The pieces come together

Al Denelsbeck

As I mentioned in the previous post, I’m in the middle of updating the galleries of the main website – don’t go rushing over there, since there’s nothing to be seen just yet; I’ll be uploading them all at once when everything’s ready. But among the changes, I’m adding more information to some of the older pics, and one of those is the image at left, of a previously unknown grasshopper found in Florida in 2000. I’d stopped alongside of Rt 41 (Tamiami Trail) in the Everglades to try and spot alligators, which I succeeded in, until they realized I was there (it took about .25 seconds) and they hurtled off the banks of the canal into the water and disappeared. As usual, I began examining the area to make sure that I wasn’t missing something else, and came across a cluster of these insects raiding a discarded soft drink cup. Some of the passing drivers might have thought I was a bit off, sprawled on my belly just off the roadside photographing weeds, but then again it was the Everglades, and it’s far from the strangest thing that takes place therein.

Now, it’s fairly easy to tell this is a small insect, and it went unidentified until last night when I tried again to scare up some mention of this strange coloration. Bugguide.net produced a match, and when I was reading the description I noticed the word “nymph.” That meant the adult probably had a different appearance, so I checked their other images.

Aha! Turns out that I had even more images of this species in my stock, and had in fact captured it on film on my previous trip, that time in the Audubon Society Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. It’s an eastern lubber grasshopper (Romalea microptera,) pretty common in Florida.


This image is deceptive, since this was the largest specimen of this class of insect that I’ve ever found, roughly 8-10 cm (3-4 inches) in length and able to carry off chihuahuas. It’s encounters with such things that convince anyone visiting Florida that the state has some special property, stagnating in time from the late Jurassic or maybe just too much uranium, but more likely it’s simply a factor of being in the subtropics.

Then I checked another image I had, from earlier in the same trip, this time at a park somewhere on the Suwanee River. I had arrived in the predawn darkness to see what sunrise on the river would bring, and while that goal was trashed by a boring dawn, the trip back on the trail revealed a monster “locust” that I snagged for some pics. Note the coloration of this one, and realize that it’s in the transitional stage between nymph and adult coloration.


And yes, that’s my wrist that it’s perched on, because I really wanted to show the scale. This isn’t yet adult size – do you get the idea now?

The other thing that the morning light revealed was how many massive spiderwebs I’d walked under on the dark trail to the river. Up to two meters (six feet) across, they remain the largest webs I’ve ever seen and made me very glad I didn’t walk through one in the darkness, because I’m not sure I would have gotten free without William Shatner’s help. But when the grasshoppers get this big, so do the things that eat them I guess, and I’m probably not helping Florida tourism any, unless I’m reaching a lot of entomologists with these posts.

Just an observation

Al Denelsbeck2 Comments

The Girlfriend is the one who decides how the bathroom is laid out, and to an observant person, this becomes obvious. The wastebasket is positioned in such a way that it is virtually impossible to successfully land a bit of trash in it from any point in the room. While I could not care less about sports, I still possess enough Y-chromosomes to find actually walking up to a trash can and dropping something in it from directly above to be frustrating, way out of proportion to the effort involved. Which naturally means that I increase this effort by making the attempt to hit the basket from across the room anyway, almost invariably necessitating the retrieval of the failure. Women may not understand this, but men don’t understand purses, so that’s how it goes.

Anyway, it’s not news to anyone that it’s been extremely hot for the past few weeks, which means little to photograph and even less that I haven’t already featured. Most of the recent posts by others that I might have commented on I find I’ve already covered, in principle anyway. I have otherwise been concentrating on site updates which, while minor, still takes up time. So there really hasn’t been much to post.

For the time being, have a giant stag beetle (Lucanus elaphus,) and I’ll try to find something of interest soon.

What’s super about it?

Al Denelsbeck

While I’ve touched on this subject briefly before, I think it stands a better examination. The process of writing some of these posts has led to the contemplation of some of our cultural assumptions, and what’s become an interesting lesson from this is how useful it might be to contemplate words and ideas that we’ve taken for granted; in this case, it’s the word, “supernatural.”

The word tends to get used in different ways, but overall, it basically refers to something not beholden to the laws of nature, which we can probably take to mean the laws of physics. For example, we can see the supernatural in… um… well, nothing, really. In fact, some people tend to treat supernatural as indicating something that we can never find an example of, never witness, demonstrate, test, or measure. The problem with this usage is that it can be safely ignored, since it can never have any effect on us whatsoever and is thus useless. But no, wait, that’s not what was meant – miracles are supernatural in origin! You know, miracles such as strange coincidences or surviving extremely low odds, which really only demonstrates how badly people understand probability.

Taking a look at the source, however, we find that the word appeared not, as we might have expected, at about the same time as scriptural references to what we routinely consider supernatural, such as deities and demons and so on, but in the early 1500s. Curiously, this is when the period that we call the scientific revolution began, where the process of testing assumptions and demonstrating ‘natural’ laws gained great acceptance and proved to be more useful than appealing to priests. It is also the time when Europeans began to have significant contact with other cultures and found that there were a lot more origin stories than their own. Before this time, it was simply assumed that the judeo-christian scriptures were accurate portrayals of past history – there was nothing to be supernatural since everything was god’s plan. Even well before this period, when there were beliefs in multiple gods among the cultures that sprang from the Middle East, everything was still ‘created,’ even though the debate raged over which deity actually received credit. For the most part, people heard stories of distant lands but had direct experience only with their own villages, so the lack of miraculous occurrences meant little – they were probably taking place the next town over. Even today, with our instantaneous communications and abilities to check stories, we still have thousands of false claims bouncing around (mostly about Barack Obama’s parentage and policies) – it’s fatuous to think that no such stories were promoted centuries ago, and in fact, the folklore abounds with religious miracles and direct encounters with demons.

