an accurate evaluation of species reactions and/or intellect than if we start from our human assumptions. The birds that come to our feeders probably do not recognize us as harmless – they may simply weigh the availability of easy food against the (so far) low level of threat that we’ve displayed. The deer wandering through a residential neighborhood are not “cool” with humans; they’ve simply adapted to a new set of circumstances through necessity. In no way should these be interpreted to mean that there is no longer a line to cross, that the point of a dangerous defensive response has disappeared – it has merely shifted, and can shift back again much easier because the evolutionary path that established it over thousands of years has greater influence than a few weeks of experience. It is safe to say we will witness the most adaptation from mammals, and considerably less from birds and reptiles, simply from the hugely different structure of their brains and the nature of their decision-making processes. Insects are, by extension, a complete write-off; expect no conditioning or behavioral changes of any kind (being an arthropod photographer kinda made me throw this in – I doubt anyone is bonding with bugs.)

From a photography or even naturalism standpoint, understanding the different perspective that animals will have on any given situation is important, yet difficult. While there are tricks to help improve results, they remain only tricks, and do not provide a lot in the way of understanding the behavior of any species (especially when the “personality” of any individual is as variable as humans can be, even when some overall traits can be found within a particular species.) Scientists like Jane Goodall do not spend decades in careful observation because fathoming animal behavior is a quick and easy skill to develop.

Notably, the awe we may feel, the kinship, the connection, should immediately be considered suspect, rather than believed or indulged. Humans have no reason nor useful function in possessing such a bond, nor does any species have a reason to possess one in return (and as a moment’s thought will demonstrate, it would probably be extremely detrimental to most – while a bond with any particular individual might be beneficial, bonding with our gun-happy neighbors is not.) The species that have become domesticated have done so over thousands of years and, in most cases, can switch back very quickly – witness the feral cat, dog, horse, and pig populations that can be found in various locations on the planet.

And for those on the other side of the coin, that feel that “animal instinct” is somehow a derogatory term, recognize that evolution tends to be pretty efficient. Every species alive right now has what it takes to survive within the ecosystem, even when it may not last much longer for a few of them. While no other species but us can play with smutphones, they don’t waste ridiculous amounts of resources in producing and maintaining these toys either, much less provoke the mass extinctions that we do. Those with insecurity issues might feel the need to sneer down upon other species, but the rest of us can accept the life on this planet as it is – perhaps with a little extra effort and examination.

Why so many?

Al Denelsbeck

Every once in a while someone remarks about how many frames I take, or why it might be necessary to take more than one of any given subject, or most especially, whether they should be doing this. It all depends on what one wants to get out of their photography, and what their end purposes are, but the answer is, “Yes.”

Took care of that one easily. Next post.

budding cherry tomato with retained blossomOkay, sorry, let’s look at it in detail. First off, there’s always the possibility that autofocus wandered to the wrong point, or with moving subjects, you captured a frame where things simply didn’t look optimum. Then, there’s the idea that subtle changes in position (especially in macro work) can produce subtle but notable changes in the framing and background. Also to be considered are things like minor differences in lighting, perhaps from changing the strobe angle, or maybe because the clouds are shifting or the shadows are being thrown differently across your subject by waving branches. And then there’s the simple possibility that what you originally envisioned doesn’t illustrate your idea as well as you liked. Let’s take a look at a few images I shot last night to see what I mean.

This newly-budding cherry tomato, still retaining the flower petals that provoked its development, appears pretty much exactly as I wanted it to, even capturing a faint sheen of dew across the surface. The light angle is not quite direct (see highlights on leaf, and shadows to right,) but shows everything well and produces no shadows that hide the detail I wanted to display. Yet, the first frame I took was slightly out of focus, because this is a tiny subject and I cannot stand absolutely still, so I swayed ever-so-slightly out of position as I tripped the shutter – with high magnification, this can be movement as insignificant as a millimeter or less. Even looking at the camera’s LCD as I went along wasn’t enough to tell me that the focus wasn’t bang on. But then we come to the possibility that the image isn’t even illustrating the idea that I had as well as it could have. This is much more crucial when you might be working to someone else’s ideas, such as shooting for a publication of some kind. In many cases this can be demanding, because an editor may not want the black background, or needs a horizontal format, or something that gives a better impression of scale or stages of development.

