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The Wreck on Bogue Banks

I first saw it in the night. A large shape laying in the trough of the waves of the retreating tide. It was windy, and the sea was running high. The troughs of the waves were deep. The large, black shape lay in the water about 50 yards off shore. It looked big.

I was star gazing off the deck of the rented cottage on Bogue Banks, North Carolina. I looked up at Orion and his nebula. I watched Canopus, the navigator, rise and then set on the southern horizon. The moon was full and reflected off the face of the running waves. I turned my glasses to the waves to see what might be out there. I was startled when I saw a black mass rise above the surface of the water and then submerge. It was truly big. I estimated it to be no less than eight-feet long above the water with what appeared to be a humped back. Was it a shark? But there was no fin. A dolphin perhaps? But again no fin. What creature could have this shape? But it did not seem to move. It lay in the water and let the waves pass over it seeming to rise in the trough and to disappear as the crest of the wave passed over it. My mind imagined all sort of creatures, mythological as well as real. But what would venture into the surf and lay there?

The next morning when the tide was high I went out to the beach to see if anything with fins or limbs had washed up in the night. There was nothing there. And there was nothing to be seen in the surf. The next low tide was in the early afternoon. We were having cousins over for lunch, and I planned to ask them what they might have heard about something in the water, whether creature or fish tale, since they were familiar with the goings on in the area. I planned to broach the subject privately with one or two of my cousins rather than ask the entire group. Before I had a chance to ask, I heard someone say, “Look, there’s a turtle in the surf.” We all went out onto the deck to get a glimpse. We could see a dark shape about 100 yards away. It would appear in the troughs of the waves and then submerge as the wave crest passed. Was this the creature that I had seen in the night? Was this the mystery solved? But we all noticed that what first appeared to be motion was the wake of the passing water. This shape did not move.

Then the thought struck me. The question was not what it was. The question was where was I?

I did a little research and realized that the deck I stood on was on the location of the old Iron Steamer Pier at Bogue Banks. Just offshore was the grave of the Confederate ship SS Pevensey, an iron-clad blockade runner. She had been chased inshore by the Union vessel SS New Berne in June 1864. The Pevensey broke and sank there. Parts of her boilers and machinery remain on the bottom about 150 yards off-shore. The Iron Steamer Pier had been built over the site of the wreck since the sunken ship made a good artificial reef which attracted fish. The pier and adjacent motel lasted through storms and hurricanes for more than 50 years. The pier was finally broken by the surf and wind of a hurricane and then closed for good in 2004. Since then the land was developed, and beach cottages, similar to the many that line the Banks, were built on the site. The old sea wall from the pier forms the sea wall for the properties.

The edges of the submerged ruin were exposed by the falling tide and appeared as a dark shape that would rise and fall as the wave trough passed over its resting place.

So it was not a creature or a myth that lay and rose and fell in the troughs of the waves at low tide, but the ruins and ghosts of a broken ship.

Additional information on the wreck of the SS Pevensey and the old Iron Steamer Pier may be found at http://pineknollhistory.blogspot.com/2015/07/iron-steamer-pier-retrospective.html. That site is also the source of the picture of the ship.

Leaf Story

Yesterday I spent the better part of the afternoon outside. What I was doing was not as enjoyable as a good, long hike in the autumn woods with the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. There was the crunch of leaves, but I was raking them and moving them. In my small city, we can rake the leaves to the curb for pickup by the city. It’s nice to be able to do put the leaves at the curb instead of bagging them. That is one of the reasons I enjoy living in the City of Fairfax.

But I remember the time in which the cool Fall air would be mixed with the rich smell of burning leaves. In the Fall, in towns where I grew up, small piles of leaves would dot the yards. Those small piles were often burned in place by the property owner. Or the leaves might have been swept to the curb or edge of the street to be burned. Sometimes a brick bbq pit would be used as a leaf furnace. Every yard had a least one, round, burn circle somewhere in the back. But those days are behind us, and for good reason. The smoke from the many piles of leaves, especially as towns grew and suburbs sprawled, became a choking haze over the houses and the city. The Fall air is cleaner now, and I do not miss the times of dense smoke. But I can remember the sights and the rich, sweet smell that rose up from the fires of our small piles of leaves and fallen twigs.

