HawkArtScience: Hawksaloft.com blog

<<Future Present Past>>

29 January 2010, Friday
Science, Friday

Over twenty years ago now, I was eagerly observing, enjoying, counting and reporting along with the hawks, "other things with wings" on the move: Crows, Blue Jays, Monarch Butterflies, and AJs (dragonflies). These are some of the volume generators, those Counter Culture skid marks, count everything today. Migration study holds no bounds (he clichéd).

Monarchs have an amazing story, just repackaged — Lincoln Brower, yada yada yada, Mexico — on NOVA. You can actually watch the thing online.

A little like reporting on the new Apple product before the official roll-out, Jerry Coyne, UChicago evolutionary biologist, author of Why Evolution is True and the blog of the same name, has read a ready-for-publication article on Monarch size, migration and the genetics behind it. On his blog, he also notes a pre-release article on the article over at BBC Earth News that covers the study by retyping the press release, after a fashion.

Dr. Coyne comments on the BBC reporting, but also on his questions about the study.

The BBC report, written by Matt Walker, echoes this conclusion in the report, titled “Supersized monarch butterflies evolved to fly far.” [:]

• These “supersized” butterflies have evolved to cope with the demands of long-distance flight.
• In contrast, monarchs that live in one place all year have wings that are up to 20% smaller, report scientists in the journal Evolution. . .

Is there anything wrong with that? Well, one thing: there’s another explanation for the results, not depending on migration, that neither the paper nor Walker considers. It is this: it has long been known that if you look at populations of insects from different areas of its range, those from colder locations tend to be larger (both developmentally and genetically) than those from warmer locations. In other words, they conform to Bergmann’s rule, an “ecogeographic rule” that states that the body mass of an animal is positively correlated with the latitude where it lives. In other words, populations from colder areas have bigger bodies.

The classic explanation of this “rule” involves mammals: if you’re living in a colder climate, it’s adaptive to have a larger mass, for the ratio of heat produced (proportional to the cube of a linear dimension, in other words body mass) to heat lost through radiation (proportional to the square of a linear dimension, in other words body surface area) is lower for larger animals. That is, it’s easier to stay warm if you’re bigger. Now this explanation holds only for warm-blooded animals (homeotherms), but we now know that the “rule” is also obeyed by many cold-blooded animals (poikilotherms). I’ve spent a lot of my career documenting this in Drosophila, and it’s clear that, regardless of the species, populations from colder areas evolve larger size. Why this is so in poikilotherms, who don’t produce body heat to keep warm, is an intriguing but unanswered question. But the phenomenon is real.

The apparent problem with Altizer and Davis’s result is this: all the “nonmigratory” populations live in warmer areas than do the “migratory” populations. Therefore, we expect nonmigratory individuals to be smaller than migratory individuals (i.e., have smaller wings), even if there were no difference in migration behavior. (This is aside from the fact that the authors draw sweeping conclusions about genetic differences from comparing only two migratory populations with only a single nonmigratory population.)

I just love this stuff. Coyne is questioning, yet respectful, but raises very interesting points, for both answering and further study... love that further study stuff.

BTW, the paperback edition of Why Evolution is True is on the shelves this week — public, commercial, virtual — and it is the best read and reference for any professional teaching biologist... semi-pro or amateur with an interest.

 

28 January 2010, Thursday
Our Town

I have a couple of simple rules for taking pictures. In my wildflower and mushroom days, I didn't step on or pick what I'd imaged. In lying on the ground to face the subject head on, I wouldn't obliterate any others of its kind. And when I picked up tripod, cable release, etc. it should look like I wasn't even there. For hawks, I don't flush birds off perches even if it would make a really good pict.

Out the window with the rules, even if by accident today. Above is the final image in a short encounter with a young adult Redtail (that I thought would not be disturbed into flight if I played it right). As would be my routine, once the bird flushed, I delete those images on the spot, with traffic issues — uncommon on this familiar road — I neglected to that. I looked, expecting garbage, and decided to use them here.

Done with me, the Redtail scans for the next issue before getting back to her hunger. Click on the image above, for two flight shots. I've been seeing this bird for a week or so at the low end of the Hayes Road field complex, where I'm only think I'm keeping tabs on three regulars right now.

