A few years back, I rode with a friend who had a speaking GPS. As we exited the interstate to get gas, the functional female voice said, “Off trail.” But then we turned left onto the overpass and crossed the interstate, provoking the voice to update us with, “On trail… off trail,” with barely a pause in between. Credit for picking up on our brief position above the interstate, but negative points for failing to realize we were traveling sideways. And now I have to wonder how high we could go directly above the interstate, lifted by a helicopter perhaps, before the GPS informed us we were off trail again. There’s a cute movie scene in there somewhere.
Anyway, we’re going off trail here.
I have no clue how apparent this might be to anyone familiar with this blog (if such a person exists,) but many years ago, I was a role-playing gamer. Yes, I had my bulky collection of AD&D books and gaming dice, dog-eared character sheets and Dorito-stained fingers (and thus Dorito-stained character sheets, though to be honest, Doritos were a lot less powdery then, one of the few ways in which us old folk had it better.)
So, I can thoroughly enjoy DM of the Rings, a brilliant mixture of stills from the Lord of the Rings movies and captions from a fictional attempt to role-play the storyline. I’ve had this link for years, probably before I started the blog, but just revisited it and decided it needed more sharing. For anyone unfamiliar with such sessions, Shamus Young nailed it. Nobody that I ever met was entirely focused and locked into role-playing, but nearly everyone had their ability to sidetrack, disrupt, and outright destroy whatever campaign had been meticulously planned by the DM (dungeon master,) the one person who knew all the secrets. And Shamus expresses the other traits, too: forget the satisfaction of completing a campaign or successfully figuring out the mystery – the players are motivated by treasure, increased character levels, and yes, the pathetic idea of implied sex. People in real life would be delighted to spend a few days in the woods and never encounter anything even remotely dangerous, but that is irritating beyond all measure in the role-playing realm. “Give me something to kill!” is a cry that I’ve heard more than a few times.
Yet, the primary skill of a good DM is being able to cope with the inventive ways that the players will thwart your plans – sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Also important is an extreme tolerance of going off track.
I got my timing down the other day, and caught a set of lady beetle eggs as they hatched. The eggs are 1.2mm in length – yes, I have a loupe with a micrometer scale – so the details you’re seeing here are pretty fine. As you can see, the larva are visible through the translucent shells.
Hatching isn’t quick by any stretch, but it can still happen entirely while you’re inside eating lunch – the timing between these two photos is 51 minutes. The different appearance of the background is from using both a different position and different settings for each. For the second, I opened up the aperture a stop to f16, dropped the shutter speed to 1/80 second, and got the (very bright) blue sky in the background dimly. Most of the lighting comes from the flash, but some of the ambient color of the sky came through with those changes. This is definitely pushing the envelope of useful settings for macro work, especially at this high a magnification. I was unable to get a tripod into a useful position, so this was handheld, and at 1/80 second it’s actually very easy to twitch the camera enough during the brief time the shutter is open to have blur show up in the image. The flash duration is extremely short and will produce a sharp image, but anything else bright enough to come through without the flash’s assistance, such as sunlight reflections, can streak in the image, producing a bizarre effect.
Now, for some pointers. Both of these images were obtained with non-standard means. I used a Mamiya 45mm f2.8 lens intended for the M645 series of medium-format cameras, mounted to my Canon EOS Digital Rebel (300D) camera by means of a reversing ring. This is a simple and very inexpensive metal ring that has the standard Canon lens mount on one side, and threads to fit the filter mount of the Mamiya lens on the other; this means the lens mounts backward onto the camera body. By using a wide-angle focal length like 45 or 35mm, you produce a very-high magnification macro lens with a surprisingly low amount of distortion. You can do this with any make of wider-angle lens, but the best results that I’ve achieved by far have been with the Mamiyas. In my cases here, I boosted the magnification even more by using them on a 20mm extension tube, between the adapter ring and camera.
Of course, there is no autofocus, and in fact no focus at all; since the lens in intended to produce a sharp image on the image plane (where the sensor or film sits,) by using it backwards you have one fixed distance where everything is in sharp focus. Even twisting the focus ring does almost nothing – I just keep it locked at infinity since that’s where the highest depth of field is achieved. There is also no aperture control from the camera; the lever that closes the aperture is pointing out the new front of the lens at your subject. And the EOS line has electronic aperture control anyway so it simply won’t do anything with any lens not intended for this. Trust me when I say that you do not want to shoot anything with the lens wide open at f2.8, the default of the lens, because depth-of-field is too short to see anything not perfectly flat to the camera. Even at f16, you can see from the second photo that DOF is somewhere around 2mm or less.
