January 2021 – Stone Fig

Three Photographs

What do three photographs have to do with each other. These three have no people in them, at least none that you can see. But in each of these photographs I can see multitudes of friends and fellow travelers. I want to rehabilitate that term. It a good phrase in which to capture the idea of someone well-met while you are on the road.

The term, fellow travelers, in its best use is when I apply it to the young and old, and the men and women I met while backpacking in Europe and when driving across America around the time I took these three pictures.

In Europe most of our travel was by train and we would meet and link up with a small group of people, two others, maybe four, and travel with them for a day or two or maybe a week. They were our traveling companions. They might not be going to our ultimate destination, but for the moment – or for the week – we were thrown together in a train car or in a City – and we talked and planned and laughed as the woods and houses and fields flashed by or as we strolled in a city park.

And if they were well-met, they were lively and jovial, and we wanted also to be a “Hail-fellow, Well-met”. You would share your lunch of tomatoes and cheese and bread, and they would add sausage and at the end perhaps a cigarette. You might go drinking together at night, and later stand on a street corner and rather loudly sing some song you just learned. You may sit up the night in a train compartment talking of places you’ve been and places you intend to go. And they would rise and fall with their own ideas, and the next day with a hearty handshake and a slap on the back or maybe a kiss you would part never to see each other again. But later, telling the story of that train ride you remember your adventures, and wonder when you will have a chance to smoke the cigar they had given you.

It was someone with whom to spend some time when you were on a trip abroad, alone. Cigarettes play a role in this picture, but I will say there is no more deadly habit. If you smoke, stop now and never take it up again. Ask me why I had 5 bypasses. I will tell you it was the cigarettes. It was part of my old life. It is not part of my new life. And it does not need to be part of yours.

These three pictures represent the time when I was driving across country as a young man to go to Vietnam. I was not in the jungle, I served off the coast in the Navy. Later I would go and wander across northern and eastern Europe for a Summer. The pictures are before that time when I was driving West across the Untied States. The middle picture shows that, an open road. I probably took that somewhere in Oklahoma when there were hills in the distance and places that I had never been and would only pass through this once. I stopped and went to a small diner and had corned beef on rye, and I wrote about it.

The old “farm” house back home was torn down and rebuilt closer to the River. That’s on the right. Times there are not forgotten. Christmases. Trees with tinsel. Fruit baskets. Summers spent crabbing and rowing on the River. And we would wade out through the now gone fields of ell-grass, and swim.

The picture on the left is Hawaii when my ship passed through. I had time to see Hanauma Bay before it was crowded with other people who wanted to see that bit of paradise. I wonder if the Parrotfish I followed knew this or if its descendants know it now. I swam out on a calm afternoon over the reef and looked down the far side where dwell the Octopus and the needle toothed Shark. And I swam back with the image of the darkness where the light did not penetrate.

So go out. Travel, and rejoice in your adventures with the people that you will meet.

Young Man/Old Man

The tree has stood here for generations. Its wrinkled features speak of Springs and hot Summers and Winter storms and Fall Hurricanes rolling out of the Sea.

Yet here it stands. Right where the mountain man had stopped over 300 years before, and leaning on his staff he paused to look out to the Sea beyond the valley – and he has stayed here – still thinking. His hand clutches the shaft of his staff. You can see his fingertips curling around from the back of the shaft as he rests his temple against his hand. His hair is blown upwards and back as he stares stonily out towards the distant Sea.

The years have washed soil and stones and leaves out of the hills above so that the man’s shoulders and torso and hips and legs are now buried deep below. Yet still he stands and looks outward and wonders. When he decides, will he rise up and tear his roots from deep within the earth and walk these hills again?

These are tales of the deep woods.

The young man pushed out by his tribe,

Walked toward the sound of the Sea.

He crossed mountain peak and fast glacial stream.

He forded broad rivers.

He climbed stones as if they were steps to the top of the ridge.

And from his new vantage point he could see the great Sea before him.

He leaned his head on his staff and he wept, because he had found Ocean, his mother.

What would he say to her when she saw him and rose up? Would she be in a fury? Would she rejoice that he had found his way back to her?

He leaned on his staff, for a year, and another, and another ten and then a hundred and then more.

