Treed

"Get that dog out of here and I'll come down."

Goldfinch Gallivantings

We have three kinds of birds that visit our feeder: (1) year-round residents who come most every day for a snack, (2) year-round residents who periodically come and go, and (3) migrants who we see either temporarily residing here through the summer or winter, or just passing through in the spring or fall.

American goldfinches fall into the middle category above: we may see them visit the feeder at all times of the year, but only for few days. A flock of them will hang around for a while and then disappear for a few weeks—to return again. (At least I believe I'm seeing the return of the same group, although it's possible that I'm seeing a new flock of finches each time.)

I call the goldfinch a "periodic" resident, because it doesn't leave for Central America for the winter or head north to Canada for the summer. We'll see them at all times of the year, but, as I wrote above, it has the interesting habit of hanging around the feeder for a few weeks, and then disappearing for a month or so. Goldfinches engage in what ornithologists call "irregular seasonal movements," which finds them roaming in groups—their current territory being determined by the availability of the food supply they find there.

Okay, so they are resident roamers. That fits my experience, as I see them come and go from time to time. But why leave for a spell, apparently seeking new sources of food, when I put seed out all year long? The other regulars at the feeder dine on the continuously-offered sunflower seeds—supplementing them with bugs; a good source of protein. Do the goldfinches get tired of sunflower seeds and wish to change their diet occasionally? I could buy special finch food (they love thistles), that might entice them to hang around, but that option gets kind of pricey for my wallet.

Ornithologists have a difficult time tracking the roaming habits of any type of songbird—especially the little guys like goldfinches. Most any radio tracking device is too heavy for them to carry around, so their roaming habits are not yet well understood. (Although this is another ornithological barrier about to be cracked, as new, ultralight transmitters have been developed and are being deployed.) Thus, I have no idea where our finches go when they depart, how far they roam, or even if the group we see is the same one. When I see a flock appear at the feeder, I wonder if it is old friends returning or new visitors coming in for a temporary feed. Maybe I'll figure this out before long.

It's another one of those mysteries you constantly encounter, when you come to observe closely the natural world's goings on. If you don't take the time to watch, you rarely notice these intriguing details, and you're unlikely to become interested enough to ask the questions that occur to you, once you do begin to pay attention. When I observe closely, I find that many questions begin forming a long queue in my head. I love it! It's what adds endless interest to my life, way out here in the woods.

Christmas Snow

This great photo taken by my friend Shell. (Click to enlarge.)

MOOC Manna—Part 2

I have listed some of the positive aspects of MOOCs that I enjoy. But they can't be the greatest thing since "sliced bread," so what are some of their downsides? Since they are a current, well-received phenomenon—if not exceedingly popular right now—do they as yet have a downside that has had a chance to show up? Well, yes, a few detractors have offered a few criticisms, or have asked a few pointed questions.

Are the MOOC courses being over hyped? Is the quality as high as advertised or expected? Will there be a letdown on the part of students who are led to expect too much from a course? What about access to the lecturer: there is little chance to have access to the professor, when thousands of students are taking the course. Some courses offer credit: How do you grade appropriately or avoid students cheating on tests? Of students who sign up, typically only 10% finish a course. With this dropout rate, what's really been accomplished by offering that course?

I recognize that some of these concerns are valid, but have either discarded them as not relevant for me or worked through them for my needs. But I have my own misgivings about MOOCs—mostly in the arena of money. Right now they are free and of high quality, but how long before greedy profit motives muck things up? At the moment, MOOCs are almost too good to be true, and I fear that commercial interests will spoil the treat or dilute the teachings. TV once (back in the 1950s) promised to be a medium of merit, but has degraded into shallow and trivial entertainment. Will the money grubbers eventually demand their pound of flesh from MOOCs?

Another concern I have about the future of MOOC manna: right now, MOOCs are being taught by highly-qualified professors, who I think may be offering these courses for several motivations (none of them money): (1) reaching a worldwide student audience, (2) exploring a new venue, and (3) teaching students who really want to be there. (Too many of today's university professors lecture to an audience of minimally-interested students.) How long will the teachers' enthusiasm last and how long will the high quality continue?

