Tuesday, April 28, A.D. 2009

Collective Decisions

There is a fascinating article by Susan Milius in Science News about collective decision making among social animals such as bees and ants —“Swarm Savvy.” It explains how certain species make collective decisions based on a large enough quorum of group members that favor a particular option.

For example, when a colony of bees needs to find another location, scouts seek out various possibilities and then return to the colony to relay their findings. They recruit additional scouts to examine the same locations, and the enthusiasm of an individual scout to attract fellow surveyors to a particular location determines how many other scouts will explore her discovered place. When these various expeditions report back to the colony, the largest contingent determines the next colony location.

The article covers various experiments with ants, as well, noting that ants tend to make poorer decisions in crisis situations when an immediate decision is required. Researchers have also worked with vertebrates. Even fish, we find out, put trust in the argumentum ad populum. Ten thousand Frenchmen can be wrong, but it is a far better idea to trust ten fish than one.

Milius’ story indulges a bit in comparing the collective decision making process of social animals to that of human beings. What she does not mention, however, is that, unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, men tend to have a multitude of competing motives and ends that inform—and often corrupt—their deliberations.

Posted by Joseph on Tuesday, April 28, Anno Domini 2009
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Thursday, April 16, A.D. 2009

Moko the Dolphin

Here is another story wherein a dolphin assists animals of another species—this time, two pygmy sperm whales. You can watch the video on National Georgraphic—“Hero Dolphin Saves Whales.” Here is the B.B.C. news story, “NZ dolphin rescues beached whales.”

Again, why would dolphins bother? Perhaps, we are not the only species that concerns itself with other life forms for their own good.

Yes, dolphins are very good.

Posted by Joseph on Thursday, April 16, Anno Domini 2009
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Tuesday, April 14, A.D. 2009

Flipper contra the Dread Pirate Asad

I have never really understood the current fascination with pirates. Jack Sparrow and the other fictions of Hollywood aside, pirates have always been the enemy of civilization. They have always raped, pillaged, murdered, and sold captured people into slavery. From ancient times unto today, piracy is the way of the vicious. In other words, pirates are bad.

Dolphins, however, deserve the wonder of their human admirers. From the Greeks to the Californians, men have noted how splendidly remarkable these creatures are. They are intelligent, social, curious, and oddly helpful to human beings time and time again. Throughout the ages, people have recounted tales of dolphins’ assisting humans in crisis. I question the veracity of these stories, but I have read and watched several contemporary news accounts that follow the same pattern. This past Christmas, I saw a segment on Animal Planet about a surfer whose life was saved from a great white shark by dolphins. The surfer and numerous witnesses from nearby boats and the shore confirm the same story. I wonder why dolphins would bother. Of course, they are still wild animals, and there are other news accounts of dolphins’ biting stupid divers and tourists. Nonetheless, dolphins are pretty cool. In other words, dolphins are good.

So, we have pirates and dolphins; enter Chinese sailors. China View features a bizarre story about a multitude of dolphins that blocked Somali pirates from some Chinese merchant ships, thereby sparing the traders from the African savages—“Thousands of dolphins block Somali pirates.” I won’t bother passing judgment on the Chi Coms, but even the dolphins know that pirates are worse than Communists (or the industrialist pawns of plutocratic oligarchs who rule in the name of Mao). I therefore defer to Delphinidae wisdom.

Posted by Joseph on Tuesday, April 14, Anno Domini 2009
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Monday, April 13, A.D. 2009

Learn Bird Songs

If you are a birder or if you simply wish to understand a bit more what your senses encounter outside, you may enjoy Learn Bird Songs. As the title says, the site teaches you to recognize the peculiar sounds of various American song birds.

Often, we tune out much of the stimuli around us, including bird songs. We may notice the sound of birds, but we do not differentiate among the multitude of their songs. If you start to pay attention to the songs, you will learn to hear patterns that identify the little performer. This is very useful for noticing species that rarely descend from the tree canopies.

So, open your eyes and your ears, and enjoy the rich diversity of life available for your enjoyment just beyond your door.

Posted by Joseph on Monday, April 13, Anno Domini 2009
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Tuesday, February 24, A.D. 2009

What’s That Bug?