cherry tomato blossoms in various stages of developmentSo then you might take a few different approaches, notably if you have options available to you. While I wasn’t going to get a better background last night, there being nothing close enough nor tall enough (this plant is actually over my head) to fill in for that darkness, I could have shot the same scene in daylight conditions to change the whole appearance. You might have noticed that the light angle changed by reversing the strobe, and that the one tomato from the previous image is now almost hidden away down in the corner, receiving a much less useful light angle and position in the frame. Yet, the context is more complete, a better sense of scale has (possibly, anyway) been produced, and more stages of tomato development are displayed in one image. Also, rather than being a mere illustration, a more artistic air has been produced, slightly more dynamic – some people might even find this a worthwhile art print (yeah, there’s no accounting for taste.)

One thing that I missed is how some of the petals are cut off slightly by the frame edges. This is the entire image frame, so I screwed up slightly; I could have shot a little wider and had open space all around, and even shooting a bit wider than that would have given me options to crop as needed. This is something I often tell my students: shoot a bit wider than necessary (in other words, from farther away, or with the subject a little smaller in the frame if that helps.) You can always crop tighter if the image calls for it, but adding in the extra space is a lot of Photoshop work that you don’t want to do. Also, this can help in getting ‘routine size’ prints done, especially for portraits and weddings and so on. The standard image frame for most cameras is a 2×3 ratio, which translates to, for instance, 8×12 inches. But finding a place that routinely prints at 8×12 inches can be difficult, and finding a wood or metal frame to display the prints harder still – the standard yet remains 8×10 inches, which would cut off a significant portion of the long aspect. This image, for instance, just couldn’t be cropped down to that effectively – luckily, I can choose my aspect ratio for the blog without worrying about standards (but you already knew about my lack of standards.)

5 stage animation showing subtle frame changes, Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis on Amercian pokeweed Phytolacca americanaNow let’s take a look at how subtle changes in position work. This mantis was perched on a pokeweed plant, and I purposefully positioned myself to capture the budding flowers in the background as a framing element. Take a look at how the flowers offset the mantis, and how much of the underlying leaf is shown, and even how the antenna appears in the frame. I didn’t even change the lighting, nor shoot any horizontal formats for this, but still have a variety of appearances to choose from. Chances are there’s one you like better than the others, and it might not be the one that I like. While most of the blog and site reflect my own preferences, if you’re looking to sell your images, it’s better if you meet with your client’s preferences instead, and this might mean several different options. These are very subtle changes compared to what could have been done easily, but they illustrate how much of a difference such subtle changes produce.

When using film, this could mean firing off half a roll or more on one subject, not counting the frames that were misses and simply discarded – but one sale offsets that easily. With digital of course, this becomes far less of an issue, or so it seems – the primary difference is storage space on hard drives (yes, plural – you are maintaining routine backups, right?) However, the upfront cost of digital bodies has to be factored in too, especially if the photographer is one who feels obligated to keep chasing every new upgrade that comes along – pointlessly, in my opinion. And the truth is, people often hose around the frames with digital, secure in the knowledge that “it doesn’t cost anything.” There’s nothing terribly wrong with this, though to excess it shortens the life of the camera body, but it may end up working better if you’re selective about making the image right the first time rather than counting on ‘the odds’ to produce a right one from a batch. With fleeting subjects, this increases your chances of having a useful image before the subject changes or vanishes.

So, yes, this means there’s a balance point, which is true for most of photography, and you’ll have to find that which works best for you. While you have to gauge your habits to your intended usage, my primary advice, is, take enough frames to get the shot you want, and most especially, to make the sale you’re after. And, ‘too many’ remains better than, ‘not enough.’

Monday color 17

Al Denelsbeck

unidentified yellow newborn spiders in protective cluster
The purpose of these weekly posts was to present a splash of color, originally in the winter when such was scarce, but either way just as a cheery visual thing. I’m not sure how well this works when the color is from a cluster of tiny spiderlings, but if you haven’t determined this about me by now, well, it’s par for the course.

I haven’t identified these, but they look to me like a type of orb weaver – there’s a species that’s very common around here that I’ve photographed countless times, but it seems I’ve never posted a photo of such so I can’t point you to what I suspect the adults look like. That’s okay – you wouldn’t have gone there anyway.

