A whooshing noise high overhead

Following links just now, I began reading a post on what Vanessa Williams discovered about her DNA. The money quote:

My DNA breaks down as follows: I’m 23% from Ghana, 17% from the British Isles, 15% from Cameroon, 12% Finnish, 11% Southern European, 7% Togo, 6% Benin, 5% Senegal and 4% Portuguese.

Now, I can’t wait to go to Ghana and Cameroon and Togo and Senegal — it’s a great opportunity to see why the customs resonate with you.

Aghhhh. The pain upstairs that makes my eyeballs ache. Just think what she could have done spending ten minutes finding out what the fuck DNA actually is

Lessons learned

Saddleback
Almost two weeks ago, I spotted a couple of curious caterpillars on the undersides of some redbud leaves, right alongside the porch. Getting a good view of them required a particular angle, and I slid my legs off the porch into some deep weeds under the tree to crouch underneath my subjects. Soon afterward, I developed a sharp stinging sensation in my calf, similar to a honeybee sting but not nearly as painful – just irritating, with a tendency to surge at times. I searched carefully in the belief that I’d inadvertently contacted another of this spiky species, but found nothing.

This is a saddleback caterpillar moth (Sibine stimulea) larva, one of the many moths that gain their adult name from the appearance of their larval stage, and yes, those spikes are for defense. I confirmed this a few days later when looking for my subjects again (since I’d left them undisturbed on the redbud) – being incautious, I ended up brushing my finger directly across one as I turned over the leaf looking for it. The effect wasn’t immediate, which is curious, but it soon assured me that this was what produced the sensation earlier.

Then the appearance of one of my local residents, the only one I could find dependably, changed a bit. Apparently some wasp had not been terribly impressed with the caterpillar’s defensive mechanism – or, it might not have even encountered it.

NotGood
Braconid wasps are a family of hymenoptera in the superfamily Ichneumonoidea, which anyone familiar with Darwin’s writings knows. They reproduce by parasitic means, laying their eggs within the bodies of caterpillars, whence the young will hatch out and consume the living tissues of the host before making their way to the skin and burrowing out. But instead of letting it go at that, they add insult to injury and spin their cocoons on the outer surface, pupating there until ready to emerge as an adult. The caterpillar, obviously in rough shape, will survive this ordeal for a while before succumbing. Some species lay their eggs in the caterpillar eggs themselves, hatching out after the caterpillar has hatched. Yes, it can be said (if you want to be emotionally manipulative) that it’s pitting child against child, since neither species accomplishes this in adulthood, but it’s also nature’s way of reining in caterpillars that can do a lot of plant damage, and believe me, there are some much nastier parasites out there.

Now, while doing that shot above, I had to switch out flash batteries, and fumbled one of the batteries out of my hand and into the thick weeds alongside the porch, right where I’d put my leg earlier. Lovely – I wasn’t going to get anything without the battery. I began poking around gingerly, wary of encountering another of those irritating little snots, and still couldn’t find it. In impatience I became less cautious, and was soon rewarded by yet another stinging sensation on my hand. The bright red battery couldn’t be located, but a tiny camouflaged caterpillar hiding under a leaf could. I eventually retrieved the battery with the help of a garden hoe.

Entrapment
OscarAnyway, the cocoons were an opportunity that I didn’t want to let slide, so I collected the leaf holding the saddleback caterpillar and put it in a jar on my desk to observe, with the intention of photographing the braconids emerging. A week went by with little to show, and the caterpillar didn’t change position at all, indicating that it was still alive only with some gentle rocking when disturbed. I was checking fairly frequently but, two days ago, spotted movement from the corner of my eye and found the jar full of tiny black insects, the size of small flying ants – just to let you know, the caterpillar measures 18mm in body length, add 15% for spikes, and the cocoons and wasps a mere 2.5mm. I went outside and removed the leaf, releasing the newly emerged wasps as I did so, and was pleased to see that some cocoons had yet to hatch, so I set up in a comfortable camera position and waited.

The first thing that happened was that my preferred flash setup quit working and wasn’t going to be fixed easily, so I was forced to switch to another system which produced harsher light with deeper shadows. I tried supplementing with a second, slave strobe to even this up, which resulted in getting some glare into the lens and putting a faint fog over the images – what you see here has been tweaked a little. Yet the wait was relatively brief before another started to emerge. Above, the head is just visible, with the ends of the antennae still not free and forming loops. My experience with assassin bugs and lady beetles hatching told me this was going to be a slow process. I should have realized that hatching from an egg is different from emerging from a chrysalis.

SheGotLegsI missed prime focus on this one, but you can see the two forelegs have gotten free and are applying some leverage. It’s three minutes and forty seconds between the image above and this one – anyone choosing to show the event would be more inclined to use time-lapse imagery rather than video. Not that that would have worked, since the host caterpillar was responding to the movement or irritation and was rocking again, making my attempts to hold focus even more challenging than normal.

