Stepping Over the Edge

A lot of press has recently been given to the Zoological Society of London's new initiative, EDGE of Existence, with the EDGE acronym standing for Evolutionarily Distinct & Globally Endangered. The group plans to raise awareness for species that are, as the title suggests, extremely unique and extremely rare, and therefore worthy of preservation. Researchers from the ZSL plan to implement research and conservation actions for these species by working alongside local scientists in each species' range.

I think that's a great plan, certainly much more assertive and practical than the usual fundraising group whose money sits in a safe in some small office somewhere, as the website gets updated with more photos of cute baby pandas. No conservation effort can really succeed without cooperation at the local level, which a lot of these kinds of groups seem to forget. I applaud the ZSL and the EDGE initiative for taking the time to realize this, hopefully they'll be able to follow through with their proposals.

However, though the methodology seems correct, I have major issues with the focus of the group. On their page, they've listed their Top 100 Focus Species, along with some general info, and how intensive current conservation efforts are. The important thing to note is that all of these species are mammals. But why? Mammals are not any more evolutionarily distinct, endangered, or ecologically important as any other group of organisms, possibly even less so than others. The obvious answer is that mammals are cute and charismatic, and therefore will draw in a lot of money and attention.

In that sense, it's practical, but I also think it's sending the wrong message. What's the purpose of saving endangered species? There's a lot of aesthetic and moral reasons, but a lot of it also has to do with the potential ecological benefit of the species. Will an ecosystem be able to survive if this species is lost? If not, then it's obviously in our interests to save it from extinction. Here, EDGE has decided to focus on unique and rare mammals, and as I alluded to earlier, I don't think that's a particularly important group to focus on.



For example, let's look at Species #10, the Sumatran Rabbit. The thing hadn't been seen since the 1930's, and was presumed extinct until one was accidentally photographed in 1998. We still know almost nothing about the rabbit, only that it's nocturnal and extremely shy, hence why it's been so difficult to find.

Don't get me wrong, I think it'd be incredibly cool to save the Sumatran Rabbit. It looks pretty freaking awesome, and its behavior is probably quite fascinating. But I have to just say straight out that ecologically speaking, I really don't think it's an important species. It must be a rare species because it has extremely specialized habitat or dietary requirements which have been significantly altered in the past hundred years. If we lose the rabbit to extinction, what does the environment lose? A few plants may not get their seeds spread? A few predators may lose a handful of prey items? I feel like those are probably broad niches that will easily get taken up by a similar herbivore; I doubt that the Sumatran Rabbit was the sole prey item of some Indonesian hawk, for example. When a species is this rare and specialized, I really can't see the whole thing unraveling upon its loss.

Of course, this is all conjecture. Nobody can really quantitatively state how Important a species is, and what the costs of extinction are. But saying that the Sumatran Rabbit is more worthy of preservation than something totally uncharismatic such as, say, mycorrizhae fungi would be a difficult argument to make. But hey, it's a complicated subject, nobody really knows for sure what the importance of each species is. I'll make some concessions then: like I said earlier, beginning with a focus on mammals is practical since it provides cute mascots to front the organization and draw in the public's interest. Hopefully they'll move on to other organismal groups from there. In addition, I suppose that some conservation is better than none, so I'd certainly support EDGE over no conservation support at all. Plus, they seem to have a sound plan. That being said, I would still argue that if funds are to be allocated for conservation, there are better causes to be found. The ecological usefulness of these unique and rare mammals is fairly questionable, whereas the usefulness of preserving entire habitats through an organization such as The Nature Conservancy seems much more useful to me personally. That's just my opinion. So, props to EDGE for raising awareness on the issue and coming up with a sound gameplan, but I'd prefer to see a more ecologically sound list of target species before I throw all my support behind it.

By the way, up at the top of the post, that's a Red Panda. I don't usually think of things as 'cute' or 'adorable', but omgosh, I love Red Pandas. They're so cute!!!!!!!! Okay, you can kill me now.



Some other things that have caught my attention recently:



Gave a listen to the new Bloc Party album, A Weekend in the City. I hated it. Hated it. One of the worst albums I have ever heard, and that is not a joke. I was feeling generous and give it one star on my RYM page, just because I usually reserve the half-star rating for albums that are so terrible that they actually made me angry (i.e. Fiery Furnaces), and A Weekend in the City was not that offensive. It was just really, really inoffensive, and in the worst way possible.