It's been a quiet week and the Winter along with it.

 

27 January 2010, Wednesday
Winter 2010, "I predict..."

I predict the New Orleans Saints will meet the Indianapolis Colts in SuperBowl XLIV. How'm I doing so far?!

If the Winter of Ought-9 and 2010 were a cat, isn't it (mostly) out of the bag? Or are you waiting still for big news/numbers to come out of the blue?

First things first: this Winter is far from over... for those out there living it. February 28th is the full Hunger Moon, with March to follow, and while, at that point, you might think the worst is behind us, out in the wild it doesn't get any more stressful. Think about climbing Mt. Everest. For those who have make it to the summit the danger is just beginning, as most fatalities occur on the descent (when all reserves are at their lowest). Note to self: take a couple thousand milligrams of vitamin C and some serotonin... with a pint of cask-conditioned Middle Ages Boxing Day Bitter.

Bird-wise, we now know enough about this Winter to know we're out of surprises, the big ones anyway. No influx of the following will occur: Snowy Owls, Rough-legged Hawks, Red-tailed Hawks, or Northern Shrikes, to name a few. But there a couple of Hawk Owls around, watch out for one more.

February could be the beast of all Winters' Past, and no, we won't see a push down of the northern species (the top species). Here's what I presumed and reported coming into this Winter: based on the poor conditions on the breeding grounds, it looked like very few new northern raptors would be produced in eastern North America and therefore be around here, not... for Snowies and Roughlegs, most years, we see the juveniles mostly. Young Redtails from the northern clines pass on by, and we saw some/a few do that.

So we hoped for some adults to wile away the observational time. Got some; hoped for some more, but the weather systems in December come more on an El Nino line and things stayed fairly mild and snowless... up where the birds where, which was somewhat South but not south-enough.

I just watched Jane Campion's Bright Star (2009) about Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) and John Keats. On the one hand, in these 19th Century period pieces, you don't want to be the character whose stage direction says, "cough now; a small cough," because you will be dead by the next act. But I do like the formality: the way notes, proper notes, arrive via carriage and a messenger knocks with the small elegant folded paper sealed with wax, for privacy. Online, I imagine posts from near and far this way (as often as I can)...

For Bald Eagles this Winter, we caught a small wave along the shores of Lake Ontario and at the eagle grounds on Onondaga Lake (as mentioned last week in the local paper). Five, ten birds. A cold snap finally iced over enough water to concentrate what birds were near by. Through the Ontario Birding listserv, and Bruce DiLabio again, checking out Wolfe Island wedged between Kingston ON and Cape Vincent NY we heard of a pleasant surprise that sounds like it should be visible from the US side as well.

Yesterday, January 24th spent part of the day birding Wolfe Island. It was quite a contrast to Amherst Island with only a few Red-tailed Hawks but 20+ Bald Eagles mainly along the south side and east end of the island.

The the biggest reporting of Bald Eagles for the Northeast — Wolfeville, Nova Scotia — is in, and while the numbers are down there too, the numbers are impressive. Local, retired prof Jim Wolford started and runs this Winterfest.

JAN. 23 (Sat.), 2010 -- 19th ANNUAL EAGLE WATCH AT SHEFFIELD MILLS -- Good "eagles weather" continues (i.e. very wintry with snow on the ground), very cold (-11 to 15 C. with a stiff cold wind from the west that made it seem much colder) with clear skies. The only good spot I checked in the morning, on my way to the community hall, was between Canard Road and Saxon St. along the west wide of Middle Dyke Road, where there were lots of cars and human gawkers/photographers for the approx. 40 bald eagles just perched together in a small grove of trees well away from the road (distant viewing).

Later I heard that at 9 a.m. and a bit later at the main feeding spot for the eagles, i.e., the north end of Middle Dyke Road, the eagles there were inactive and nothing was happening even after the chicken carcasses were put out. But then Bob & Wendy McDonald showed up in the same spot at 11 a.m., and then there were oodles of bald eagles (circa 150!) and lots of feeding activity, i.e., flying, swooping, landing and displacing other eagles, stealing food, etc., plus the ravens & great black-backed gulls (&red-tailed hawks?).