They were like camp fires. We would gather around the pile and watch as the tongues of flame crept through its depth. We would then stand guard to make sure the fire did not go beyond the pile of leaves and its burn circle. There was always a bucket of water at hand in case the grass began to burn, and maybe a hose if one was available. It was a family event. My parents or my grandmother would be around, and my brother and my cousins and I would poke at the small fire and stare into its flame. We would talk about our lives and dream aloud of our future. It was a time together.

The finest picture I have seen of this is the one by John McCutcheon which he drew in 1907 for the Chicago Tribune. A young boy stands and stares into the smoke while his grandfather relates a tale of years gone by. The language has fallen into disuse, but I believe the sentiments expressed are strong and valuable and worthy of remembering.

There were people who lived on these lands long before the Europeans came. They and their children held the land as sacred. They knew and kept the value of family. They respected the people that had lived on the land before them and who had passed forward the land rich with life. These people also looked with hope into their future.

John McCutcheon’s cartoon and text are no longer published. But each year about this time after I have been raking and preparing the garden with an eye to Spring, I take out my yellowed copy of the art with its history and read it again. And I thank all of the people that lived on this land before and who worked to care for the land and the water and the air so that it might remain a place of beauty. It is a place to remember.

The story of John McCutcheon’s art titled “Injun Summer” can be found at http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/politics/chi-chicagodays-injunsummer-story-story.html

Reef Protector

I had to decide if I wanted to title this post “KILLER ROBOT” or “Reef Protector”. The two different titles convey very different images, one quite provocative as a hunter/killer, and bringing to mind an endless stream of science fiction movies. I chose “Reef Protector”. It brings to mind a quest, and a hero who takes on the challenge. I had already designed the art of a killer robot but added a shield to make it less so – an assassin and a protector.

The Great Barrier Reef Foundation (GBRF) in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, https://www.barrierreef.org/the-foundation, launched a protective program to defend the Great Barrier Reef against a voracious predator,the Crown of Thorns starfish. This predator is one of the greatest challenges facing the survival of the Great Barrier Reef. Other threats to the Great Barrier Reef include climate change, disease, changes in ocean chemistry, rising ocean waters, pollution, and physical destruction of portions of the reef by fishing gear and boat propellers. These economically valuable and beautiful reefs are threatened wherever they are.

I have not seen any part of the Great Barrier Reef, but I have dived on smaller reefs in the Philippines and in Florida where corals have created habitats for a myriad of other species. I plan on visiting the Great Barrier Reef, but this creates a challenge as well. When I get there I have to ensure that my presence and my activity does not further damage or destroy any part of this magnificent natural wonder. I say that not just as an individual wanderer, but as one of many people who visit the area. We all must ensure that tours and dives we take and services that are provided to us allow for sustainable use and protection of the Great Barrier Reef.

If the Great Barrier Reef were a single organism, it would be the largest living organism on the planet. It is of course a massive natural wonder that is made of countless individuals from a myriad of species,including many fragile and beautiful corals. However, in lore and in stories a coral reef is considered a danger which can crush the hulls of massive ships and tear small boats apart. How can a fragile thing be so dangerous and tear apart the strongest steel? The coral in the coral reef is a tiny animal. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) website, https://coralreef.noaa.gov/, describes the coral animals, called polyps, as being between one and three millimeters across. That means that in the space of an inch, depending on the type of coral, between eight polyps and 25 polyps could exist. A five-inch line of type could span more than 100 polyps. The coral polyps create hard shells out of minerals in the sea water and live in closely packed colonies. When the polyps die their tiny skeletons remain behind along with those of its generation. These skeletons form the base for the following generations of corals to grow on. Over thousands of years these tiny polyps build up into massive reefs of incredible bulk and mass. It is this stony calcium carbonate base that has the mass to tear ships apart.

The Great Barrier Reef is made up of not just the uncountable individual coral polyps but of a huge number of intertwining coral reefs that have built up over the millennia. These reefs provide shelter for undersea communities that form the basis of the vast food webs of the warm tropical waters in which the majority of reefs are found. The reefs provide protection for the land on their inward side as they break the force of the ocean storms as the waves cross over the reef. In adddition, they are a living ecological community of incredible beauty.

The GBRF is working to protect the Great Barrier Reef. As part of their effort the RangerBot program was launched in 2015. Initially and provocatively described in the press, these robots were programmed to find and kill the Crown of Thorns starfish. The Crown of Thorns eats away at the corals and destroys much of the coral community. Without the living corals the other members of the undersea environment living on the reef were deprived of its benefits and either died or migrated to find other living coral reefs that could provide them with a habitat. And of course, the Crown of Thorns would be there too.