Who knows where the MOOCs will go? No one. In the meantime, I aim to take full advantage of their remarkable manna.

MOOC Manna—Part 1

We online beings currently have been offered access to a wonderful educational opportunity—something dubbed MOOCs—Massive Online Open Courses. They come in the form of instructional videos—as if you are sitting in a college lecture hall, listening to a qualified professor giving you a lesson on an academic subject, but in the comfort of your own living room. (With maybe even a beer in your hand!)

MOOCs have erupted into the online world as the latest form of what's been designated as "distance education." Numerous leading universities around the world are participating in this process, offering their most experienced teachers the opportunity to present their courses to thousands of curious people worldwide. These online courses are provided free of charge to anyone who is interested. What a bargain!

MOOCs give us a unique opportunity to broaden our minds in an extremely wide variety of subjects—virtually all of which are exceptional learning experiences, given the fact that the most reputable universities are participating. Most of the courses do not require prior knowledge or prerequisite college courses to participate. Most are introductory enough or general enough that virtually anyone can sign on and learn.

Distance education has existed for over 100 years. The internet has provided the perfect medium for their emergence in this new medium. In the late 19th century, postal correspondence courses were the first distance education process that arose, followed by radio courses in the 1920s, followed by TV courses in the 1980s. So now we have the latest manifestation of distance education in the form of MOOCs.

This new phenomenon of what could be also designated as the Chautauqua process (an outdoor adult mass educational experience that originated on Chautauqua Lake in New York State in the late 19th century) is now available to anyone with online access, from their own home. Many universities (MIT, Harvard, Stanford, Princeton, etc.) have encouraged their professors to offer their courses. Coursera is a major MOOC offerer—providing over 300 online courses. EdX is another main offerer. Some courses enroll hundreds of thousands of students worldwide. So the term “massive” is certainly relevant.

I have signed on to four MOOC courses in the last year. Two of them I have followed and completed, for a dozen weeks or more each—watching lectures, taking quizzes, and participating in online forums and discussions with other students. The other two I dropped after a week or so—upon realizing that I either did not have the appropriate prerequisites after all, or the subject matter did not appeal to me, or the lecturer's style was problematic for me. Unlike my college classes all those many years ago, I can easily drop a MOOC course without the stigma of feeling inadequate or suffering the loss of tuition.

I love the ability to be able to watch lectures from home at my leisure. I can take notes, repeat a lecture, join a forum, or further pursue the subject on my own, via references that are given. My science education did not provide me with an extensive background in the humanities, literature, or other liberal arts—so MOOCs give me a wonderful opportunity to pick up on those subjects I missed in my formal education.

More on MOOC manna next time...

Garden Fence Snow Study

Seeing Double—Part 2

NASA’s Kepler mission has recently scored another success in its planet-finding work. (Kepler is a special telescope that orbits the sun as our Earth does, while keeping itself constantly pointed at a small, single patch of sky containing nearly 150,000 stars in a nearby part of our Milky Way galaxy.) This telescope has recently discovered several so-called “circumbinary” planets—worlds that orbit double stars. (Kepler has already found about a thousand planets orbiting single stars.) So now Kepler has also proven that planets orbiting double stars can and do exist. In fact, astronomers now estimate (from Kepler’s findings) that there may be “tens of millions” of circumbinary planets in our galaxy… in addition to the estimated billions of planets around single stars.

Yet it’s a whole other issue whether these circumbinary planets have any chance of harboring life. Our precious Earth orbits a single star in a nearly circular orbit—keeping the amount of solar heat falling upon us relatively constant. (We get seasonal temperature differences only because planet Earth’s axis tilts about 24° to its orbital plane, which points us towards the sun in summer and away from it in winter.) A planet that orbits two stars could experience wide and wild temperature swings, which would prevent life from either forming or surviving.