He stands there still wondering how he will be greeted when he reaches the rolling wave and the murmur of shale rolling in the retreating wave.

What will he say that he has accomplished? Who will he say that he has helped? Has he made his path a better place? Has the world benefited from his life?

He leaps up and leaves his body behind, still, standing, staring.

His spirit goes out and back along his path to correct what he has damaged.

When he sees a tired person sitting next to the road, the wind blows down and refreshes the weary. The rain falls upon the parched . The sun shines on the lonely.

The young man in the wind and rain and sunshine is rebuilding his story.

And he will smile.

One day he will return to this tree and shake loose the binding roots and finish his walk to the Sea and be greeted with joy.

This is one of the trees that I remember. There are many others. These are the trees I see while I am in the woods. They speak to me as the warm spring rains patter down on their budding branches. When the Summer storm whips the limbs and branches, they howl with strength. When the Winter winds bring snow and ice that crackles on the branches when the sun returns and when I cross the snowy field to visit them, they moan and creak like an old gate on rusted hinges.. The trees are always with me, they are everywhere. They are of many ages, and they always welcome me to the deep forest and woods by the lane.

Some have forgotten how to leaf and bud and leaf, but still stand as a home for birds and squirrels and the members of the fourth kingdom, the fungus that returns the tree to the soil. Some have fallen in the wind. Some have fallen to the ax. But they all live on in my memory and in the memory of all who visited them and touched their bark, or played in their shade, or picked up their Fall leaf form the ground. Or watched a bird fly among its branches.

They are our friends. Each has its story. You must listen to hear it being told.

Look out for the Pendulum

NASA photograph of Apollo 16 Astronaut next to Plum Crater on the lunar surface. The “Moon Buggy” is in the background.

I am not making this up – well, mostly not.

On the surface of a distant moon, a lone space traveler steps away from his companions and approaches the edge of a large pit. It appears nearly round with no crater wall. He approaches the edge carefully. Then suddenly the lip slides-out beneath him, and he rolls down the side tumbling towards the apex of the cone shaped pit. All he can call out in his soft Texas drawl is, “reminds me of a doodlebug hole”.

I exaggerate, no astronaut fell into a pit, nor was one paralyzed and devoured by an extraterrestrial Antlion. But a similar discussion took place on 24 April 1972 during the third “extra vehicular activity” (EVA) by the crew of Apollo 16 while exploring the surface of our moon in their “Moon Buggy”.

The discussion of the doodlebug took place 240,000 miles from the closest doodlebug as Astronaut Charles Duke described a part of his childhood in the southern United States to the folks at Mission Control.

When I grew up in rural North Carolina, doodling Antlions, also known as doodlebugs, was part of what we did. We did not have a TV. We played outside and ran to the river and splashed and played in it and ran back. On our way up and down that dusty lane, we might see that dimple in the sandy ground of an Antlion’s nest. We generally called them doodlebugs, and we sought to bring them out of their hiding at the bottom of their conical pit. We would disturb the side of the pit gently with a bit of pine straw to see if we could bring the tiny beast out from his hiding place at the bottom of his trap.

These tiny larvae are ferocious looking with jaws nearly half as long as their body, with sharp fangs for grabbing and devouring their prey.

My attention was recently turned to Antlions by an article in Science News which described a study of the Antlion behavior of “throwing sand” upwards from the bottom of its pit. The Antlion of the southern United States is the larval form of Glenurus spp of the family Myrmeleontidea. This family designation is explained by Barb Ogg on the website of the Nebraska Extension Service at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. “The Antlion family, Myrmeleontidae, literally means Antlion family (myrme = ant) + (leon = lion) + (idae = family). Antlions belong to the insect order Neuroptera, most of which are predators.” The designation “spp” means plural or multiple species. A picture of an Antlion is shown below.

The authors of the Antlion paper studied the Antlion behavior of throwing sand. It was determined that this action is useful in maintaining the correct geometry of the trap the Antlion digs as well as aiding the Antlion in capture of its prey.

The Antlions trap or “pit” is dug in sandy soil by the tiny beast by using its broad body as a bulldozer and working the sand in ever decreasing diameter circles as it moves backwards until the pit is dug. The pit is an inverted cone. The Antlion buries itself at the center of its pit and waits for its dinner to walk in.

