Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Death Becomes Autumn


Note: I wrote the below almost exactly two years ago, on an earlier incantation of this blog. It will always hold true, and it is one of my favorite posts. Yet two years later I live in a place that does not experience dramatic seasonal differences.

If you live in a place that does, however, I offer the below as a timely thought for pleasure. As for me, I do miss fall. But seasons in California, are something. More on that, later.

If you’re a fan of creatures and you live in a place that experiences winter—I mean real, lifeless, snowy abyss kind of winter—now is about the time of year when it starts to hit you that you’d better say your goodbyes. There is no better symbol of this time of year than the ambience of the Halloween holiday. For animals, the ominous stench of death is in the air. Plant food sources are going dormant, the night air freezes, and the most one can hope is that he has sufficiently fattened himself up in his previous months of (relatively) carefree existence.

The cloud of death sends amphibians scurrying for shelter under rocks, logs, and underground burrows. Some insects and spiders spin themselves in silken cocoons, perhaps desperately clinging to the belief that they are constructing insulation, not their coffins. Other insects simply give up, sitting patiently while the cloud of death descends upon them, assured by the sight of their eggs (which will weather the storm) that their existence till now has not been in vain.

I don’t here wish to be down on autumn or such “Halloween ambience”—the fact is, I love this time of year. (Along with spring, summer, and winter, autumn is my favorite season.) It’s hard not to love the thrill of the eeriness that accompanies the impending dormancy of life, since we all know that we don’t have to take it seriously—spring will come again.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

My History of Birding, Part 1

I was interested in many aspects of nature as a kid, but right into adulthood, birding remained the final frontier. Lately I got to wondering: why?

Perhaps it was their intangibility? As a kid I was most interested in whatever things I could collect or wound up keeping as pets: insects, butterflies, frogs, toads, salamanders, snakes, turtles, mushrooms, and so on. Birds? Birds are so... flitty.

Of course, completely inconsistent with this is the fact that at age 13, I nursed an injured Canada Goose, housing it (and taking it for daily walks--imagine what that looked like!) for over four months. Birds were not absent from my life. Yet I was content to possess only a tattered, hand-me-down photographic field guide to birds of eastern North America, which I can clearly remember was missing pages. I never once attempted to identify even the birds at the feeder. This is good evidence of my long, however relative, indifference to birds.

Almost inexplicably, this all changed in the spring of my 24th year. The springtime that year was probably no different than any other, but somehow I just took special notice of it. The trills of American Toads heightened my awareness and appreciation of a pond nearby my work. Soon I began admiring the striking red-orange epaulets of Red-winged Blackbirds, a bird which I had previously only known by name. Also present was a mysterious bird that seemed to fall somewhere between a duck and a chicken. These, I learned, were American Coots. (In retrospect: how in the hell could I have never noticed this species my whole life?!)

I sensed something strange was happening in me when one night I looked at my wife and declared: "I think I'm interested in birds."

Somewhat reluctantly, I subscribed to the local birding email listserv and bought a new field guide. I knew full well that birds are a diverse and complicated bunch, presenting no obvious major taxonomic distinctions to me (cf. reptiles: lizards, turtles, snakes). Getting to know them would require a great deal of my future time and effort. And worst of all, I worried, in the end it might not even pay off: identifying birds may at first satiate some mild curiosity, but I knew that in order to be truly satisfying, birds would have to demonstrate the same quirkiness and colorful life histories or behaviors that characterize the other natural objects of my interest....


Tuesday, May 6, 2008

The Art of Falconry Revisited

Back in November I posted about an outdoor encounter I had with an Orange County man who had a falcon on his arm. I said I was surprised to find out that the ancient hobby of falconry is still alive and well.

I've housed a lot of different types of animals. And--not that I could have convinced my wife, but--lately I toyed with the idea of keeping birds again (I had several Budgerigars when I was a kid). Thankfully, a few weeks ago we got the opportunity to pet-sit two of a co-worker's parrots. I'm happy to report that I came to my senses. Birds are way too much of a commitment: they're messy, and loud, they require lots of attention, and of course, their nature is to want to fly--which is difficult to accommodate.

If I felt that way about a couple of parrots, I can't imagine how difficult it would be to keep a bird of prey, like a falcon.

But... how fascinating they must be. I wonder. How cool would it be to have a falcon?

On Friday, May 16th, in Irvine, a man by the name of Tim Gallagher will be giving a public talk entitled "Falcon Fever: A Falconer in the 21st Century":

"Come hear Tim Gallagher illuminate the powerful, mysterious allure of falconry. In Falcon Fever, Gallagher examines the formative role falconry played in his life. The book is a compelling amalgam of memoir, history, and travelogue, in which Gallagher reveals the little-known subculture of falconry and explores its connection with his own story. Gallagher also offers a unique glimpse into contemporary falconry, examining the mutual obsession that drives individuals including Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and film writer Tony Hudson."

More info: http://www.seaandsageaudubon.org/Meetings/meetings.htm

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

The Immortal Diabolical Ironclad Beetle

With a name already as hyperbolic as "Diabolical Ironclad Beetle", the addition of the adjective "Immortal" to its name may seem superfluous.