What to do, what to do? Well, with any lens intended for mechanically-controlled apertures, there’s a lever or pin on the body-side of the lens (now pointed towards your subject) that closes the aperture down. All you really need to do is push this lever over to close the aperture, right before you trip the shutter. Seen here, my left forefinger sits atop the pin ready to close it down when I get sharp focus. The M645 lenses have another option, which is a manual/auto switch on the side which will also close down the aperture – this is sometimes easier than putting your finger in front of the lens.
You can also see the flash rig I use. This is a Bogen/Manfrotto 330B Macro Bracket (also seen here) which allows a fairly wide range of flash positions with the swing arms and tilting camera platform, and it can even mount onto a tripod. Since the focusing point of a reversed lens is very close to the end of the lens, the flash must be positioned where it can illuminate the subject effectively – leaving it in a normal position on the hot shoe atop the camera will almost certainly result in blocking the light with the body of the lens. The flash is attached via an off-camera cord to the camera, allowing for TTL work, though there’s a good chance with the camera receiving no information about the aperture setting, TTL flash will not work at all. I’m simply shooting at manual output here; the Metz 40 MZ-3i strobe is manually adjustable over a wide light range. A few experiments told me what power I needed for any f-stop. For some subjects, a diffuser or small softbox may work a lot better.
I’ve also done no small amount of work with a Mamiya 80mm macro lens, again for the M645 line, this time mounted in the proper orientation. This lens requires an extension-tube specially made for Mamiya lenses to achieve the macro ‘standard’ of 1:1 ratio.
Let me digress here a moment. 1:1 ratio is often considered “true” macro, and what it means is it produces an exact-size replica on the film/sensor. Take a photo on slide film of a coin and lay it alongside the coin itself, and they will be the same size. While this is much better than 1:2 or 1:4 ratios, basically, it’s almost meaningless. You’re going to reproduce the image in a print or digital usage in some other size anyway, so what’s adequate for your subject is enough. For the egg photos above, I’m achieving a lot more than 1:1, and it’s necessary to see something that small.
The 80mm macro, while not producing as high a magnification as the reversed 45mm, allows a better working distance, which can help with spooky subjects. Looming over insects with the camera and flash rig can often scare them off, or even to the opposite side of the leaf, so sometimes the greater working distance is necessary. I can also leave the flash mounted to the hot shoe with this lens because of that (granted, the flash head does angle downwards slightly if needed, and it is.) Because the aperture lever is now buried behind the adapter, I have to use the manual/auto switch to close the aperture, but it can be easily reached with my left thumb.
It is possible to buy adapters specifically for mounting M645 lenses to EOS bodies, but they’re more expensive than they really need to be, unless you have a camera that requires focus confirmation through the lens (every camera that I’ve seen allows this to be shut off in the custom functions, but my knowledge is by no means exhaustive.) I took the cheap route, however. I drilled out a Mamiya lens-base cap so it was more of a ring, and mounted it with epoxy to a reversing ring of a matching size – total cost about six dollars. The reversing ring is easily distinguished in The Girlfriend’s photo here, being darker than the base cap, while the base cap is reflecting my arm faintly right at image center; everything else is the Mamiya lens itself (actually, the Mamiya extension tube is sits between the base cap and the silver ring, and the manual/auto switch is visible right alongside my thumb.) If you do this, it helps to make a few reference points before gluing the bits together, so the lens is oriented the way you want it when it mounts to the camera.
Mamiya lenses are surprisingly affordable on the used market, well under half of what a dedicated macro lens for current digital cameras cost, and even more versatile. They’re remarkably sharp, and sturdy – that also means heavy, so bear this in mind when constructing your mount. While I’m used to it, The Girlfriend actually finds my rigs here too heavy to wield effectively.
There’s something else that you may have noticed in the two photos showing the full camera rigs: a little white doodad on a gooseneck. This is a device of my own manufacture, a three-LCD flashlight that can get strapped to the flash. Many of my photo subjects are active at night, so being able to see them is important, and no headlamp will throw light past the camera onto a close subject. The gooseneck light can be aimed right at the sweet spot of focus, making sharp images a whole lot easier; it’s even bright enough to work in shadowy areas in the daylight. Believe me, this is soooo handy for macro work, and it will increase your sex appeal and bring harmonious concord to the universe. Or am I overselling it?
I came across this image in my stock yesterday and liked the abstract that could be created from a tight crop, especially since I missed prime focus.