For Bald Eagles, with another freeze, we might see a mild push in our direction.

On Sunday out ahead of the front (pictured above), Massbird listserv reported a Golden Eagle, maybe northbound. Both Roughlegs and Goldens employ this method, where adults (males, mostly) slide. Slide is a lacrosse term I use to describe an opportunistic movement North, in the direction of home turf... the urge to get there is too strong to resist, and of course it's evolutionarily advantageous. Sliding, when detected, is often noted as only a few birds that weren't around yesterday, seen today, and gone tomorrow. On the other hand, unless you have some GPS tracking data, this is just a theory. Now that we can see this movement on a few birds, this looks like what they do.

Chuck Johnson reports an Adult GOLDEN Eagle at 10 this am over Field Farm in Williamstown. He watched it for 5 minutes, then followed it North where he rediscovered the bird as it was lazily circling over the treeline along Oblong Rd.

[We have no idea if that is what this particular GE is doing on this day in view of this observer.]

With Roughlegs, we'll note increases in pockets from late January through February, but these will not be birds driven South. These will be adults sliding North. For better or worse, as the days lengthen and the hormones flow in these professionals, they will either hold their ground or inch their way up. The adult male American Kestrels too, try to hold their ground after the Solstice has passed. This urge gets stronger and stronger during the month of the Hunger Moon.

For Northern Harriers it is all a moveable feast. No, I am not going to go all Ernest Hemingway on you. Being snow-intolerant, Harriers jockey back and forth throughout the Winter going where the snow isn't and then trying to hold their snowless ground. A Christmas Bird Count held on the first weekend of the count period might have ten Harriers, then those birds leave after a foot of lake effect snow falls... to a count circle without snow, where they are counted again the next weekend. A moveable feast.

 

26 January 2010, Tuesday
Two and a Half Men...

Have you heard of Elizabeth Gilbert? No? Ask someone with a pair of x-chromosomes and she'll tell about the woman writing about women these days... she's on top of that half of the world and the New York Times Bestseller List (right now)! Nowadays, Ms. Gilbert is the rare example of a millionaire non-fiction writer.

Before Elizabeth Gilbert enter Oprah popularity territory with Eat, Pray, Love (2006) and Committed (2010), she was writing for GQ magazine and about the male of the species exclusively... fame, but no fortune there. Writing very well mind you, as The Last American Man (2002) was a National Book Award finalist and her earlier volume of short stories, a PEN Award finalist.

Non-fiction novelists are often called journalists, maybe to distinguish (or extinguish) them from the real novelists. And if not journalist originally, the non-fictionalist has some jDNA in there somewhere. Here are three offerings for the Winter reader. I discovered and picked them up as they came out as paperbacks, on display on the storied window tables at the Harvard Book Store... impulse buying at its best:

The Last American Man (2002) is as much anthropology as it is a biographic endeavor about a young man with serious mountain-man skills. Eustace Conway excels at living off the land and is driven, often maddeningly so, to pass this lifestyle on to others. Of course this arrested development presents all kinds of problems for anyone who might try to closely associate with such a man-child... in business, in a community, and any woman initially attracted to him. Elizabeth Gilbert has her hands full too, but tells his story truthfully; painfully.

The Beast in the Garden (2004) is the Mountain Lion, as it lives in and around Boulder Colorado in the late '80s and today. And journalistic technique works well here for David Baron's study of the cougar... and us. This is an old story, the same story, but Baron retells it with facts, details, reporting, some history, and a lot of connections. All this: is a tall order, filled.

Nature Noir (2006) is the first book by a guy who spent over a decade as a park ranger... and then wrote about it, a little like Edward Abbey. But his is a tale of the underbelly of the parks, not the soul of the natural places patrolled, as was Abbey's bottomline, always. Jordan Fisher Smith's memoir of drunks with guns, drugs, floods, thieves, and everyday law enforcement — a hundred miles from the nearest backup — makes for a gritty and often funny read, even if the book jacket comparisons to Abbey, Gary Snyder, John Muir(!) and Elmore Leonard are not lived up to in the end.

