Friday, January 31, 2014
No Traction
Even deer slip on the ice. Here is the evidence of one of them trying to cross the frozen-over creek. I wish I could have watched its unstable display of ballet.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Wrenched Orion—Part 1
I
wrote recently about how the stars appear to be points of light
scattered on a distant sphere above us. Our eye perceives this
phenomenon as if the stars are all the same (great) distance from us,
when, in fact, their distance varies. As a result, the constellations
appear to us to be two-dimensional planar figures, when they are
really three-dimensional objects.
The
two-dimensional shape we perceive is a result of viewing a
constellation from only one point in space: Earth. If we could move
to another point in space, the constellation would appear very
different.
Let's
consider a simple example. Suppose we had an imaginary constellation
of eight stars arranged in a way that they formed the corners of a
perfect cube. Here's how a three-dimensional cube is represented:
From
a particular point in space eight stars might look like this:
If
we used our imaginations (as the ancients did, to create the
constellations), we might connect the stars (dots) and see this:
It's a cube!
But
we might also imagine these eight stars (from this same location in
space) to form an object like this:
or even this:
Depending
on our culture, we could discern many different objects from these
eight stars, depending on how we imagine them to be connected.
But
it gets even more fascinating. Suppose we were able to travel vast
distances through space. Our perspective of the “cubic”
arrangement of these eight stars would change. What if we were to
travel to a location where we viewed the cube face-on. It would look
like this:
where
each of the four stars is hiding another one behind it.
How
the civilizations at this location would perceive this “cubic”
constellation, we can only guess. But it's a reminder that the
constellations we see have their three-dimensional stars arranged in
a pattern that is unique to us, at our location in space.
More
on Orion next time...
Monday, January 27, 2014
Deep Snow
The winter has brought too much snow. On one of my treks through the woods, I found this poor individual buried in the deep snow--only his hand protruding, asking for rescue. I was too late.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Old Trees Rule!
The
chorus to John Prine's song “Hello in There” begins with, “Ya
know that old trees just grow stronger...” The song is a poignant
appeal that, while trees strengthen in their later years, “old
people just grow lonesome,” so we should make an extra effort to
acknowledge them when we encounter them on the street and say, “Hello
in there.” Years ago I played Prine's records a lot, and was
touched one day when my then-10-year-old son said that he went out of
his way while walking downtown to say hi to old people.
Old
trees do become more and more magnificent, as the years
pass... especially giants like redwoods and sequoia (or oaks and
poplars, here in Virginia). I have had the opportunity a couple of
times to stand at the base of some of these patriarchs and feel awed
by their massive trunks and humbled by how they soar up into the
heavens. It makes me feel simultaneously small and grand, to be close
to one. It seems a tragedy when one of these behemoths is toppled for
furniture.
Trees
are also a major source of the oxygen that we animals breathe. They
do double duty by both absorbing carbon dioxide from the air (thus
countering global warming) as they simultaneously exhaust that
life-giving oxygen. We need them, and they are being cut down at a
terrifying rate.
There's
been much attention in recent years put to the benefits of trees and
other vegetation, in countering the heavy load of CO2 that
we are dumping into the atmosphere. But what kind of vegetation
extracts the most carbon? Should we protect those kinds of plants
more than others? Are they more valuable to the planet (and us)?
It
has been assumed that fast-growing young trees are more valuable than
big, old trees for removing carbon. But a recent study tells a
different story. An international team of researchers published an
article in the scientific journal Nature,
showing that old trees are not
less productive than robust young trees, but significantly more
so. Because elderly trees vigorously continue to add mass—even into
their senile period—they soak up more carbon than the juveniles
do... as much as three times
more!
Since
I'm rapidly headed into my
senile period, I take comfort from the fact that my old woody buddies
that surround me aren't slowing down. Maybe they can inspire me to
resist the ravages of age and continue to thrive as they do. I think
I'll go out and hug a big ol' tree.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
Narrow or Broad View?
An article several months ago in the
Guardian
presented an interesting symbol about someone attempting to predict
future events: it contained a sketch of a person holding a
flashlight, whose beam is shining out into the darkness—the dark
representing the hidden future. The description with the illustration
described that the holder of the flashlight could choose to focus the
beam either into a narrow ray, or a wider cone. The narrower the
beam, the brighter the light shone on any future object, and the more
accurate a prediction might be. When the beam is widened, more of the
future could be revealed, but less light is shown and therefore one's
guess would be less accurate.
The article's main thrust was about
one's hoping to be able to predict the future reliably (by shining
that narrow beam on a potential forthcoming event), but then risking
having some surprise event—lurking in the darkness outside the
narrow beam—prove the prediction wrong. In order to avoid these
surprises, the article described, one could widen the flashlight's
beam and spot more potential future events, but only at the expense
of a dimmer light beam and nothing being as distinct. It's sort of
like a horse wearing blinders: it can concentrate on things straight
ahead of it, but is blind to unexpected things to the side.