Of course you recognized this as the fingers of a ring-tailed lemur, taken while visiting the Duke Lemur Center in Durham, NC. It just goes to show you that even with appropriate subjects, I just can’t do “cute.”
A related story: While trying to do a close portrait of another lemur up against the fence, it refused (in a very ADHD way) to maintain eye contact. After the third time that it looked away and couldn’t be entreated to look back by the squeaks and chirps I was emitting, I reached up and touched its toes where they protruded through the fence. It spun and looked at me in apparent shock, and I managed a quick photo before it turned away again. When I performed this same perfidious act again, it fixed me with another look for a mere moment, then spun rapidly and pressed it back firmly against the fence. I was feeling undeniably snubbed (and having flashbacks of my dating years,) when our guide started laughing. “Now you have to follow through,” he told us.
“What?” I asked.
“He wants his back scratched,” our guide said, and I complied, producing the most appreciative look I’ve ever received from a lemur as he wriggled and grooved against the fence separating us. Granted, the number of looks I’ve received from lemurs is a particularly short list.
A curious thought. As can be seen from the photo, lemurs have evolved away from using their nails for either digging or defense, and human fingernails are heading in the same direction, already weak and receded. In a few thousand years, we’re liable to be needing our own backs scratched, so let’s hope dogs and cats will be developing some manual dexterity in that time…
“O great and glorious spider god dwelling in the web atop the holy cypress, predator of all that it chitiny, please accept this humble offering from a most loyal servant, as evidence of my everlasting devotion, and listen with a kind ear and gracious heart to my fervent prayers, to make that giant sumbitch nature photographer go away…”
This is an extension of some thoughts that came up from doing this post, and highlights a sudden realization that I had. While I’m embarrassed that I never tumbled to it before, at least consciously, it’s also something that I suspect a lot of people never recognize. I’ve made it part of the “But How?” series because understanding it requires doing away with a perspective that fails to adequately explain it; by understanding the biological basis, so much of our behavior makes a hell of a lot more sense. So let’s look at emotions.
While it’s not particularly subtle, many people never realize that religion is heavily tied to emotions, so much so that emotional reactions are actually used to prove that god exists – epiphany, awe, euphoria, and so on. And there’s a common conception that science somehow dictates that emotions shouldn’t exist (at the bottom of that list.) I suspect the latter stems from a misunderstanding, which I’ll cover shortly.
My approach with these posts is to show how a world without a creator or intelligent guiding force actually makes more sense, and serves to explain numerous aspects that we can readily witness. Those who believe in a soul, or a special detached sense of self apart from the mere physical existence of our brains, always refer to emotions of one kind or another as demonstrations of this mind/brain (or body/self) duality. Yet, we know that emotions can be provoked in simple ways, and altered even more easily – drugs, for example, and pain, and there’s even support for chocolate contributing to this (great – now I’m hungry.) And emotions make perfect sense in a biological entity, provided that no one tries to elevate their function into something transcendent. When a bird seeks a mate and starts their courtship displays, have they been taught to do so? No, we understand that this is instinctual – but the mistake that is often made is that the bird is doing this as an automaton, performing actions without any thought behind it. This is partially because we believe that conscious thought sits entirely apart from ‘instinctual’ demands. Yet the bird, when danger threatens, abandons such displays in favor of taking flight. Both of these are simply encouragements in the brain towards certain behaviors – not the brain acting as a puppet master per se, but making suggestions that this would be a good thing to do, and often providing rewards for doing so. That’s what emotions do.
When we finish a puzzle or solve a mystery, we’re pleased, sometimes even elated. Why? What purpose does this serve? When we see an attractive person, we get a positive boost, even when our relationship situation is stable and quite satisfying. Why? This makes no sense. When someone takes our food from the work fridge, we’re pissed – even though it amounts to only a mild inconvenience. Feel free to construct the elaborate mechanism that permits religion to explain these while we proceed.
All of these reactions within prod us towards behavior that helps us survive. They’re not what we consider cognitive thought, yet they’re inextricably tied to such, because they provide the motives behind our behaviors and decisions. Nobody sits down weighing the options of when it’s a good time to reproduce; instead, we weigh the factors that say, “Not now,” because the drive to reproduce is near-constant. We hear a baby crying, even when it’s not ours, and have the compulsion to stop it, though it serves no advantage to us – except perhaps for our nerves. But then again, why does this get on our nerves? ‘Instinct’ is the name we often give to the internal chemical reactions to certain external stimuli. We don’t think, in these cases, we react. Demonstrate, in any way that you like, that this is different from the courtship display of birds.