Also bear in mind that the primary sources of authority up until this time, and for some period afterwards, were the priestly classes. If anyone wanted to know why, they asked their religious leaders, and generally got answers that reinforced the church’s authority. Additionally, the structure of scientific thought was based on the Aristotelian philosophical idea that a premise was true if the reasoning supported it, a concept that was adapted to theology in such things as the Ontological and Cosmological Arguments, and still serves as theological support today. Some things yet remained a mystery; the peculiar motion of the planets, the unwarranted retribution of plagues, and the nature of evil were handwaved away as being above our station. But with the advent of empirical testing and observation, the nature of epistemology – how knowledge was obtained – changed significantly, as this new structure began to provide answers where nothing else had. Lots of them. And it has provided the basis of all scientific investigation ever since.

But as simple applications of mathematics and experimentation demonstrated that there was no ceiling over us and the earth was not unmoving in the center of things, as simple physical laws could be relied upon and even calculated to great accuracy, it was required to have a way of distinguishing all of this from the firmly held idea that god was calling the shots. The mass of cultural stories about the creation of the world and humankind, about the realms where angels lived and demons tormented, needed some way of holding sway in a world increasingly uncooperative in supporting them. In this time period arose the concept of ‘natural’ laws and ‘supernatural’ activity, which rescued the ancient cultural concepts of creation and an active deity from the necessity of demonstrating why we should believe in any such thing without some nice solid evidence. People don’t abandon their beliefs easily – it would mean admitting they’ve been wrong for a long time – and even though the concept of ‘supernatural’ was entirely new, it served to explain how scripture could be true without needing a damn thing to prove or support it.

Now, several centuries later, it is assumed to have been there all along, and is largely treated as a philosophical concept that was all hashed out long ago – no need to reinvent the wheel by examining how it appeared. Yet as indicated above, it is wielded in a wildly disparate manner to deny the idea that empiricism – knowledge based on firm, repeatable evidence – has been the only thing that has ever produced any results. Supernaturality remains embedded in our culture as a counterpoint to the basic, testable, dependable physical laws and properties that we use constantly, implying that every last thing that we do, from using a cell phone to landing rovers on Mars, is but one side of a two-sided reality, the other of which might be capable of anything; we’re just not permitted to know of it. And of course, this vast incorporeal realm is not only intelligent and purposeful, but kindly inclined towards us as well. The very existence of the word “supernatural,” and the implications therein, causes people to ignore the fact that they’re promoting the stories from a large number of bronze-age chroniclers who thought the whole world could be flooded and a tower could reach heaven.

Even more disturbing is how few people are willing to dismiss the concept as a pointless joke, and instead engage in discussions on how the complete lack of either evidence or effect should be considered ‘supernatural,’ rather than simply nonexistent. Those who forward the idea that the very age of the scriptural stories is reason enough to promote them as historical/factual tend to ignore the very same trait in every other creation account from every other culture worldwide. Such a comparison is exactly the kind of intellectual rigor that empiricism requires, and the reason why should be painfully obvious – if age was all that was necessary to establish scripture as factual, then we should be praying to anu or ra. Even if we desired to retain the Aristotelian method of rendering a sound premise without the need of supporting evidence, supernaturality fails to survive for the very reasons mentioned above, as well as for its relatively recent provenance. A specialized state of existence should certainly have been both evident and enumerated within the scripture, rather than having to be created out of thin air (a ha ha) when careful examination of our world and universe rendered so much of scripture grossly mistaken.

I can’t help but think that treating the word “supernatural” as decrepit as the idea of the River Lethe would help raise the bar on philosophical and theological discussions, since any such undertakings should remain based upon sound premises from the start. Rendering a formless plane of existence to salvage the inaccuracies of ancient writings is a child’s game, akin to the blobby naughty ghosts of the Family Circus, and just as inane.

Macro photography, part four: You can be excused…

Al Denelsbeck

… if you thought this was an ant. That’s really the whole idea.

I spotted one of these in one of my regular insect-hunting spots, but only got a single inadequate photo of it before it vanished under some leaves. Earlier today, I spotted it again – this time, venturing under the web tent shelter of a crab spider, who vacated quickly at the threat; of course, my camera was not in hand for this drama. But after fetching it and a bit of searching, I managed to locate it again, and with a little more playing around, captured it in a film can (look it up, it’s alongside “rotary telephone”) and brought it in for questioning a photo session.

“But what is it?” you ask impatiently. “It is one of the more interesting manifestations of natural selection,” I say, grandly yet vaguely, mostly just to piss you off some more. But it’s still true – this is a Peckhamia americana, otherwise known as an antlike jumping spider, and the camouflage is remarkable. I may have gone past countless examples of these guys, since they’re fairly small and it takes a sharp eye to catch the subtle differences as they tool along the leaves and vines. A little tip, which applies to many different aspects of nature photography: behavior is often a good indication that something is not what it seems. I’ve pointed out before that one can tell a Sphingidae moth that mimics a bumblebee apart from a real bee very easily, since the bee always lands on the flower and the moth does not. In the case of antlike jumping spiders, they tend to pause and search more than ants, who typically move very directly and without hesitation. You might think the eight legs of the spider against the ant’s six would be a giveaway, but it actually takes sharp eyes to pick up this trait quickly, and the spider often waves its two forelegs around like antennae anyway.



That’s a better view above, with another telltale, if you can get a close enough look. Ants, like the one at left, have a separate head on an articulated neck, while spiders have a combined head and torso called a cephalothorax, a great word to drop at parties. Plus those eyes are very indicative of jumping spiders – in fact, the eye layout is one way in which arachnologists tell the classes of spiders apart. But you’re probably more likely to be seeing such a critter from directly overhead, which means the eyes won’t be visible. So, another trait that may help is seeing the activity of the pedipalps, the extra little ‘legs’ that spiders have alongside their chelicerae (fangs.) These are often used to feel their way and can be seen drumming busily as the spider ventures onwards.

