Parrot Conservation: The Kakapo

Kakapo by Shane McInnes

The Kakapo is what happens when there is no predation and nature gets creative. It is the world's only flightless and nocturnal parrot and found only in New Zealand. Unlike other parrots it can store fat, may have a natural longevity of 100 years and apparently smells like fruit.

When population control is left to nature, the intricacy is astonishing. The female lays only a few eggs and only when triggered by the production of large crops, the "mast year", of the rimu tree species. The solitary male then produces booming sounds and hikes for miles to find the equally solitary female.

Once estimated at over 200000, the Kakapo came close to extinction several decades ago, through the imported predation of cats and dogs. Conservation measures have been successful and the number has increased from 40 to over 100. Something this comical and special has to be kept alive.

Kakapos are also impossibly friendly:

Avian Intelligence

Thanks to a documentary, I learned that Ravens travel and live with extended family.  It is strange to think that sitting in the branches above us are dark winged cousins, aunts and grandparents.

I watched behavior that is mostly incomprehensible.  Twigs are selected, stripped with beak and talon (I did not know they could do that), and then discarded. It reminds me of woodworkers, who are not happy with their work.

On rooftops they hide food under shingles. Clever. They seem to prefer wealthier areas, possibly because the roofs are better maintained.  They take rainshowers with joy. Sentinels sit on peaks and warn others of threats; or they could just be discussing the weather.  Shift change involves preening of the one who is leaving. You don't see that in the human world.

I was surprised when I watched a lone raven prevent a significantly larger falcon from gaining altitude with a startling display of speed and maneuverability. It flew above the falcon, anticipating the falcon's moves, preventing it from getting sufficient lift for its larger wingspan.

They watch us. They watch me watch them. And they think. They are the true eyes in the sky. We search for intelligent life in other solar systems, but cannot communicate with the intelligent life around us.

Science: 400 ppm And I Blame Star Trek

By Justin Bilicki

"Could you kindly rephrase that in equivocal, inaccurate, vague, self-serving and roundabout terms that we can all understand?"

Certainly.

Science, Technology, Creation and Innovation are our future. I learned that watching Star Trek. Science will let us live longer and eventually better. Science will help us cope with inevitable climate chaos ("change" is for wimps).

If those in power and of influence fund it. Power. I have spent too much time with those that suffer from the illusion of power. I knew that when I joined a global cause a few years ago that we were fighting a losing battle. Groups of us have formed across fields and continents, desperate to share our knowledge with each other.

Fellow geeks who share with child-like abandon. Look what I found! Cool, it's a rock. I found a tadpole. Hey, look at this everyone, the sun is doing something neat right now. Whooooaaa.

Oligopolies do not share with the other children.

We presented. Talked. TED talked. Presentations. Travel. Meetings. Talking. With people who do not understand a single concept and believe that accelerating graphs of over 300 ppm mean that the economy is doing well. During one particularly bored meeting and chronic interruptions by mobile technology, I walked out in the middle of my own presentation. Futile.

I went on hikes, cleared my head and decided that this was not worth my time. It felt right. There was no point explaining to anyone that the earth will be fine, new species will replace us. Nature reclaims.

I watched movies with HQ and the kittehs. Tried to read or paint. Tuned out the floods and the suffering that will follow. Tried to play video games. Thought about video games.

Then 400 ppm came. Still there. Faster than anyone calculated.

Thought about Homo Sapiens and Star Trek and Inception.

We have been treading water, time to learn how to swim again.
 

 

The Entropy of Life

Wistman's Woods

An annual ritual is to go for a long hike in the woods as soon as spring has confirmed its reappearance for more than 2 days. After just a brief time, the bad things that happen to good people and the good things that happen to bad people seemed irrelevant.

I was watching a Labrador excitedly chasing whatever he was chasing in a shallow river, true to his breed. I smiled as he found a branch. Too big. Another branch. Gotta show master.

I relaxed into the soothing tapping of raindrops. Admired the tenacity of life. Listened to birds communicating. Serenity.