As indicated above, we don’t follow these blindly, and often countermand their influences when our conscious thought recognizes the limitations of following them. This is the important distinction that needs to be made when we speak in terms of the biological ‘design.’ Natural selection helps promote the beneficial changes that occur to existing biological structures, because that’s all that it can do, and no goal or end product is in sight – only what helps the organism survive to pass on those traits. It’s inexact, especially when conditions change far faster than genetic variations can be accepted throughout a populace (e.g., the last couple thousand years of ‘civilization.’) Biologists and sociologists that discuss the tendencies towards polygamous [one husband, multiple wives] behavior in humans run into a lot of mental resistance to the idea because our cultures dictate otherwise now, but eons ago when our survival was highly questionable, it was perhaps a very functional urge to possess. That it no longer applies now is not a condemnation of any existing tendencies; nor is it indicative that this is what we’re supposed to do. Yet if we recognize this heritage, we understand why, for instance, men and women often display different attitudes towards relationships (I hasten to add that this particular topic is still speculative to a degree.)
Emotions, however, are basic things. The simple criteria that provokes them means that they can take effect at times when they serve no purpose, and might even be counterproductive. Remember, evolution provides a net gain, not necessarily a constant one. Feeling emotional over something could be important, or it could just as easily, perhaps much more likely, be a ‘misfire’ from the simplicity of the triggers. Cute animals mean absolutely nothing for our survival – but cute babies do. Getting aroused by an exotic dancer is distinctly pointless, but it’s useful if they really do want to have sex – at least, from the perspective of the several million years that we had to survive before we’d created dollars to stuff into garters. While emotions are important overall, they’re not important every time they arise.
And yes, they compete sometimes – when triggers are simple, it’s easy to find something that can trigger more than one emotional reaction, even when they seem contradictory. It’s safe to say that people struggle with such things frequently, as the feelings that we have to obey parents fights with the drive to be independent, or have sex. Perhaps it arises with the realization that something is wrong clashing with the desire for community cohesiveness, and the negativity over standing out, which may prod someone towards not addressing the problem (think “cult” if it helps, but it happens much more often than that.) Emotions aren’t much of a guide in such situations, but someone who allows their feelings to take precedent over their rationality not only puts themselves into a conflict that might otherwise be easy to resolve, they’re also likely to be following something that does not apply to the situation, based on a sense of false importance.
Most people that feel emotional at christian revivals assign great significance to these feelings, despite the fact that a muslim attending doesn’t feel a thing. If emotions were special indicators, it stands to reason that they should take effect throughout the species, doesn’t it? And why should they take effect in a revival rather than while brushing our teeth? If strong emotions are indicative of something, then rock concerts and celebrity appearances are important, right? The Tarheels going all the way is a sign, then? Well, sure – they’re all a sign that emotions can be provoked from tribalism, community interaction, and even expectations. Getting soppy over a romantic movie, a blatant work of fiction intended to exploit emotions, shows us the strength of the drives we have to relate to one another, and to associate ourselves empathetically. These tendencies are useful for tribal cohesion – but completely misplaced when it comes to mere entertainment. In effect we’re knowingly, and happily, fooling ourselves in lieu of real romance.
This differentiation is where science gets a bad reputation sometimes. While centuries of experience with emotional blindness has demonstrated that interpreting facts and test results accurately is better served by detachment, many people take this to mean that science dictates that emotions are bad. What it really means is that they are not dependable guides – no one has ever, to my knowledge, argued that emotions should be eradicated, and it would be impossible to do so. But the wicked tendency for humans to believe there are only ever two sides to anything doesn’t permit the concept of inaccurate emotions to punch through – “Are they good or bad?” demand the drooling troglodytes with simple brains. They are neither; they just exist. The actions that we are incited to by them are the only things we can consider good or bad.
And that’s indicative of another common mistake. Emotions are goads towards behavior, not ends to themselves. All too frequently we chose to indulge them to receive the internal rewards, as if these are the goals we should be seeking. We are a species of drug addiction, including alcohol, because it provides good feelings, however fleeting. We engage in constant activities that serve no purpose except to spark some reaction, whether it’s skateboarding or chasing loose women or nature photography. Emotional rewards are what we live for, which is fine, but fooling them is fraught with the danger of leading to destructive behavior as well. The very frequent argument that religion is important because it makes people feel good is just as applicable to drug use. And of course, the large number of people that religion doesn’t make feel good somehow isn’t part of the equation. More ironic, however, is the amount of time spent arguing that religion promotes good behavior, which is directly counter to the idea above that religion itself provides the satisfaction. That anyone could engage in good behavior and receive satisfaction from that, eliminating the middleman of religion entirely, doesn’t occur to enough people – probably because the satisfaction isn’t from doing good, but only from bearing a label of such provided by their religion automatically, like a Medal of Honor awarded for joining the club. That, in itself, indicates that emotions are too easy to fool.