Then the second light shifted on its stand, and I spent thirty seconds adjusting it back into position, figuring I wasn’t going to miss anything. Turning back, I was greeted with a wasp running around on the spines hyperactively, without the slightest sign of sluggishness or even stretching. This was so unexpected I had to check the cocoon carefully to be sure I wasn’t seeing another wasp who had come back in a fit of nostalgia. Nope; after dragging its heels (or whatever) for the first stage of emergence, it made up for it just when I was occupied with something else.

NewBraconid
No matter; I still had five cocoons telling me, through their intact caps and dark shadows within, that I could still get a good photo sequence. I waited, determined to improve my patience for the good of the pursuit. While we’ve been dealing with storms for days, the sun came out that morning. I sweated profusely, and started to burn. I took a phone call while out on the porch leaning over the caterpillar, who had taken to occasionally pirouetting clumsily in place as if confused. The sky clouded up, and eventually the rain, then a downpour came, making me have to move further under the awning and wrecking the light. I could see twitching of some of the remaining cocoons – I could never determine if this was caused by the occupant or the caterpillar it was anchored to. Yet, still no real action. I chased a nearby crab spider, and a hornworm, and lots of red ants on foraging expeditions that scampered unconcernedly up my legs. I used a raindrop as a lens to photograph one of the cocoons I was observing.

CocoonPeep
What I’m trying to say here is I spent much of the day watching for another hatching and achieved nothing for it, eventually abandoning my watch to do frivolous things like eat and treat a sun-exposure headache (my legs have a very curious pattern on them right now.) While away, two more cocoons hatched, leaving me with three remaining. I put the leaf away in the evening and came back to it yesterday morning, seeing no change, but then had to run out for several hours.

LastOneBy the time I returned, of course, two more had hatched, so I released them and took up my post with the one remaining cocoon. By evening, I was pretty sure I was seeing movement caused from within the cocoon, and stayed put, practically going blind from watching. This may sound overly dramatic, but there’s a kernel of truth to it, a curious trait of our eyes that I’ve encountered a few times now. The retina requires constantly changing input to work properly; if it keeps receiving the same image, somehow its function fades and it actually stops registering anything at all, getting bored I guess. There’s evidence that micro-twitching of the eye, call microsaccades, help to prevent this, though this is disputed. Either way, I’ve found myself struggling to maintain focus and acuity when staring at a subject intent on the least indication of movement.

Night fell without event, and I even resorted to shining a UV flashlight on the cocoon hoping to induce a hatching – most hymenoptera can’t see jack at night, and my reasoning was that it wouldn’t hatch when it couldn’t fly away. This didn’t help, and I ended up restoring the leaf to its jar yet again.

This morning? Still there! I took it back out onto the porch to maintain my vigil, my last chance to do a good photo sequence. Primed by the pattern established by the previous one I’d actually witnessed, I figured I could check back frequently enough to catch the beginning of the emergence and still get a good series. So yes, clever you, you know what happened: in the space of two minutes or so, the last braconid burst its restraints and made its escape without giving me the faintest glimpse.

The caterpillar yet remains alive as I type this, but hasn’t fed for over a week and barely moves – it’s not long for this world. Since it will make a nice illustration (given the lack of good images,) I’m probably going to preserve it, though whether this is in alcohol, by attempting to freeze-dry it, or by encasing it in clear acrylic I haven’t yet decided. What I do know is that the results of my clinical testing of patience remain inconclusive.

Okay, wait

After finishing that previous post, I just went out to survey the yard for other subjects and checked on the Argiope. The encased male was missing from the web already, curiously, but while I was looking to see if his carcass had been discarded underneath, found a male conspicuously at the edge of the web again.

cohones
Now I’m confused. Another suitor already making his move even before the wake? Or the same one, and the whole “immobilize you in webbing like a cricket” thing was, what, a game? Courtship ritual? Gentle warning? Mistaken identity? (“I’m sorry honey, I thought you were a burglar!”)

I checked underneath the web carefully, hoping to resolve this by finding Bachelor Number One’s corpse, but nada. The one currently hanging out still has all his bits, as it were – well, not all his bits, as he’s shy two legs now, but his manhood arachnohood is intact. If anyone wishes to enlighten me (or speculate just for giggles,) please feel free.

No, that’s not sweat, just dew. I think.

Could be worse

Honeymoon1
I know, even more arthropods, but that’s how it goes.

I’ve been keeping an eye on an Argiope spider in the dog fennel plants, probably a juvenile A. aurantia, sometimes known as a black-and-yellow argiope, or garden spider. These are the ones that grow fairly large, up to 8cm or more in leg spread, that throw orb webs with a white zigzag in the center across tall weeds or garden plants – generally, you discover them at waist height when right on top of them. This one is smaller yet still impressive for a spider, deep in the fennel plants and almost entirely hidden. A few days ago, a male had appeared and was hanging out at the edge of her web.