The Star Wars movie had a fascinating scene, in which the fictional planet Tatooine experienced a double sunset. Of course, the views of suns on real circumbinary planets could be bizarre and quite different from Tatooine. For example, it could be a case of one of two suns always shining down, bathing the planet in nearly constant daylight; or the lengths of days could vary wildly, as the double stars dance around each other; or the planet’s seasons could be random; etc.

Now we know that circumbinary planets do exist—thanks to Kepler. It’s one more fascinating piece of knowledge brought to us by our space programs. What’s next in this extra-terrestrial planet hunt? Astronomers are hoping to find an Earth-sized planet (around a solitary star) with an atmosphere like ours. If so, that would be a strong hint of the possibility of life “out there.” There’s no telling what the next discovery will be, but stay tuned—we are bound to learn more captivating details about our fantastic universe soon.

Our Single Star

Seeing Double—Part 1

I have posted several blogs here about stars; describing meditations that come to me, as I soak in the tub under dark winter skies, while becoming absorbed in the heavens. It is now late fall. The trees above my tub have dropped their leaves and the sky turns inky dark by 8 PM. This provides me with wonderful stargazing opportunities. Bring the winter on! I love my summer evenings in the tub, since I can watch the ever-morphing clouds and the graceful, leafy trees sway in the balmy breezes above me; but there’s something very special about cold weather’s dark, starry skies.

I lie back, floating in the hot water, and fix my gaze on one patch of sky, slowly becoming absorbed into its star field. Some stars are bright, some dim; some are farther away than others; some gather in clusters and nebula. The patterns (especially the constellation-like figures) mesmerize me. I become aware that I’m peering into a three-dimensional star field that has depth, rather than just viewing points of light which all seem to emanate from the same distant celestial sphere.

I sometimes ponder the fact that about half the stars I see are really binary systems: two stars that dance closely around each other, rather than standing as solitary suns like ours. I rarely can resolve the pair by naked eye, but astronomy’s large telescopes can do that, to show us that many of them are truly double stars. In fact, many of them are actually multiple star systems, where one or two additional small, almost invisible, minor stars add to the complex dance.

A recent issue of Scientific American magazine has an article on binary stars and their planets, titled “Worlds With Two Suns,” by two cosmologists. Until recently, some astronomers tended to doubt that binary stars could even have planets orbiting them—let alone that they would have a chance of harboring life on their worlds. This is because a planet attached to a double star system could randomly be jerked around by the competing pull of the two stars. Such planets would not settle into stable orbits, or, worse yet, could even get sucked into one of the suns, or flung off into deep space by the opposing tug of the double stars. The complex gravitational field a planet would be forced to negotiate would cause its orbit to be too chaotic—most certainly too disordered for life ever to be able to take hold.

More on double suns next time...

Garden Spider

Primordial Beach Ball

A trillionth of a trillionth of a trillionth of a second after the Big Bang that initiated our universe, all of the cosmos was about the size of a beach ball. (That fraction of a second is something like 10^-36 second after Time Zero, for those who grasp scientific notation.) What happened before that unimagineably tiny fragment in time, physicists are baffled about; but after that point in time, they have a pretty good handle on the universe’s subsequent expansion and behavior. The so-called “standard model” of cosmology does a fine job of describing that succeeding behavior.

It’s virtually impossible for us normal folks to wrap our heads around how all of the universe’s hundreds of billions of galaxies—each of which contains hundreds of billions of stars—could once have been squeezed into something like a beach ball. If nothing else, this fact is a testimony as to how empty matter really is: every atom is almost wholly empty space containing an infinitesimal amount of matter, in the form of ephemeral protons and electrons. So once upon a time (10^-36 second after the Big Bang, that is) all those countless atoms found themselves confined to the primordial Beach Ball.

At that moment, the inside of the beach ball was, in fact, more like a mush of elementary particles, than a sea of individual atoms. It was so opaque and dense that light could not escape, which is why astrophysicists are not sure what happened up to that point, since whatever transpired, did so in utter darkness. The subsequent expansion of the beach ball sort of happened after the divine command, “Let there be light,” was uttered.

The nature of the universe at this early moment is the subject of intensive ongoing research. Many PhD theses get spawned by these studies. It may soon be known how the primordial Beach Ball became inflated from an earlier baseball—or maybe even a golf ball, or...