It was an interesting sight when I found it while on a hike, a ball of yellow suspended in midair among the leaves. Without the macro lighting rig, I shot a few frames freehand in natural light and got a few keepers, so, lucky you.

Late last night

Al Denelsbeck

Or early this morning, if you prefer…

After the rains, I went out to try a few artistic photos with the water drops on the plants, but was having issues with the on-camera light I use to focus, cutting those plans short. I still had a headlamp, but it doesn’t aim well past the camera, especially not down right in front of the lens where it’s necessary for tight macro work. But while checking on the little mantis that has taken up residence on the new azalea bush, I found I could prop it up in the lower branches and, at times, aim it where it was needed to focus. I could also get a few frames solely by the light of the headlamp, without using the camera strobe attachment at all.

young Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis at night lit by flashlight casting shadow on azalea leaf
By the way, it’s shot at 1/60 second, f4, ISO 1600 to accomplish this, while the others to follow, using the strobe-and-softbox, are at 1/200 second, f16, ISO 250 – the strobe puts out a lot more light (as in, there is 8.4 stops difference between the settings, meaning the strobe puts out better than 400 times the light of the headlamp, at least at the distances used.) This image gives a faint indication of scale, but to be more specific, the mantis is about 18mm long, and 2mm across the eyes – still quite small. And while it was moving around quite a bit in the immediate vicinity, it largely (okay, smally) stayed in the light beam so I could get some decent photos while sitting in our front yard just after midnight.

young Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis performing ablutions
This one has me a little curious. Earlier, it had made motions of this kind, but it was drinking the raindrops from its forelegs. At this size I couldn’t make out the details while behind the camera, and I thought it was only cleaning a foreleg, but it looks as if there’s something else in there. I cannot vouch for whether it stumbled across a stray insect part and had a quick snack, or if that’s a mantis tongue-equivalent getting into those crevices – I’m going with the former because it’s safer. Either one seems a little odd while it was very much aware of my presence.

young Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis looking up. Or down
So aware, in fact, that at one point it made a spirited attempt to actually jump onto the camera – I’m not even sure if it made it, to be honest, because this carried it out of the light cast by the propped-up headlamp, and I had to carefully shift my grip on the camera, wary of crushing a minuscule arthropod, to retrieve the light for a detailed examination. I eventually discovered it back on the azalea, on much lower leaves, so whether it missed, or made it but soon jumped back off again, I cannot say. Cooperatively, though, the little spud went right back to the same location (the place I’ve always seen it so far) to pose for more photos. The image above is the first I think I’ve ever obtained on the underside of a mantis chin – not a pose they adopt often when people be around. Looking at this, I feel I should have shifted position ever-so-slightly to place the leaf entirely behind the head of the mantis, giving a much better outline, but recall that I was composing my shots by the same lighting seen in the first pic, and only the strobe going off provided this present light quality, so I’m not sure how well I could have done it anyway. The on-camera light aims from the same position as the strobe for a good reason – it’s too bad it was being balky.

young Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis giving an inverted portrait poseThis one remains my favorite, left as I shot it while the mantis hung from the underside of the leaf. Remember, 2mm across those eyes. At such a high magnification the depth-of-field is incredibly short, even at f16 – note how even the shoulder is out of focus. So the mantis was very accommodating in posing with the forelegs and the antennae in the focal plane enough to remain usefully sharp. That’s an experienced model, that is – a natural. No I am not providing contact info – find your own cover model for the arthropod equivalent of Maxim magazine. I’m not completely stupid.

Just an observation

Al Denelsbeck

We have a weird culture. The makers of edible, spray-on decorative food dyes in silver color are seeing a huge upsurge in sales right now, sure to come again around the end of October, for reasons that few could possibly have predicted. There’s nothing further I can add to this.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, that’s okay – I’ll forgive you, eventually.

Grab bag

Al Denelsbeck

newly adult decim periodical cicada Magicicada septendecim on rose leaf
Just a handful of recent images, some from before the trip, some from after – no real theme or coherence here, sorry. Above, a newly-emerged adult decim periodical cicada (Magicicada septendecim) poses on a leaf of The Girlfriend’s badly-damaged rose bush before heading out into the big bright world. Curiously, this was two weeks ago, which is early for cicadas, but more curiously, this was less than two meters from where I’d reburied the one I found in January. Same one? I have no way of knowing. This one, if I have the identification right, is a 17-year variety, spending nearly all of that underground attached to tree roots – unless, of course, they’re disturbed by someone doing yard work.