Honeymoon3
Many species of arachnid are sexually dimorphic, a 25 cent phrase important to biologists meaning that the females and males differ in appearance, in this case rather drastically in size. This evening as I checked, he had maneuvered closer to her and was sitting directly above her abdomen, which I took to mean courtship was imminent. It is apparently a tricky thing for arachnids, because the female can be choosy and, if I may use the word, irritable, so they tend to be circumspect. This male soon became quite active and I settled in to watch the whole affair.

He danced around the female a lot, legs fidgeting as if playing a complicated piano concerto, often going out to her leg tips – it almost appeared that he was securing her legs and I steeled myself for something kinky, but no webbing was actually in evidence. The female, for her part, twitched her abdomen slowly and rubbed her pedipalps against one another, but that was about the extent of her involvement. Refraining from comment.

Honeymoon2
Once the male had moved underneath her abdomen, where the nasty takes place, I figured he had it locked, and I was just waiting for the actual insemination to take place. The males produce sperm from their pedipalps, which is why they have that club shape, so the point I was watching for was when he inserted them in the female’s abdomen. I’ve only photographed this once, with a tiny species at very high magnification, and I was hoping for a better opportunity. Note that I was mistaken about the actual position of the testes in that post, though I could have sworn I’d read those details somewhere.

A bit of trivia. With some spider species, the males actually break off one of the pedipalps within the female (stop cringing,) which sometimes allows them to escape the female, but also may block the oviduct to prevent other males from impregnating her. The palps can continue to deliver sperm on their own, which seems a bit traitorous since, at that point, the female may be eating the male. This happens pretty often – the male has done his duty, and now does another by providing food for the female as she develops her eggs. Tempted as we may be to judge by our own standards, these really don’t apply to other species, and there’s something remarkably efficient in the whole process (even though the male does occasionally escape, not quite as sold on the idea as the female.)

And in a flash, the male was done, whether he’d managed to “break one off” or not.

Honeymoon4
I honestly didn’t see if he even made contact – it didn’t appear so – but the female’s immobility ended abruptly and he was trapped in webbing in a mere second, no cuddling or anything. It is entirely possible that he was an unacceptable suitor (but still full of protein,) and she waited patiently until he put himself in a position where he couldn’t escape. Or he may have made some comment about her butt. Spinnerets. Whatever.

Honeymoon5
I may go back out and detach his corpse from the web in a couple of days, to disentangle him and see if he still has both pedipalps, just out of curiosity. I’m treating this as a biological dissection because any other way it sounds extremely creepy.

In any event, when you’re tempted to consider our high divorce rate with dismay, remember that we’re a social species and this provides a certain perspective – it could be worse. Keep the pair, let her have the house, and live to see another day.

Not what I envisioned

MoonOverPredator
I had an idea this evening as I was doing a routine check on my resident photo subjects, and returned to pursue it when the moon was the right height, but couldn’t bring the reality close enough to my imagination. The grey spot in the background is a waxing gibbous moon in the sky, rendered into a pentagon by using a macro lens with a five-bladed aperture – this is what happens to out-of-focus lights. Or, for that matter, anything unfocused; we just usually don’t see it because we rarely have single distinctive objects set off by a contrasting background, and what we normally get is a lot of fuzzy pentagons/hexagons/octagons laid over one another into a blurry mess. I tried some shots with the aperture wide open, which eradicates any shaping by the aperture and renders the effect round, but the moon then became so big in the image it took up most of the frame and so still didn’t produce what I wanted. Basically, the ambush bug was too small to try this kind of composition, necessitating a macro lens that just wouldn’t work. It’s a shame, because I needed to use the tripod to allow for an exposure that would even show the moon, and getting the position just right took more fussing than you might imagine, plus partially blocking the flash with one hand so it wouldn’t overexpose the insect.

The jagged ambush bug featured earlier has been joined by another on the same stand of fennel plants, and I’ve found yet another across the yard, giving me several subjects to watch. This is not the rollercoaster of excitement you’re obviously imagining, because they really don’t do much, and most times that I check I find them in the same place as before, or only a short distance away. The new addition on the fennel plants is slightly larger and more advanced in development, possessing a deeper color and some markings that mimic brown leaf spots very well. While that’s the one you’re seeing above, you’ve behaved yourself this week and deserve a closer look:
ChartreuseAmbush
If you’re thinking the abdominal color is different, you’re right – this image was taken a few days earlier. I wanted to say they change quickly, but it’s nothing compared to the abilities of anoles or cuttlefish; this might even have occurred because of a molt. A few days back we had some rain, and soon afterward I discovered one of the resident mantids had molted – this seems to be a pattern, and makes sense: the moisture may help them shed their old exoskeleton easier. I thought I should be checking the ambush bugs, because I’d really love to get a whole sequence of the process from start to finish, but busied myself with other things. To show me the error of my ways, I came back out later to find one of the ambush bugs sitting a few centimeters away from its recently-shed skin.