Now, another little thing to make your pursuit of photos a wee bit easier. While nice natural-looking settings can do a lot for your photos, most insects are not so cooperative that they’ll do what you say, pause, and pose as needed. In fact, I may be going out on a limb here, but I don’t think they ever do. If you’re quick, you can catch some shots on the fly, but in circumstances like this where you want photos of a particular hard-to-find subject, this could actually drag out the quest for decent photos, literally, over years. So, we can cheat a little, and create a very simple set, one that doesn’t allow our subjects too much opportunity to scamper off and hide. Behold the bug moat.

Yep, just a small cup of water, and something to hold a natural plant or branch upright in the center – I’ve used a couple of alligator clips here. The range that the arthropod can move is very limited, with few places to hide, and the water prevents an escape, or at least a quick one. The cup can even be moved for a better background, or rotated to take advantage of lighting conditions (as well as keeping your subject facing the camera.) Just keep leaves and branches away from the edges to help prevent escapes. By limiting the range and options of your subject, you can obtain better shots in a shorter period of time, and not tear your hair out in frustration unless you really want to (far be it from me.) This is hardly innovative, but sometimes it’s the simple things that make your tasks much easier.

Another thing that’s actually handy is just a business card or small piece of paper. With tiny insects or arachnids like this, it’s really not possible to grasp them, even with forceps of tweezers, so you slip something under them instead. My subject here, for some reason, thought my hand was much more interesting than any leaf or branch I presented, and twice I spent more time than I thought should have been necessary coaxing him off of me and onto a “setting.”

Going back to the antlike jumping spider, consider that the species arrived at this appearance over thousands of generations. Every time an individual spider was born looking just a little more like an ant, its natural predators (who found ants less tasty) tended to pass it over a little more often than the members of the same species who didn’t look like ants. So the ones that did gained reproductive advantage, simply by surviving a little bit longer, and those genetic tendencies passed along. Gradually, the spider took on a close resemblance to ants, a passive resistance to predation – some species even live in close proximity to ants and gain benefit from the ant colonies directly – near as I can tell, my subject here is not one of them, since I have seen none anywhere near the numerous ant colonies in the yard.

I’ll leave you with one last image, simply because I love the color cast in the eyes. The pedipalps are plainly visible here as the innermost ‘legs,’ but note the motion blur of the one midleg, which occurred despite the 1/200 second shutter speed I was using. Quick little bugger – which means you now know why I wanted to limit its movement. Overall length was perhaps 6mm – it didn’t seem inclined to hold still long enough for me to slide a scale alongside. When I figure out how to accomplish that more dependably, I’ll pass that along too.

[Insert topical, perhaps punnish title here]

Al Denelsbeck



Just thought I’d throw up an image in recognition of National Pollinator Week, even though I don’t know what qualifies as a national pollinator, except for perhaps an extremely busy bee.

Now, a word of advice: if you’re just getting started in macro photography, don’t pursue it if you have high blood pressure, anger management issues, or take offense at inanimate objects that nevertheless keep moving. Side effects may include swearing at insects and losing hair in clumps. See your doctor to find out if macro photography is right for you. Attempting to get images like the one above may mean a lot of missed tries, because of the short range of sharp focus, the constant motion of most pollinating insects, and the previously unnoticed breeze throwing the flowers about. Set focus, anticipate the shot, and trip the shutter just before your subject drops into focus. And remember, press the shutter, don’t jam it or squeeze it – don’t induce camera shake. It’s highly recommended that you use the fastest shutter speed you can achieve while still maintaining flash synchronization (I’ll talk about that more in a later post.)

Even with all that, expect to toss a lot of images. But don’t let your frustration blind you to choosing a good angle and background, and be flexible. I can honestly say that, for every time I chose a flower and waited patiently for an insect or hummingbird to fly into my prepared frame, it has never, ever been successful. Better to have lots of options and be able to reframe as needed.

Ah, what the hell, have another. It’s worth noting that neither of these was taken this week, or even close. We’ve passed peak season for most flowering plants here – we are now in wilt-and-burst-into-flames season. Happy summer!

Nothing lives forever

Al Denelsbeck

This is actually a combination of two post ideas I had, because I realized that the perspective discussed in one had direct bearing on the other. And then, while this was in draft form, another related item came up. Bear with me as we wend through it all.

Every once in a while I hear something about a culture dying out, or a language on the verge of disappearing because only three people speak it, and I simply cannot get worked up over it. You mean nobody will speak Blaghini anymore, or dance the Hahnhahnuman Laundry Dance ever again? That’s the way it goes, I guess.

I’m largely the same way with lost cultures that anthropologists attempt to piece together. While there might be something of interest in how past populations dealt with drought, for instance, these represent little more than puzzles. The likelihood of discovering something that could possibly impact our lives today is absurd in the extreme, and to be blunt, we know exactly where the lost culture went: nowhere. It’s more interesting to try and determine what happened to the dominant sauropods or early hominids, because these might give us a lot of insight into extinction events and competitive pressures, but what kind of clothes they wore (the hominids, anyway) is really nothing more than a curiosity.

Cultures are an aspect of populations, and represent what a majority of people in any particular division (tribe, geographic area, etc.) engage in. They change – it’s safe to say constantly – and former aspects are abandoned in favor of new, better practices. When some aspect of culture is disappearing forever, the only thing this says is that no one has a use for it anymore. This isn’t anything to decry, any more than discarding worn-out clothes is.

Undoubtedly, some of our concern over dying cultures comes from our emphasis on tradition, which doesn’t have much of a rational application to such things. Even if someone derives some value from tradition, it seems obvious that any culture that is vanishing hasn’t established enough of a traditional influence within today’s culture. And any language with a handful of speakers is no longer a language, but has become instead an in-game. For instance, anyone can make up new words for objects and concepts, but that’s not a language – the point of language is to communicate. Exclusive ‘languages’ are not communicative, but divisive instead.