Because of nutrient runoff from farms and homes into streams that feed rivers whose waters flow out to and over the Great Barrier Reef, the population of the Crown of Thorns starfish has grown significantly. With this population growth, their capacity to destroy large portions of the Great Barrier Reef has also escalated. To fight this increasing threat the RangerBot program was launched to seek out, optically identify, and kill the Crown of Thorns starfish with a killing agent. But this is not the only capability of the RangerBot. It is described on the GBRF website as a “Swiss-Army knife” for reef protection. The RangerBot was developed by the Queensland University of Technology (QUT) as an autonomous, underwater vehicle which can provide a “ranger-like” presence in the coral reef, day and night. It is a new set of eyes and hands for reef managers. It not only can help control the Crown of Thorns, but it can also be used to monitor the health of the reef. A planned modification of the RangerBot will assist in the spread of new coral polyps. The RangerBot will collect millions of spawn from the corals. After the spawn has been raised to a larval stage in large tanks, the RangerBot will return them to the reefs and spread them in an effort to rejuvenate the damaged reefs.

Hooray for the good guys!

Scientific American has an excellent article on the RangerBot’s fight against the Crown of Thorns, https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/a-starfish-killing-artificially-intelligent-robot-is-set-to-patrol-the-great-barrier-reef/.

New Atlas has an article on the planned version of RangerBot, https://newatlas.com/larvalbot-larvae-robot-great-barrier-reef/56966/.

Hippopotamus Virginicus

There is a road that cuts through the rolling hills of Virginia’s piedmont that I travel several times each year. I generally take this road at the end of a trip up and down interstate highways when I have gone off to visit family. The road is relaxing after the hubbub of the interstates, and the area that it goes through is enjoyable. It has vistas of rolling hills both as pasture and as woodland. It goes through villages that have not overgrown to the point that they need more than one stop light. It passes farm ponds and mountain streams. But you have to look out for the wildlife. A deer may burst from the woods. A fox may be seen crossing an open area. And the squirrels will challenge you as they dash back and forth across the road. But that’s about all you will see. These are the animals that have learned to abide close to the houses and farms we have built. But I very seldom see a bob-cat or a bear – or a hippopotamus. What?

Sure enough in my last passage along this road I looked up into a manicured area that led to someone’s house, and there next to the stream was a hippopotamus. It large shiny shape was unmistakable. Its massive jaw jutted outwards from its rotundity as it seemed to be moving from the water up the slight hill towards the house.

I had to turn around. I had to take a second look. I could not believe that there was a real hippo wandering these Virginia woods, or that someone had a life size hippo lawn ornament. After making a safe and legal U-turn I drove past the lawn again. And then again as I returned to my original direction. As I had surmised it was a lawn ornament. But what a lawn ornament, it was a full size bronze hippopotamus walking up that manicured lawn.

To me this was a recognition by the land owner of the changing relationship between us – all of humanity – and the creatures with whom we share this planet Earth. It’s not just with the Hippopotamus. It’s how our relationship is changing with all species, each of which has a place in the order and manner of life on earth. This changing relationship is not focused on species that are threatened or endangered or on a species that has moved out of its historical range and is now in our back yard. It’s our relationship with all of them; the hippopotamus, the elephant, the white-tailed deer, the northern bob-white quail, the mountain blue bird, the indigo snake, the desert gecko, the snow leopard. Its about how we and all the animals will coexist in the future.

Rules of location and use have been shattered in the last century. Wild populations have been destroyed and other species have moved in and replaced them. Or a species may explode in numbers when a natural predator is removed. Frogs die; Insects swarm.

But our relationship is shifting from a cohabiter of Earth to that of being the one species that must become the steward of all. We are the ones who have the capacity and the means to provide or withhold. We can enhance or destroy. We all must be aware of our role in the Earthly environment and the effect that we do have on local and on distant species.

Be aware. As frogs die, crops may be destroyed and disease may be spread.

I will look for this single Hippopotamus Virginicus when I drive down that road in the future. For me and for all of us it should be a reminder that we are caretakers, not owners.

The picture is based on a photograph at www.naturephoto-cz.com.