One of the easiest ways to observe wildlife is to focus on insects. People often dislike insects because many are pests, but they are quite fascinating. They are so odd and different from the mammalian world that they inspire science fiction’s imagination concerning possible extraterrestrial aliens. Their bodies, societies, life cycles, and habits are marvellously bizarre, and yet, their wondrous world carries on right under our feet.

On any given summer evening, you ought to venture outside with a flashlight to see how full of life your yard actually is. My nephew and I engage in a cheap but interesting summer night activity called “spider hunting.” The goal of spider hunting is not to hunt down spiders but to hunt for spiders. Spiders get well along on their own just fine, but it is fun to help out. We catch suitably sized prey for a given spider, and then we carefully toss the unfortunate victim into the spider’s web. If the catch is not too large, the spider immediately goes to work on it. It is a sight to behold. I especially like to feed beautiful orb spiders; I love their colors, designs, and web artistry.

If you have an interest in arachnids, insects, and other creepy crawly thingies, you may appreciate a site called What’s That Bug?, staffed by a few entomologist educators out West. They teach people about bugs; I’m not sure that they teach the bugs themselves. The site is informative and humorous, and it provides a wonderful resource for identifying little critters. It even has a page on invertebrate porn called “Bug Love.” Make sure to check out their “Worst Bug Stories Ever” page, too, where they published my e-mail, which I reproduce here:

You have an amazing site; I have spent the last three hours looking it over. Before I share my awful bug story, I would like to suggest an idea to your readers who experience ladybug invasions. You mention that they can vacuum the ladybugs. Yet, why waste good ladybugs that are just trying to survive the winter? Gather them up (a bagless vacuum might work without killing them) and refrigerate them or store them in a cool place until you can release them outside in the spring—targeting, of course, prized shrubs that may be hosting some nasties that the ladybugs could eat.

Now, here is the story (which pales in comparison to the mystery plague and tampon stories listed on your page). Before the store closed down, my stepmother had a bad habit of shopping at a local IGA that frequently sold expired goods. She also never looked at the expiration dates. After one of these shopping trips, I opened up a “new” box of cereal (I forgot—or suppressed—which kind), poured a bowl, and started to eat. Very soon afterward, my family noticed several flying insects buzzing around the kitchen. They looked like quarter inch mayflies, but with shorter proportioned bodies. I thought that they were a bit strange, but I merrily continued to enjoy my cereal—until I happened to look closely at the bowl. The cereal was alive. I ran to the garbage disposal and spit out what I had in my mouth. When I had collected myself, I reopened the cereal box, and a swarm of the pests escaped. The box was very expired, though I am not sure that such is a good excuse for the cereal company. Larva and Flakes just doesn’t sound like a winner for General Mills. Needless to say, it was the last time that I confidently poured cereal without an inspection.

The wise ones at What’s That Bug? responded thus:

We hope the Reputation Defender Service Team doesn’t attack us for your letter mentioning General Mills or IGA. We haven’t posted a letter to the Worst Bug Story Ever page of our site in three and a half years, but your story grabbed our attention. Expiration dates are on products for a good reason. While this does not look good for the manufacturer, the burden of enforcement does lie with the retailer and the buyer. On a more positive note, a little additional protein is far less injurious than E. coli in spinach, Salmonella in peanut butter, tainted pet food from China, or the myriad chemical additives that have been approved by the FDA. Thank you for a thoroughly engaging letter and a tip on ladybugs.

True story! To this day, I still inspect each bowl of poured cereal.

Posted by Joseph on Tuesday, February 24, Anno Domini 2009
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Tuesday, February 10, A.D. 2009

Ants and Butterflies

Last week, I read an interesting article on the Maculina rebeli butterfly—“Ants tricked into raising butterflies.” This European butterfly lays its eggs near ant nests, and the resulting catepillars exude scents and mimic sounds to trick the ants into feeding them, caring for them, and even protecting them from predators:

But, not content just to be fed, the butterflies even manage to demand special treatment, Jeremy A. Thomas of Britain’s University of Oxford and colleagues report.