Bloc Party were never my favorite band, but I didn't dislike them either. Their debut EP along with the Silent Alarm LP were filled with some really fun moments. Their brand of dance-rock was rooted in some angsty gut emotion, rich territory left un-mined by the totally mindless party fun of !!! or The Rapture. A Weekend in the City is a major stylistic change for the group, but they go in the totally wrong direction. Now, the dance-rock is left in the dust and the emotional drama becomes the band's primary calling card, and though the band bleeds sincerity, they just don't have the musical or poetic lyricism to pull it off effectively. Leadoff single 'I Still Remember' sounds like the most derivative and uninspired aspects of The Killers, Coldplay, or U2, and is now completely indistinguishable from hundreds of other Brit-rock bands. It's time to dig this band's grave, they've had their time in the critical spotlight, but that's pretty much over now. Goodbye Bloc Party, the music scene is a vicious one and has a short-term memory, you just didn't have what it takes to gain any staying power. I hope you enjoyed your time here while you could.



I saw a really pitiful number of new movies this year, so I tried to make amends by seeing two excellent movies last week, Children of Men, and Old Joy.

Children of Men is the new effort from director Alfonso Cuaron, previously known for his work on Y Tu Mama Tambien and, uh, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, hah. Before we move on, I just wanted to state that Azkaban is far and away the best film in the series (though I haven't taken the time to watch Goblet of Fire yet), and I don't regret watching it four times in two days during that Nationals debate trip to Salt Lake City. Hah, okay, maybe I do regret it, but not as much as I regret skipping out on a Segway rental at that mall. Ed, wherever you are these days, curse you for talking us out of it. Though we were all bored out of our freaking skulls (I mean, it was Salt Lake City after all), that wasn't a bad debate trip either, in hindsight.

Anyways, Children of Men takes place twenty years in the future, when the entire human race has suddenly become infertile for unknown reasons. The film isn't too concerned with the question of 'why'; a lot more of the focus lies on the 'what if' ramifications of such an event, and it's pretty terrifying stuff. The world has fallen into chaos and anarchy, and the few remaining strongholds of civilization take increasingly desperate measures to control the population. I won't say too much about the film, other than to state that it was consistently engrossing and brilliant, pretty much all the way through. Everything about the film worked: the writing, acting, production, pacing, and direction were all basically flawless, so all I can really say is that it was just an immaculately produced and substantive film, and I really couldn't have asked for more. The only real chink in its armor was the ending, which everyone seems to be swarming around as its only weakness. I'm glad that it was left open-ended, but I'm very unhappy with the way Clive Owen's character was dealt with, it seemed like such a cheap excuse for closure in that sense. But that's a minor argument, for the most part the strengths of the film more than made up for any weaknesses, and Children of Men was the best film I saw in 2006.



While I was in Boston, I got a quick text message from Mr. Behrend asking if I was interested in seeing this film Old Joy at the Colony Theatre that night. I figured that I would probably be in no emotional shape to see a film at that time, and responded thusly. It was only later when I thought, wait, Old Joy? Why I have never heard of this movie before? Probably because Berardinelli hasn't reviewed it, I realized, and since I agree with him on almost everything, and he hasn't reviewed this, it can't be good!

Then I did some quick research and realized that, wait, this might be the best movie ever. It got a lot of critical praise at Sundance, but more importantly, it stars Will Oldham, of all people? Yo La Tengo did the soundtrack? It has an 84 on Metacritic? The ingredients were in place for something special, so Mr. Behrend and I agreed to meet in a few days time to soak in the experience.

As I expected from the quick research on it, Old Joy is a very minimal and delibrately-paced film. Much of it is just composed of long shots of simple images: a sparrow perched on a branch, the lights of the city, trees zipping by the car window, clouds. All of this is used the frame the minimal story of two old friends going on a hike, and the ways the two have changed or stayed the same.

My main problem with Old Joy is that it's subtle, but too obviously so. That probably doesn't make any sense, so I'll try and explain. Before and after their hike, one of the characters rides in his car listening to Air America Radio, and it's really the only thing going on in the picture. It's just long shots of a person driving, and the only sound is that of the political debate on the radio. That's fine. The problem is that these radio dialogues are obviously connected with the primary themes of the film, and it's not really made to be subtle. We're supposed to notice. Every subtle detail in the film is supposed to carry Important Meanings, and I don't have a problem with that, the problem is that the filmmakers make these Important Meanings obvious, and the images lose their subtlety, and start coming across as preachy and ham-fisted. The magic of the film is in its subtlety, yet paradoxically the filmmakers have chosen to magnify its images to the point where it's no longer beautiful. Terrence Malick's work is an example of subtlety just for the sake of the beauty of subtlety, and though there is a message to his work as well, he doesn't force it upon the viewer.