Thanksgiving Road Trip

Sometimes to get where you want to go you take a drive. Road Trip! Those two words often bring joy and always bring excitement. And it’s not just the family dog that gets excited; everyone does! Whatever the destination, it’s an adventure waiting to happen. It’s the enjoyment of something new.

As important as the destination is to the road trip, it’s just as important to first get on the road. But what happens when even the first stage doesn’t come together?

The goal of a recent road trip was to reach the rocky coast of Rhode Island. It was going to be crowded on the roads, but my goal was worth the trouble. I planned to walk along that rocky coast and watch the sun come up over the Narragansett Bay. There are several trails in the area that I count as favorites, but this time I was going to try a new path. I had heard it led across the rocks to a precipice overlooking the Bay.

It was Tuesday. I had been planning all week to get on the road after work and head north. It was going to be a two-day drive. And I knew that I’d have a lot of company on the road since it was Thanksgiving week. I had plans for where to stay in Rhode Island, but I would decide where to spend the first night when I was on the road. If I was able to get in three to four hours of good driving, the second day on the road would be easier.

Leaving at 5:30PM would mean pulling off the road around 9:00PM. Then on Wednesday I’d have a short drive up the I-95 corridor in New England. That stretch of road can often be a bear so I decided giving myself plenty of time was best. There was no need to be in a rush, especially when rushing is often not possible due to traffic. But it turned out that getting out of – or in this case onto – my driveway was the first and greatest hurdle.

Our second car was parked on the street. We were having some improvements made to our house and the garage was being used for storing equipment and material. The project was almost completed so now there was room for me to move this second car into the garage before we left. I had moved that car around the block several times to keep it out of the way of the workers and their vehicles. And therein lay my problem.

Everything was ready. The bags were packed. The food was in the cooler. Maps were in the back seat. And we were right on schedule. All that needed to be done was to put the car in the garage, and we could be on our way. I got into the car and turned the key – and nothing. Not a wheeze, not a whimper, was to be heard from the car. I was stunned. I tried again, but nothing. And I tried again with the same results. The perfect plan for an escape before the major push of traffic was falling apart.

Several phone calls later and following the arrival of a service truck, the car was running. I had forgotten that the battery in the car was drained a little bit each time I started it over the last several weeks. And since I only drove it around the block, the battery never had a real chance to recharge. Even if I pushed the car into the garage, I would have the same problem when I returned and wanted to drive it out of the garage.

The service truck driver got us started, but now two hours had passed. Traffic was building up in front of me. To the hours lost I now had to add half an hour of driving the car around to make sure the battery was completely charged. This done, I put the car in the garage. Now we were nearly three hours behind our carefully planned schedule.

But when I reached into my plan – figuratively speaking – to salvage it, the best part of the plan that I could grab hold of was the flexibility we had worked into it. When we had decided on the trip we knew that our final destination was over a day away. We knew we would have to spend the night on the road, but now how far would be get?

FLEX-I-BIL-I-TY! It’s got to be your middle name on a road trip! Especially at the beginning.

There are many parts to a road trip, and like a story there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. For us the beginning was almost the end – or so we thought. But helpful people on the phone and a helpful service truck driver and our (reach deep for it) patience allowed us to get to the middle. We made it. We arrived in Rhode Island and had a good walk. We stood on the precipice and looked over the bay. It was cold, but there was little wind and the bay was as calm as a mill pond. The sun rising over the distant rocks and turning the surface of the dark water to shimmering reds and golds was well worth the trouble.

At the end we got home safely. May we all!

Yes, the car in the garage started right up!

Enjoy the road. Enjoy the trip. And always be flexible.

Frosty Morning

What it’s like going out to a bird survey station in the late Fall before the sun comes up.

It’s DARK !

It’s quiet.

It’s cold.

There’s the sound of the frosted grass crunching under your feet as you walk up the hill.

It’s the frosty haze from your breath.

It’s your heart beat as the loudest thing you can hear.

It’s thinking that your backpack is too heavy with too much stuff.

It’s passing the old family cemetery.

It’s stumbling on a root that you’ve stepped over 1,000 time before.

It’s the little bird flying up in front of you as you pass its roosting place in the grass.

It’s your heart rate speeding up.

It’s stopping and standing and listening and hearing the exhale of the Earth.

It’s seeing Venus brighter than you’ve ever seen her.

It’s losing the path and stopping to try to find your way.

It’s finding the path.