Just Hatched

Which came first?

Origin of Life

I have recently read the book Seven Clues to the Origin of Life by the British author A.G. Cairns-Smith. It is written in the manner of a forensic analysis, as is classically described by Arthur Conan Doyle’s novels of Sherlock Holmes, as Holmes delves into the evidence in the wake of a crime. The book takes this “Holmesian” approach in considering how life might have arisen on Earth. That is, rather than suggest a hypothesis and then explore it to see if it makes sense, Cairns-Smith ponders all the clues and arrives at a conclusion, after ruling out the competing possibilities.

I have read several other books by scientific authors on the origin of life on Earth, and find there is a wide variety of opinions on the subject. There remains considerable disagreement among scholars, since the cause of the origin of life on this planet as yet remains beyond science. Research is closing in on an answer very slowly, and may soon have an answer, but it’s presently an unknown. For now, we are left with guesses.

Western culture is very influenced by the version of life’s beginning that is presented by the Bible—a version that is, of course, mythical and therefore literally incorrect. The book of Genesis’ story is a metaphor, presented in poetry. It’s not science; it’s not intended to be science—it’s a folktale. The real beginning of life was quite beyond the ken of the ancient biblical writers; as is true for other ancient cultures, which also had their own genesis myths.

Life’s origins on Earth could have come about in two significantly different ways: (1) it somehow originated right here on this planet or (2) it originated elsewhere in the universe and then arrived here—both possibilities having occurred about 3 ½ billion years ago. These are two strikingly different scenarios. They offer a very contrasting view of the universe. Is life extraterrestrial or not? In case #2 it obviously is. In case #1 we may be alone in the universe. Again, the answer eludes us as yet.

Human religions are by definition people-centered; they cannot consider extraterrestrial conditions, such as in case #2. Cairns-Smith’s sorting through the clues can fit either case above. In the end, he offers the possibility that whether life began on Earth or elsewhere, it could have started with a seed that would not have been life as we know it, but some sort of nascent, self-organizing precursor. It then required just the right conditions to transform itself into life. In other words, life did not spring suddenly into existence, essentially from out of nowhere, but had a nonorganic beginning, which very gradually evolved into life as we know it today. It’s a neat kind of Holmesian mystery, solved in a unique way! Is it true? Maybe we'll know before long.

Carrion Beetles

It's deer hunting season and here are a few carrion beetles feeding on a deer hide. Lovely!

Skillful Stone Agers—Part 2

How can it be that, on the average, life was better for our Later Stone Age ancestors? Yes, there is a small proportion of people today who live sumptuously and possess a far greater knowledge base than any time in prehistory, but most people today (particularly the countless residents of underdeveloped countries) are in poor health, are dependent on others for their bare necessities, eat poor quality food (when they are fortunate to have much at all), suffer from numerous diseases, are trapped in poverty and oppressive circumstances, and face constant violence. Their lives are mostly out of their control.

Quite the opposite, our Later Stone Age forebears were far more in control of their lives. Although their knowledge about the nature of their wider world was very limited (no books or internet for them), they had an intimate understanding of their proximate surroundings. They needed to know every plant and critter around them, and thus they possessed a knowledge of their immediate environment that dwarfs that of modern humans. 

 

Most people today live by developing a very deep understanding of a tiny slice of their world, and then trade that knowledge and skill for money or goods—items for which we have no ability to make ourselves. We enjoy the products of countless skilled people, having no idea how it’s done. It causes a type of dependency that we readily accept as a bargain, but makes us vulnerable and dependent on a system that can be shaky. (To wit, the financial debacle of the last few years that has impoverished countless people.)

Later Stone Age citizens had a more nutritious and better balanced diet than today. Most poverty-stricken people in the modern world survive primarily on rice or other nutrient-poor food. Additionally, when our agricultural ancestors abandoned the nomadic lifestyle, they settled down and surrounded themselves with disease-transmitting animals, as well as their own putrefying garbage and excrement. Most of the deadly diseases that humans have suffered from over the ages have been contracted from domesticated animals.