Here's a nearly contiguous excerpt from early on in The Beast in the Garden:

The author and champion of wilderness Edward Abbey, who enjoyed a rock star-like following in Boulder, praised cougars and urged their protection in an article for Life magazine. "We need mountain lions for the same reason that we need more bald eagles, golden eagles, Gila monsters, alligators, redtailed hawks, coyotes, bobcats,badgers, wild pigs, grizzly bears, wild horses, red racers, diamondbacks, sacred datura, wild grapes and untamed rivers," he wrote. "How to say once more what has been said so often? Who is listening?" Abbey ended the article on a reassuring note. He pointed out that despite America's brutal treatment of the mountain lion—despite the butchery, the savagery, the humiliation people had heaped upon the cougar—the cats did not respond in kind. "There is no authentic record of a lion actually attacking a human being." It was a nice sentiment, but Abbey was wrong. [...]

The large cat on South Boulder Peak veered south and climbed a tongue of hillside jutting into Eldorado Canyon. A tall ponderosa held its arms to the wind. From this high ridge, a community came into view below. The houses—sparse and small, along dirt roads—blended into the forest, but new home sites were being platted and foundations poured for architectural showplaces with grand porches, picture windows, and satellite dishes. A road sign read "Couger Drive" (sic), homage to a creature many residents assumed had be relegated to the region's past.

The lion had come to reclaim its ancestral home, but the land had changed since the end of the last feline dynasty. Humans had not only built homes and roads; they had altered the flow of streams and the growth of forests. They had irrigated the once bare plains and made them bloom. They had modified the deer's migration patterns and daily rituals. They had exterminated the lion's natural enemy, the wolf,and replaced it with a more timid race of canines. And the humans themselves were different. Unlike the Native Americans who once hunted the cougar for its skin and meat, and unlike the miners and ranchers who killed the cougar out of hatred, these people would seek to live in peace with lions.

The cougar descended toward the houses, traveling as silent and invisible as a whispered breeze. Mountain lions are masters of stealth, "natural sneaks" some have called them, creatures whose modus operandi is to observe without being observed. "Only the very lucky ever see this beautiful monster in the wild," wrote Edward Abbey.

No one saw the lion that traversed South Boulder Peak five days before Christmas in 1987. All that was found were its tracks in the snow.

 

25 January 2010, Monday
At the Movies: Up in the Air

Up in the Air is a commercial flight. And if you're not a frequent flier, movie-wise, this is the one film you should see for 2009 (in cinema-terms, '09 is not over until the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences says it is, and that's with the broadcast of the Oscars, on the evening of Sunday, March 7th). If Up in the Air is not around at the moment, oh wait for it. It will be coming back to a theater near you when its nomination for Best Picture is announced February 2nd.

For the experienced movie-goer, this is one of the best films of the year, although you'll see certain events coming a mile away and know that everything is prearranged to work out for all involved — this is a studio ride after all, so the twists and turns will be comfortable ones. But George Clooney and Vera Farmiga are paired like food with wine for delicious banter by director Jason Reitman — Juno (2007) and Thank You for Smoking (2005) — and that makes most top ten lists in any year. The movie is based on a book that's about ten years old, but you'd never know it... as the waves of corporate lay offs come in cycles.

At its most rotten, the tale is about business euphemisms concocted to dehumanize an already cold-hearted enterprise. Only Donald Trump comes right out and says, "You're fired!" (because, that's a TV show). In the world of corporate cutters, Ryan Bingham and young Cornell MBA grad Natalie Keener (Clooney, and newcomer Anna Kendrick), turn termination into a faux positive experience in order to blunt anyone making a scene. It's efficiency.

"Business is our business" is certainly the model for environmental organizations as there are more lawyers and MBAs than biologists working in "conservation" these days. Leading public programs for adults, I developed several bridges between science and the non-scientist, knowing that participants were well-educated, but just not in the sciences. In reverse, this term-turning works well with scientists who might want to communicate with those outside their "species."