It’s thinking that you hear something.

It’s reaching the summit.

And it’s setting down your chair – and sitting in it.

It’s relaxing to the point of being in the dark like everything around you.

It’s looking up and seeing stars you can’t see from your house.

It’s your heart rate slowing down.

It’s knowing that no one else is out there – it’s just you.

It’s recognizing Orion and Spica in Virgo.

It’s having a cup of hot coffee from the thermos you carried in your back pack.

It’s hearing a night hawk close by.

It’s sitting quietly and watching the eastern sky brighten as dawn comes.

It’s waiting – for what you’re not sure.

It’s seeing a deer cross the top of the distant hill.

It’s seeing a fox come out of the underbrush and look at you.

It’s wondering what the fox may think.

It’s seeing the hill and the woods go from grays to the golden browns and reds of the Fall.

It’s knowing that the persimmons can be eaten – if you can find them.

It’s hearing the first bird sing out – and an answer.

It’s recognizing the bird song from your youth.

It’s thinking about what you need to do that day.

It’s the excitement of hearing the bird call you are seeking.

It’s seeing the sun come up.

It’s realizing that what you’re doing now is as good as it gets.

It’s lingering in the early light.

It’s walking down the hill in the morning sun.

It’s saying a prayer for the whole world on a frosty morning.

CLICK-Bait

We all do it. It’s an easy way to waste some time.

Ohhh – there’s an interesting picture – “CLICK!”

We have taken the bait.

We all spend time on the internet. Perhaps we are online for work or for a hobby or to volunteer – or even just to pass an idle hour – or rather 5 minutes. An idle hour is too much.

If you are like me, you may wander away from your stated purpose every now and then. Sometimes I search odds-and-ends while I take a break between work sessions. However, those times that we wander through the endless, enticing corridors of the web may cause us to become stuck in a sticky trap. But we should be able to extract ourselves shortly after a few laughs, or a pleasurable moment or two of letting our mind wander.

I use these times that I wander on the internet as cool-downs between work session. It’s like playing solitaire. I can do it without putting much thought into it and so can also be thinking about a project that I’m working on. I always find it relaxing and often helpful.

A lite search for articles on “Click Bait” (Cbt) turned up several including one from Wired and one from Forbes (links below). Both spoke in unflattering terms of the problems with Cbt and how it distracts us. The articles both start with a focus on what the Cbt headlines states and how that makes us react. I would challenge this and say that is true if we are letting Cbt use us, but what we need to do is empower ourselves to use the Cbt to our own advantage.

The two referenced articles have a scientific basis and speak to studies conducted by the authors and by others. I make no such claim. This article is not based on a study, scientific or otherwise. It is based on what I like. Wait – have I fallen into the Cbt paradigm? The Cbt invitation classically uses emotions to get me to click. But why do they want me to click in the first place. It could be – but I highly doubt this – the author/owner of the click bait-able article just wants me to have a moment of fun. What I do believe is that there is some algorithm running behind the article that knows who I am. OK, that may sound somewhat paranoid, but I feel (not a scientific word) that there is some merit in the statement. Let’s see. How do the sites that post the Cbt make money? Yes, making money is a strong incentive for baiting the silken trap. They make money by having me look at my computer screen, because next to the picture of the kitten or the article that claims “THIS WILL MAKE YOU A MILLIONAIRE” – is an ad. Maybe the ad is for shoes or for dog food or for vacations, but there is an ad. When I open the webpage and see the ad, someone is making money. But I have to say, “That’s OK”, because I clicked on the Cbt because I wanted to – a mild distraction in the middle of a busy day.

But what else has happened? The algorithm – not one you can dance to – that is embedded behind the article says, Billy has just looked at a picture of shoes; Billy must want SHOES! I am sure that you notice that once you have bought a pair of shoes on line – or looked at some shoes on line – suddenly there are ads all over your screen about shoes and where to buy them. “They” know what I’m looking at. No Kidding! I firmly believe that whenever I willingly do something on the internet that it is being noticed and recorded and sorted and added to the profile of ME.