I enjoyed Old Joy, there were some really beautiful and evocative moments, but it really wasn't as Important as it probably perceives itself to be. I wouldn't mind recommending it to people though, it really was quite a beautiful work. Plus, Will Oldham and Yo La Tengo still rock.



Meanwhile, I'm going to try and fit in a viewing of Pan's Labyrinth sometime this week. It has a 98 on Metacritic?! That makes it the 4th highest-rated film...of all time. Yeah, I need to see this. Possible report to come later. But then I get into conversations like this:

11:24:12 AM Roger: i think i'm just going to suck it up and go see it at some early showing on a weekday, alone
11:24:35 AM Roger: pretty sure i would kill the person next to me in terror if i saw it with other people
11:28:17 AM Keith: two people i know went to go see it, and they pretty much told me they were holding each other in fear the whole time
11:28:23 AM Keith: and then were kind of depressed after

Hah, that doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun. Well, better than just passively slouching in the seat and glancing at the watch, right? Any moving experience is better than none, right? I'm sure that I'll come out of Pan's Labyrinth completely shaken to the core, but glad that I'd seen it. I need that kind of gut check sometimes. Or, I'm just masochistic. Hah. The Australian Stinging Trees are calling to me...

YES COME HERE

Okay, and the last thing I want to note is that I've made some changes to the design of the site. For one, I've added 'Currently Listening' and 'Currently Reading' to the sidebar for no real reason, other than to just indulge my tastes. The bigger change is that I'm going to stop posting links in these posts. Funny, because that was the one condition I set for myself when I started posting about non-birding material on this blog: I was going to post links, in order to provide some inter-post consistency. But more importantly, I wanted to ground the blog and keep it from veering off into emo diary land. I don't feel like either goal has been successful or was even been necessary to begin with, so away it goes, it was clumsy to deal with anyways. In its place, I'm posting links onto my del.icio.us page, with the most recent bookmarks conveniently appearing in the sidebar to the right. The advantage here is that links will be constantly updating, so now if you're totally bored you don't have to rely on my procrastination-induced and/or slow-life post delays in order to waste time on the internet. I also figure that this will take less time and effort for me, which could be important once I get to Australia and have less of both on hand. We'll see how it works out.

One more week at home! It's probably time for me to tie up a lot of loose ends here, expect me to be pretty busy. We'll talk later. Though I'm sure I'll post about the conference championship games tomorrow, and possibly about Pan's Labyrinth, or other things, we'll see. Man, it's weird to close a blog post without links now, I guess I'll just stop here? Stop.

Devil's Sink Hole

Hiked around 10 miles through Eno River State Park with Marissa and Meg yesterday, and had a total blast. The excursion's been in the planning stages for weeks now, but the weather foiled us last week, and so we scrambled to work out the details at the last minute for this week.

After some missed voicemails, late night emails, and early morning phone calls, the three of us finally managed to meet at Meg's amazing house on Thursday morning, ready to go. It was amusedly noted that her street number isn't located anywhere on the house, causing Marissa to drive by the window three times, completely confused and lost, before Meg and her sister finally took notice and reeled her in to the correct house. Just before we left for the Eno, someone stated that they were glad this hike was happening, because all of us were beginning to get a little bored at home. Laughing, I said that I was way, way past that stage already. Nothing like a good hike to bring me back to sanity.





We decided to try out the Cox Mountain Trail, a 4-mile loop through the heart of the park that climbed to the summit of the eponymous mountain, hopefully providing good panoramic views of the surrounding country. On the way to the trailhead, we crossed a nice suspension bridge spanning the Eno River, chuckling nervously as the bridge bounced and swayed, and somehow spotted a Great Blue Heron on the bank upriver as well. There was also a sign nailed up on one of the bridge supports, noting the level of the Eno after Hurricane Fran hit in 1996. The sign was probably a good 15 feet above the current level of the river, and taking into account the vast floodplain of the Eno, that must have been a massive flood. The frightening thing is, after witnessing the destruction Fran caused in the area, I wasn't really surprised at all. Later on in the day, all three of us reflected on the night Fran hit and its aftermath; it really was an experience that binded North Carolinians together. Everyone remembers where they were that night, and what they did to get through the week. I really can't fathom how the survivors of Katrina or Andrew must feel.