Science fiction is riddled with the idea of the thinking robot or machine, a sapient construction that possesses emotions like we do. And it’s not just science fiction, because many people believe this should be the goal of artificial intelligence. It’s pointless in this respect, because emotions are systems that guide us towards a beneficial outcome, something that has already been established when it was decided that a machine needed to be made to accomplish it. Machines have no need to feel if they are tasked only with accomplishing the goal that our feelings have to prod us towards. We think an emotional machine is a high achievement, but this is probably only because we have emotions to relate to what’s similar to ourselves – we’re happier with the idea of an emotional robot than an emotionless machine (or even an indifferent universe.) That this is an emotion in itself that helps keep our attention directed towards our own species is rarely considered. Another bit of irony: since we’re more likely to trust the advice of a ‘feeling’ machine than an unfeeling one, we stand the chance of having to fake emotions in a machine for no reason other than to satisfy our own emotions. If this seems farfetched, tell me what voice your GPS uses…
The most difficult part of all this is determining how and when the influences of our emotions result in behavior that is actually detrimental. Their positive feedback within our thoughts, the very nature of emotions, means that part of our minds already says, “this is good,” and it takes careful examination to determine that it’s not – something that we’re not inclined to do unless we see obvious problems. I don’t have a simple answer to this, save for my experience in pursuing critical thinking and seeing the changes that it made. The knowledge that emotions can be inaccurate is a great start, reducing the idea that they’re important. What might also help is remembering to stop and examine one’s motivations before embarking on any major undertaking. Once we see the flaws in something, the emotional attachment often reduces or vanishes entirely.
Again, this should not be taken to mean that emotions should be disregarded – we could never accomplish this anyway, but even if we tried, we wouldn’t achieve what we’d like. We’re motivated to pursue anything that we do because of emotions, and in many (most?) cases this has positive effect. Everything is, to some extent, self-indulgent – even working our asses off in third-world countries is provoked by empathy, and guilt over unfairness. But even self-indulgence that provides no benefit to others isn’t harmful, as long as it provides no detriment to oneself or others either. There’s nothing bad about feeling good, it just shouldn’t be at the expense of someone else; that we’re so bad about recognizing and following this simple criteria is another example of how emotions aren’t as useful as they should be. But overall, provoking good feelings by building a stronger community, in whatever fashion, is a goal that cannot be argued against.
I need to add something. There is no end of people who see a beautiful sunset, or the elaborate structure of a beehive, and translate their awe into “evidence of god’s touch.” That this was an answer that they wanted to arrive at is obvious, just as obvious as fobbing off terrible things as an ultimately good plan that we cannot fathom, those old “mysterious ways.” However, scientists (and even just those who are really curious) take the same awe from witnessing the same subjects and say, “I wonder why it’s like that?” And then, perhaps, they spend the next five years trying to find out. Every last bit of knowledge that we have was sparked by exactly that kind of awe and curiosity. While the religious person got their personal affirmation, the curious and driven person provided knowledge to the entire race.
So you tell me: who made the most of their emotions?
… but at least, this gives me the excuse to post something furry.
A year ago, The Girlfriend heard something crying outside the open window one night, which led to the discovery that we had four abandoned, semi-feral kittens hanging around. The capture and taming of them was chronicled here, and here, and here, with a special holiday episode here. The two females pictured at left remained with us – Marley, the lynx point named in those posts, and the flame point later christened Castle, both received homes – and so, a quick look at the progress in this past year.
The calitabby-point [front], who started off being referred to as Cali, always had a certain air of aloofness about her, and her first game was actually ‘keepaway’ – she would dart away if anyone tried to reach down to pet her, but would return and keep dashing past, daring someone to make contact. However, perhaps due to The Girlfriend’s initial overtures with the lunchmeat, the two soon bonded. As her adult coat came in, she developed large random patches of dirty coloring, looking for all the world as if she’d been rolling around in a greasy garage, and so her name changed to Kaylee. I’ve watched her get excited at The Girlfriend’s imminent arrival, and she doesn’t seem to mind at all being rocked like a baby while being cuddled, something that The Girlfriend hasn’t left behind yet even though the youngest sprog is a senior in college. Kaylee has also taken it as her duty to help The Girlfriend wake up in the morning, countering the ‘snooze’ button with licking whatever skin she can find, usually the sensitive underarm areas. If you’re familiar with cat tongues, you know this is far more excruciatingly ticklish than it sounds.