The first of these I worked up was the use of the term professional hawk (or owl, etc.) to put other species on equal footing with humans without getting into all the animal rights philosophy and boring folks into a intellectual stupor. It came from the old warning issued to kids back in the day of Superman, when the newscaster would say, "Now kids, don't try this at home." Usually prefaced by this is a professional actor, stuntman, driver, etc. (even today, car ads on TV have small print stating, "professional driver, on a closed course" so they are not libel for consumers thinking they should test the demonstrated suspension and braking systems on their neighborhood roadways). Also I used it to make hawks whole... and not just a sum of their parts. This over-sciencing of other species, mechanizes the organic, and prevents our reconnecting. From the tagline "don't try this at home," I naturally migrated over to "these are professional hawks... this is what they do for a living."

Cutting to the chase in any discussion with an everyday business term is a way in, that I've found people relate to quickly. It's a starting point, that uses humor to relieve the tension of making a scientific point. Before Seinfeld Science and Woolly Bear Science, I used Tobacco Science, Real Estate Science and Creationist Science to put a harsh light on non-scientific thinking.

With the rise of the MBA and introduction of business practices into all manner of the environmental field, I've added a few new terms. Here are three anyway.

Back-ordered
Waiting for the migration of a species that is thought to be coming fits here. But sometimes it comes and other times, not. An occlusion — East-West running line of precipition — can hold up a flight. Most record-flights are due to birds being on back-order... late, and backed up. On the other hand, Broadwings might go way around a tropical storm arcing along the coast, and the expected movement doesn't happen where anticipated. In the Spring, an expansive snowfield can delay, but not for more than a week, the migration of adult Red-Shouldered Hawks in late March. A versatile term, back-ordered can apply to cyclic species or those whose numbers seem to be down this year, maybe a poor breeding season: like Roughlegs, due to the extensive wet and cold Summer up North.

Outsourcing
Real Estate Science offers that we're not really destroying habitat as the animals will be moved elsewhere... and besides, we've named a lane after each critter or natural system that used to be here... Kestrel Lane, Fern Hollow Road. I've played around with this term related it to extralimitals, like Cave Swallows too. I'm going to work on this one some more, for others.

Down-sizing
Instead of saying, "You're fired"... from the biota (extirpated from a region or even extinct), we try to employ business euphemisms and even develop methodologies to dampen down the news and worse, ignore or lie about it to avoid responsibility for our actions/greed (we used to call our efforts "stewardship"... when we owned up to our actions). Now that's all an inconvenience and bad for business — the financial side, not the scientific. So I use down-sizing to point out a decline in a species population, and now, with Up in the Air, this kind of termination terminology is even trendy and clearer.

 

22 January 2010, Friday
Hawks Today: Amherst Island, Ontario

The first sunny day in weeks started out overcast — where I was anyway. At Canadian customs we chatted about the actual blue skies just to the South... "No really," I declared.

Not exactly lake effect clouds, this was a low cloud deck, kind of like fog but mostly made of hoar frost — you could tell when it snowed... particles of hoar frost! Good news: this stuff does burn off, like fog.

So I took my time in Kingston, a two-college town: Queens University, the Harvard of Canada; and RMC, the Royal Military College of Canada. I like to pick up an actual paper edition of The Globe and Mail and hit Pan Chancho, one of the best little bakeries on planet Earth. Then, not knowing the boat was on hold for the entire morning, I sat at the dock, well, you can see the island from here. Many birders waiting through two more cancelled trips — the queue of long lenses can be impressive when the owls are in town.

Bruce Di Labio & Co, from the Ottawa region, caught an early ferry before service was suspended and had seven species... an owling hat trick. And it's also nice to have the Owl Woods to yourself for awhile on what was clearly going to be a busy photog day.

In the "Owl Woods" we found 1 Boreal, 3 Northern Saw-whet, 1 Barred, and 1 Long-eared Owl. At the East End (KFN property) there were 2 Snowy Owls and near Stella 1 Short-eared Owl was observed sitting on a fence post.

Finally on the island, the caravan of owl hunters turned left, so I went right for a hawk run. While the birds seemed to keep their distance from the roadsides today , it was a fine day for some wintering raptors soaring under blue skies, followed up with a pint of Tetley's back in Kingston.