Anyways, we continued on the trail, and soon found ourselves laboring up the steep climbs of Cox Mountain. We paused about halfway up, to catch our breath, to soak up the great view, and to watch a Turkey Vulture soaring low over the trees. Soon, we began to notice other birds in the area too: I spotted a female Eastern Bluebird that unfortunately disappeared before Meg could locate it in the binoculars, and then we all got decent looks at a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker foraging on a tree downslope.



The rest of the climb was substantially easier, and the crest of the hill was relatively anticlimactic, with the view obscured by dense stands of trees, and so we continued down the other side. A beautiful creek flowed into the Eno on the other side of the mountain. Meg wondered aloud: If I was a salamander, which rock would I be hiding under? She carefully turned over a promising rock, and waited a few minutes for the sediment to settle, but no luck. We followed the river downstream for a while, noting that the puddles and rain pools had frozen over on the surface, a sight I'd forgotten about during this unusually mild winter. We also passed a maple marked by a beaver attack, some beautiful lichen growing on a tree, and a Wild Ginger plant with a sweet scent, before we paused to chuckle at a sign noting a Primitive Campsite ahead.

At this point, we unfolded the Trail Map to mark our progress along the loop, when I noticed something curious on the edge of the map. About three miles upstream from our stopping point, an arrow marked the location of Devil's Sink Hole. No trails led to the sinkhole. No description of the sinkhole appeared in any of the park brochures. None of us had any idea what it could possibly be. So of course, we had to investigate, and the only way we could do that would be bushwhacking along the riverbank for miles past the trail's end. Of course, the three of us were completely stoked for this adventure.



Where the trail veered away from the river and back up Cox Mountain, the three of us exchanged glances, drew in some breath, and charged into the brush, Meg blazing the trail in front. And so we trekked on through the abundant reeds and rushes along the riverbank for several miles, before pausing a half mile before the sink hole, to watch a kettle of vultures soaring above a powerline cut. We watched in fascination as the kettle of vultures grew, and suddenly I noticed that among the Turkey Vultures were a few of the locally uncommon Black Vulture. Eventually, there were more Black than Turkey Vultures, and they all circled low over the cut before soaring upstream, perhaps to the Devil's Sink Hole, we joked.

From here, the bank suddenly grew extremely steep in places, forcing us to either to climb over rock cliff faces (my stubborn, macho approach), or to go around the steep spurs by climbing the adjacent ridges (probably the smarter approach, haha). At the final bend in the river before the Devil's Sink Hole, seeing some intimidating steep sections ahead, we paused on a rockfall for lunch; I tore into a Chick-fil-a Chicken Biscuit with gusto as more vultures circled overhead, and I sighted a small Winter Wren flitting around the opposite shore.



The Devil's Sink Hole threw some more obstacles in our way as we approached, as we carefully negotiated some more steep banks, with one massive fallen log on a steep embankment causing particularly awkward problems for us. A loud slap on the water was heard, and Meg and I agreed that it may have been a beaver, which was pretty cool. Once we finally got past those rocky sections, we found a creek that had to be forded, and spent a few moments trying to find a way to cross. Marissa and I ended up leaping onto a fallen log in the middle of the creek and using that as a springboard to reach the opposite shore, while Meg managed to tightrope on a long log spanning the creek. We fought our way through more dense stands of reeds, before houses began to appear on the other shore, indicating that we had probably reached the edge of the park boundaries.

I pulled out the GPS unit, which is supposed to be used just for driving purposes, to check on our exact location. I was half expecting for it to give me driving directions to the nearest Chinese restaurant or something, but it was more reserved than that, and its map showed us that we'd passed the Devil's Sink Hole by several hundred yards. The three of us then began our return journey, looking for any sign of the sink hole. Sadly we found none, this stretch of the Eno looked like any other, and we continued the arduous trek back to Marissa's car, stationed at the park headquarters four miles away. In the woods around the supposed sink hole, we found a nice Eastern Phoebe, and then all three of us got spectacular looks at another sapsucker.



Before we joined up with the Cox Mountain trail again, there was another small creek to ford, which we had no trouble with on the journey up. This time, as I stepped onto the bank of the creek's edge, my feet suddenly slid on the slippery mud, and I fell on my side right into the creek! Panicking, I quickly got myself up and tried to get up the opposite bank...but oh man, it was completely muddy too, and I slid back into the creek! I tried to get back up to where Marissa and Meg were laughing, only to find that the entire bank I'd just fallen down was muddy. So I tried once again to get back up the opposite bank, but this entire shore was muddy too! So basically I was stuck in this u-shaped muddy hole, with my feet's skidmarks on either side, as I stood laughing, hopelessly stuck between unscalable riverbanks, as the creek flowed around my cold toes. Meg, ever kind and helpful, eventually lent me a hand as I tried to find enough momentum to push myself up the bank, getting myself extremely muddy in the process. Marissa had slipped earlier, and the two of us basically looked like we'd taken a nap in the swamp and sunk a foot or two as we slept, haha. Alas, Meg escaped our fate, the lucky girl. Clearly, she knew what she was doing.