Maybe one of the most surprising facts I listed above is that the brain of modern humans is somewhat smaller than that of our Stone Age ancestors. What? How can that be? Aren’t we smarter than they were? Scientists do not know exactly why, but they have certainly verified that the quantity of our cerebral matter is less, through forensic examination of skulls. 

 

Furthermore, our modern brains seem to be continuing to shrink! One possible reason for this is that our modern, easy-going lifestyle does not require as much cognitive ability as our Later Stone Age forebears needed. They had to be constantly on their toes in order to stay alive. We can be half asleep and get by just fine. Our intelligent machines are allowing us to become stupid.

So the next time you hear someone sneeringly referring to another person as having a caveman or Stone Age mentality, you might tell them the truth: that they should show respect for those ancient peoples who were damned smart and had a very good quality of life.

Skillful Stone Agers—Part 1

When people want to disparage another person’s intellect, they often compare them to an ignorant Stone Age inhabitant, or liken them to a Neanderthal. “Man, you’re as dumb as a Neanderthal!” Modern people tend to look upon our Stone Age cousins as simpletons living a life of danger, deprivation, even misery—when compared to our modern existence. Today we have so many conveniences and comforts that our ancestors lacked, and we’ve progressed so much farther, that we feel as if their lifestyle was simple-minded and of extremely low quality. Who would ever want to live like they were forced to? They were ignorant. How could I live without TV, my smart phone, or my emails?
 

The Stone Age or Paleolithic period may be defined as the span of time beginning about 2.6 million years ago and ending about 4,000 years ago—when the Bronze Age began. The predecessors to humans began using stone tools around that earlier date, and when we Homo sapiens entered the scene (some 200,000 years ago), we continued using stone, until we learned how to forge metal. The period I’m considering here is what’s called the Upper Paleolithic or Later Stone Age: the span from about 60,000 years ago to the beginning of the agriculture revolution, about 12,000 years ago. (A simple graph would work better here, than all these numbers. Sorry.)

At the beginning of this Later Stone Age period—that time about 60,000 years ago—we humans experienced a leap forward: we developed the ability to communicate in a complex manner. We acquired the full benefits of language; after which we entered a period of rapidly-improving cognitive abilities. Symbolic thought emerged and cultural creativity exploded. This was a time before we became an agricultural people (around 12,000 years ago) and well before we began to play with metals. We had not settled down yet, but wandered about, in search of food. Stone tools were our primary implements. Later Stone Age people were hunter-gatherers, living off the land, wandering seasonally from place to place.

We like to consider ourselves as far more advanced and smarter than these Later Stone Agers. So what was life really like for these ancient ancestors? How primitive were they? How dumb were they? Well, contrary to what we modern humans think, the quality of life for our Later Stone Age ancestors was better than today. Yes, that’s right; better. Let me repeat that: BETTER! 

 

That statement may seem outrageous to those of us who enjoy a lifestyle of owning conveniences and enjoying advantages that our deep ancestors could never have imagined. While that may be true for the privileged few among us, when we compare most people around the world today to the typical Later Stone Age person, we find that the latter was (1) healthier and less disease-prone, (2) taller, stronger and more robust, (3) in possession of a larger brain, (4) far more knowledgeable about her immediate environment, and (5) in possession of greater coping and survival skills. 

 

More on skillful Later Stone Agers next time…

Season's Last Butterfly

Click to enlarge.

Whale of a Cousin

Only three species on planet Earth have evolved the process of going through menopause—wherein females continue to live many years after they have stopped reproducing. Two of these species are whales (killer whales and short-finned pilot whales) and the third is humans. For these three menopausal species, females quit reproducing in their 40s, but can continue living into their 90s. 

Why are these three dissimilar species so similar in this way? What could be the reason for menopause—or what is its advantages for a species—when the usual drive for a species to survive is to reproduce as much as possible, as long as possible, and pass their genes into the future? (If there was no reproductive advantage to menopause, it would not have evolved.) What use can old females have to their whale pods or human societies? Do we really need “old ladies”?