By the way, that rose bush is proving problematic. At the old place, I had mistakenly killed off a rose that The Girlfriend really liked, and vowed to replace it with a similar species (one that smelled lemony was the prime criteria.) The Younger Sprog found this one last year and I reimbursed her for it, but it was transplanted late and didn’t thrive. This year it got an early start and seemed to be doing well, only to get attacked by inchworms that decimated the leaves in two days. We all did routine worm patrols and stopped the damage, and it was recovering nicely, producing two new blooms. Then, apparently, a deer nibbled both of those off the other night, without touching anything else in the yard. Just to be perverse.

Last year, on two occasions, I’d found the shed skin of a smaller snake at the base of another rose bush alongside the mailboxes, but never got even a glimpse of the owner. Early this spring I found another shed skin, suspecting a garter snake from the size. I knew it wasn’t a venomous copperhead from the skin on the tail, and I’ll let you in on a little trick. On all non-venomous snakes in North America, the belly scales cross the entire belly, one scale across like a tank tread, down to the cloaca opening, after which they split into two staggered scales, providing a faintly braided look. The venomous snakes, however, retain the single crosswise scale down to the tail tip (or the rattle, if such a species, in which case the skin stops abruptly as if cut off.) But one morning, I spotted the owner sitting on the mailbox post soaking up the sun placidly.

prairie kingsnake Lampropeltis calligaster basking on fencepost
This is a prairie kingsnake, perhaps about 30cm (12 inches) long and the diameter of your finger – those diamond-shaped markings are a dead giveaway, though as they get bigger the markings may split up more. Completely harmless of course, unless you’re a rodent or another snake, which is their primary diet. This one is not yet big enough to take down any of the moles that are tearing up the yard, but it is still encouraged to remain for that purpose.

I did a quick trip down to the nearby pond this morning, collecting some water (and whatever little critters it might possess) and checking out the spring progress. The pickerel weed is coming along, almost big enough to start making the green treefrogs feel at home, though I spotted none yet. But the new blooms were out and the bumblebees were visiting.

bumblebee on pickerel weed pontederia flower
The bees were active enough to make nailing focus quite tricky, and I have a lot of images to throw out, but managed a couple of interesting keepers. I like the blur of the wings on this one.

Once back home, I started getting a bit of yard work done, which meant encountering several different arthropod species. I get the impression the cold winter slowed down the emergence of the insects this spring, but more are showing up every day. While doing some closeups of assassin bugs, I spotted this black ant industriously carting a dead leafhopper through the pine straw, apparently trying very hard not to ever come into the open where photographing them would have been easier, but somehow I snagged this image as they made a brief appearance in the light again.

black ant with dead green leafhopper

Back when I transplanted one of the new azalea bushes, the composted soil that we use sprouted, as usual, something else – it’s been largely pumpkins this year because we all did jack-o-lanterns last year, and now I know better than the let the seeds go into the compost. Anyway, I was about to remove the unwanted plant from right alongside the azalea when this little dude leapt away from my hand. It seemed more than happy with the new plant, so I opted to let them both remain.

young Chinese mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis posing near azalea
The Girlfriend has been trying to find the calla lilies that she likes, and we finally located a pair this past weekend. I had transplanted them into pots until we decide where they will go in the yard, and in going past one of them today, I spotted a little white jumping spider doing a patrol of the plant. The contrast was great against the large leaves, but my patience paid off even more, because eventually it jumped across to the deep maroon blossoms and provided this alert pose.

jumping spider Hentzia mitrata on calla lily Zantedeschia aethiopica
jumping spider Hentzia mitrata on legIn fact, I suspect the little arachnid was sizing up the gap between itself and the camera – they often do this, sometimes not at all bothered by this huge unfamiliar shape looming close, and I’ve seen the behavior they exhibit when getting ready to leap to a new location. This one made several jumps across the plant, eventually finding its way down to the planter and then across to my leg. I haven’t shaved in a while, and it seemed to find the experience distasteful, because it soon returned to the planter again. Yes, I’m embarrassed.