But it's been over a year since I made a captive of the Diabolical Ironclad Beetle that one of my students found outside our classroom door.

In that time it has thrived on a diet consisting merely of sliced baby carrots (new ones thrown in once every few weeks). I have cleaned its jar exactly once. It is by far the easiest and hardiest pet I have ever had.

So, to all the past, present, and future little kids of the world who would capture bugs, put them in a glass jar, and throw some grass in there, only to have them die within hours or days, I say:

Eat your heart out, suckaz!

¡Viva El Escarabajo Blindado Diabólico!

(Further info: See my Orange County Organisms post on Phloedes diabolicum.)

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Be Generous With Your (Nature Photos) Rights!

A few days ago a nature-enthusiast blogger linked to a humorous "photoshopped" version of an owl photo, something which she found on a humor website. She asked her readers if they knew what species it was. In the comments, one person replied that he did, because he was the owner of the original photograph! Apparently it had been copied and edited by the humor website without his permission. Several other commenters, including the blogger, lamented this apparently commonplace practice.

At the outset, let me here state that I am absolutely, 100% pro-intellectual property rights. I am ethically opposed to all forms of illegal downloading, including songs, movies, photographs, etc. So obviously, I regard the humor website's actions as wrong and a violation of the owner's rights, even though the humor itself was perfectly innocuous (and even though the person whose rights were violated thought the humor was tasteful).

That said, this thread reinforced a hunch I've had over the last several months: it seems to be a widespread view among amateur photographers that if you took a photograph of something, be it a squirrel, tree, sunset, or lunar eclipse, you should cautiously guard that photograph from public use. If someone were to stumble upon it and want to use it, they should have to contact you to obtain permission, and you should demand credit, and maybe even a royalty (especially if they're using your photo for their own profit).

To those who feel this way, I ask: why? (Bearing some qualifications in mind--see the note amended to the bottom of this post.)

When I was a kid, occasionally my dad and I would explore the woods that bordered our backyard. I remember one time in particular, we were curious about the extent of the creek that ran through the woods. Armed with hip-waders and walking sticks, we spent a long afternoon trudging our way upstream. At about a mile north, a short, huffing man came marching toward us at full speed, screaming at us as he approached closer. (Not a scene easily forgotten by a young kid! I was certain he was going to punch my father.) As he came face to face with my dad, he demanded to know, "How would you like it if I wandered onto your property?"

My dad, without missing a beat, held out his hand and introduced himself, saying, "We live down on 595. You are more than welcome!! I've got a garden full of vegetables and there's no way we're going to eat 'em all. You should come on down." Seeing children playing in this man's backyard, my dad added: "And bring your kids!"

My dad wasn't bluffing, nor was he being insincere, as in quick-thinking to calm a tense situation, or to set up a morality lesson for his son. I know, because there have always been neighbors or even total strangers in our yard, picking vegetables, fishing in our pond, or enjoying the flowers. (My dad's occupation puts him in a position where he interacts with dozens of different local clients each day, and whenever someone expresses an interest in flowers, fishing, or vegetables, you can bet he makes it known to them that they they and anyone they care to invite are welcome to come over.)

The lesson of that day has never left me: my father explained to me later that the man who yelled at us was probably just suspicious of us (a new word for me), and needed our reassurance that we meant no harm.

I've since observed that many people are like that man. So if you are at all one of those people, I'm imploring you to let your guard down. This here is not a call for pollyannaism about the human race. I'm not denying that there are shady figures out there. Nor am I saying that the extent of my father's openness is appropriate for everyone. All I'm asking is that you keep some perspective: we're talking about your amateur digital photographs. With all due respect, it's not your bank account number.

And if you see a nature or astronomy photo of mine that you want to use for your purposes (most likely to be found at http://orangecountynaturalist.blogspot.com), please, be my guest! I have only two conditions:

1. It'd sure be nice if you introduced yourself to me, and tell me that you intend to use my photo--only because it's a chance for us to "network". So please, be nice and introduce yourself.

2. As a matter of integrity, you should also be generous with your photograph rights.

Happy copying and pasting!

(Qualification on all of the above: Please note that I'm not referring to professional photographers or aspiring professional photographers who are trying to make a living from their work. That is another issue entirely. I also want to clarify that I'm referring only to astronomy or nature photos--i.e. photos without personal subjects. It's reasonable why someone wouldn't want to give away free access to photographs of a private or personal nature, such as a photo of a family event, etc. I usually post these in a separate, private place anyway).

Monday, April 7, 2008

Return of Orange County Organisms

My photoblog Orange County Organisms is active again.

When I created that blog over a year ago, I originally set out to post every day.

I actually don't think that my original goal was naive. It is not for lack of photographs of organisms, or even for lack of time to post a photo. Rather it's that, in the course of posting, I realized that one important value for me of writing the blog is the opportunity to do a little research about the life history and any "gee whiz" facts about the organism featured. And that requires that I slow down a bit. I hadn't thought of this until recently, thus the eight month period of inactivity.

So, don't expect to see a post per day. But do expect to see me post more frequently than once every eight months. : )

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Fainting Goats

Goats with myotonia congenita. Watch the video and then read all about 'em: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fainting_goat