Someone might argue the benefit of history, but in most cases that’s different from culture. History is not only events, but events that had significant impact on cultures, and may encompass what can be learned from the attitudes prevalent at the time. There have been no philosophical enclaves comparable to those of ancient Greece for thousands of years, but these are not ‘lost’ to us since we have copious records of such, and few feel any real need to dress as the philosophers did and speak in the languages of those times. We retained what was useful (and many parts that weren’t,) but do not regret the loss of cultural practices. Times change, and with them the cultures.

I imagine some might even feel remorse over the idea that something is gone forever, but this doesn’t survive the application of perspective. The food anyone ate last week is gone forever too – so what? Ah, but was it a really good meal? Wonderful – you have memories of it then, and perhaps the recipe or the address of the restaurant. But no one (sane) saves a portion of the meal to preserve forever. If it is not able to be eaten, then it is not food. And one person singing the ‘old songs’ is not preserving a culture, unless we can then call the personal actions of any individual a ‘culture’ as well. That’s not what the word means.

Now, here’s part two. There is an interesting correlation to our efforts to preserve endangered species, and to a lesser extent, native species against “invasive” species – I need to use the word “species” one more time in this sentence. There is a pretty significant amount of effort and funding (granted, usually donations) expended towards both of these efforts… but when viewed in the same perspective as that above, it raises the question of why?

Let me get this out of the way early: I’m a naturalist at heart, and conservationist, and environmentalist – none of the points I’m making come from the idea that I really don’t care about species or ecosystems, or have a typical kneejerk (emphasis on jerk) reaction to “treehuggers.” But it’s impossible to rationally deny that untold thousands of species have disappeared from this planet over the millennia – that’s the very basis of natural selection. It seems presumptuous to attempt to save a species from extinction, as if we not only have a special power, but a special insight as well. The desire to “save an animal” is most likely driven by empathy, and while it isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it bears asking just what exactly the point might be. Does it actually mean we’re trying to maintain a species in an environment that it no longer fits, believing that the entire concept of selection doesn’t or shouldn’t apply?

There’s also the concern of invasive species, which themselves have led to inordinate amounts of impact in areas with delicate and balanced ecological niches. Entire island populations have been decimated by the introduction of rats, cats, domesticated grazing animals, and the like. Kudzu strangles many other kinds of plants in the American southeast, and zebra mussels growing unchecked in lakes affect power production, shipping, and even food levels for other species. Witnessing the effects of these has made it clear that, especially in isolated and unique biosystems, small changes can have huge consequences.

The main school of thought on this, of course, is “don’t introduce or transport species,” and this is hard to argue with. Yet, there are two pertinent factors that I wish to point out. The first is that humans are hardly an alien species on this planet, so there isn’t anything that we do that can be considered “unnatural,” despite there being a very common attitude otherwise. And that ties in with the second factor, which is that species introduction is a fairly common occurrence throughout the history of life on this planet, up to and including the emergence of tetrapods from the seas 375 million years ago. Plate tectonics, floods and tsunamis, land bridges, icepacks, seeds carried by migratory birds, and many more besides, all contribute to the distribution of life on this planet. While rapid worldwide travel is something unique to Homo sapiens, all this really means is that species introduction has been accelerated by us – not that we are criminally responsible.

What all of this leads to is the question of just how responsible we should consider ourselves. Alone among the occupants of this planet, we can contemplate and predict (to some extent) the effect of both species introduction and extinctions. We are aware of the consequences of both, and often times the causes, and can sometimes prevent such from happening. But the keyword in there is ‘sometimes.’ Even if we had known the hazards of zebra mussels hitchhiking on ships, is there really anything we could do about it even now, much less a hundred or more years ago? Is it better to introduce grazing animals with our colonies for clothing and food, or hunt the native species to extinction for the same – or attempt to domesticate a native species to sustain a breeding program that meets our needs? Where this train of thought quickly leads is that we should probably just stay put, stabilize our own populations, and try not to change anything. Realistically of course, that’s not going to happen.

And what about species on the brink of extinction? There is much talk now that the money poured into panda programs is likely a wasted effort, and with such a small population in the wild as it is, their eventual disappearance isn’t likely to have significant effect – again, it may be occurring not through anything that we’ve done, but because pandas have not adapted to their environmental changes. Komodo dragons exist in a very narrow niche, which is essentially an accident waiting to happen. It is virtually guaranteed that such a species is not going to expand beyond a handful of isolated islands, and nature has a way of selecting against such precarious circumstances. Even if we developed a hugely successful breeding program, one devastating monsoon can eradicate the only place on the planet that they have to live within, which means either maintaining the species as a permanent captive, or introducing it into an area where it does not now live.

I’m not arguing for the cessation of efforts towards any of these goals, or indeed, for any particular approach; I’m just attempting to produce some introspection about our conservation activities, and the recognition of viable goals in the first place, with the problem of defining ‘viable’ in tow. We have a limited ability to be stewards, and some things are simply outside of our power to change. Now this attitude, coupled with the idea mentioned above that we and our actions are a natural part of this planet, seems to imply that we should simply make no effort whatsoever and take everything as it comes, but this ignores one crucial factor: that we can predict the consequences of our actions and possess the brains to alter our environment, to at least a small degree, in ways that are beneficial. That is also a natural part of us.

Life’s selection processes have a tendency to deal with issues such as overpopulation or susceptibility to certain environmental changes – but not in a particularly pleasant way. Starvation, fiercer competition, diseases promoted by overcrowding, radical new defenses among native species… the list is long and not kind. Moreover, we already know that very small changes can have a ripple effect throughout a biosystem. Draining a wetlands area to make housing for more people may take away the food sources of the smaller crustaceans, which are food sources for smaller fish, which are food sources for larger fish, that are our food sources. Overgrazing can increase soil erosion, which eradicates topsoil and the ability to grow anything, and exposes more rock which increases heat reflectivity into the atmosphere, which can promote more storm activity, and even cause frequent flooding in areas far removed from the overgrazed fields. While all of this is perfectly natural, it often isn’t something that we really want to cope with, and if we have the ability to prevent it, it’s undeniably stupid to avoid doing so.