Finally, we all got back to the park headquarters, and decided to ask the park rangers about the Devil's Sink Hole. Two of them had no answer. The third ranger we came across told us, "Oh yeah, you won't be able to see anything. It's just this deep spot in the river. I forget the history behind it, and why it's called that, but yeah it's just a deep part of the river, you really can't see it." Oh well, the day's adventures were worthwhile on their own qualities, we all agreed. I told Marissa that it certainly beat sitting at the computer all day checking Facebook, a comment that struck both of us a little too close to home, haha, so once again Facebook-less Meg came out with a clean record, clearly she knows what she's doing. We drove back to Meg's house, rocking The White Album all the way down, before we said our goodbyes, and I drove back home through early rush hour traffic, grabbing a Blackberry Carolina Concrete from the esteemed Goodberry's just before reaching home, where I took a quick shower, and collapsed on the nearest sofa, falling into a deep nap, awoken only by the tantalizing smells of Mongolian Beef emerging from the kitchen. What a great adventure.



What a week, really. I had an incredible time this past weekend in Boston with Joanna, the memories of which I'll have to hold onto for the next four months as I head into the Australian rainforest. The fact that I'm going abroad really hasn't sunk in yet, and probably won't until a week into the program when it's too late to start freaking out, haha, so for now, I'm just blissfully wrapping up the last of my preparations and beginning to pack. I'll enjoy the experience I'm sure, but for now I'm enjoying all the sweet tea that North Carolina has to offer, as well as any inkling of civilized society that I can encounter.


Links gathered before the great adventures:

• The British mail system delivered a letter with no address, only a vague map. Actually, it turns out that others have done the same, on purpose even.
• A new restaurant has opened in Beijing, in which you sit in total darkness while eating your food, the idea being that the loss of your visual sense will elevate your other senses, including taste. The waiters and waitresses walk around with night vision goggles to see what they're doing. Amazing.
• There's a handful of underwater hotels already, but now Dubai is building an underwater luxury hotel. I would love to visit Dubai at some point, it just seems like such an absurdly ridiculous spot at the moment.
• The New Year's fireworks in Taipei were quite spectacular.
• After his infamous World Cup headbutt, Zinedine Zidane retired, but he's not totally done with soccer, here's some footage of him playing a pickup game with friends, and absolutely schooling everyone. Fantastic.
• True Hoop does some research on how NBA stars may influence baby names. How common of a name is Shaquille these days, for example?
• A quick and easy way to screw up any webpage, and make things spin. Bizarre, it's like surfing the internet on acid!
• Find out how to beat that arcade game where you pick things up with that giant claw.
• And finally, in the spirit of all this linking, Jason Kottke lists his favorite links of 2006. If you're bored, this should occupy you for a while.
  

Reflections on the Sabbath, 1

Ostensibly, class discussion in my Religion & Ecology class today was to center upon our readings on Judaic attitudes towards nature, and any substantial differences in environmental viewpoints between Judaism and Christianity. I'll readily admit that I didn't do any of the week's readings, as I've had papers due in the past three consecutive days, including today's Religion & Ecology paper which I successfully completed in 1.5 hours the morning of class. Prof. Wallace acknowledged that many other students would likely sit in the same boat, so instead conversation steered towards concepts grounded in more practical questions raised by the reading.

I won't go into the details of how this conversation arose, or the myriad responses, but one question regarded whether a 'Sabbath of the mind' could be possible at Swarthmore, or anywhere else. That is, whether one could get a day off just to rest the mind.

Though it doesn't take a full day, I know what I like to do for a sabbath of the mind. When I go birdwatching, I'm not only having fun in a hobby of mine, but the long walks provide a time for thought and reflection, on how things are going, where things are going, and where things have been. Sometimes, these thoughts can get pretty inconsequential and silly, like trying to optimize my fantasy football squad's starting roster. Which clearly requires more thought, looking at my disappointing 1-3 start despite relative statistical success. But at least for a few hours, I can take my mind off classes and focus on the peaceful, reflective strolls through the woods.