I watched as birds hopped on the ground singing to each other and saw them pull earthworms from the wet ground to feed and nurture future generations of feathered singers.

Then I imagined what that experience must be like for the worm.

Totally. Ruined. The. Moment.

Evolution Video

Evolution, the name applied to the strange creatures that inhabit this world:




A squeaky toy that does not require squeezing and defends itself with cuteness.

Who says Nature does not have a sense of humor?

Occupy Antarctica

Apparently we are not the only species that is capable of feeling entitled to something that does not always belong to us.




Reporter: Black Mask agreed to talk to us if we do not reveal his identity.
Black Mask, how long have you been acquiring Bob's pebbles?

Black Mask: Let's see. This is my fourth mating season.

Reporter: Are you not worried that you will get caught?

Black Mask: Naaaaah. Look around you, there are 5 million of us. I blend right in.

Reporter: Any reason that you have chosen Bob in particular?

Black Mask: Yeah. He has a good eye for the nicest rocks. Knows just what the ladies like.
Not that sharp though, if you know what I mean...

Reporter: Not really.

Black Mask: Hey Bob. Larry was looking for you. Said he found some really nice pebbles 30 nests down.

Bob: Uukay. Thanks, man. I owe you one.

Reporter: Which one is Larry?

Black Mask: Who is Larry?

So You Know You Can Dance: Bird Edition

Good evening, welcome to our first broadcast of "So You Know You Can Dance". The real life bird edition. Branches have been cleaned, feathers oiled and shined to iridescent perfection and the canopy has been cleared of monkey hecklers.

Our first dance contestants make their home in Papua New Guinea. Audience, please give a warm welcome to the dance crew: "The Rainforest Kilts".






Next up is the Wire-Tailed Manakin, tail shaker of the Amazon. Watch him spin 180 degrees at a time, without missing a beat. Give it up for "Little Man":






Last, but certainly not least is the Red-Capped Manakin bird (Pipra Mentalis) from Costa Rica. He is an expert in the difficult to master typewriter move. A round of applause for "MC Mental".




Millions of years of evolution have restricted voting to females only. In an unprecedented move we are opening the phone lines to any gender, including fish and other animals that are in-between or undecided.

Look Into My Deep Blue...

I had been thinking about her a lot lately.  I missed her. I recently saw her again, it was as if we had never been apart. Some friendships last a lifetime.

When I first met her, it was love at first sight. She remains beautiful, formidable, secretive, gentle, yet powerful. She possesses a depth that I cannot even begin to imagine.  There are not enough adjectives to describe a force of life.

She taught many things to a willing student, despite the fact that she is considerably older than me.  She taught me about life and what really matters, she showed me miraculous sights and encouraged me to explore.  Nothing has changed, she still mesmerizes and intrigues me. I could not help but stare at her, reminiscing about the past. Some of my fondest memories are associated with her.

"You look good," I say.
"Thank you. I have been ill," she states matter-of-factly.
"I know." Sigh. "I know."
She ignores my response. "It's hot. Let's go for a swim." She beckons, playful as ever.

The sound of breaking waves, the rhythmic play of water lifts the weight of the sky off Atlas' shoulders. I take a deep breath of sea-scented air, letting the cool water lick my ankles.

With an ungainly gallop I plunge into the waves, diving into a blue alien world. The sudden silence of muffled sound, the simple pleasure of swimming buoyed by saline water, triggers earliest memories of imagination; pretending to be a dolphin, an orca or a shark.

My predisposition toward constantly disappearing beneath the surface of any body of water, including the bathtub, used to drive my parents insane.  I laugh out loud as I recall being a megalodon, a prehistoric shark, circling my prey, then grabbing my mother's ankles from the abyss of the deep blue sea.

"ANTARES! Are you mad?!?" my victim squealed.
*Chomp* I replied.
"Antares. STOP IT!"
*Chomp* *Chomp* "Mom, I just ate you." Satiated, the cold glint of the ultimate predator in my eyes, I would show her row upon row of enormous serrated teeth, then glide silently back into my domain.