The very shy female lynx point tried her damnedest to remain feral, staying hidden as much as possible, spitting and striking at me when I eased her out of her various hiding places. Eventually, I gathered her up in a blanket that they’d all been using for a bed and carried her into the living room, forcing her to stay put while I provided petting. It didn’t take too long before she succumbed to the charms of this and began to realize that humans might have some positive points after all – that’s her totally zonked out in my lap during this taming session. These efforts largely made her “my” cat, and she soon decided that, while I was slumped too far back in the chair working at the computer in the evenings, she would curl up on my chest. That she would need to be supported with one arm for this to be feasible was not a concern of hers, though it did tend to slow down my typing. Unfortunately, the nickname that she’d been given just to differentiate her stuck, and she has remained Little Girl thereafter.
Through the winter, the two engaged in some of the wildest wrestling matches I’ve ever seen from cats, and Little Girl (smaller than Kaylee and apparently from a different litter) would produce ferocious growls worthy of concern, but this seemed to be from her insecurity over being bested by Kaylee – they disappeared almost entirely once she matched Kaylee in size (coincidentally, Kaylee began running away more.) They now have two primary play times, which is first thing in the morning and late at night, where they thunder through the house and treat the throw rugs as toboggans. The Girlfriend, who had never been a cat person before, spoiled them with a well-chosen selection of toys, which I spend a certain amount of time digging out from under the fridge and shelves, yet they still tend to favor the plastic pull tabs from gallon milk jugs. Kaylee, though a spirited wrestler, goes totally apeshit all by herself at times, selecting a toy and doing Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon moves across the living room. She spends more time on her hind legs than any cat I’ve seen, and is convinced that some of those toys are going for her throat. Such a pleasant smile, right? Yeah, don’t fall for it… The most distinctive thing, comparing the older photos with a current one above, is how much their coats have changed. While Kaylee went from nearly pure white to blotchy, Little Girl developed such distinctive tiger markings that her Siamese heritage is almost completely obscured. She is also next to impossible to see at night, which is notable mostly because her trust has flipped 180° and she believes everyone will step around her. Kaylee barely makes a sound, just occasional soft calls if she’s not getting enough attention, but Little Girl talks frequently in trills, and will even hold conversations.
She’s also far too interested in what’s going on when someone lies on the floor with a camera, and thus kept leaving her cute pose to come up and see what I was doing. Kaylee, however, is even less cooperative…
In all seriousness, I don’t strictly photograph bugs, and I’m more than happy to do some mammals and cute critters, but I haven’t been coming across many recently. I’ll dig through older slides for something furry pretty soon, I promise.
But even when I tackle the “cuter” bugs, the bare truth is, they’re not always cute. The insects known most often here as “ladybugs” (or “ladybirds” in Canada and the UK) are, as you may already have heard, not “bugs.” The distinction is important to entomologists but sometimes annoying to everyone else, who find that the only term that really applies to the vast range of crawly animals is “arthropods,” and that really doesn’t cut it. Even “insects” doesn’t apply to arachnids and such. Anyway, just recently I managed to photograph all stages of the lady beetle class of icks, the family of Coccinellidae. The specimen in my opening image at top is probably a spotless lady beetle (Cycloneda sanguinea,) but I cannot guarantee the identification of the remaining images, despite all of them being taken within a half meter. Several very similar species may share the same space, and even variations within the same species can make identification somewhat questionable. Rather than imply anything misleading, I’m simply going with the only detail I’m sure of, which is the family.
It started with finding the eggs on a dog fennel plant (Eupatorium capillifolium) in the yard. I had no idea what they were. I tried to keep an eye on them, but they still hatched while I wasn’t available, producing not the caterpillars that I expected, but rather nasty-looking spiky black larva that looked like something from The Road Warrior. These spent a few days clustered about the empty egg cases, which you may note have lost all of their color. Like the chrysalises of the monarch butterfly, the eggshells were actually clear; the color was provided by the developing occupants, which very likely hatched in that color but turned black as their exoskeletons dried and hardened – I have seen the same with several other species of arthropod, such as assassin bugs.
After a few days the larvae spread out and could be found in numerous locations on the plant, starting to develop orange spots on their abdomens. Their body length as of this image was somewhere in the range of 4-6mm, so the aphid that it has seized as food was apparent to me, in the viewfinder, only as a green dot. Bear in mind that this was probably twice the length it had been when newly hatched, so I’m guessing this isn’t the first aphid to fall under its mighty mouthparts. And with the development of the coloration, I now recognized this as a species I’d seen before, yet never tried to identify. A larger version had been spotted on the same plant only a few days earlier.