While those forward fins on its back are just there for general intimidation, the hind ones are indeed wings, still developing. In most arthropods, the point where the wings are fully developed and functional is the final, sexually-mature stage. Once that occurs I might have a much harder time getting close shots, because they will no longer have to rely on camouflage and not attracting attention to protect themselves, and may simply fly off. In the meantime, I’m going to appreciate their prehistorically-armored appearance.

DewyAmbushThe color development of the subject in my earlier post has continued apace, as demonstrated by another image from this evening. The dew has appeared without subtlety, even forming on the insect’s compound eyes; while I always imagine this is very annoying, few arthropods that I’ve observed ever seem to care. Of course, this could be because their body temperature has dropped significantly, not the least because of the dew itself, and they won’t be actively hunting or even moving much in these conditions. Not, as I said, that they did anyway, but even just lying in wait (yes, that’s what they look like lying down – what, you think they curl up on their sides?) for oblivious prey to happen along is probably pointless when the prey is just as likely to be in torpor from the temperatures too. The dew on the eyes might be akin to times when you’re a bit chilly, but way too tired to get up and put another blanket on the bed. Or maybe they just think the effect is groovy…

But how? Part 10: Uncertainty

Walkabout podcast – But how? Part 10

It’s admittedly been a while since the last ‘But how?‘ post, and the reason is, I’ve been having trouble finding further topics that fit the goal (which is demonstrating how a secular worldview answers more than what religion is often claimed to do.) So there’s a modicum of irony in this one, in that the question I’m tackling is about unanswered questions. Since I can’t think of a way to phrase this in the form of a question that covers all the bases (no Jeopardy! champion here,) let’s just jump into the topic of uncertainty.

I want to get the fatuous example out of the way first, because it disturbs me how often I hear it and I’d rather deal with ideas that demonstrate the possession of brain cells. There really is an argument that “science” changes all the time, but scripture is perpetual and unchanging, and this is made as if it’s a point in scripture’s favor. Now, seriously, who gives a rat’s ass about something unchanging if it’s perpetually wrong? We all know people like that, and they’re assholes – I personally would far rather hang with someone who can learn. Hidden within this is a subtler, but much more important fact: science is a process, not a religion unto itself, and a process intended to be utilized by us imperfect humans. Its ability to find and accept corrections is most of what makes it so useful. There is an interesting avenue of psychological research into why someone would possibly place more value on permanence than accuracy, but that’s for someone else to pursue.

One of the primary assets of religion, according to the manufacturer, is how it provides answers. Faced with the uncertainty of life’s purpose, or the path one should be taking, or how to get children to eat their vegetables, religion is invariably brought up. That religion itself may actually be a manifestation of the desire for answers is something examined in part four. What can be found most often though, if one examines these religious answers, isn’t practical solutions or explanations, but emotional supplication – assurances that we’re special, or that life really is fair, or that misfortune has a useful purpose. Such answers have a modicum of value it would seem, especially if the alleviation of superficial anxiety is all that was needed.

Science and naturalism and secularism, in contrast, present poor substitutions for emotional surety. There appears to be no purpose to life, and no assurance that it’s fair. Humans aren’t special, at least in the way we’ve been told, and evolved from filthy brutish beasts, except that we don’t even have a distinct line to follow and more bits keep getting added or changed. Morality is not a set of rules (especially ones that place us firmly on the preferred side) but an amorphous concept influenced by culture and debate. And death really is the end, without appeal – in whatever sense of the word you prefer.

Actually, that last one is just the opposite, an example of distinct surety negating any idea of judgment or consequence, isn’t it? And this highlights the same thing mentioned earlier: answers that are only acceptable if they’re what we want to hear. Science and naturalism and secularism have very distinct answers to all of these, and many more things besides; some of the questions are only present because of gross misunderstanding or rigid perspective (often created by religious teachings, imagine that,) while some of the uncertainties are selected and highlighted precisely because they strengthen the religious worldview. As an example of the latter, we can see that “missing links” and unclear lineages in the human evolutionary tree are seized upon repeatedly, while ignoring the millions of data bits that demonstrate the presence of evolution in the first place, not to mention the gross mismatch between the fossil record we can find everywhere and the superficial creation stories from scripture. We do not need to have a complete human lineage to infer that there is one, any more that we need to have seen someone break the window to determine what happened. If we find broken glass inside the house, and look around and indeed find the suspected baseball, this supports the theory of how it occurred – and this is exactly what we continually find with the theory of evolution.

There may be no overriding purpose to life, but this does not mean individuals cannot possess their own – the freedom to do so, in fact, is preferred much more than predestination, and even what ‘free will’ was invented to allow. Morality isn’t about rules to be dictated, but a goal to be pursued, and requires knowing what the goal is (choosing benefit over detriment to the greatest degree, in case I actually have to inform anyone) – coupled with realizing when actions are motivated by other emotions; psychology and evolution have helped us to understand what factors impinge on this and why. And there really isn’t any reason to differentiate us from “beasts,” nor a reason to be worried about this; humans are actually much more self-destructive than nearly all other species anyway, so there’s no high horse to sneer down from.