So, what do “they” know. First, they know where I live. Maybe not this apartment on this street but the area. My ISP tells them this whenever the algorithm sees my IP address. So what else do they want to know? They want to know my demographics. They want to know how old I am and how much I money I make. You see the bait all the time, “What was the most popular tree the year you were born.” No one cares what tree you like, but if they can find out your age bracket that is gold for marketing to me. And then there are questions like, “What is the most fun you can have in your tax bracket?”, e.g., questions from which your response will imply your income. Bingo – now they know where you are, how old you are, and how much – in general terms – you make. Now they want to know your gender. I don’t see too many headlines – or bait lines – that ask outright, What is your gender? But many times, if you enter the web and start looking around it’s the big algorithm in the web that perhaps can deduce what your gender is. And now they have it all – because you gave it to them. Willingly.

As we blunder through the internet it’s always good to recall Mary Howitt’s memorable line, “Will you walk into my parlour? Said the spider to the fly.” You are invited in not because they want to entertain you – but to use you, to sell you stuff.

So where is the fun in that? The fun is in turning the tables – or trying to turn the tables – on them. Deny them the information. First, don’t care about the tree that was the favorite in the year you were born. But do care about what helps you relax. Take a look at a cat if you want. Look at pictures of the 50 best national parks. The internet knowing you like kittens or that you like being outside is more or less ok. Especially if it uses that information to send you pictures of cats (which evidently you like) and articles about being in the woods (which is a passion). But watch the ads change as you go. You will see cat food and pet products replace the ads for shoes that used to line you screen. And perhaps you will see more scenic views of national parks.

But remember the closing lines of Mary Hewitt’s fable of the spider and the fly.

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

It’s a game we play with the algorithm. How much can I enjoy without telling it more than I should? So be aware.

Now what do you think of these shoes?

The articles reference above:

Bryan Gardiner’s article in Wired Magazine – https://www.wired.com/2015/12/psychology-of-clickbait/

Jayson DeMers’ article in Forbes – https://www.forbes.com/sites/jaysondemers/2017/07/26/is-clickbait-dying-or-stronger-than-ever/#6d291b3f3dac

The Mary Howitt’s poem The Spider and the Fly may be found at – https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-spider-and-the-fly-4/

Virginia Pine

In the late Fall before Winter sets in, I go out to the hills of Manassas to help with a Fall quail count. I arrive before dawn breaks, while the stars are still out. I like moonless nights or when the moon has already set so I can see plenty of stars. I walk up the hills in the dark, picking my way carefully. I have my binoculars and a thermos of coffee. Its rather cold on these frosty mornings, but I can watch the stars pass overhead while I enjoy an early morning cup of coffee.

There is a tree at the top of the hill close to the listening station. It is an old Virginia Pine, Pinus virginiana. I walk to this tree almost every time that I am in the Brawer Farm area of Manassas. It is at the junction of trails on the hill where the Wisconsin men, later known as the Iron Brigade, stood and held their line on August 28, 1862. These are special places, and these are special trees. This particular tree was not growing at the time of the battle; those trees are known as Witness Trees. The Witness Trees are scattered throughout the park, mainly deep in the woods where young men of the blue and the grey moved to battle.

In summer I would often stop at this Virginia Pine and rest in its shade. I was generally a mile or so into my walk and had another mile or more to go, depending on the path I chose to take. In the Winter the frosted grass would crunch under my feet as I walked up the hill to this tree. This Fall as I walked up to the top of the rise in the dark morning, the moon is still up and gives light to the path and the fields around me. But I am surprised that I cannot see the tree’s profile against the sky.

It is gone.

The roots are torn from the crest of the hill. The tree is reduced to a stump. The trunk is sawed apart. The pieces lay where they had fallen. It is clear that the tree had been blown over in an early Fall storm and reduced to this state by the rangers. The bench where I sat and listened for quail coveys had been taken away.

Standing in the area that used to be shaded by the tree I completed the morning’s listening survey. As the sun came up I looked closely at the stump and counted the tree rings. The tree was mature but not old. According to the rings the tree had passed through about 50 years of varying conditions. Some years were good for growth and the rings were wide. Narrow rings showed stressful years in which there might have been a drought.

There have been a lot of trees in my life. Trees that I climbed. Trees that I rested under. Trees that I hung food satchels from to keep the food from bears. Many of these trees are still deeply rooted in the earth and in my time outside.

For each tree that was, I know that there is a tree that is – or will be. A tree that gives hard, sweet pears in Fall or dark china berries in the Summer. A tree that may now only be a sapling that will give shade and a place to sit and look out over the hills. A spreading tree to clamber on, a tall tree to marvel at, each tree has its own uniqueness.