Antlion behavior has been observed by countless generations of children who live in areas with sandy soil and also by the adults that the children grew into. After digging its pit the Antlion will lie in wait for its dinner. When a small insect like an ant enters the pit, the sand on the slope of the pit will often give way and slide, with the insect, down to where the Antlion may capture it. However, not just any angle for the slope of the pit will suffice. The trap needs to be constructed so the sides are inclined downwards at an unstable angle. This angle is technically discussed as the “angle of repose” of the soil. A slope less than the angle of repose is flatter and stable and will not shift except under significant pressure. However, a slope greater than the angle of repose is unstable. This means that as a tiny insect like an ant tries to crawl out of the pit, the unstable sand will slip and slide towards the bottom of the pit.

When the Antlion notices the vibration of the ant’s footsteps and the vibration of the falling sand, the Antlion will begin to fling the sand from the bottom of the pit up onto the sides of the downward slope. As described in the study, this produces two results. The prey becomes confused due the torrent of sand falling on it and will be more likely to tumble into the center of the pit. Second, the sand being flung by the Antlion by flipping its head like a shovel, removes the sand that has fallen into the pit and throws it onto the sides of the pit to maintain an unstable configuration of the slope. By these actions as the Antlion’s dinner is tumbling downward, the trap is being set for another insect.

According to the article by Barb Ogg, as well as other articles, these tiny insects do not bite humans nor do they damage plants, so they may be left alone.

I have heard that Antlions respond to singing or chanting a ditty such as “Doodlebug, doodlebug, come out and play”. As fun as this might be there is no proof of its efficacy. However the vibrations of our voice may dislodge sand on the unstable sides of the pit causing the Antlion to investigate the event.

The NASA transmission of the EVA (extra vehicular activity) may be found at https://www.hq.nasa.gov/alsj/a16/a16a1690707.mp3. At time 0:58 Astronaut Clark refers to the structure on the moon’s surface as a “doodlebug hole”. It starts out rather loud and you may want to turn it down. In the discussion, the depression is referred to as an endogenic crater. An endogenic crater is a pit formed by processes beneath the soil surface like a gas bubble moving outwards and erupting through the upper soil layer, or perhaps like a sinkhole. It is not an impact crater.

The transcription of the .mp3, plus other transmissions not recorded in the transmission, may be found at Return to the LM (nasa.gov) starting at the entry for 169:07:53 and going through 169:08:25. The transcription of the conversation contains more information of what was said than the .mp3 recording. Perhaps it was on a separate channel.

The Science News article may be found at https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2020/12/how-voracious-antlions-engineer-deadly-sand-traps. To read the article may require a subscription or permission.

The referenced study of Antlion behavior may be found at Sand throwing in a pit-building Antlion larva from a soil mechanical perspective | bioRxiv .

The article by Barb Ogg on he University of Nebraska-Lincoln may be found at Antlions: Amazingly Adapted Predators | Nebraska Extension: Community Environment | Nebraska (unl.edu) .

A video of an Antlion digging his pit may be found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AT0J8cBS-U. Watch carefully. You can see the tiny creature throwing sand onto the sides of its pit.

This article’s Title refers to the tale by Edgar Allan Poe, which is a tale of another conundrum.

Birds Range of the Home

In 2017 I was conducting bird surveys as a volunteer at the Manassas Battlefield National Park. I was helping to catalogue the presence of two species, The Northern Bob White Quail and the Henslow’s Sparrow. The Park Wildlife Management personnel and I were interested in seeking out the birds in selected areas of the Park

I would go out to the Bob White areas in the early morning hours so I could be there in time for sunrise. I usually went out earlier than necessary, and I walked well-known paths to be at the listening point while it was still dark. I would pack-out a folding chair and a thermos of coffee. When I got the listening point, I would sit and watch the stars in their motion across the night sky and see them fade as night turned into Dawn. At Dawn I opened my coffee thermos, and poured a cup, and toasted the new day.

The survey was conducted in the Spring and we would listen for the daybreak calls of the coveys of quail we hope to hear. There were twenty of these sites scattered around the Park. The Park personnel and I divided the sites up so we could cover all of them during scope of the annual survey.