The image of choosing between the
flashlight's narrow or wide beams stuck in my head for a couple of
days. It spoke to me as a metaphor for more than just the topic of
the article: futurology (the ability to predict future events based
on present trends). I came to see the cone of light shining outward
as an illustration of one's attention to life in general. If my
attention is kept too narrow, my ability to respond to life's events
may be well focused, but I can miss the wider picture. Like the horse
wearing blinders, I may be able to focus clearly on what I wish to
see, but by so doing, I can miss the bigger picture that life is
presenting me.
Life is full of surprises. Although we
like to think that we're on top of things and that we know what to
expect (and thus make smart choices), that's usually not the case.
More often than not, life tosses unexpected contingencies in our
path, and we stumble over them. If we are too narrowly focused, we
can get blind-sided by an event coming from the side that we never
expected; an event that we were ill prepared for.
I guess, like many choices in life,
it's a case of seeking an appropriate balance: sometimes we focus
narrowly and deftly handle an expected event—like shooting an arrow
right into the bulls-eye. At other times we should keep our senses
open and broad—so we don't miss something that could be important.
In either case, our motto could be: PAY ATTENTION!
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Authentic Audio—Part 2
A
few years ago MP3s were quite acceptable to most listeners—largely
because of their convenience—but recently their status has plunged.
MP3s use what is termed as a "lossy compression algorithm"
(because they throw away 90% of the information). That word "lossy"
has been jumped upon as indicating that the listener is being
deprived of some crucial information when listening to an MP3. Isn't
some of that discarded 90% important? Well, yes, it is a loss
of data, but the vast majority of what is discarded, your ear would
never detect anyway. Under only the most exacting listening
environments would you be able to perceive the difference. However,
for most of us, for most of the music we listen to, for most of the
equipment we employ, we'd never miss the lost information. So an MP3
really is very close in quality to a CD, despite the current popular
belief.
There
are a few other relevant factors, however, that rarely get
considered, when comparing MP3s to CDs. For one, the quality of the
original recording process is of top priority; such as the excellence
of the recording equipment, the placement of the recording
microphones, the competency of the engineer doing the sound mixing,
etc. If any of these are not handled with care, even a top quality CD
will provide a pedestrian experience—and it happens quite
frequently for recording companies whose top priority is to crank out
and sell as many CDs as possible. Not all of them pay attention to
these details—especially those aiming for MTV exposure. And then,
there's the final criterion: Are you really listening to that
music? Many people are so busy multitasking or otherwise not
paying attention to their music, that they'd be hard-pressed to tell
the difference between an excellent CD and a mediocre one—let alone
an MP3.
There
is a similar belief that has arisen recently, for those who aspire to
being audiophiles: why listen to a digital CD, when you can get the
more "authentic" experience from an LP? This thinking comes
from the fact that an analog recording gives the listener
"everything," while a CD is a digital sample of the music.
This reasoning is based on the following consideration: The CD
recording process takes 44,000 samples per second, but is still not a
continuous
offering of the original music like analog is, so the CD (like the
MP3) loses something, right? Well, true, for those who are able to
hear sounds above 20 kHz—while most of us adults peter out by about
12 to 13 kHz. So, no, there's virtually nothing missing on a CD that
your ear could ever discern. In fact, the best
thing that is missing on a CD recording, when compared to an LP, is
noise:
those unpleasant artifacts introduced by the recording equipment or
your playback system (such as pops and clicks due to dirt and
imperfections on the LP surface or a worn needle).
But
the digital CD recording is still sort of artificial, isn't it? After
all, it's just a digital sample, not the whole analog signal. Some
people declare that it lacks the "warmth" of a good LP. As
I wrote above, there really is nothing missing that the human ear can
discern. In fact, some experts say that it's likely what they are
responding to is not a better sound, but the old familiar analog LP
sound that has added things to it: low-frequency turntable
"rumble" or other surface noise due to the stylus riding
over imperfections on the record's surface.
I
think that many people are susceptible to elitist audiophile
suggestions. Our desire to acquire the latest and finest "improved"
product, so we can stay a step or two ahead of the Acoustic Joneses,
makes us vulnerable to the siren song of the marketplace. A
high-quality music listening experience comes from far more than
purchasing the latest audio fad and then convincing oneself that is
the best yet (even when it's LP retro!). This attitude gives short
shrift to simply developing good musical taste and attentively
listening to what the artists intended to provide.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Authentic Audio—Part 1
I
have been a music-listening freak ever since, as an 8-year-old kid, I
discovered what it was like to listen to 78 RPM records on my aunt's
post-World War II Victrola. (I realize that many younger people today
may not fathom a few terms in that sentence, so here's an abbreviated
glossary. 78 RPM: the turntable rotational speed of primeval record
players. Victrola: a generic term for some of those ancient machines.