This Virginia Pine may be down, but I will remember it every time I walk up to the crest of the hill where the trails meet. The bench is now across the trail under a stand of cedar. I will sit there and listen to waking coveys of quail in the cold Virginia mornings.

Butterfly Toss

In August I wrote about the launch of a micro satellite from the orbiting International Space Station (ISS), (The Big Toss, August 23, 2018). An astronaut launched the small satellite by throwing it into space, to be accepted by Earth’s gravity, and to orbit the planet until its orbit decays and the tiny satellite plunges to its fiery end. Now there is another toss to discuss. This toss is a thought experiment. The actual toss is not something that an astronaut can participate in now or ever. This “other toss” is a hypothetical toss of a tiny particle into a black hole. Yes, a black hole! One of those “ginormous” (as described by Douglas Stanford of Stanford University who is the subject of this post), swirling, end-of-all events that spurs our imaginations and haunts our dreams as they churn at the center of their galaxies.

These events consume all that comes within their reach. And that is where Douglas Stanford’s and Stephen Shenker’s hypothesis rests. However, “rest” might be an inappropriate description as the particle that is tossed, as pictured above, from Stanford’s sailboat does not rest as it plummets into the never-return zone of the black hole.

The picture is taken from the cover of the October 13, 2018 edition of Science News Magazine (SN). The issue profiles ten scientists to watch. These scientists include those working in planetary science, biology, chemistry, sustainable energy and other fields. I was drawn to the description of Stanford’s and Shenker’s work, and intrigued by the picture on the cover of SN of a young Stanford standing in a sailboat and tossing a particle into the imagined immensity of a black hole. According to SN, Stanford spent his younger years on a sailboat with his parents and siblings. The picture on the cover brings the young-Stanford together with the now-Stanford picturing the toss of a tiny particle into the black hole.

In my previous post, the acceleration of the tiny satellite from the ISS was described as being “flung” out into space. There seemed to have no aiming in that fling but a general understanding that whatever was tossed from the ISS would assume an orbit around the Earth. When we consider a black hole and a sailboat sitting near the edge of the black hole we must suspend reality and allow the sailboat to be a stable platform, unaffected by the pull of the black hole and always at a distance from the black hole’s event horizon that allows continuous observation of the passing stream of particles into the black hole. The event horizon defines the limit of correspondence or awareness of a physical item as it passes from the space around the black hole to being absorbed into the mass of the black hole and becoming part of it. On this side of the event horizon the particle can be observed. On the far side of the event horizon, inside the black hole, the particle can no longer be observed.

So we suspend reality and assume that the sailboat is not affected by the tidal pulls of the black hole or the material that is flowing in an endless stream into its unseen maw.

I can only imagine that the scientist standing in the stable sailboat preparing to toss the particle into the black hole, unlike the astronaut preparing to fling a micro satellite, has some aiming in mind. Of course, the intent is different. The astronaut wants the tiny satellite that is being flung to establish an orbit around the Earth. On the other hand, Stanford as he stands in his sailboat, is aiming at the black hole. Of course anything that is tossed outwards from this stable platform will be pulled into the black hole. But I can imagine if it were me looking into that which cannot be seen, I would say to myself, “I think I will aim at the middle (wherever that is)”. Further, I might wonder if I could skip the particle along the surface of the black hole like a stone on a lake? This last is of course beyond reason as once the particle has touched the event horizon the particle is consumed and cannot come back out – even in a skip. But when the particle hits the surface of the black hole will it make ripples?

But this isn’t the point of the SN article. Stanford and Shenker have hypothesized that a tiny particle, when it is consumed by the black hole, will cause a chaotic reaction in the black hole. The black hole will increase in size and there will be a change in the Hawking Radiation. If I eat too much pie, I feel full. When a black hole consumes a particle, the black hole expands. It’s event horizon moves outward. Maybe it expands only by the tiniest degree, but it is hypothesized to expand. In addition, when the tiny particle is consumed there is an alteration of the Hawking Radiation emitted by the black hole.

What then of another particle that is sitting outside the event horizon of the black hole and has not yet been consumed? And what if this other particle – we are again suspending reality – is as stable as the sailboat and is not caught in the flow of material that is rushing into the black hole, although this particle is bathed in the Hawking Radiation emitted from the black hole. Now that the first particle that was tossed into the black hole has been consumed, and as a result the black hole has expanded, it may expand to the point that its event horizon now encompasses the second particle. The second particle is now consumed.

