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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

Screen Porch in the Morning

This morning I am starting my day on our screen porch. I came out to enjoy the first cool morning of the Fall. I am glad that the mornings are no longer hot and humid. This time of year the mornings can be fantastic. I sit at the family table with the lights out and wait in the silence that is only broken by the water from last night’s rain dripping from the trees.

It’s good to start my days out in the woods when I can. But when I am pressed for time or have appointments to keep – or as Robert Frost put it, “miles to go before I sleep” – going out on my screen porch in the early morning is fine.

I sit quietly in one of the chairs around the table and wait for the morning to surprise me. I hear an owl deep in the woods calling. And I hear an answering call. There’s a strange comfort in their calls. From down the road I hear the barking call of a fox. It is prowling the pre-dawn neighborhood looking for careless rodents. Then I hear it closer, and I stand up slowly and see not one but three foxes, a vixen and two near-grown pups, standing at the edge of the street. They are lit by the distant street lamp. Their silvery red coats, wet by the rain, glisten. One of the pups sees me stand up and turns and looks in my direction. Even though I am in deep shadow I know he can see me – sense me – as an unwelcome presence on their morning hunt. Then all three turn and dash down the street towards the woods to the east. I imagine I will see them again on some other morning as I am sure they have a den nearby.

There is a little light in the sky now and the crows in the woods have begun their morning caw. Their brazen call reverberates through the woods behind the house. They are alarmed. They probably see the owl or the fox, both enemies of the crows. Their calls move from the woods and over the house as the gang lifts out of the trees and is now circling the houses in the neighborhood cawing and cawing to bother and chase off the intruder. They fly off to the west, perhaps in search of another enemy.

Now with more light, and the wake-up call from the crows, other birds are singing out. The cardinals with their varied calls surround the house. They call from the holly trees where they eat from the now red-berried branches that have fruited for the Fall. I cannot see the cardinals in the still dim light. But I can picture the male’s crimson feathers and the crest that they each carry and their distinctive orange beaks. They have become year-round guests for us, always somewhere on the edge of the property singing their songs.

Soon the day will be into the near-full light of the time just before the sun breaks through the woods across the street. And it’s time to get to work on the efforts and rewards that are calling me from my reprieve on the porch. And I know that on some another morning, when I am pressed, I can come out and embrace the day.

A Prescription

My friends realize that I am about to give them advice when I start a conversation with, “I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, but …” And the advice, often unsolicited, follows. Generally, my advice takes the form of saying get away from the routine. Get outside. Do something else for a little while.

This being my favorite prescription I had to chuckle when I saw a similar statement from a real doctor. When I looked up the quote attributed to her before writing this Post, I realized that I was on a well worn path. But words of wisdom have no expiration date, and they cannot be passed on too often. It’s a form of distributed intelligence (more on that in a coming post). When several doctors were asked about heart healthy habits they use themselves, Dr. Monya De was quoted as responding, “’Recently I realized I had been indoors too long so I ‘prescribed’ myself a hike!”

I am following that path just as have other writers who have echoed those words and added their own thoughts. And I say, YES! Get up. Get away from your desk. Get outside. Get Away!

When Herman Melville was writing Moby Dick, he would often walk the paths of the Berkshire Mountains near his farm in Pittsfield, MA. These escapes are reflected in his opening paragraph of Moby Dick; “Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; … then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”

Even in modern music (yes, the 1960s are still modern) The Drifters, in their hit song Up on the Roof, speak to escape from the world and to find the re-creation of the soul.

“When this old world starts getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face,
I climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space.
On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be,
And there the world below can’t bother me.”

Whether it’s a forest path, or the sea, or a roof deep in the heart of a bustling city, we are sometimes called to go there. Whatever the place may be the call is a clear, clarion call, to shift your body, to shift your eyes, to shift your mind, and to go to a place that affords you peace. And when you are there, to reflect and to prepare yourself for your return to your work, or to your relationship, or to your home in a better state of mind.

In his essay True Nature, Gary Snyder reminds us of the journey out – and the return.

“The wilderness pilgrim’s step-by-step breath-by-breath walk up a trail, into those snowfields, carrying all on the back, is so ancient a set of gestures as to bring a profound sense of body-mind joy. … The same happens to those who sail in the ocean, kayak fjords or rivers, tend a garden, peel garlic, even sit on a meditation cushion. The point is to make intimate contact with the real world, real self. … The best purpose of such studies and hikes is to be able to come back to the lowlands and see all the land about us, agricultural, suburban, urban, as part of the same territory — never totally ruined, never completely unnatural. It can be restored, and humans could live in considerable numbers on much of it. Great Brown Bear is walking with us, Salmon swimming upstream with us, as we stroll a city street.” (Snyder, G. (1990). The Practice of the Wild. Berkeley, CA: North Point Press.) (The underlining for emphasis is mine.)

None of these are to imply the best place for you to go. They all imply the relocation of body and soul to a place of re-creation – and a return, renewed, to your life. Your renewal can help you improve your life, your work, your home, and the lives of those around you. The strength of the bear is with you. The courage of the salmon is yours.