All of these highlight a particular idea: that uncertainty is a human trait, prompting us to search for answers – but some answers are explanatory and fit together in the big tapestry of naturalistic physics, while others are just intended to make us feel better. Which means some people are driven solely by their self-indulgence, while others seeks answers because they answer the question.

We can see this in sharp relief when we examine the religious answers with the same eye as the scientific ones. Despite a few thousand years of any (unchanging, mind you) religion, we still seem to have people seeking answers. The purpose of life is different for anyone you ask, often hiding behind the skirts of “something bigger than we can fathom” – so the answer actually is, “We don’t know”? Yeah, fabulous. Even religious moral guidance doesn’t present any end goals or decent structure, but lists of proscribed actions often overlaid with stroking the ego of a perfect being (producing a peculiar definition of “perfect” in the process.) Most of the scriptural accounts portray incredibly ludicrous events and motivations, intertwined with myriad ways of justifying the bigotry and classism that we actually want morality to get us away from. Even Sophisticated Theologians™ cannot agree on what ‘The Fall’ or ‘The Resurrection’ actually accomplished, and chapters within scripture routinely contradict themselves, or portray wildly variable goals and personalities for any god. It’s frankly astounding how anyone can derive something approaching answers from this, and it becomes far worse when we capriciously consider all religions and try to objectively decide on which is most accurate.

This rarely happens, of course, because the ‘certainty’ of religion is mostly repetition, and placing a ridiculous positive value on faith, defined as certainty without evidence. The structure of too many religions is to reinforce a mode of thinking, avoiding independent thought, actively discouraging the unwanted penetrating questions, and demonizing (a ha ha) any opposition. There have been numerous psychological studies over how people tend to follow the crowd and reflect what popular opinion is, rather than trust their own judgment, and naturally this is exploited as well – does anyone believe there’s really a point to weekly religious meetings over a finite (and unchanging, let’s not forget that) set of scripture?

All of that comprises the top reason given among those who have abandoned religion: it didn’t make sense, didn’t try, and alienated (sometimes quite vociferously) anyone who desired real answers. Religion does not alleviate uncertainty at all, it just attempts to obscure it and assert circumstances that don’t connect with anything that we can rely on, while explaining nothing. It’s one thing to find a new question underneath any particular answer; this is, indeed, why science goes on. It’s yet another to receive a statement that doesn’t actually answer any question and yet raises more of its own, where the requests for clarification are met with vague appeals or outright hostility, making uncertainty seem shameful and the quest for knowledge to be wrong. If you ever wanted to know what brainwashing looks like, just pay attention to the religious response to any scientific finding that proves scripture inaccurate. In fact, the stunning amount of censorship from religious folk demonstrates very forcefully that religion is not about seeking or providing answers.

It’s abundantly obvious that we are a species prone to uncertainty – and this is no bad thing, because it motivates us to try and eradicate it, producing curiosity and interest and the drive to learn more about our world. Science embraces this, encouraging investigation and promoting methods that reduce uncertainty as much as possible, at the same time presenting the collective efforts of millions to anyone who really wants to know more. But we don’t even need to go that far, as we address our own uncertainties by finding out what’s wrong with the car, going to the doctor, rooting through a box of old items, or simply reading to the end of a murder mystery. Religion, on the other hand, presents responses which explain little and lead nowhere, not even giving a likely indication of what we can expect. Its certainty doesn’t come from clarification or prediction, only from assertion and repetition, often in the face of contrary evidence – this attempts to change the definition of “certainty” to something like “blind acceptance.” For many, that’s just not enough – they don’t want to have faith, they want to have confidence. And we can thank this lack of blind acceptance for the vast majority of advancements we’ve made as a species.

Sleep tight

If you’re arachnophobic, this post isn’t for you, unless you’re determined to get over it or just realize that it’s only pics on your monitor. I’ve done my part in warning you and am now absolved of all legal liability and suchlike.