The SN article states, “A seemingly insignificant alteration has ballooning effects – the definition of chaos.” The outcome for a system (the black hole) has become highly sensitive to potential massive change generated from an initial, minute change. A tiny initial condition may result in – who knows what? The black hole is ballooned outward, and it consumes more. The ballooning affects the amount of Hawking Radiation. The tiny particle has multiple effects on the black hole. It was swallowed into an imperceptible hard but tarry pool that will not release what has fallen in. The Hawking Radiation might tell a tale, but what comes out is not what went in.

The SN Magazine may be found at https://www.sciencenews.org/article/sn-10-scientists-to-watch-2018?tgt=nr

The Last Light Bulb

It was time to relamp my basement rooms because I felt that the level of the lighting seemed too yellow. I decided that some of the older florescent bulbs had worn out and needed to be replaced. As my eyes appreciate brighter light these days, I bought “daylight” bulbs to brighten the spaces; especially the darker corners. When I took the cover off the ceiling light in the furthest back and darkest room, I was surprised to see it contained an incandescent bulb. The bulb had survived the several purges in which I replaced my old incandescent bulbs with new energy saving fluorescents. But here was one that had not only escaped the successive replacements; it looked like it had been in the fixture since the house was built in the early 1980’s.

I’m not saying this bulb was a “long-lasting” bulb. This bulb had likely been in place for a measly 30-some years – mostly in an “off” position. This is nothing when compared to the famous Livermore light in Livermore, California which has been burning nearly continuously since it was installed in Fire Station #6 in 1901 (117 years !!). Now, that’s a reason to visit California!

But this is the last of my incandescent bulbs. It shows its age. There are carbon deposits inside the bulb and the screw base is brass. It has been a long time since I have seen any bulbs like this one. This type of bulb has gone the way of the dinosaur. They burned bright, and they burned hot. When I was young I lost a favorite plastic toy. It was small; small enough to fit down the chimney of a desk lamp and sit on top of the bulb. I was looking around the house for my toy when my mother asked if I knew what was creating a smell of roasting plastic. It turned out to be the lost toy, now an expired blob of plastic on top of the now ruined light bulb. Thankfully there was no fire.

It was the waste heat of the old incandescents that led to their demise. So much of the energy they consumed just generated heat when the light was on. They were not nearly as efficient as today’s newer bulb technologies. The incandescents were replaced by fluorescents and then by LED (light-emitting diode) bulbs whose energy consumption is much less and whose life is much longer. A 60-watt incandescent bulb may last 1,000 hours, but a fluorescent bulb (a Compact Fluorescent Light (CFL)) of comparable light generation may last 10,000 hours. A comparable LED light can last up to 25,000 hours. The comparable function of the different bulbs is the lumens of light that they provide. A Department of Energy site, from which the numbers given above are taken, defines a lumen as the measure of light produced by a light bulb. To get the same 800 lumens produced by the old 60-watt (60w) incandescent bulb we could use a CFL that consumes only 15 watts of electricity or use a 12 watt LED bulb. The energy savings are significant, and the lighting is just as good. But the initial cost of the CFL or the LED bulb is higher than the old incandescent bulbs. However, the cost savings can be more than $3.50 per year, PER LIGHT BULB. If your house has 30 light bulbs that’s a nice annual savings of $105.00 dollars. And better yet, the energy company does not have to generate all that energy you and all your neighbors used in the past. This not only saves energy resources like coal or natural gas, but it also results in less pollution. These are all good things.

But this is my last incandescent bulb. It’s like the dinosaur in more than one way. Its time has passed, but I remember it fondly. I remember the search for my plastic toy. I remember trying to stare at the glowing wire filament inside the naked bulb hanging on the side porch. I remember helping my grandfather change the bulbs around the house and him telling me of gaslights and coal oil lamps.

And now all my light bulbs are changed to the new technologies. Some are CFL; some are LED, depending on the size and use. And I fully intend to make that trip to Livermore, California. Hopefully I will be able to stare up at the bright and hot filament of the Livermore Centennial Light.

More informatization on the Livermore light can be found in the Guinness Book of World Records, http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/ .

More information on lighting and energy savings can be found at, https://www.energy.gov/energysaver/save-electricity-and-fuel/lighting-choices-save-you-money/how-energy-efficient-light