What do others do for a sabbath of the mind? A couple of people brought up partying, and that struck me as completely wrong. Not because I have anything against parties, but I don't feel like that constitutes as a sabbath of the mind. When I think of what a Sabbath is, I imagine a restful, reflective mental engagement on life and current issues. Partying is more of an escape rather than a reflection, and it strikes me as being more fun rather than peaceful, and I don't feel like that fits within the spirit of the Sabbath. I think of it more as a day of rest, not a day of fun. Obviously that's just my personal view on the term, others could have completely different opinions on what a Sabbath is and how to treat it.

Do these differing views have to do with our feelings about the work we do? The need for fun on the weekends seems to imply that the work on the weekdays is justifiably un-fun, and so a treat and a pick-me-up are needed. I don't know why that's not the position I've adopted, it's certainly not because I view work as being fun, haha. But I don't really mind it either, truth be told. In fact, I don't really tend to think about work a lot, I just sit down and get it done when necessary, then completely forget that it existed. I do have plenty of fun on the weekdays, not in the partying sense, but just in a social sense, or sometimes in a 'spiritual' sense though I'm not a spiritual person. I can't think of another term to describe personal, internal joy that comes from reading a nice article, hearing good music, or anything else individually related. In general though, I don't need to have special fun on the weekends, as I have plenty of fun during the week, and I don't view work as being particularly un-fun. Those who want to have fun on the weekends are likely those who view work as a desperately exhausting chore, which certainly isn't an unusual or despicable approach, but it's just not the way I personally approach things.

The one thing I really don't feel like I have a lot of time for during the week is reflection. There's a lot of work to be done, both schoolwork and social work, and I don't often get the chance to sit back and think about things. When I do get the urge to relax, take a break, and reflect on things, that's when I head for the long trails, with my binoculars hanging from my left shoulder and a field guide in my pocket, after all, why not, if I'm heading outside.



I suppose I'm a solitary person by nature in that way; my most relaxing moments occur when I'm by myself completely, and I always look forward to returning to my room, as it acts as a recharger for my spirit. I don't really feel like I relax when I'm with other people, I can certainly have fun, but for me fun is completely removed from relaxation. I've read that such a belief is a key difference between introverts and extroverts: introverts recharge by returning to their homes and doing things by themselves, while extroverts recharge by being with their friends. That certainly isn't a black-and-white divide, it's undoubtedly more of a continuum. But I definitely find myself acting as more of an introvert. I really like how that study used the concept of 'recharging', as I feel like that's a really accurate description of what it's like for me to return home.

When I first opened up this blog to non-bird-related posts, I was afraid of turning into one of those sensitive emo-bloggers who turn to their blogs as a diary where they could cry about their life's dramas. That's really the complete opposite of my persona, but this post is really dangerously toeing the line. I'm glad I stopped myself here. Then again, if I'm not an overly emotional person to begin with, I probably wouldn't even have that sort of post in me.




Links, then:

• Time-lapse video of a drive from Olympia to Seattle.
• The capital of Iceland turned off all the lights one night so that people could see the stars. Find out when you can see the stars from your town.
• Photo slideshow of ridiculous treehouses you can buy if you're too lazy to build your own.
• Go inside the Sultan of Brunei's private jet.
• Continuing on the extravagant theme, watch a video explaining the processes behind the most expensive carwash in the world.
• And onto elegantly artistic but fully functional wooden computers to pass on to your kids and your grandkids.
• Also wooden, but far less elegant or functional are these wooden cellphones. Wut.
• This came up in our Sociology of Law course: a very good breakdown of the 2004 Presidential Election, concerning what specific demographic groups voted for whom. I would likely classify myself with the Upbeats.
  
• The pride of Taiwan started Game 1 for the Yankees last night, go Chien-Ming Wang!
  
• One guy has decided to drink a cup of coffee from every single Starbucks in the world.
• If you get your caffeine from soda instead, here's a nice online store of gourmet sodas.
• A uniquely designed Periodic Table of Elements, taking into account the unusual properties of hydrogen.
• More games to test your mouse skills.
• I've recently become re-addicted to Sudoku because of Sudoku Slam, which has some really cool features, and overtakes Web Sudoku as the best Sudoku site on the web in my opinion. Try out Sumo Mode. I'm a huge fan of the Highlight Candidates feature. When I get a Smart Hint on the harder puzzles though, I don't really understand what the colored squares are supposed to be mean. If somebody gets it, please explain to me, I would really appreciate it, thanks. Edit: I just noticed that they posted an explanation. Pretty powerful method, I'll admit.
  