I still lack tail and fins. Nobody is perfect.
The oceans, however, are.
She laughs joyfully, watching my non-streamlined antics as I float lazily on my back.
"Welcome back, my child. Welcome back."

Hell Is Other People

 The problem of evil: 

Why unconditionally bad things

happen to unconditionally good people.

They never do.

(Jonathan Safran Foer)

Some of the most user-friendly expressions are military based, a field where people literally put their lives at risk, whether voluntarily or not.  Used sparingly, swearing is powerful and has been proven to increase pain tolerance. A few months ago I experienced a conglomerate of a cluster flocked snafu of a fubar.  Within the course of a week life turned upside down, unpleasant discoveries were made, losses were incurred and plans...well. There were plans?

After the initial period of healthy shock and disbelief, (stress hormones are neurotoxic and the brain protects itself by shutting down), it was time to assess the rubble.  Some things I could do nothing about. Accept and move on. Others could be resolved. Incubate a predator-alien hybrid and persist. Bring it. The most difficult to deal with were the situations that were caused by other people.

It was an unwelcome reminder of how selfish humanity can be. Be it entitlement, greed or the worst that my species has to offer, the indifference toward others, putting self-interests above the common good or causing usually unnecessary harm, whether directly or indirectly is a reality I still fail to comprehend.

The lack of empathy and indifference that permeates our global community is seemingly infinite. I experienced it in my own little microcosm and have been watching it unfold on a global scale.  Selfishness, brought on by the evolution of survival, but no longer balanced by empathy or altruism. Empathy, the omega factor, which supposedly sets us apart from other mammals.

While dealing with the fallout of my personal cluster flock, I noticed a wasp queen building her nest on a window frame.  Through the window I could watch her closely, observe her building skills, constructing papermache hexagons.

We think of wasps as pests, unlike bees they do not produce honey and are therefore not seen as a benefit that humans can exploit. However, wasps are not only pollinators, but useful pest controllers.  While adults feed on nectar, the young are fed insects.

For a few weeks, every time her future hive reached coin size, I would open the window and knock it off. I cleaned the area hoping that if the scent was gone, she would pick another location. A few days later, she was back.  Starting over. Rebuilding.  I even tried to relocate her, but she would fly off before I could scoop her up in a container.

As a nature geek, I know that the aggressiveness of a hive is directly influenced by the behavior of their queen. Calm queen, which she was, calm hive. It became our routine. Knock off the nest, watch her rebuild and start liking her in the process. I lived with the knowledge that I was responsible for not allowing her to do what nature meant her to. She only had one summer to accomplish it. Damn you, Ender Wiggin.

I knew that I would be away and by the time I returned, her aggressive soldiers would hatch, helping her expand the hive. With reluctance I terminated her gene pool. I am sorry my calm little wasp, you would have made a good queen, but I had to protect my self-interest.

CLIMATE CHANGED: A Brief Introduction

The Ironworks at Coalbrookdale

This is the first in a series of posts that I have been avoiding. It was thought about, discussed in RL for a long time, yet I held on to the irrational belief that somehow, miraculously, scientists of various scientific fields would turn out to be wrong.

I have hinted at it in past posts, my readers already know, but until it began happening in people's own backyard the facts were dismissed or denied. Across the interwebs, I still come across comments such as "What is going on?" in response to certain natural disasters, such as unusual storms and floods, which made me wonder if some people simply prefer to live in denial. This post is not about fearmongering or even directed at my "fellowers", but a reaction to the ignorification of the public by the media and other mostly self-interested sources.

A fellow blogger and friend Sprite, who has been through the January floods in Australia, encouraged me to write about it.

Disclaimer: The following "news" may cause some readers to assume the fetal position.

Contrary to the Apocalyptics, the end is not near, but the climate has changed. Past tense. Irreversible for now, we might be able to slow down the rate of change, but at present time we do not have the technology or even the intent to stop it.