Hawks (21 January):
Bald Eagle -- 1 (adult)
Northern Harriers -- 8 (no adult males)
Red-tailed Hawks -- 16 (13 adults, 3 juveniles)
Rough-legged Hawks -- 11 (6 light morph, 5 dark; no juvs confirmed)
No Kestrels or Shrikes (but 2 Kestrels reported)

Owls:
Too many people to roam the little Owl Woods today, but the two Snowy Owls on the open KFN land were visible at a medium distance all day: two young birds, one male and one female.
(KFN = Kingston Field Naturalists... field naturalists is used like we would append "bird club" or "Audubon Society")

Also, I did have three juvenile Roughlegs from Rt. 81, between Watertown and the border, on the drive up.

Test09: image 1 0f 4 thumbTest09: image 2 0f 4 thumbTest09: image 3 0f 4 thumbTest09: image 4 0f 4 thumb

 

21 January 2010, Thursday
At the Movies: Avatar

I don't think Avatar is the best picture of 2009, in spite of its success at the Golden Globes last Sunday evening, but it is going to be the most influential one going forward in this young decade. It's the special effects from the vision of James Cameron — The Terminator (1984 & 1991), Aliens (1986), The Abyss (1989), and Titanic (1997) — that make Avatar so important to Hollywood as digital 3-D is the next big thing. It's a nice story too, and story is most important to Cameron: the story goes he left some break-out special effects on the cutting room floor rather than sacrifice the storyline while making The Abyss in the late 80s.

Like with George Lucas, it can be said that all of Cameron's stories have been told before, he has just seriously-updated the tale. Hey, I thought Titanic was easily the best film of its year (and, in the day, I saw over a hundred first-run movies/year). It is all about the storytelling which —on the screen, both big and small —includes the storyteller's visual ideas. Roger Ebert called out critics of Titanic for mocking the simple story and well-known ending with something like, "look, we know the story in many movies going in, and in this one: the ship sails; the ship sinks... but that's not the whole story."

The storyline for Avatar is not chock full of twists and turns, if you go to the movies with some frequency and/or have a Joseph Campbell-sense of our best myths, but it is nicely told... and then there are the special effects. It is at this point that I recommend you plan to do something INDOORS (I will only say that once a year, and maybe not that often). Go see Avatar, in Real-D, ASAP.

Tuesday's Science (NY)Times lead with an Avatar review/essay by Carol Yoon. Her NYT contributions are always interesting and, recently, she's the author of Naming Nature, about the past, present, and future of taxonomy (see Science, stra ight up archive: right column).

When watching a Hollywood movie that has robed itself in the themes and paraphernalia of science, a scientist expects to feel anything from annoyance to infuriation at facts misconstrued or processes misrepresented. What a scientist does not expect is to enter into a state of ecstatic wonderment, to have the urge to leap up and shout: “Yes! That’s exactly what it’s like!”

So it is time for all the biologists who have not yet done so to shut their laptops and run from their laboratories directly to the movie theaters, put on 3-D glasses and watch the film “Avatar.” In fact, anyone who loves a biologist or may want to be one, or better yet, anyone who hates a biologist — and certainly everyone who has ever sneered at a tree-hugger — should do the same. Because the director James Cameron’s otherworldly tale of romance and battle, aliens and armadas, has somehow managed to do what no other film has done. It has recreated what is the heart of biology: the naked, heart-stopping wonder of really seeing the living world. [...]

But rather than having us giggling at a tribble or worrying over the safety of the children when a T. rex attacks, Mr. Cameron somehow has the audience seeing organisms in the tropical-forest-gone-mad of the planet Pandora just the way a biologist sees them. With each glance, we are reminded of organisms we already know, while marveling over the new and trying quickly to put this novelty into some kind of sensible place in the mind.

The whole thing is a nice read, but I'm going to take strong exception with Yoon that her viewing this film in 2-D was a perfectly fine way to view Pandora and what James Cameron had in mind. (Cue the Na'vi language translator module here), "No, no, no, and OMG no." Real-D makes this a movie-going experience not to be had any other way. Anything less than that is: not it. Avatar is also available at an IMAX theater, maybe nearby or maybe not, but I have no latent urge to see it there based on the experience I had at the well-calibrated local cineplex.