None of the great apes—with whom we share about 99% of our DNA—go through menopause. Old female apes stay fertile all their lives and live only to about 40 years of age. So again the question arises, why do old-lady whales (much more distant from us, DNA-wise) and humans quit having babies? I find it fascinating that it’s just the whales and us.

The answer of “why menopause?” seems to be due to the social structures that have evolved for these two types of mammals—structures that are unique to killer whales, short-finned pilot whales, and Homo sapiens. There are likely two answers as to why menopause is useful: (1) keeping female elders around is important because they can share their knowledge and expertise of how to find food and safety, thereby continuing to help the species thrive, and (2) by giving up having more offspring, they can avoid reproductive competition with their daughters—so as to give the grandchildren of these long-living species a better chance at life. 

Continued survival of the species is what it’s all about. Resources in a group’s environment may be limited, so overcrowding does not help the species stay fit and robust.  Older females who quit having babies help to limit crowding. Additionally, useful and novel gene permutations (which younger females are more likely to create) must be allowed a chance to propagate into the future, which creates evolutionary progress.

So the grandmother humans and whales willingly and wisely step aside, passing the reproduction game on to their daughters. Crones can be an invaluable source of community knowledge and tradition. 

Males of these species can also possess valuable knowledge, but the females are more socially connected and pass more information on more effectively.

Eye of Newt?

No, it's just a backyard toad. Click to enlarge and see if you can pick out the photographer's reflection in the toads eye.

Books or e-Books?

In just a few years, e-books have come out of nowhere, to become a significant contender for book readers. It’s now a common sight to spot someone staring into their iPad or Kindle—absorbed in reading a book or newspaper. (Although not nearly as common as seeing someone gazing into their smart phone, while texting or repeatedly brushing its screen with a finger.) A Kindle is a great convenience: for the moderate cost of buying one of these reading devices and downloading e-books, one can tote around thousands of books in a thin device weighing a fraction of a pound.

I have purchased a surfeit of books over the years. A significant section of our home has become designated as a library, and yet books still manage to slip off their shelves, sneak into other parts of the house, and cover any available surface they can find. Most of my recently-purchased books contrive clever ways to avoid ever being relegated to those dusty shelves—convincing me that I must read them soon, lest their very existence disappear from memory. These eager books compel me to keep them handy. There are times  when it seems as if they have succeeded in capturing most of our living space for themselves. And I admit to doing little to dissuade them, as I continue to insist on adding to their ranks. 

Yet those folks who carry their own library around on a Kindle intrigue me. Have they truly discovered an improvement over old-fashioned books? Are they not just succumbing to a passing fad? Is this the wave of the future—sounding the death knell of paper books? Should we hold-outs cave in, join the modern world, and trade pressed wood pulp for pressed glass and semi-conductors?

I’ve been pondering this dilemma for some time now, and was given a major boost in dealing with it by a recent article in Scientific American magazine, titled “Why the Brain Prefers Paper,” by Ferris Jabr. The article notes that 20% of all books sold last year were in the forme of e-books. Several scientific studies are cited in this article; which conclude that people have better recall after reading a book, as compared to an e-book. Technology might be changing how we read, but it seems that we can remember what we read better, if we use old-fashioned books. That was an interesting piece of information for me. 

In addition, the article noted, people find it easier to navigate long books on paper. Because an e-book is a seamless stream of words, it’s harder to keep track of where you are, have been, or how much further you have to go. You can’t readily flip back and forth in an e-book—although you can search and skip around quite readily. A paper book also provides you with more varied and familiar tactile items to savor—such as page corners, page thickness, and one’s location within the book. People tend to like that sensation.

One reason why people don’t remember material from an e-book as well as from a paper book, is that it’s easy to become distracted while reading by fiddling with buttons on the tablet. This has been especially noticed with children when adults read to them: they get drawn into watching the bells and whistles and don’t listen as well.