It turns out that ant queens make subtle sounds that signal their special status to worker ants. The caterpillars have learned to mimic those sounds, the researchers say, earning high enough status to be rescued before others if the nest is disturbed.

In times of food shortage, nurse ants have been known to kill their own larvae and feed them to the caterpillars pretending to be queen ants, they added.

Amazing is our world, full of wondrous things.

Posted by Joseph on Tuesday, February 10, Anno Domini 2009
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Monday, January 5, A.D. 2009

Giving Vegetarians a Bad Name

It is bad when insinuations of vegetarianism are enough to ruin a political campaign . . . In Montana last fall, Democrats accused the Republican gubernatorial candidate Roy Brown of being a vegetarian, which Mr. Brown vigorously denied. According to the Billings Gazette:

“I am not and have never been a vegetarian,” Brown said.

“I am disgusted by the baseless allegation that I am a vegetarian and that my personal eating habits should somehow be construed as opposed to the economic interests of Montana’s livestock industry.” . . .

“If this was a simple misunderstanding, that would be one thing, but this is clearly an attempt by Gov. Schweitzer and his political hacks to discredit me amongst livestock producers, and it’s beyond offensive,” Brown said.

Well, Roy Brown lost. False accusations tanked his candidacy. Just imagine what it must be like for those of us who truly are vegetarians. We can only pray that we can keep to “Don’t Ask; Don’t Tell” environs lest we be outed. Then, the haters come knocking . . .

However, certain extremist animal rights whackjobs want to ruin our image in the public’s mind even more. You may know of P.E.T.A. through their antics and their whorish celebrity supporters. Being the incentive to get Pamela Anderson to agree to a comedy roast was probably the only good deed ever accomplished by those insane people. Now, P.E.T.A. wants everyone to refer to fish as “sea kittens” so that people will become more sensitized to the plight of our piscine neighbors.

Anyway, I may have found a group even more deluded than P.E.T.A. As far as I know, P.E.T.A. has no problem with your having dogs and cats as pets, as long as you treat them humanely. As far as that goes, I entirely agree with P.E.T.A. In contrast, Animal Freedom condemns pethood as a form of animal bondage. “Animal dependency” is unethical exploitation. The goldfish bowl is an instrument of torture. Pet owners are psychologically disturbed. Though not dealing with pets, I learnt that angler fishing is a form of rape:

With their fishing rod, a type of extended penis; men wait by the side of the pond until a fish takes their seductive bait. The animal is hooked, reeled in, sometimes admired for a minute and then measured, shortly thereafter to be released again. Multiple contacts at the waterfront, you might say. And afterwards the fishermen brag to each other about how big it was and what a struggle it was to reel it in.

And the fish? The fish (if it survives) swims away wounded, to chance becoming another fisherman’s victim.

The fisherman is another one of those people who has not freed himself from the wish for confirmation. He angles for compliments. Had he been given enough love and attention as a child, he would feel no need to experience time and again if the fishes would bite. Not for nothing is fishing an activity mainly carried out by mischievous children and boring old men. Which is precisely the category that doesn’t score well with women. However, mothers play a dual role in this. They hate being used by men and they hate that men fish. But still they would rather see their men spending their time on the waterfront and directing their energies towards fishes than towards chasing women.

I wonder what my fisher-mother would say . . .

Animal Freedom’s writings are fascinating. I enjoy reading them in the same way that I find Mormon catechetical works to be quite fun. It is like fantasy literature—but really believed!

As one who cares for animal welfare—and as a vegetarian—I probably agree with the Animal Freedom folks far more than the average omnivorous Joe. However, I believe in a hierarchy of creatures, with man at the top—at least among Earthlings (or Terrans, for you weirdo sci.fi. geeks). As such, I do not mind the human exploitation of nature—as long as such exploitation respects nature. That is a vague guideline, but I basically mean that we can reap benefits from the land and from its creatures as long as we are responsible and ethical in our relations with them by ensuring their continued health and existence. In other words, we should not drive species to extinction through our exploitation. We should be mindful of natural resources—not only for selfish reasons, for the sake of calculated future goods, but also out of respect for natural things’ inherent worth. When species vanish due to our actions (we cannot answer for natural extinctions), when beautiful places turn ugly from callous development, when men subject a creature to treatment that does not respect the dignity fitting to it, then the world is worse from human action. Moreover, we should not engage in actions that render our souls ugly or perverse, as animal cruelty definitely does so. Rather, as with our fellow human beings, we should aim for the flourishing of all.