Before the film there's Real-D's intro to their technology — like the old theater surround sound promo made to use every bell and whistle the sound system could muster— here the Real-D logo ball appears spinning in high definition out in the middle of the theater. Previews of the next Toy Story, in 3-D, plus a couple of other Summer (insert "blockbuster" here) movies will prime you for "Our Feature Presentation," because during Avatar, there will come a moment when you will have the urge to brush small bits of falling debris off your shoulder (I kid you not). This is not on the menu if you save two bucks and see the red-headed 2-D version. Once you've seen it, you'll instantly know when someone else talking about Avatar, hasn't.

 

20 January 2010, Wednesday
Wayback Machine: Bald Eagles

On or about the first Earth Day, Syracuse's Onondaga Lake was not only ecologically dead, but a toxic danger to the community. Between the raw, then slightly strained sewage discharged by the City directly, to... I don't know exactly... but, tons of mercury, etc. from factories on the shore, this was one dead lake.

Onondaga Lake is a curiosity, as its an inland salt water body with a rich oral history. Later, white settlers conducted their commerce here, and into the early 20th century, we used to actually recreate in it... you can find the old-timey brownish photos of those activities, and when I was a kid in the fifties, you could still see a hint of this and imagine the rest. The lake is kind of famous for collegiate regattas too. While you still don't want to fall in there if you can help it, people canoe, kayak, sail a little, and fish in it nowadays.

In fact, Onondaga Lake is on the international professional fishing circuit — two seasons of the year! In summer, it's the professionals with boats and sponsors... looks like a NASCAR event but with boats and fish and sponsors. I'm sure there's a cable channel for that.

In Winter, a different professional fishing tour comes to town: Bald Eagles. And just about a year ago, I got an email from Syracuse Post-Standard columnist, Sean Kirst, because when he Goggled "Bald Eagles and Onondaga Lake," my web site came up. He included his phone number, and we talked for nearly an hour about this new local phenomenon, on background (as we say in the media sourcing biz). Since his column can be about anything local, 99.5% human though, a natural addition to the community was nice. Sean also brought in the view from the Onondaga Nation, who of course, have lived along Onondaga Lake nearly forever.

And all this was very well received both in print and online. Online, Syracuse.com can be updated from both ends, and it was — with comments from readers and additional images from a staff photographer. Spilling over to the sports section, where hunting and fishing has its own beat writer, readers submitted their own picts of the Bald Eagles on Onondaga Lake.

Yesterday, under the category, "great minds think alike," as I was rooting around collecting links for this blast from the past piece, I noticed that Sean had just done an update for this Winter at Syracuse.com!

Speaking of wintering Bald Eagles in eastern North America, where would you go to see a gathering of eagles? The most birds, I mean. Would it be the Delaware Water Gap or along the Hudson? How about the Connecticut River just above New Haven, the Quabbin or Newburyport by the new/old chain bridge? Local is always a good idea and right now is the best time. But I'm asking about the most wintering Balds. Add up all these numbers from these fine sites and you'd fall short of the greatest gathering: Wolfville... that's in the Annapolis Valley (no, not that Annapolis). Still don't know?

 

19 January 2010, Tuesday
"Small birds," he said

Not too long ago I bookmarked a New York Times travel writer's take on a meal in Beirut as it caused a flashback to another article I'd read, maybe forty years ago.

For a charitable raffle in New York City a meal was the prize. The winner would be the guest of this prize's benefactor: a dinner for two, of their choice... anywhere in the world. Now the cost of this adventure was wholly paid by the host, as the two would enjoy the meal together. In Paris (!), as it turned out, with one of the courses in this twenty thousand dollar outing being whole birds. We're talking, items like a blackbird, defeathered and cooked whole — you pick it up by the legs and pop the rest into your mouth and chew. Somehow I remembered that.

In the Beirut establishment, of course the food is expected exotic by way of how spices have evolved to both flavor and preserve food in the local environment.

ON a balmy Middle Eastern night, our feast was rolling along fabulously on the outdoor roof terrace of Abd el Wahab, a vaulted and marbled Beirut gastropalace, when a flock of birds made a sudden appearance.