Can we save the pandas? Quite possibly not – but we should be aware of what impact their disappearance might have. Is it crucial that the Galapágos remain as they are? It’s very hard to say, since we don’t know how much effect any species therein has on its environment. We can certainly choose to protect a particular endangered species, with the recognition that it may not be entirely within our power. We must also recognize that in some areas, such as the Amazon basin, our affluent first-world desires to prevent the extinction of a rare species may mean squat to indigenous people who are struggling to survive in a poverty-stricken agrarian economy. Protecting the red-eyed tree frogs may actually mean building a sustainable economic structure for their human neighbors, to reduce the demand for farmland, exportable lumber, and even charcoal. This is another demonstration of a ripple effect.

But most especially, if we aim to protect species, we need to protect their environment, and in many cases, this requires that we curb our own indulgent behavior as Homo sapiens. Ultimately, our aim should be zero population growth worldwide, as well as the effective resource and economic distribution – while this might be a very hard point to get across globally, it also has to start somewhere. It is entirely possible that the traits that we have, our unique perspective on the world and our self-importance within it, are things that nature may well select against, as we overextend ourselves beyond the resources available and go through rapid, nasty population declines. Or we can see this looming on the horizon and turn away, which it would be nice to believe is a useful function of our advanced brains.

The disappearance of species, like cultures, often happens on its own – but we can accomplish it far too easily ourselves for short-sighted and self-absorbed reasons, too. Nature selection may be harsh at times, but its selections are at least functional.

But how? Part seven: Filling the hole

Al Denelsbeck

Walkabout podcast – But how? Part 7

I’m going to make a slight departure from the format of the previous ‘But How?‘ posts. So far, all of them dealt with how different concepts worked just fine without religion as an explanation, but this one will deal with the personal impact of leaving it behind. While I have no reason nor desire to swell the ranks of atheists, save for the beneficial affect it would have on the idiocy of religious persecution and privilege, I feel somewhat motivated to address some of the misconceptions and assumptions about discarding belief. Even more than most posts, this is from my own perspective, so while not everyone may have the same experience, it still serves as an answer to a question all too often asked: but what will I replace religion with?

First off, let’s get something out of the way: it’s not like atheism or agnosticism is a forced effort, with press gangs taking people away from their religion like refugees from their homeland. When you leave, it’s because you want to leave, because the thought of participating in the charade actually galls you. The respect is gone, like that for a once-liked actor who has revealed him or her self to be a douchecanoe. When the New/Gnu/Nv/Nouveaux Atheists speak out against religion, it isn’t intended to recruit new followers, but to eradicate the heavily biased privilege and poor rationales of behavior that have become too accepted within our cultures.

Now, despite the attitude demonstrated in countless other posts here, I was actually raised religious – relatively low-impact ‘moderate’ catholic, but with a friend-induced period in my early teens of fundamentalist baptist. I not only possessed the mindset that god had brought it all into being but, for a short while anyway, believed that judgment and ultimate consequences were very real and imminent. All of that is gone now, and none of it is missed in the least. Many of the posts on this blog are actually demonstrations that I find doing without them is distinctly more functional. There was no ‘hole’ to fill; instead, everything started making a whole lot more sense.

To a certain extent, many scriptural accounts never rang true, never approached being convincing. I can only speculate here, but I suspect most people find the idea of a worldwide flood and two of every animal housed on a boat for a year (no, it only rained for 40 days – the water had to recede afterwards) to be particularly hard to grasp. Most of the creation details, in fact, correlate poorly (as in, not at all) with what we have been finding out about the world for the past several centuries. While some might either ignore the misgivings in the back of their mind over such details, or simply dismiss them entirely in favor of scriptural accuracy claims, I was one of many who found that more answers were needed. Religion possessed a disconnect with what I could see every day, and it did not help that every answer provided for this referred to a realm of mystical unknown properties.

The entire time that I found the lack of decent answers to be curious, and eventually evidence of error (compounded to no small amount by the abject lies spread by religious leaders and a growing knowledge of scriptural history,) the realm of useful science was not only omnipresent, but continuing to grow. I found, or perhaps always knew, that science is simply observation and testing, not in any way an agenda-based ideology as it is so often portrayed by those immersed in, coincidentally, agenda-based ideologies. The only things that lay hidden in the realm of mystical unknown properties were openly admitted to be curious, such as quantum physics and dark energy, yet the evidence behind what we did know about them was readily available. Meanwhile, the remarkable nature of evolution, physics, cosmology, et al provided not just answers, but mutually interconnecting disciplines that even now continues to fascinate me. And more distinctly, human behavior began to make such utter sense in the realm of evolved traits that contributed to our species’ survival, as reflected in the tagline I chose for the billboard campaign of the Freedom From Religion Foundation.


As this disparity in function and value impinged on my consciousness it resulted in, as overused as this phrase is now, a paradigm shift. Religion revealed its apparent attempts at manipulation, denial, dodgy word games, and crass emotional appeal – this was not promoted in the least by science or anyone’s agenda, it was simply demonstrated by the contrast with scientific inquiry. It’s a bit like always thinking that your family or town is typical, until you see others. Examining the fervency of other beliefs was also instructional; religions the world over, throughout history, also claimed to possess “The Truth™” yet somehow so few of them agreed, and none provided much in the way of value. There was no sense of emptiness; there was instead a malignant growth to be removed in order to stay healthy. I had no problem with abandoning any rituals – let’s face it, any activity is only a ‘ritual’ because of the idea underlying it, the supposed importance, and when that’s gone, it just becomes a pointless exercise. As for the churches, I’ve had far more ‘community’ from the places I’ve worked, and have still been able to cope with leaving them behind in the interests of seeking better employment. Moreover, when you no longer agree with anyone’s worldview, you aren’t motivated to associate with them anyway.