I do not think that having pets—at least animals who have been domesticated since the dawn of history—violates the aforementioned principles. Dogs have co-evolved with human beings for so long, we belong together. To use language that must be familiar to the Animal Freedom folks, pets celebrate and encourage interspecies understanding, love, and tolerance. Why would we want a homospecist society when we could benefit from diversity?

Some “animal rights” folks find zoos to be no better than cheap circus-style exploitation. However, zoos are among the conservation movement’s most effective instruments. They instruct people about the natural world and cause them to care about conservation efforts. Just think how many people donate to and become members of the World Wildlife Fund because they fell in love with wildlife at their not so wild city zoo. Imagine how many write to elected officials with regard to environmental policy because of their experience in zoos. Furthermore, for the last several decades, zoos have also been instrumental in breeding and reintroduction programs that save endangered species. The world is a much better place today because of zoos.

So, note that not all vegetarians are kooks. Well, you might think that I am a kook, as well, but I assure you that somewhere, out there, live unkooky vegetarians with whom you might someday share a train ride or a moment of leisure on a park bench. Do not be afraid. They do not believe in eating you.

Posted by Joseph on Monday, January 5, Anno Domini 2009
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Wednesday, December 17, A.D. 2008

Man’s Best Friend

You have probably already seen this video, but I wanted to post it, anyway. It shows footage taken by government monitors on a busy highway in Chile. In it, one dog wanders onto the highway and is hit by a car. Afterward, another dog comes along and pulls the injured or dead dog to the highway median. It is disturbing to watch the first dog get hit, but the attempted rescue by the second dog is extraordinary:

You can read the Los Angeles Times article, “Hero dog pulls another dog from oncoming traffic.”

I always find these stories amazing. Throughout recorded history, animals, and especially man’s best friend, have again and again shown themselves to be remarkable creatures. I pity anyone who knows not the love of a dog. Such cannot be said of Rudyard Kipling, who wrote the following three poems.

“His Apologies”

Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.
He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled.
But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee . . .
Art Thou content with Thy Servant? He is very comfy with Thee.

Master, behold a Sinner! He hath committed a wrong.
He hath defiled Thy Premises through being kept in too long.
Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt and his self-respect has been bruised.
Master, pardon Thy Sinner, and see he is properly loosed.

Master, again Thy Sinner! This that was once Thy Shoe,
He has found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew.
Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow,
Master, remember Thy Servant is young, and tell her to let him go!

Master, extol Thy Servant, he has met a most Worthy Foe!
There has been fighting all over the Shop—and into the Shop also!
Till cruel umbrellas parted the strife (or I might have been choking him yet),
But Thy Servant has had the Time of his Life—and now shall we call on the vet?

Master, behold Thy Servant! Strange children came to play,
And because they fought to caress him, Thy Servant wentedst away.
But now that the Little Beasts have gone, he has returned to see
(Brushed—with his Sunday collar on) what they left over from tea.

Master, pity Thy Servant! He is deaf and three parts blind.
He cannot catch Thy Commandments. He cannot read Thy Mind.
Oh, leave him not to his loneliness; nor make him that kitten’s scorn.
He hath had no other God than Thee since the year that he was born.

Lord, look down on Thy Servant! Bad things have come to pass.
There is no heat in the midday sun, nor health in the wayside grass.
His bones are full of an old disease—his torments run and increase.
Lord, make haste with Thy Lightnings and grant him a quick release!

“Dinah in Heaven”

She did not know that she was dead
But, when the pang was o’er,
Sat down to wait her Master’s tread
Upon the Golden Floor,

With ears full-cock and anxious eyes,
Impatiently resigned;
But ignorant that Paradise
Did not admit her kind.

There was one step along the Stair
That led to Heaven’s Gate;
And, till she heard it, her affair
Was—she explained—to wait.

And she explained with flattened ear,
Bared lip and milky tooth—
Storming against Ithuriel’s Spear
That only proved her truth!