They came not from the sky but on a large plate, served by a suited, poker-faced waiter. Their blackened headless carcasses, each barely palm-sized, were soaked in a dark sauce that gave off a tangy aroma. Through wisps of sweet chicha smoke exhaled by boisterous groups at nearby tables, my Lebanese companions explained that the birds are traditionally eaten whole. I was dubious.

Hesitantly, I popped one in my mouth. Tiny bones cracked like toothpicks. In a quick burst, succulent meat mingled with the sweet-sour basting sauce. It was sublime. A miniature Hitchcockian menace had been transformed into an unexpected gastronomic gem.

“What kind of birds are they?” I asked the waiter.

“Small birds,” he said.

As it turns out, and not for nothing, my two favorite definitions of "wilderness" involve food references. First: a bit of an unknown concept to his 18th Century London club membership, wilderness was defined by the traveler — just returning from seeing the New World firsthand — as, "A large dark damp place where wild birds fly about, uncooked."

And: wilderness exists as a very real place where there are animals, in that wild place, large enough to catch you, kill you, and eat you.

 

18 January 2010, Monday
Our four desires, food-wise

And otherwise, according to popular American author and food-thinker, Michael Pollan, are served up in The Botany of Desire (2001). Pollan says we desire sweetness, beauty, intoxication and control... interesting list — ask your friends to make such a list and see what you get! He explains his list of our desires through the human history and connection to the apple, the tulip, marijuana, and the potato. Aren't you curious already?

Along with McDonalds, Kellogg's, Healthy Choice, his is literally another brand in the food biz of late, but certainly in another direction. All four of his books about our eating habits are disarmingly simple reads, but Pollan leaves you shocked and/or enlightened every page or two. While the others get more geopolitical, Desire is about the botany; the science... and natural history. But because these are all short books, Pollan handles the science like he does the politics — with crystal-clear 'oh' and 'hmm' moments preceded by interesting, yet factual tales that lead you right up to the point.

You don't have to have any scientific interest in botany, just be ever so slightly self-reflective, to be smiling and nodding (to yourself) within a few pages of this one. Non-fiction and nice story-telling are not mutually exclusive, as Michael Pollan's success on the bookshelf, Kindle, TV, interview and lecture circuit attests.

All manner of formats are available for your Pollan-a-tion. And while I'm always likely to cite an interview on The Daily Show, when available/possible, Bill Moyers on PBS had a pre-election '08 interview showing the influence, beyond the usual non-fiction realm, that he is having in these times (but, okay, there is a very recent appearance on TDS too — January 4th).

Google Books is a monster project that would put everything online that's in-print. The Botany of Desire is there, and can be sampled... actually you can read just about the whole book with selected (legally randomized) pages omitted. Creepy, IMO. My point in reading, still, is the use of a warm book, or something on my iPhone screen that I've put there with the intention of reading "cover to cover." To have and to hold.

So, I recommend The Botany of Desire, along with the rest of the Michael Pollan Winter '10 Get Acquainted Tour. And you'll especially enjoy reading about the (true) Reagan Revolution (and it was all about the smoke).

<<Future Present Past>>

They've got the urge for going, and
they've got the wings so they can go.

— Joni Mitchell

Hawk•art•science blog
Truth and beauty. Art and science. Entries here will be on that flightline, although I will stray from the hawk-part on occasion, or will I? I aiming this beast at hawkheads and/or the young seasonal revolutionary biologists. It's for the flexible and young-at-heart too.
Comments, questions, excited utterances, and/or exasperated afterthoughts from you, dear reader, are welcome and will receive a reply. — Tom Carrolan
(Image above: "Recent self-portrait No.3, 2009")

Original recipe Hawksaloft.com
The Hawksaloft.com website was launched in 1997, following three years of printed handbills, plus numerous emails, all voicing my alt.hawkwatching ideas in New England. If you've been here before, the original site is archived in all its old-timey graphic glory. To navigate the old way, just click on Psychedelia the Hawk Owl and be transported back in time... trippy. Any bookmarks or links found anywhere online still work.

Not everything that counts can be counted and
not everything that can be counted counts.

— Albert Einstein