Now, there is a difference in perspective that needs to be recognized here. I, like many, found it important to seek real answers and explanations, to gain a better understanding of the world and human behavior, so it was easy to ‘find comfort’ in that which provided the most accurate and useful knowledge. But what about those who find religion important from an emotional standpoint? Those who take comfort in such concepts as the afterlife, ultimate justice and reward, designed purpose, alignment with ‘good’ as an absolute, a beneficent overseer, and so many others provided by religion? When anyone asks about replacements and ‘holes,’ more often than not they are referring to the appeasement provided by such concepts.

However, these aren’t significantly different from answers of a more direct, scientific nature. Religions’ ability to provide these emotional comforts relies solely on claims; there is nothing concrete or demonstrable about these in any way, and it is this realization, in part, that helps spur the movement away from religious thought in the first place (to be sure, it is often the observed contradictions between religious claims and reality, like ‘good christians’ who are self-centered assholes and thousands that die in disasters even as they pray for deliverance, that gets people wondering about godly influences.) Just like the lack of real-world explanations, the crumbling of the emotional portion of religion means that there is little reluctance to abandon it. When anyone recognizes that they’ve been fooling themselves, they’re usually well motivated to stop.

Alongside these thoughts lies a nasty, far-too-common assumption that it’s disturbing to keep seeing in our species. It is often argued that, regardless of accuracy or functionality, religion makes people feel good, so they’re justified in maintaining it. But emotional appeasement is a remarkably feeble and lazy reason to maintain a worldview, and claiming that anyone needs it is implying that they’ve failed to develop emotionally past the age of five. In what other aspect of our lives do we ever find it okay to foster irrational beliefs because they’re soothing? Correct me if I’m wrong, but we consider this fantasy, and while this might be a pleasant (and perhaps even therapeutic) pasttime, when it forms the backbone of someone’s worldview we generally consider this a serious problem.

Usually following close on the heels of such arguments is another familiar one: religion is a personal choice. And believe it or not, I’m just fine with this argument; feel absolutely free to maintain any taste in deity, music, cuisine, or hairstyle that you like. However, such arguments are blatantly fraudulent, because it is not the personal expression that causes any problems whatsoever, but the idea that someone’s particular personal choice should have the faintest affect on anyone else. Nobody’s ‘personal choice’ forms the basis of their moral superiority, arrogance, and privilege, nor is it ever used to influence legislature and prejudice, and it’s insulting to keep hearing this. You will notice that the personal choice argument curiously disappears when it comes to abortion and homosexuality, nor is it ever fostered in children. And of course, what kind of mindless idiot would favor a politician based on something like their hairstyle or favorite song? Yet their piety – that’s a personal choice that’s significant somehow! It would be nice if, as important as most religious folk believe honesty to be, they tried not to keep perpetuating some of the obvious lies.

Another consideration among the emotional stumbling blocks is the concept of eternal life and judgment. Few people really have any issue with judgment being left behind, since it’s a source of no small amount of anxiety. The idea, however, of receiving a magnificent reward at the end is an appealing thought if your life is pretty miserable – no wonder, then, that churches often target disadvantaged and emotionally vulnerable people, and that religiosity is often higher in areas with low standards of living. As long as no one recognizes that such ‘tests’ of our mortal existence actually means we’re pawns in a game played by god, or that eternal reward is also a silly and pointless concept, and especially that recruiting tools always require the promise of a big payoff, then maybe there’s something to be said for the afterlife.

It also may be very hard to consider that death is a distinctive end – yet I’m not sure all that many people aren’t already on board with this. Funerals are not happy or mellow occasions for the devout, any more than among anyone else, and I suspect that the religious promotion of afterlife, besides being an attempted motivator of good behavior, is wielded more as a salve against the remorse of death than as an actual denial of it. The acceptance of oblivion, among atheists, is in part due to the ludicrousness [it really should be “ludicrosity”] of perpetual afterlife and its attendant fallacies, such as the idea that rewards and punishments are intended to influence future behavior, and the recognition that every emotion we have is a trait to help us thrive as a species. As many have pointed out, you have no more knowledge of oblivion at death than you did of pre-life before you were born. It is perfectly reasonable to fear death – all of the things that we enjoy and treasure, that we look forward to or want to accomplish, vanish at that point – but what we might desire to be the case doesn’t have any effect on how true it might be, and denial isn’t a trait that many want to engage in. One must consider, too, that if we had perpetual life, we would accomplish nothing – it is our limited time on earth that makes us strive to reach certain goals (and provides our sense of satisfaction when we do.)

Other people may simply be too influenced by longstanding culture, afraid to appear in any way different from their neighbors, worried about what they might think. This aspect has more affect than many think, because the cultural acceptance of religion, and the peculiar belief that respect should be automatic rather than earned, causes many to defer to social conformity rather than a rationally-supportable viewpoint. Ironically, this makes sense from an evolutionary perspective, since we are a species that benefits greatly from social cohesion, but it’s unfortunate that many people give so much weight to subconscious emotional reactions that they never stop to consider whether a standpoint is reasonable, or even functional.

This even applies to an unknown number of people who really are atheists, but make no public recognition of such for fear of consequences, which strikes me as a very conflicted way of existing. When you cannot be true to yourself and your reason, can you still derive benefit from the façade, or maintain self-respect? If it helps, I personally have seen minimal negative consequences from being openly atheistic – it might cut down on my photo students – but very few people have ever tried being directly disrespectful or derogatory toward me, even online. I admit that I was well away from giving a shit what other people thought before I left high school, so that probably helped, but it likely depends more on whether or not one is more comfortable being honest with themselves than in worrying about the opinions of others. And in my experience overall, religious bigots remain sequestered away in their own circles 99% of the time, and can rarely handle engagement over, for instance, many of the failures of religion that I’ve just related. Moreover, in the cases where you are challenged to defend your views, it becomes easier as you go along, as you get more experience spotting fallacies and recognizing how flawed thinking works – which also improves your own critical thinking and can help you feel confident that you’re, at the very least, applying due diligence towards your own views. The only way we can ensure that we’re not wrong is by first realizing that it is eminently possible.