And finally, I close with a photo from the botanical garden a few days back, a green anole that had been trying to drink from one of the ponds there until my approach spooked it. I closed in on it while it sat among the leaves and obtained a nice portrait, cropped tighter here to show off the detail of the scales. I don’t know why, but I like the mosaic texture of lizard skin. The head, by the way, is probably about 15mm in length, smaller than the end joint of your little finger – macro work is fun.

green anole Anolis carolinensis portrait

Monday color 16 1/2

Al Denelsbeck

jumping spider Phidippus with unidentified beetle
I’ve been busy largely with yard work today, but I stumbled across this one and had to feature it. A quite large jumping spider, likely Phidippus audax, was contemplatively grasping some iridescent beetle that was still struggling, and the flash rig brought out the collection of colors pretty well. By the way, “quite large,” translates to, “about the length of your thumbnail.” It’s all relative.

It occurs to me as I type this that I have never looked up why some jumping spider species have such brilliant green chelicerae, and it’s possible that no one has determined that yet. Also captured in the image is the green sheen to the anterior median (front and center) eyes, which I’ve seen numerous times before and also cannot explain. Hey, I just takes ’em – someone else can explains ’em. This post is for displaying the lovely complementary colors, and interior decorators are welcome and invited to base their decorating themes on this image. I suggest calling it Phidippus Audacity…

Monday color 16

Al Denelsbeck

closeup of Delta pure red pansy Viola x WittrockianaWe haven’t done red in a while, and it’s a color fairly well underrepresented in my stock, mostly because I dislike it – which is weird. Why should we like or dislike any one color over another? What thing in our brains is responsible for this? I mean, I can see the evolutionary benefits of recognizing bright colors as signifying ripe fruit or good weather and so on, but why any one particular color? In my case at least, it has nothing to do with not liking strawberries or tomatoes…

By the way, the previous Monday color was posted specifically because it was taken years ago in central New York, and was scheduled ahead of time to post then because, at that moment, I was once again in central New York, probably less than 15 kilometers from the same spot. It’s that kind of meticulous planning that makes this blog what it is.

But how? Part 18: A vague creative force

Al Denelsbeck

I would be remiss if I did not talk about this particular aspect of religion, the belief in a vague, indeterminate source of creation – and, honestly, I have, numerous times in the past, but always while dealing with something more specific. It deserves its own dedicated post, which will be many times more specific and detailed than the topic itself has ever been, so let’s delve into the question, But how about a vague and indefinite creative force?

My guess is that some variation of this belief is held by a large percentage of religious folk – or at least, held in part, and we’re going to come back to this shortly. It encompasses deism and weak theism, and can supposedly incorporate not just any particular religion, but all of them. Thus, the conflicts between various religions, the contradictory supreme authorities, and all such difficulties are resolved, so it seems, by the idea that none of them are quite true, but have the right underlying idea. Often enough, the idea itself is vague and subject to a lot of interpretation. The common denominator is usually a creative force or being that is responsible for “starting it all.” Other ideas, such as something or someone with a plan, or something/someone who wants humans to accomplish… something… come up from time to time, and what we start getting into is each person’s individual concept of what this force/being might be. Suffice to say there’s no chance of answering the millions of these and I’m not going to try.

The point I’ve made before is, so what? Such a vague definition doesn’t really support religion at all. We’re talking a truly huge gap between some ill-defined starting point and whether masturbation is a sin or what should be eaten on Fridays, much less whether children should be taught evolution and whether or not I can consider myself good, and worthy of some afterlife reward. There is, in fact, no connection to anything at all, without further distinctions, so it’s not support for any behavior – or if you like, it’s support for any behavior whatsoever. Both are equally worthless.