Sudden—far down the Bridge of Ghosts
That anxious spirits clomb—
She caught that step in all the hosts,
And knew that he had come.

She left them wondering what to do,
But not a doubt had she.
Swifter than her own squeal she flew
Across the Glassy Sea;

Flushing the Cherubs everywhere,
And skidding as she ran,
She refuged under Peter’s Chair
And waited for her man.

There spoke a Spirit out of the press,
Said:—“Have you any here
That saved a fool from drunkenness,
And a coward from his fear?

“That turned a soul from dark to day
When other help was vain;
That snatched it from wan hope and made
A cur a man again?”

“Enter and look,” said Peter then,
And set the Gate ajar.
“If I know aught of women and men
I trow she is not far.”

“Neither by virtue, speech nor art
Nor hope of grace to win;
But godless innocence of heart
That never heard of sin:

“Neither by beauty nor belief
Nor white example shown.
Something a wanton—more a thief—
But—most of all—mine own.”

“Enter and look,” said Peter then,
“And send you well to speed;
But, for all that I know of women and men
Your riddle is hard to read.”

Then flew Dinah from under the Chair,
Into his arms she flew—
And licked his face from chin to hair
And Peter passed them through!

“The Power of the Dog”

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ‘em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

I thank John Derbyshire for bringing this last poem to my attention.

Posted by Joseph on Wednesday, December 17, Anno Domini 2008
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Saturday, November 8, A.D. 2008

Puffins

Like most Americans growing up with too much time and leisure, I made several “favorites” lists. Feeling the need to designate a favorite bird, I chose the puffin. You probably know those obnoxious people who want to be different—they listen to indie music, watch foreign films, and generally act like snobby arses. Well, I have always been one of those folks, and my favorite bird could not be an obvious choice like a bald eagle, hummingbird, mockingbird, or cardinal. No, I fell in love with puffins.

Why are puffins so great? Well, they are adorable. They are cute in that clumsy, penguin-like way, but they can actually fly—though not admirably well. Like penguins, they are graceful and agile in the water. They live on rocky cliffs near the sea in colder regions, and everyone knows that mountains and water make for the most aesthetically pleasing landscape. Puffins have good taste . . .

Except with breakfast. See, puffins have their own cardboard-tasting healthy cereal from Barbara’s Bakery that white people eat. It is not actually that bad; you just have to get used to the texture. I actually have come to like it—and it was much easier than the feat that I achieved when I developed a taste for Marmite after several years of struggle.

Visit the Audubon Society’s page for Project Puffin, and consider helping the little guys out. You can also learn all about puffins there.

If conservation sites are too stuffy for you, you can always visit Puffinpalooza.

Thank God for the puffins.

Posted by Joseph on Saturday, November 8, Anno Domini 2008
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Thursday, October 30, A.D. 2008

Teens Attack Seventy-Eight Year Old Flamingo

The news inordinately brings the worst of human behavior to our attention, and, in our morbid curiosity, we respond. That is why the media outlets deliver what they deliver—it gets our attention. Perhaps, we like terrible news in a perverse way because it elicits a strong emotional reaction—for the same reason that people like tragic, horror, and sentimental books, plays, and movies.
Today, we read in Adelaide Now that four teenagers in Australia attacked a seventy-eight year old blind flamingo that has been at the Adelaide Zoo since the 1930’s. The bird, named Flamingo 1, is the oldest flamingo in the world. The flamingo suffered head and beak injuries, but zoo officials are hoping that he will survive. Flamingo 1 is friendly and trusting, aside from his blindness; so, the ruffians had little trouble beating him. It makes you wonder what would possess human beings to do such a thing.

This reminds me of the summer story wherein the Eskimos killed a one hundred thirty year old whale. Even though the circumstances were very different, there is still something wrong in an animal so well constituted dying “prematurely.” If a living thing happens to survive well beyond its normal range—or within its specific range but extraordinary long for us, as with redwood trees—I feel that it is somewhat of a sacrilege to kill that thing. I am a vegetarian, anyway, but impiety befalls such killing especially.

Posted by Joseph on Thursday, October 30, Anno Domini 2008
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