Again, much of this is admittedly personal experience, and anyone else might see something different. What I’m (hopefully) demonstrating is that the idea of a “hole” or a feeling of loss is probably more of an assumption than a reality, and that at least some people find more liberation and confidence when religious thought is left behind. And as a final note, how curious is it that the question even exists, that people could contemplate their worldview from the perspective of the way it makes them feel rather than whether or not it is actually believable?

Trapped!

Al Denelsbeck

Sometimes you actually have some cooperation from your subjects, despite their best efforts. Mom paused for a nice profile, even allowing a view of her progenys’ meal, while one of the sprogs smiled (or something) for the camera in the opening of the nest box. It’s all because of clean living and pure thoughts.

And, something that cannot quite be called a ‘camera trap.’ Typically, camera traps are configured so that they can be left all alone and the subject, the bird or clouded jaguar or whatever, triggers its own photo by breaking a light beam or infringing into the infra-red sensing area, making a sound or even simply bumping a switch. Such setups permit the photographer to be quite far away, perhaps asleep in bed, and thus the animals are not concerned about anyone’s presence. In my case here, however, the camera was simply rigged with a long extension on the shutter release, so I was broiling in the sun, watching for ideal moments from behind the pampas grass. Plenty of images have bad poses and motion blur, but I’m pleased with this one.

I mentioned the remote release before, at the bottom of this post; the inclusion of the 3.5mm connections between the remote and the two adapter ends made it easy to insert a 6.5 meter (20 ft) headphone extension cable – you know, from the old days when people had stereo systems. The eastern bluebirds (Sialia sialis) weren’t concerned about the presence of the camera close to the nest box, as long as I wasn’t too close.

The local wildlife has been a minor saga this spring. At about the time that the aforementioned red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) eggs should have been hatching, the mother abandoned the nest and did not return. I have no idea if something got to the eggs or they simply weren’t fertile, but there was never any sign of hatchlings. Both bluebird boxes that we erected this winter got early occupants, including a black-capped chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) who started a nest that got usurped by the bluebirds, but both nests became abandoned after five eggs each had been deposited.

Nobody around to keep my subject from escaping, so this is the "Hold in one hand and take the photo with the other" technique.
I was a little curious as to whether I had scared the parents off by mowing the lawn or something, but then a little while after this discovery I caught a black rat snake (Pantherophis obsoletus) nearby, who may have snagged the mothers while they were on the nests – this also potentially explains the abandoned Carolina wren (Thryothorus ludovicianus) nest I found in the stored patio umbrella in the backyard (the species is notorious for finding odd nesting locations.) I had felt bad when I inadvertently destroyed the nest by moving the umbrella, but the eggs were far too cold to have been recently tended.

Anyway, a second pair of bluebirds took over one of the nest boxes once I had removed the eggs from the first, and everything has been going smoothly so far. The young will be fledging soon, so I’m keeping my eyes open, not just for them, but for the neighborhood cats as well. And while I’m on the subject, I’ll mention something I should’ve months back. Fledgling birds rarely leave the nest with the ability to fly completely mastered, so people are constantly finding young birds that have “fallen from the nest” or are “injured and cannot fly away,” often considering them abandoned. But this is how they learn, by bailing the nest and developing their skills as they go, while the parents are nearby coaxing them along. You often don’t see the parents because they’ll stay well out of your range, to avoid drawing your attention to their young, while the young have the habit of freezing when danger threatens. If they have a complete covering of feather and at least short tail feathers, leave them be and watch from a distance – you will probably see one of the folks visit within half an hour.

So keep checking back, and we’ll see if I get any of the fledgling behavior, especially of the parents feeding them while they’re out of the nest.

What can you add?

Al Denelsbeck

The Richard Dawkins Foundation site pointed me to an article from The Raw Story concerning the rapid decay of the Galápagos due to eco-tourism, which I thought was worth a post, especially since it ties in with another that I’ve been working on that will be along soon.

Permit me to elaborate for a moment on what may be old news for three of my four readers. The Galápagos are a short string of islands off the coast of South America that Charles Darwin visited during his travels on the Beagle, and the specific nature of their environmental niches and the traits of the similar species therein helped him develop the idea of natural selection. The tortoises and the finches found on each island, while presumably the same species as found on the other islands, possessed certain traits that worked well for the foliage and conditions specific only to the island where they lived. In other words, natural selection had dictated which minor changes in their makeup would be best suited for their survival. And because of their location and especially isolation, these islands are unique in the world insofar as their native species and environment, including the lack of a fear of humans that many of the species display. All of these contribute to the idea of eco-tourism, where people visit to see the unique species and behavior and to see where Darwin’s theory was born.

Therein lies the problem, since where there is any kind of demand, somebody will look to exploit it, even in a thriving economy – this applies even more so to the fluctuating economy of Ecuador, of which the Galápagos is a province. Tourism is now the principal activity on the islands, and their development over the past few decades has been devoted almost solely to this. With this, of course, comes population pressures, land clearing, greater traffic, trash, pollution, and introduced species. In short, the very nature of the islands is now being irretrievably altered by the same people who come to witness it.

It could be easy to blame the government of Ecuador, which failed to introduce or enforce adequate safeguards against such exploitation, or the tour operators themselves who place the tourist income over the ecosystem – but this is similar to blaming our popular media for producing vapid pablum. It is the tourists themselves that directly contribute to the decline of the area, and ironically enough, solely due to the interest in it as an unspoiled region.