Which is where the “in part” fragment above comes in. Because even complete and abiding belief in a vague creative force provides nothing upon which to build or support an ideology – something else is necessary on top of that, but this deficit is never recognized, most likely because it doesn’t actually exist. Pretty much every time the argument for vague creation comes up, it’s to dodge all of the flaws in the specific, organized religions that people actually believe in. If some concept of creation or supernaturality can escape the flaws in logic, then perhaps religion is not completely corrupt – you know: they’re not wrong wrong. And of course, it works very well with the much-abused concept that you can’t prove it doesn’t exist. In this way, belief and faith are considered salvaged from total failure, even though the vague creation idea doesn’t actually support them. I always thought religion was supposed to provide something for humans, and not just serve as partial credit for a wild guess, but maybe I was wrong about that. Well, not completely wrong…

We can ask what there is to actually support the idea of this vague force, why the concept even exists in the first place, since obviously scripture can’t be used. And there are two primary answers to this. The first is, so much of the world is religious, so even though there are countless variations all over the world, changing throughout history, they remain evidence of something, the one commonality among all of them. This has been expressed as a sensus divinitatis, a proposed ‘sense’ of the human body to recognize the divine. Which is a bit like saying that humans all over the world strive for more money, so this is our ability to sense Scrooge McDuck. C’mon, how else could you explain this?

It’s a sense, so this means it has some survival value to us, right? And we would be able to tell when this vague creative force is not around? That’s what a sense is, right? I’m willing to bet the immediate answer to this is that the creative force is always around us, so it never shuts off – which calls into question how you could consider it a sense, but also means we are proposing more properties for this creative force without any evidence of such. And we must assume that atheists don’t have it, is that correct? What about those of us who once believed? Does it go away, like after an accident? Funny, mine seemed to go away the more I thought about how little sense (a ha ha) it made. Perhaps it’s something you grow out of…

The second primary answer to why we are to believe in this vague force is the hoary old argument that everything has to come from something. Except the creative force of course. I’ve covered this feeble argument before, but basically, who says everything has to start somewhere? Demonstrate the creation of matter, in any way that you like. No, the Big Bang was not the creation of anything (look it up if you need to) – matter and energy remain here no matter what, just changing form or transferring to another location. The only thing that starts, to be perfectly honest, is consciousness, the collection of memories of living things, even as the matter that supports it comes from someplace else, not even bothering to carry this consciousness with it. It’s an exceptionally short-term function, unable to even pass along to offspring, but because it’s a distinct property of our lives, we feel it applies to everything.

This same bias in perspective may be what leads us to think that nothing is a default state, leading to the “why is there something rather than nothing” questions and so on. Or it could simply be that for a few thousand years we’ve been hearing the same old creation stories and have had the concept drilled into us. No matter what (god I’m on fire,) matter and energy can be found every place we look, and we have a firm understanding of the vast majority of its behavior, so assumptions about a necessary beginning come only from ignorance of this.

Now we come to the even more vague deities, the ones that are “all of everything,” or natural laws, or life essence itself, and all such claims – often characterized by the misuse of terms, e.g., Deepak Chopra’s perversion of the word, “quantum.” Most of these are so vague that one can only derive a value from them by enjoying the sound of them – sentence structure without internal relation. Seriously, god is nature? What does that even mean? I thought god was supernature? But without any properties or effects, these remain just words. You might as well say god is matter, or god is the space within atoms, or god is bacteria; what does this change, and why should anyone find this important?

Given that establishing either evidence for or a source of such concepts is exceptionally unlikely, we’re forced to conclude that what someone is working from here is simply feelings of spirituality – perhaps after other concepts of gods either failed to stand up under examination or were in some way dissatisfying. I realize I’m at risk of playing armchair psychologist, but if this isn’t addressed, the vague spiritualist will happily proclaim that those know-it-all atheists didn’t disprove their special version of god, as if there was such a thing as a burden of disproof – apparently, the default “nothing” state doesn’t apply to creative forces. Go figure. Regardless, if we have no properties and no explanatory power from such concepts, where else could it stem from except for self-indulgence? Even an overactive imagination isn’t going to provoke someone towards belief – that only occurs in mental illness.

‘Spirituality’ is an ill-defined concept in itself, mostly just covering feelings of awe from someone already inclined to seek a religious experience. The same feelings are easy to provoke in any number of ways, including meeting celebrities and being under the influence of drugs, but apparently these don’t count. Supposedly, if we feel awe when looking out over a majestic landscape, or when contemplating the interaction of life within the ecosystem, that’s our ability to recognize this evidence of creation. Aside from the fact that we have very good reasons for appreciating a fertile, habitable locale as opposed to an abandoned lot, it strikes me as far more awesome that such things arose through simple physical laws rather than being planned. Moreover, the idea is supposed to be that everything – including criminally-inclined and destructive humans with all of our pollution, including viruses, including species that eat other species alive from the inside – would have to be created too, so where are the spiritual feelings over those? And if anyone is accepting the entire universe as it is, well, fine – this is no different than accepting it without such creative influences. When both states – a creative force and the total lack thereof – fit the evidence without issues, how do we suggest that creative properties even exist, and why?