That larger version was what finally clued me in to what species I was seeing develop. In those same few days, it had gone from a fatter version of the feeding larva above to this, which is the pupa form (the head is at top.) Now, the adult coloration and shape has started to develop, and a quick web search on the lady beetle life cycle confirmed my suspicions. The pupa here will soon molt its exoskeleton and produce the wings and elytra (wing shells) that we’re all familiar with. In fact, just a day after this image, the same pupa has started to produce spots. I’m hoping to have better luck catching the emergence of the adult, but we’ll see what happens.
Some trivia. Most flying arthropods demonstrate the presence of two pairs of wings, or at least the common ancestry of such. Dragonflies are among those that still possess both pairs, while many other flying insects have only vestigial remnants, resembling tiny clubs, that may act as counterbalances. For beetles, however, the front pair of wings evolved into hard shells that both protect the folded hind wings, which still provide flight, and also produce useful coloration.
The useful coloration in this case is the vibrant and contrasty pattern that tells predators to keep away. I’ve mentioned aposematic coloring before, and for lady beetles, it’s connected with a nasty taste, from a chemical apparently exuded from their knees – yeah, that’s on my shooting list. Such insects not only fail to achieve camouflage, they’re actually about as far from it as they can be short of shooting off fireworks; the theory maintains that this distinctiveness makes them more memorable to species that tried to pop one down and almost tossed their cookies, just like anyone that’s tried Vegemite is quite wary of greasy brown spreads now.
I leave you with one last image, another view of the feeding larva above. You can see that the poor defenseless aphid has nevertheless scored a victory of sorts; I admit to some satisfaction at the thought, faced with being eaten, of at least shitting on my nemesis’ head. And of course it’s much better if pics of it get posted online.
All right, I admit that title might be a little confusing, since not too many people are familiar with the hamlet of Seneca Falls, New York, but on top of it being only 12 km from where I grew up (which is well worth remembering,) it was the location of the first Convention on Women’s Rights in 1848. We’ve come a long way since then – unfortunately, the direction has become somewhat questionable. While there is a lot of support for feminism being closely aligned with skepticism, enough that many people believe they are sisters, the grim reality is that their relation is superficial at best, and almost diametrically opposed at times. And the fact that pointing this out is sufficient to engender long diatribes in response is actually support of it by itself, but let’s go into it a bit deeper than that. This is long, so it continues after the break.
You might remember the above image from a post earlier this year. It came from April, when several newly-hatched praying mantises, probably Chinese mantises (Tenodera aridifolia sinensis) were found to be inhabiting the azalea bushes that flanked our porch. I was, of course, delighted, because interesting subjects that are easy to find and convenient are exactly the reason I want to live somewhere on a small exotic south Pacific island someday. One with a fast internet connection. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
Anyway, that pic, while I’m quite proud of it, doesn’t show scale very well, which you can determine better from this one:
Over the weeks, I watched the mantises grow, and began being able to tell them apart. They switched places on the two bushes a couple of times, and gradually reduced in number. Some seemed to try out the nearby pampas grass, which has always been a popular resort, but two remained, one outpacing the other in growth. They each claimed territory of one of the bushes, which are about 2 meters apart. Then the larger (I’m fairly certain a female) switched bushes again, forcing the smaller to vacate – I found the smaller one in a couple of different places over the next few days, then that one vanished.
Most of the sightings, after several weeks, took place at night; I suspect the heat that we began reaching in the summer months had a lot to do with this. I might go for two weeks or so without sighting any, thinking that they’d moved on or become prey to something else, and then spot their re-emergence one night. The big female has been that way – as soon as I decided I needed to make this post, which required a certain photo, she disappeared for several days. I’m guessing she was molting, which they tended to do well inside the bush away from my eager camera.
So a few minutes ago (it’s 10:30 pm as I type this,) she reappeared, and I wasted no time in taking this shot, strictly for comparison. The Girlfriend, who sees them only about 10% of the times that I do, is always surprised to see how they’ve grown, but these images display it more distinctly I think.
I haven’t done a recent count, but I’m fairly certain I have a few hundred mantis images just from this year alone, from the convenient bushes, several other plants in the yard, and a few from the botanical garden. You have actually been spared from most, because I’m trying to mix up the posts and subjects a bit ;-)
If my guess is right, fairly soon this one’s abdomen will swell significantly and she’ll find a place for her egg sac, which will overwinter and hatch out in the spring. I found the one that she emerged from a few weeks after her hatching, not very deep in the azalea bush (and far too close to the line I’d pruned them back to in the winter,) so I’ll be checking carefully to try and find hers before next spring.