• If you need to write an abstract for your report, or just need to make a paper a little shorter, let Microsoft Word highlight the important points for you. Actually works pretty well, it's almost like Microsoft is competent!
• Wallet 2.0 looks like a fairly nifty and organized wallet for all you hipsters. Be sure to check out the completely absurd companion comic. I don't understand what's going on here at all.
• "...A human head remains in a state of consciousness for one and a half minutes after decapitation, and people speak at the rate of 160 words per minute in a 'heightened state of emotion'. Simple math means that the heads in each of Butler's 62 stories get exactly 240 words for their narratives — first-person, stream-of-consciousness glimpses of the lives they led." This book looks unbelievably interesting. The beheaded folk, by the way, include many historical figures such as Marie Antoinette, John the Baptist, and even Medusa.
• "Using specialist techniques, thousands of portraits of individual people have been compacted to provide a representative male and female "look" for the 160,000 residents of Sydney."
• An elevator without a floor?! Amazing.
• Very good card trick, very well done.
• Interesting article on why football teams should not punt on fourth down. A more qualitative approach can also be found here.
• And I just had to save the best for last. For those of you who don't know, Ryan Adams is a critically acclaimed alt-country singer-songwriter. I really like a few of his songs, in particular the opening two songs on his debut 'Heartbreaker'. But he's gone kind of insane recently, sending long rambling messages on critics' voice mail machines, among other things. But nothing can top this. Ryan Adams just updated his official website, replete with the most unbelievably terrible/hilarious rap song I have ever heard. You have to listen to it all the way through, it's quite amazing at the beginning, but takes a turn for the incredible close to the end. Lyrics can also be found here. This is simply comedy gold. I have not loled this hard in months.
  

I'm liking the random baby in there.

Photosynthesis

Isn't it unbelievable that plants can convert carbon dioxide, a gas, into solid leaves, branches, and roots, just with the help of sunlight? Gas -> solid by sunlight? I'm just stunned that such a beautifully complex system could have possibly evolved/been created/whatever. Spend a moment thinking about it.



Also, I have more to say regarding the new Joanna Newsom album. With every pluck of her harp strings, it feels as if she's plucking my heart strings. O Ys.

Actually I don't find her attractive in the slightest, but this album...this album...



Links...

• "Devotees in Bombay celebrated a Hindu festival earlier this week by immersing colorful Ganesh statues in the Arabian Sea at night. The next morning, the tide brought them back. It was a surreal scene."
• Photo gallery of bizarre lenticular clouds.
• The excellently-written experiences of a college student in the frozen wasteland of Harbin, China.
• Learn how to cut a deck of cards one-handed. Also related is how to throw cards with your thumb.
• I've only recently become aware of the existence of so many types of movable bridges. Particularly interesting to me are the curling bridge, lift bridge, table bridge, submersible bridge, tilt bridge, swing bridge, and transporter bridge.
• Wristwatch developed by the noted architect Frank Gehry, he who designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, and the Walt Disney Hall.
  
• You definitely need to experience this glow-in-the-dark bubble bath.
  

Tilling of the Earth

I'm currently taking a course on Religion and Ecology, specifically what roles religion can play in either encouraging environmental stewardship, or in encouraging the exploitation of nature. As part of the class, I'm required to write journal entries whenever the inspiration strikes. After our first class discussion, I already had some ideas that I wanted to float into my journal, which I've decided to stick on this blog for now. I mean, why not. These aren't deeply personal or private thoughts, and if you're not interested, I totally understand, and you can feel free to just skip to the links or past posts. Really, I'd just rather stick them here than on some lonely word document lost somewhere in my unorganized hard drive.

Much of our discussion today centered on an article by Lynn White, entitled The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis, published in a 1967 volume of the journal Science. In the article, White accuses Christianity of gradually encouraging the exploitation of the world's resources, for several different reasons that I won't go into here. In discussing changes in human mindsets, White brings up the technology of the plow, that farmers use to ready their soil for planting.



Early plows merely scratched the soil, and required only two oxen to pull. Thus, families usually owned single plots that were capable of only supporting themselves, with perhaps a small surplus to sell on the market. But at some point, peasants in northern Europe developed a deeper cutting plow that required the force of eight oxen to pull, but was much more efficient in preparing the soil for crops. But because no single family owned eight oxen, neighborhood families then pooled together their oxen and collaborated in plowing very large plots to support the entire community.