I keep coming back to this, but it’s key: there must be something that the idea of a vague creative force provides to us for it to have any value or point whatsoever. If we assume that creation is a ground state of being, akin to a physical law, so what? It’s not a law that we can use to either manipulate anything (like all other physical laws) or even predict; it is a definition without a purpose, like saying that I smacked you upside the head because porfodooti, porfodooti being the necessity of smacking you. Making up properties isn’t an accomplishment; young children do it all the time. What it invariably amounts to is, “argument for vague creative whatsit; therefore, I’m privileged.” Nobody ever argues for such a concept as if it’s a simple fact, like saying there’s a discarded cup on the street. It has some importance to them, in some way – most often, I think you’ll find, in a way that they know they can’t support with a rational argument, so they resort to a vague indefinite thing that can’t be disproven and consider that a win. They are convincing themselves that this curious force doesn’t need any properties yet still provides for their desire, whatever it might be.

The argument also comes up, surprisingly frequently, that we don’t know everything, so we can’t say that a vague creative force, or a monster in a Scottish lake, doesn’t exist. Both parts of these are purposefully misleading, however. No one that I have ever heard of in my life makes any claim of omniscience, or even close to it, while yes, actually, we can claim such things don’t exist, based on the very simple fact that we have no definitive evidence of them existing. That’s how our entire sensory system works, how our memory and learning processes work – everything is evidence based. Anything else is imagination, which is distinctly different, not just from the ‘reality’ standpoint but even distinguished quite well in our minds. Imagination occasionally plays a part in insight and theoretical science, but only insofar as it points us in a direction to look for evidence; without that evidence, it’s a dead end.

Even that is going off on an existential tangent to treat the idea with rigor, because it doesn’t matter at all. Anyone proposing any concept or trait has the burden of proof, the necessity of showing how their proposal is valid, applicable, and relevant. Plenty of things exist that we are unaware of, I’m sure – and the reason we remain unaware of them is because they have no affect on our lives. We can use our imaginations to propose a literally infinite number of possibilities, just like we can imagine plenty of fairy tale plots and whole new words (I’m still fond of ‘porfodooti.’) What about a vague destructive force? Shouldn’t that follow as well? And has anyone stopped to consider the logical necessity of a force for humor? It’s universal among humans and even some other mammal species, so it must have meeeaning. A significant percentage of the species on this planet reproduce sexually, so there must be a vague fucking force. Seriously, I can do this all day.

That hints at another interesting aspect of such arguments. To continue with that example, there are useful, beneficial traits of sexual reproduction (as opposed to asexual reproduction like bacteria,) and it’s easy to be ignorant of such traits. But to, first, assume that this ignorance is shared by everyone, and second to believe this opens the door for any explanation that can be imagined, is not exactly a path to solid results – yet it happens all the time. “How did it all start?” is a valid enough question, while often laden with assumptions that there must have been nothing before. Yet this doesn’t automatically permit, or even suggest, any kind of creation. If that’s the specific answer that we’re seeking, then it’s easy to believe it’s a logical, perhaps even inarguable, solution. Proceeding without such a personal bias, however, has been what has produced the vast amount of info that we do have regarding the formation of the universe, none of which points in any way towards a creative force.

And there’s one more aspect that demonstrates the bias inherent in such arguments, because even the assumption of such a force does not support the idea, pretty much universally held, that such a force is beneficent – it could just as easily be openly hostile to us, or manipulative, or any of an infinite number of other possibilities, with ‘indifferent,’ ‘oblivious,’ and ‘completely without any emotion or intention whatsoever’ having more than a little logical support as well. Again, hardly the stuff to build an ideology around. I’m fully on board with the idea that something provoked the expansion that we call the ‘big bang’ – but intentionally? There remains nothing to support that, and only personal reasons to believe it over the stunning amount of evidence that the universe is governed by simple physical laws. No one prays to gravity, or even expresses a belief in such – it just is. To go any further than that requires some emotional desire for it to be different, and that’s just self-indulgence.

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