Meanwhile, on a set of flowers about 8 meters away, a much smaller one has been making itself at home, and serving as yet another photo subject. If you want to see some interesting detail, take a look here (you may have to click on it when it loads to see it at full resolution,) and realize that the eyes measure only 4.5mm across the outside – yes, I measured them.
The passing of Neil Armstrong the other day brought a flurry of articles and post featuring the same image, one that’s been featured literally uncountable times since 1969. You know the one that I mean…
Courtesy NASAThose that are really into the space programs, especially the Apollos, know that this is usually misrepresented. This is not the first footprint on the moon. No, it’s not the first bootprint either (but you’re quick to catch that trick.) Nor is it even Armstrong’s. Armstrong’s first step was at the base of the ladder, and was obscured quickly by all the things that he and Buzz Aldrin were doing. As easy as it might be for us to step around a particular print at the base of a ladder to preserve that ‘first step,’ in the bulky and inflexible Extravehicular Mobility Units (what we tend to refer to as “spacesuits”,) it was hard enough for the lunar astronauts to even see where they were stepping, and not worth the extra effort.
The iconic print came from Aldrin, and it isn’t even a step per se. Aldrin purposefully found a bare spot and pressed his boot into it, then stepped back and photographed it to demonstrate what the surface was truly like. And that’s kind of interesting in itself. The rock of the lunar surface has been subjected to wide variations of temperature, a few hundred degrees Celsius between day and night, for millions of years, and the drastic expansion and contraction cracked, then pulverized the surface into dust – the technical term is regolith if you enjoy annoying your friends. And no, dust is not simply a euphemism; while many people (including the vapor-brained moon hoaxers) believe the surface is like sand or soil, it’s much finer than that, likened to the consistency of cocoa powder. That image demonstrates it nicely – nothing coarser would have preserved that print so distinctly.
And preserved it may be. With no atmosphere, no wind, no moisture, and nothing at all to disturb it, it may remain that way for quite a long time. It probably still looks exactly like that, despite being 43 years old, and may well continue for thousands of years – eventually, it will crumble under the slow shifting caused by the temperature, and perhaps by micrometeorite strikes. The typical meteors that we see on earth are often no larger than a grain of sand (just moving really damn fast,) and the moon has no atmosphere to slow or annihilate them, so there’s an infinitesimal chance that the print will get pocked by one over any given period of time. That is, of course, if it was not later obscured by other tracks after the photo was taken.
Courtesy NASAThe idea that the surface is like sand comes from the video footage of the astronauts (and later the rover) moving around on the surface. The dust they stir falls quickly, like it’s heavy, but that’s atmospherocentric bigotry; there’s no air to waft the dust around, so it simply drops. But examining some of the other images, or reading the various accounts, shows that the dust was actually a pain in the ass, getting into everything.
As the first lunar landings were planned, there was no small speculation that the surface would swallow the probes since the depth of the dust was unknown. But just like you don’t sink into the sand at the beach because it compresses and packs, the dust wasn’t the quicksand-like hazard that some scientists speculated was possible. Even the blast of the descending Lunar Excursion Module didn’t blow up much of it, but that was partially because it wasn’t a blast – the LEM had slowed significantly at higher altitudes, and (at 1/6 earth gravity anyway) almost drifted down to the surface, slower than parachutists on earth.
To photographers, that bootprint image at top says something else, too. Notice that it spans the entire light range, pure black in the shadows and pure white in the highlights. While a small portion of this may be due to the compressed dynamic range of computer displays, and might be a bit better on the original negative, most of it is due to the light conditions – this isn’t the result of crappy film. Everything looks lit by a spotlight because there’s no atmosphere to scatter and bounce light around, and the only things reflecting light at a different angle than direct sunlight are the low hills of the lunar landscape, and any nearby introduced stuff like equipment and pressure suits. Since regolith is actually mid-toned, pretty close to 18% grey, this isn’t even evidence of an exposure problem – the range of light levels is simply far wider than film can capture.
By the way, if you want to see more images of any part of our space program, they’re readily available online, and considered public domain since NASA is a government agency – they even provide very high resolution versions. I don’t use the word “hero” lightly, since I think it should denote activities of remarkable altruism and it’s hard for me to consider the space program that way, but I have a tremendous amount of respect (the real meaning of that word) for everyone involved who contributed to these accomplishments.