A few weeks back while hunting bugs at night for The Girlfriend’s Younger Sprog (long story,) I caught a flash of reflected light from the headlamp, in a weed thicket. I shifted back and forth, unable to make out the source (which I was sure was a spider,) and surmised that the culprit was likely hiding behind some dead leaves – until I realized the culprit was the dead leaves, or what I’d taken for such anyway. Coaxing her out was a little tricky, but she was remarkably patient for all the shots I took.
Honkin1
This is a variety of fishing spider, genus Dolomedes, which remains unidentified because several species have very subtle differentiations that I did not capture in images. And yes, that’s an egg sac she’s clutching possessively. The various wolf spiders keep theirs attached to their spinnerets and are able to hold them off the ground if necessary that way, but the fishing spiders (from my experience) seem to also hold the sacs with their chelicerae – I’m pretty sure it’s also affixed to her abdomen, tucked down in an atypical angle. She hadn’t appeared to be going anywhere when I found her, and even my messing about didn’t produce more than some shy edging away, not so much that I wasn’t able to go in ridiculously close.
Honkin2
Fishing spiders, or at least some of the species, are not always found near water sources, and a few of my encounters have been quite far from them. Sometimes, they find whatever’s handy. My model here stayed put while I went inside to collect my calipers for some blog data, allowing me to give a better idea of scale:
Honkin3
That’s a leg spread of 8cm (3+ inches,) which is large enough to give me the heebie-jeebies to some extent – even knowing her fangs were full of future fry, when she started up the branch towards my hand I was unable to let her complete that journey. Some day, some day. But as a concession, I went with another image to show scale:
Honkin4
[As I was previewing the post so far, a teeny spider about the size of this >. strolled down the monitor, just for a giggle.]

Yes, I go all Nature Boy barefoot in the summer, partially in self-defense – shoes make my feet ridiculously hot, and even in winter I’m often in ventilated sneakers. It does lead to the occasional issue, as I’ll relate a little later on, but the spider was unconcerned – no sense of smell, I believe.

Tonight as I type this, I had been outside checking on conditions for the Perseids shower (which are rotten – too much cloud cover,) and spotted a familiar blue-green light from the grass. This time around it was a much smaller wolf spider, leg spread maybe 2cm, but she was ferrying her young around on her back, as they are wont to do. I’ve been wanting to try an experiment but haven’t found a suitable subject until now, so I went in and fetched the ringflash for that direct lighting effect, and did indeed get what I was after:
Reflections
The raindrops aren’t helping the issue any – it would have been more obvious without them – but those blue points are reflections from the eyes of the young (and one big one from the momma.) There aren’t many, because the spiderlings keep their heads inwards for protection, and of course the angle has to be right. The next goal is to separate one or two from the mother and photograph them independently, nice and close.

To offset things a tad, I’ll close with a few much cuter images, for most people anyway. The previous night, I found a variety of sphinx moth hanging out in the rosemary, and tried the ringflash with that too, with excellent results:
Sphinx2
At some point, I may be back to explain this red-eye effect, common to many species of moth, but for now just know that it’s much more brilliant than seen here, reflecting brightly even from a few meters away.

The same storm that I chased in this post may have grounded this next moth, an Antheraea polyphemus, since I found it sitting on the ground the next day.
BigMoth1
Those spots on the wings really are transparent, to what end I cannot say – perhaps it is the Lepidoptera equivalent of lingerie (yes, this is a female, as indicated by the antennae – the male’s are much more feathery.) This is one of the species of moth – the pale green luna is another – that have no mouthparts in the winged adult phase, since they do not feed as adults. This stage is devoted to procreation only, and lasts but a few days.

I had no problem letting this species crawl across my hand, which just goes to show that you can’t judge on appearances – the spider likely would have done absolutely nothing, but this dainty lady defecated on my fingers. And people think insects can’t communicate…
BigMoth3

Huff & Puff (BIAB)

BIAB is short for, “Because it’s a blog” – it means this post isn’t thematic or relevant or anything, I just felt like it.

Just A Band is a band (surprise!) from Kenya, and I can’t tell you much more than that, so I recommend you flex your intertapestry muscles if you want to know more about them. Their own description, from that link (which you should definitely check out, if only for the bio) reads,

A Kenyan somewhat-experimental, DIY, geeky boy band who are taking it one day at a time.

I suspect this means it’s not typical Kenyan music, if there can even be said to be such a thing – what would typical American music be? I’m scared to hear anyone’s opinion on that, to be honest…

The video I’ve chosen here, for the song “Huff & Puff” from the album 82, wasn’t the first I came across, but I’m saving that one for another post because it has a little trivia attached. This one, however, has its own mix of delightful visuals, R&B, Hip Hop, and Techno, and since I’m not a huge music buff (meaning I’ve never bothered to learn all the different categories or genres that some people concern themselves with) there may be other things in there as well, or I may be entirely mistaken. Perhaps it’s Neo-Classical Funk Disco. I find it quite catchy, and if you don’t, well, there’s no help for you.

The sneaky bit is that they freely mix languages within the lyrics, mid-sentence even, with enough English that you think you can follow along and then switching to Swahili (or something) to make you believe you’re not listening closely enough. I’m also pretty sure the first half of the video was done in one shot.

You can find the lyrics here if you want to follow along. And no, that’s not Will Smith, but it could be…

Oh, the humanities!