White sees this as an important transition in the human farmer's attitudes towards nature. Initially with the scratch plow, humans were friendly with the environment and only took what they needed to subsist and survive. The advent of the deepcut plow encouraged larger plots and more exploitation of the land and more greed, which led human society to the unfortunate state that we now find ourselves in.

Several classmates raised the point that here, then, is evidence that technology, and not religion, is largely at fault for our destruction of nature. Specifically, technologies that increase our efficiency at harvesting resources encourage this harvesting further.



This was a valid point, but I started to think about why these technologies were developed to begin with. If humans began in an idyllic life in relative harmony with nature, why was there a need for the deepcut plow in the first place? I don't believe that it was invented on pure accident, I believe that someone felt the need to exploit the earth further, and therefore developed this new plow, which means that technology alone was not at fault. There needed to be some sort of impetus to raise the need for new technology, and the question we must ask is whether religion is that impetus.

For example, a classmate mentioned that the Incas of South America did not exploit their territory's resources, largely because they did not have the necessary technology. But I feel that there was no technology because there was no drive to invent the necessary devices to begin with, and that the Incas truly were in tune with their surroundings. You need a reason to invent, which the Incas did not have, while the Europeans across the sea did see a need for more efficiency, possibly because of differences in religion.

But then, isn't the single scratch plow harming the environment somewhat as well? It requires a small plot of land to be cleared of vegetation, which would clearly require some changes to the natural habitat. So the scratch plow itself is an increase in efficiency from some earlier techniques, which makes me think that technology is a slippery slope. Once the very first agricultural tool was developed, means of making it more efficient commenced, leading to the inventions of increasingly destructive tools. So when did this all begin? The Neolithic Revolution, when man settled down from their hunter gatherer ways? Why did this occur? There's a lot of disagreement about the causes of the Neolithic Revolution, but I would think that it has something to do with human nature iself, as I don't see how any other factor could affect populations on such a global scale to such a large degree.



But if it's human nature that's to blame, why did some civilizations hold respect for nature, while others clearly did not? This brings us back to White's original case for Christianity as an anti-environmentalist religion. He believes that pagan animist cultures who saw spirits and gods in every aspect of nature would use their religion as a reason to respect the environment, a belief system which Christianity would come to destroy. I'm starting to feel that this argument is about to get incredibly circular, and obviously there's no clear-cut resolution to the problem, otherwise there would be no reason to hold the class at all. I just felt that I needed to clear up my ideas regarding the role of technology specifically in the rise of environmental destruction.


In other news, I have an 8:30 am class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and so last night I decided that since I'd be waking up early anyways, I should just wake up even earlier to see what fall migrants I could catch in the Crum. That thinking backfired somewhat when I found that the sun rises a lot later than I remembered, and that most of the Crum Woods hillsides aren't struck by sunlight until even later, leading to a lot of stumbling around in the dark. But even in the darkness and relative silence, I was able to find some really great birds.

• Northern Waterthrush - new bird for my Crum list! Having experience with Louisiana Waterthrushes, my favorite bird, I could immediately tell that this bird was slightly more streamlined, with a thinner bill, and most evidently, with dense streaks on its chest, and thinner streaks than the broad strokes on the Louisiana. Its tailwagging was also much quicker than the relatively languorous Louisiana. The lighting was too poor to see a difference in the overall color, and I didn't get any definitive looks at the back of the supercilium. Found in one of the large puddles on the creekside trail below the ampitheater.
  
• Black-throated Blue Warbler - two individuals upstream from the hemlock bluffs behind Danawell.
• Black-and-white Warbler - one bird feeding at eye level in Upper Wister Draw.
• Acadian Flycatcher - one bird calling at the same location as the Black-throated Blue.
  

Recent links:

• This looks like a great road to drive.
• An interesting invention for your car that lets you see the light change without having to scrunch or crane your neck, for relatively short or tall people.
• Backpack with built-in basketball holder. Even though I don't play basketball seriously anymore, I'd still like to carry one around like this, just because.
• You've encountered those cheap sofa-beds in hotels, but how about this sofa that turns into a bunk bed.
• It looks like there's a MiG fighter parked in this normal parking lot, next to people's cars.
• Cedar Point has an insane new coaster under construction, featuring two launches, and some sick inversions. The press release is here, while the official website with a simulated ride video is here.
• Help Google improve its Image Search by playing this surprisingly addictive game.
  

And finally, rest in peace Steve Irwin. You will be missed dearly by all of us.