The sky might be clear when I went out in the early morning before dawn, but on the ground it was dark. If I had not had several decades of experience in walking the Park, I might have gotten turned around. I wrote about my experience in an article titled Frosty Morning and published on this site on 15 November 2018.

The Park personnel and I would often talk about the birds of the Park and how we thought that they would be affected by climate change, especially as the average temperatures warmed in the more northern parts of the species’ range.

In order to develop a better understanding of the potential impact of climate change on bird species, I searched for related articles. A good one I found regarding bird species and changes in their range due to climate changes, was based on surveys of numerous species in Finland between 1974 and 2010.

The results are basically that yes, the ranges do change due to changes in climate. The ranges of the various bird species change with an expansion at the northern/top/cold edge. But the southern edge is not moving northward/poleward. Part of this is that a species would have to lose their niche, basically become extinct, in the southern regions in order to say that they are no longer using the southern/warm edge.

I had initially thought of a bird’s range as a box that would move north as the climate warmed. However, that does not appear to be the case. As it turns out the box stretches and gets bigger as the range extends to the North. The range expands northward with the increasing temperature and the birds take advantage of more range.

Climate change may affect a bird species physiologically in that its old range may become too hot or too wet for the bird species to thrive. They have to change or move. But these conditions, even if they do not directly affect the birds, may cause a portion of the bird’s range to become unusable at the level of the current population if a food source dies out due to the change in the overall climate, or if the food source moves out to a more acceptable range, or if the food source becomes unavailable at a time that it is need for the bird’s reproduction and life cycle. An example of this latter was published in Science New in 2006.

The first article I read about the impact of climate change on bird species was a 2006 article in Science News concerning the timing of the arrival of the European Pied Flycatcher in their nesting area. The article pointed out that the birds migrate based on the length of daylight in their wintering area in Africa. But the appearance of the caterpillars, the major food source at their nesting area for feeding their chicks, was based on temperature. With the northern temperatures warming earlier, by the time the birds arrived, the caterpillars had reached the next stage in their life cycle and are no longer available for the birds and their nesting brood. The numbers of the Flycatchers in some of their historic breeding areas had fallen by 90%. The study found “a correlation between declining Flycatcher numbers and the timing of the peak food for their chicks.”

I recently ran across a journal article concerning birds of China and the effect of climate change on their range. The article pointed out that the extension of a bird’s range may meet an obstacle that it cannot pass through. This might be a range of high mountains or an open ocean. The birds at that point have reached the limit of their range. The birds may well have to make a change in their diet or risk being unable to maintain the new range that they have colonized. For the birds to succeed in the new region they must find fruiting plants or insect or other food stuff available in an abundance on which the species colonizing the area can survive. This is especially hard if the new range is populated by a species that already relies on a limited supply of that food. The picture at the top of this article is a version of some of the charts from the article showing potential movement of species.

What about the Quail and Henslow’s Sparrow at Manassas? Will they have to move? So much of a bird’s ability to use a region is predicated on their ability to find suitable habitat. Destruction of habitat will force out a population. However, as the climate grows hotter and more humid over the next several decades these bird’s ranges may expand, but it is different for each species. The southern edge of the Quail’s range is well below us, extending into Mexico. I do not believe we will see a change in the population of Quail due to climate change. However, for Henslow’s Sparrow, here in the Mid-Atlantic region, we are between the breeding (northern) and the non-breeding (southern) range. We may lose our small, but for me dynamic, local population. There may be issues for the Henslow’s Sparrows in the southern reaches of their breeding range where we are located. as it becomes hotter and wetter. Only time will tell.

Article regarding study in Finland, The breeding ranges of Central European and Arctic bird species move poleward. may be found at: http://europepmc.org/article/PMC/3447813

Science News article (only available to subscribers to Science News) on European Pied Flycatcher may be found at: https://www.sciencenews.org/article/no-early-birds-migrators-cant-catch-advancing-caterpillars.

Article regarding range shift of Chinese birds under the potential of climate change: (PDF) Shifts in bird ranges and conservation priorities in China under climate change (researchgate.net)