The Scientific American article helps me decide to wait a little longer, before I dive into the e-book arena. To be able to remember what I read is important to me, as the vast majority of my reading material is nonfiction. I am also very liberal in marking up a book—underlining sentences, circling sections, and scribbling comments in the margins. I will sometimes go back over a book after I’ve read it, create an abstract of my scribblings, and summarize it into a computer document—although I then will likely end up printing it out, so as to once again be able to touch those pages and flip through them.

It may not be much longer before I give in and buy a Kindle, but for now I think I’ll hang with paper.

Fall Along the Creek

This is the creek that fills my outdoor bath (before being heated).

Tufted Titmouse

The most common and plentiful resident bird we have around here is the tufted titmouse. We always see it at the bird feeder, as well as flitting around the yard, and especially calling out in the spring with its clear whistle. It is a very cute, although rather plainly-colored bird. It’s antics are fun to watch.

I was recently pondering how the titmouse got its name, and why the plural form of their name is titmice, rather than something like “titmouses” or “titsmouse.” And while I am at it, where did that “mouse” part of the name come from? Why do we not also have a “jaymouse” or an “owlmouse”… or even a “hawkmouse”? 

Confronted with profound questions such as these, I frequently retreat to my numerous bird books for an answer. But this time all the bird books failed me—they had no suggestion as to how the suffix “mouse” found its way tacked onto the tit’s name. I did discover that there are several kinds of birds called “tits” in Britain—but they are just several species of small birds; it has nothing to do with a woman’s breast.

So I turned for help to the king of beasts, the monster, the final arbiter of the origins of all English words: the Oxford English Dictionary (OED to the cognoscenti)—but only after giving up on all of our smaller dictionaries, which provided no answers to this scholarly question. I will revert to the OED only as a last resort, because it is a physical effort just to lift the beast and page through it. The etymology of words presented by the OED is heads and shoulders above any other dictionary in the world, however, so it’s the sole fallback resource, when all others fail.

We have in our possession the 1971 two-volume compact edition of the OED—which contains the complete text of the 20-volume original, reproduced and reduced micrographically into two fat volumes (packaged in a slipcase, with a powerful magnifying glass). The full 20-volume edition is simply too far beyond most households in cost. Even the 1991 up-dated, now single-volume edition (reproduced micro-micrographically) will empty your wallet of nearly $400. Our old edition is a treasure and was acquired at a song. It’s kind of a pain to use it, but there are times like this when we have no alternative.

The OED once again came through. It tells us that the original form of “titmouse”—dating back to medieval times—was “titmose” or “titmase.” In the 16^th century the spelling got corrupted to “titmouse”, possibly because of the bird’s small size and quick movements (like a mouse?). The root of the word “tit” means small, quick, or sprightly. Mystery solved. Now I’ll see if I can manage to heft the OED back into its place on the shelf.

Triumphant Squirrel

"I'm top dog around here."

Squirrel Squabbles

Squirrels scamper everywhere through our woods—usually silently. On occasion, one will scold the cat or the dog—as it hangs upside down from a branch or tree trunk, tail twitching, chattering away noisily, chastising its enemy, its eyes glued on its target. Squirrels may even bombard us human ground-bound critters with acorns—demonstrating their disdain for us.

One recent evening while reposing in the outdoor tub, I heard a squirrel-like chattering, a short distance into the woods. It did not sound like their usual scolding or babbling, but more like a warning or a threatening noise—a deeper, growl-like sound. It continued for several seconds, as my eyes scanned the trees, trying to locate the source of the ruckus.

Finally I spotted two squirrels up on a tree branch, nearly nose to nose—as if in a macho face-off. The lower squirrel had its back to a nest and it seemed to be the noisemaker. The higher squirrel suddenly turned and retreated up the limb, as the lower one then returned to the nest. The upper squirrel quickly returned, came within a foot or so of the nest, made an in-your-face chipping sound, and quickly withdrew back up the limb. It leapt to another tree and disappeared to safety—having bravely delivered its parting shot.

What was happening? A fight for the nest? Some kind of territorial battle? A parent booting its offspring out of the nest? A sexual jousting? I will probably never know. Quiet returned to the area, as I sank back into the hot healing waters.