On a global scale, we still do not know or understand how our climate and weather patterns are "created" or all of the variables that affect our climate. The computing power to do that on a global scale, i.e. the ability to take all the factors into consideration, does not exist yet.  This makes accurate weather prediction nearly impossible. It is possible that the last couple of years were indeed a more extreme display, brought on by an active El Nino/La Nina cycle, of what is yet to come.

There are numerous causes, but no immediate solutions. Yet. Even if we were to stop all CO2 emissions at this moment, we do not have the technology to capture or remove the CO2 that we have been emitting into our atmosphere for at least 150 years or possibly since the Industrial Revolution began. CO2, which is not only a greenhouse gas, but acidifying our oceans.

However, if our focus were to shift there are possibilities. If we and by we I mean our entire human species re-prioritized what is important we could at least begin to ameliorate the problem.

Hang on to your roofs, basements, ice cubes and umbrellas, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

To be continued...

The Ironworks at Coalbrookdale 1801
By Philip de Loutherbourg (1740-1812)
Collection Science Museum, London

Birds. Shut The FRAK Up!...Please.

I am tired. Why am I tired? Allow me to enlighten you.

My readers should be made aware that I have been rescuing birds and other wildlife ever since I have been capable of picking them up.

The universe has recently shown its deep appreciation for my life-giving rescue efforts by gifting me a nesting pair of birds, which have displayed their gratitude and trust by choosing the tree outside of our bedroom window as their precious new real estate.  I am usually delighted by the operatic performance of songbirds and birds in general, but there is something wrong with this pair. 

I suspect, given the fact that I am unable to identify them, that they may be illegal migrants.  They do not behave like the other birds.  For one thing they get up in what is presumably their own time zone; 3:42 am to be precise.  Initially, I thought they are just jet-lagged, but it is quite obvious that they do not comply with local cultural standards of birdness.

Their morning wake up call is neither song nor sound, but high-pitched, supersonic noise that breaks the sound barrier, as well as my nerves of steel.  This noise has turned me into a self-absorbed and cranky narcoleptic.  According to eyewitness reports, at precisely 3:43 am, my still unconscious mind has been offering my professional credentials to no one in particular or yelling any of the following into a dead cell phone: "Who died?", "GET EVERYONE INTO THE ESCAPE POD!" or "Where is my Mango?"

Approximately 15 minutes later, the witness alleges, neighbors are then woken out of their slumber by someone shouting: "STOP IT!!!! For Frak's sake!" at a tree.

Dear Mutant Birds,

Please kick your fledgling brood out of the nest,

teach them how to fly,

and SHUT THE FRAK UP!

Renewal

Spring 2011

Old-growth forest

The annual migration of this Homo sapiens is triggered by a compelling instinct to gather field sketching supplies, some food, a thermos and escape from the man-made to the nature-made.

Forests are my destination of choice, one of the places where cerebral hemispheres can feel whole again; allowed to act as one, to observe, sense, marvel, wonder, imagine and create.  Away from the incessant chatter and noise of humanity, the urban grey of cities of concrete, there is an immediate sense of calm and welcome noise.

I can hear my footsteps, crunching on leaves and twigs. I can hear the sudden silence as I pass by flocks of birds chatting in their natural skyscrapers. I pause. After a while, they resume their conversations.  A rush of excited calm as I watch nature's builders using natural materials to build their homes.  Amused, I wonder about their decision making process. What are birds thinking when they build and weave their nests? This twig goes here. Or is it trial and error?  Does this twig go here? I see nests woven into branches, precariously close to the very tip to avoid even the most agile predators. How do they remain there? How is that special branch picked? Do they assess sway and give?  Yearly construction of the impossible, without tools. Birds, one of nature's evolutionary architects and engineers.

I settle on a spot, arrange my supplies; paints, brushes, pens and pencils. A warm up with quick sketches and studies. Time and memory are no longer perceived. My lungs are learning to breathe deeply again, while my mind is focused on color, shape and perspective. The weight of thoughts is quickly discarded.

I will return, but nothing rivals that first renewal of the year.