Post-World War II: the late 1940s and early 50s. Okay; we're on same
page now?)
I
discovered at this tender age the magic of listening to recorded
music: I could play it over and over again—until I
either knew the song by heart, or the record became too worn-out for
me to tolerate the noise of its scratches and pops and clicks.
Today's younger generation knows little about how analog records
deteriorate with age or careless handling, as they can play a CD or
other digital audio file endlessly and never wear it out.
So
the experience of listening to modern digital music recordings is far
superior to the old records, right? Well, that's not the case in some
people's minds. There are many people in the last few years who have
come to believe that the venerable 12-inch LP vinyl record represents
the peak of music listening. In their minds it beats the digital CD,
hands down. And speaking of digital sound reproduction, those MP3
formats pale in comparison to a good quality CD, don't they? There
seems to be a backlash brewing, wherein some people prefer an LP to a
CD, and many feel the MP3 is the pits.
What's
going on here? What, after all, is the best format for music
listening among these candidates? I have been skeptical of people who express these recent
(retro) preferences, so I did some research to check into the
validity of them. As a former acoustic engineer and ongoing music
enthusiast, I wanted to delve into the matter and see what the truth
is—if possible. I feel that some of the popularity of LPs, as well
as the belittling of MP3s is a misunderstanding of the physics of
music reproduction, and I sought to learn more.
Let
me begin with what I found out about MP3s. This recording format was
developed a few decades ago, as a means of reducing the size of the
digital file required to store a song (either on a CD or any another
digital format). It is based upon a rigorous analysis of the science
of psychoacoustics—which tells us that the human ear cannot detect
all of the content of a pure, live acoustic event, such as music. We
are destined to remain ignorant of some of the information, due to
the limitations of our ear and the brain's processing of the
electrical signals received from the ear. So those working on
developing the MP3 asked: if a CD can essentially reproduce all
of
the original signal, why record those parts of it that the ear cannot
detect? Why waste storage space that is not needed? So recording
engineers set out to reduce the size of the music file.
Their
task was to measure what part of the original signal we can
hear and delete the rest. Why not save just the important parts and
throw away the part we can't hear? After many laboratory experiments,
the MP3 format was settled upon. It discards nearly 90% of the
digitized signal, thereby reducing the required kilobits of storage
by a factor of 10! That huge savings is particularly important when
you're streaming music over the internet. But what about the
information that is lost? Does discarding so much of the original
signal cheapen the experience?
More
on MP3s and other audio topics next time...
Monday, January 6, 2014
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Deer Desperadoes
I
wrote last year (“Masting Aftermath,” 12/26/12) about
experiencing a heavy masting year for oak acorns. (The masting
process is one in which oak trees somehow collaborate to grow a
superabundance of acorns every few years, thereby coating the forest
floor with far too many acorns for critters to eat—ensuring that
some survive to grow the next generation's oak trees.) Everywhere I
trekked in the woods last year, the ground was carpeted with
countless acorns. I had to watch my step, lest I slip on them and
fall.
So
last winter the deer, squirrels, turkeys, and other critters were fat
and happy—gorging themselves on the oaks' bounty. All that
overindulgence came to a screeching halt this fall, as the trees were
unusually stingy in their acorn crop. The result is severe hunger in
the ranks of these acorn harvesters. I don't know how the squirrels
and turkeys are faring, but we've seen lots of evidence of famished
deer.
We
depend on our free-roaming dogs to keep the deer from invading our
garden, and they do a good job of it. A garden fence deters the deer
to some degree, but the dogs love to chase any deer who takes a
second look at the fence and is contemplating a jump over it into
veggie heaven. So once again we made it through the summer with no
deer incursions in the garden.
This
fall has been a very different story, however. As foraging on tender
plants in the woods was brought to a close by the beginning of cold
weather and no backup supply of acorns was to be had this year, the
deer have repeatedly invaded the clearing. Numerous shrubs and bushes
do not get fenced, as the garden does. That is usually no problem,
because I've chosen varieties of shrubs known to be shunned by deer.
Well,
that may be true for normal years, but when starvation threatens, the
deer become desperate. They'll eat most anything green, as well as
many other types of barely edible plants. It's irritating as hell to
go out in the morning and find that deer have devastated our holly,
privet, and other evergreen shrubs.
It
makes me wish I had caught one in the act with a large stone in my
fist, which I could ricochet painfully off its butt. But when my wave
of fury has subsided, I feel sympathy for their plight. What kinds of
desperate actions might I take, if I were starving? I try to let go
my ire at the severe damage they've caused. After all, most of those
shrubs will probably recover next spring... or so I fervently hope.
But
I can't help wishing their stolen meal gives them a big bellyache. If
so, it might deter them from returning and finishing off what little
of the plants they spared.
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