Jerry Coyne and crew have been having a grand old time tearing this debate apart (1st post, 2nd post), but there’s just something I wanted to add. And I can’t really call it a debate, I just haven’t found a better word: it’s basically a few philosophers championing the humanities by tilting at the windmill they call “scientism,” and Steven Pinker crassly injecting some intelligence into the affair. The most striking thing to occur to me is that, if those who have spent their lives studying the humanities are stupid enough to pass judgment on something they can’t understand even superficially, perhaps it really is time to do away with the humanities…

“Scientism” is a curious term, obviously used as a curse most often, but even at the best of times it’s defined without much understanding. Essentially it’s the ideology that everything can be understood through empirical means, gaining knowledge by analyzing data and “reducing” it all down to the physical laws. It really doesn’t take much to see why this might actually be a good idea, for two very solid reasons: the first, that we are physical beings who interact and perceive our entire existence through physical senses; and the second, that all too often when we’ve relied on the spiritual, philosophical, intuitive, emotional, or even logical conclusions produced solely within our own heads, we’ve been fantastically wrong – and these errors have most often been demonstrated by empirical means. In other words, while abstract thought might be a great way to start the investigations into our world, it needs to be backed up with something solid to prove it, because it’s not dependable enough to provide accuracy on its own.

What’s funny about this is how few people actually speak in favor of scientism, or even consider it a valid concept. Science isn’t ruled by any ideology and often proceeds without any at all, most often just driven by curiosity and the (oh so heinous) idea that starting from solid data is a good move. It would appear, however, that a few humanities professors find this to be in extreme bad taste, decrying the intrusion of science into their fields and the ultimate destruction of art, music, literature, philosophy, and degrees that many graduates regret having wasted their time on when they see how rarely the job market has a place for them. According to these professors, scientism is poised to destroy the magic, the mystery, the awe, and the passion that makes the humanities what they are. Even worse (and this really is an argument still put forth, hard as it may be to believe,) we have science to blame for all the ills of the world today.

This isn’t the best argument to put in front of a guy who’s published a book explaining how our social standards are higher, and strife and violence lower, than at any previous point in our history. But even without that, it’s a stupid argument. Understanding why we get any particular feelings from art or literature doesn’t make them go away – and if it does, one must ask just what exactly was so magical about them in the first place. The fear of the humanities professors is exactly the same as that of the theologians: that their realm can be dismissed by science pulling aside the curtain of self deception. The magic, awe, and passion are all emotional reactions. There’s nothing wrong with that, but if they vanish when examined critically, one must wonder what their purpose or value might be.

One must also wonder what can be found when the selectivity is taken away – when one compares the passion of the Mozart enthusiast against the passion of the religious martyr, the transports of the Joyce scholar against the righteousness of the rebel mercenary. These are also emotions, producing more noticeable behavior than the art enthusiast, just not as socially acceptable; considering only the good side is biased, and in fact not worthy of a college professor in any way. Moreover, this ties in surprisingly well with the idiotic argument of how science is responsible for the ills of the world, since even a child can see that it isn’t technology, but how someone is motivated to use it – this is exactly what those in the humanities should be studying and informing us about, rather than avoiding the subject and attempting instead to find a scapegoat by creating a new epithet. The bare fact that there is a significant cultural emphasis on the “bad things that science has done” is direct evidence that those in the humanities are not only failing to make useful contributions, they’re complicit in actively skewing our views of the world. If you question that as a broad assumption, tell me: who else is going to come up with an argument of that nature?

It wasn’t really my intention to demonstrate how feeble the humanities are, but there comes yet another aspect that isn’t helping any. While it’s certainly fine to receive a strong emotional response to a piece of music, there remains no small number of people who then ask, “why?” The curiosity, the passion to find out just what is behind such reactions are also emotions – moreover, ones we can thank for the millions of advances that comprise the collective noun of science in the first place. Science, despite the portrayals of these outspoken philosophers, isn’t emotionless at all, and no one who has ever spent any time in the company of scientists could rationally make that argument – it’s rather pathetic that anyone with even a brief education could think that scientists somehow depart from all the qualities that every other human has. Yet it is also emotions that can lead us astray, clouding our judgment with ego or making us believe in things without evidence – and this is exactly what the scientific method was adopted to combat. It’s ground floor, first-day-of-class knowledge, yet somehow those who have never grasped this feel obligated to render their ruling upon it, as if they have something to contribute.

Pinker missed an opportunity to wield a little Richard Feynman or Carl Sagan, trashing the argument that science takes away the passion and making those that promote it look remarkably ignorant. He also missed a very basic lesson: science is simply a methodical process of learning, not a religion; it does not impose rules on its disciples. The only rules found therein are the rules of the universe, discovered where they lie. Even worse, and this argument is heard constantly, there isn’t any place where science “doesn’t belong” – if we’re curious about something and want to use the best method to understand it that we’ve ever stumbled across in human history, then why would we not use science? In what manner is there some dividing line, some rule, that makes science off limits, and who’s responsible for creating it? If you mutter, “The people who have something to lose,” then I’m in agreement with you.