I touched on this before in the book review for Last Chance To See. A side effect of telling people about the rarity and delicacy of any particular ecosystem, most especially ones with their own distinctive fauna, is that it increases the desire for people to see this for themselves. I understand this, insofar as I have felt the same thing personally, but it merits highlighting just how utterly pointless this is. For instance, I might have the opportunity to produce my very own images of marine iguanas or Darwin’s finches, but this is little more than a personal accomplishment – photos from others abound, and none of them even required any kind of hardship or effort. Any contribution to “awareness” would be minuscule at best, and worse, even if it actually did confer some kind of status to me due to my images of such species, it’s an empty accolade, a plastic trophy for having the neatest desk (okay, a bad example.)

Yet to an unknown extent, those that have visited are a part of an elite club, or at least the perception of one. They’ve not only gone to an exotic place, but one that holds a special environmental/biological prestige – they’ve done something important on vacation. How many people feel they’ve been active in conservation efforts with such a trip, and have done their part for ecology? Since the islands are not (yet) resorts brimming with amenities or activities, the draw for such tours lies almost entirely with the allure of the Galápagos’ reputation, not the fun of clambering around rocky barren surfaces. Doing a search of “Galápagos tours” demonstrates what the companies (take note of how many) have found to be the biggest selling points, and even the conservation organizations promote tours as ways to support their cause, as well as reinforcing the concept of the unique experience. While it’s probably impossible to calculate the positive and negative effects of such efforts with any accuracy, it’s not hard to imagine that the small percentage of the package prices that goes towards conservation efforts does not offset the actual destruction that tourism brings. How many “conservation efforts” of such a nature would accomplish more by simply shutting down operations?

More importantly, how much would it take to convince people to find legitimate, worthwhile conservation programs and just donate to them without expecting anything in return, keeping damage to a minimum and realizing the best value for that money? This is an approach rarely used because people aren’t motivated solely by cause, but by their emotional experience – and in fact, this describes an unknown, but potentially very high, percentage of any activism in the first place. People want to see the pandas up close and swim with the dolphins, brag about their trip to Mauritius and distribute authentic souvenirs from the Amazon basin. In a culture where what you do for vacation implies both your success and personality, eco-tourism has a message all its own. Unfortunately, that message is not yet, “I care more about the impression of being environmentally conscious than actually doing something beneficial,” though this is too often the grim reality. Regardless of how legitimate any particular eco-tour is, avoiding any impact at all from human presence is better in all cases.

The linked article illustrates why this continues to deteriorate. Not only was the reporter present in person to write the story, but she also mentioned an art exhibition, initiated by the Galápagos Conservation Trust and the Gulbenkian Foundation, that has sent a dozen artists to the islands apparently to produce a firsthand experience, which influences their art exhibitions. One artist, Marcus Coates, was quoted in the article:

“I had no idea that anyone even lived on the Galápagos,” says Coates. “There’s this huge conflict between people and animals and this bizarre situation where people are almost second-class citizens compared to the wildlife.” The impact on his art has been profound, he says; it’s made him entirely rethink what it is to be human.

Well, isn’t that fantastic? Coates is now profoundly impacted by information he could have gained over the phone. Yet, the profundity of it all is especially communicated in his performance piece of having walked around the island trick-or-treating as a blue-footed booby because, you know, nothing raises awareness and promotes responsibility like pointless confusion. Even if we assume, rashly I think, that someone actually got a useful message out of that, right there in an article decrying tourism is the direct implication that this artist’s personal visit was necessary to change his way of thinking. That’s exactly the opposite of what you really need to communicate.

I’m not arguing against the small amounts of damage that may be done in the interests of greater advances, and realize that film crews, for instance, can drive an impression home to millions of people who require the visual stimulation. But for most places targeted for eco-tourism, the information has been produced hundreds of times over in the past several decades and is readily available to some schmuck just sitting at his computer (ahem.) What is necessary is the fostering of a specific attitude towards genuine benefit, and especially efforts to highlight the misleading impressions of eco-tourism and activism. It’s not a difficult message: “Send your money, not your ass.” Your personal impression is only of value if you can reach thousands of people and are effective in changing their minds. Otherwise, explore a swamp near home, negate the carbon impact of the airliner and the cruise ship, and learn something real about ecosystems.

And while we’re at it, tackle a photo subject where an encounter takes real effort and skill, as opposed to having a tour guide walk you up to habituated penguins. You’ll be prouder of the results.

Too cool, part 15: Welcome our mantis shrimp overlords

Al Denelsbeck

I have been watching the development of the local praying mantises with interest, but this variety of ‘mantis’ is something else entirely. While at least one variety of these could supposedly be found in Florida when I was there, I never did locate one, which is perhaps for the better. But this means I have no image to use here, and will instead send you over to Not Exactly Rocket Science for Yong’s post on the weapon of the mantis shrimp.

While there, of course, you will also check out the related posts on the eyes of a mantis shrimp, and more on the eyes of a mantis shrimp, and the speed of a mantis shrimp. Let’s face it – they are our superior in every way.

Well, except for taste, since their color scheme looks like what happened when the animators for Yellow Submarine lost their inhibitions. The photos Ed Yong used for those posts don’t give you as good an idea of their overall appearance as this video does, however, which also demonstrates their abilities pretty distinctly:

Granted, I have a personal liking for the shy pistol shrimp, but I have to yield to the awesome power and exuberance of the mantis. This video shows more of their hunting prowess, including against my other buddies, the grass shrimp. For scale, know that grass shrimp are usually 2-3 cm long, though this video represents only one variety of mantis shrimp that range in size significantly.

I also feel obligated to point out, not that anyone should need the warning, that my introduction to the species came when I was researching photo needs for a potential client, and found the story of the diver that needed to have his finger amputated after an encounter. So um, yeah, cool as they are, put one in your aquarium at your own risk.

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