Those who have put too much faith in philosophy wield the term “reductionism” as another curse, implying that science/scientism works to reduce everything to simplistic ideas (which Pinker does touch on.) However, if such things really can be explained in terms of the molecular or atomic level – if our minds, for instance, can be found to work solely by exchange of chemical energy – then this is not reduction at all, but discovery, and fascinating in and of itself. That is, unless you possess some view that the mind is magic (dualistic/transcendental/immortal/whatever) in some way, in which case you might be disappointed and more than a little frustrated. Such a reaction isn’t either scientific or rational, though, it’s emotional, and not in a good way – petulant, juvenile, self-absorbed, pick any three. The biggest point in all of this, however, is that science only deals with what is, and if we can sense it, there’s no reason why it cannot be quantified for science. If it cannot be quantified, what the hell are we sensing? Wouldn’t the humanities actually be interested in this? You’d think so, if you accepted the goals as stated.

With funding for the humanities getting slashed in many universities, it’s easy to speculate that those who specialize in it are worried about its future – perhaps this is the motivation behind such infantile accusations, perhaps not. But even so, attempting to defend the humanities by denigrating the empirical fields that are producing results every day is a tactic we should only be seeing from reality TV, not from any reputable professor. There are two kinds of competition: improving oneself to be better than others, and tearing down others so one looks better in comparison. If those in the humanities are finding themselves in trouble, maybe they can consider the first option and step up their game. Judging from these ridiculous arguments, there’s plenty of room to grow.

It’s a jungle out there

AmbushProfile
A few days back, I began finding a solitary jagged ambush bug nymph (genus Phymata) on the dog fennel plants. I was pleased, because there’s something about these little predators that’s appealing, and not just to me; The Girlfriend likes them too, solely based on their appearance. I don’t find many of them – my last round of decent photos came two years ago – and a very large adult that I spotted this spring vanished before I could get the lens on it. This one was brilliant white, surprisingly, since they usually rely on camouflage and its chosen eyrie was nothing but rich green threadlike leaves. I’ve had no trouble finding it just about every time I look because of this, despite the fact that it’s less than 5mm in body length.

Earlier this afternoon, I noticed that my friend was sporting some new colors. I’d been pretty certain that there was yellow visible a few days ago, but now a lovely teal hue was also developing on the legs and forebody – still not very effective camouflage, arguably even worse, but rather fetching anyway, so that’s all right.

Chambush
The lack of obscuring color or shape seems not to be hindering it much, however, as I returned later in the evening and found it in possession of a sharpshooter, probably a Graphocephala versuta.

PaleAmbush1
Last year the dog fennel plants had hosted both aphids and lady beetles in vast quantities, but this year the leafhoppers have taken their place (vagaries of season and reproduction I guess,) so the ambush bug has no shortage of available food. And since it hadn’t moved at all from where I’d seen it hours before, it wasn’t like there was a lot of energy expended in obtaining this meal; the sharpshooter had likely just blundered into the Ambush Zone [dramatic music.] Maybe one day I’ll get comfortable and stake out the area to see if I can at least watch a capture, if not get a sequence of images – and I say that knowing that a) I’m liable to need a lot more patience than I actually possess, since I doubt this happens more than once, twice a day, and b) dog fennel plants are not known for their stability, these being three meters tall and waving in the slightest of breezes, which naturally makes macro photography fall somewhere between “demanding” and “fuck this I’m going to become an air traffic controller.” If I were making more money from it I’d probably be a lot more inclined to put in the effort – so if you’d like to see it, get in touch and we’ll talk.

PaleAmbush2
One might be inclined to think that, given the predatory nature and purposeful forelegs, ambush bugs and praying mantids are closely related, but this isn’t the case – they’re actually pretty distant as far as arthropods go, in completely different orders, akin to the difference between humans (order Primates) and otters (order Carnivora,) further separated than humans and lemurs (also Primates.) Ambush bugs are Hemipterans, or ‘True Bugs,’ which means largely that they have sucking mouthparts, and like assassin bugs they drain their prey through their own personal straw, while the mantids crassly and messily dismember their meals like barbarians – but at least they don’t litter the ground with the empties like the Hemipterans. Here’s a nearly full-resolution crop of the same image above, for a better look at the forelegs and proboscis. The black line enhancing the serrations is interesting, but from other images I can say it’s misleading, since these are not sawblades slicing their prey, but merely teeth to maintain a good grip – the contact surface on the distal segment, the one closest to us, is broad like pliers.

AmbushDetail
AmbushScale3I close with a scale shot, more or less since I didn’t want to disturb my model – I just grabbed some identical fennel leaves nearby, which is a lot more illustrative than providing the body dimensions. Hopefully you get the idea that it’s easy to blow past one of these unless you’re paying close attention, and of course it’s significantly harder when the camouflage has kicked in. Arthropod photography often requires close examination of likely habitats, but the nice bit is, almost anything is a likely habitat for something, and you can pursue a wide variety of subjects in your own yard. Just be aware that neighbors walking their dog past at night might find the camera strobe going off to be curious, if not outright startling ;-).

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