Unknown Fly

I discovered this fly recently. I have no idea of what it is. Click to enlarge.

Earliest Ag?

A seminal event in the evolution of our species Homo sapiens occurred when we transitioned from a hunter-gatherer existence to a horticultural/agricultural way of life. For hundreds of thousands of years or longer we lived in small bands of a couple dozen or so closely-related people—surviving on what we could scavenge in the way of wild plants and animals. We were hunter-gatherers. When food became scarce in one location, we'd move on, seeking places that offered more sustenance. We were wanderers.

An enormous change in our lives happened when we discovered that we need not gather and eat only what Mother Nature provided freely, but that we could select for and encourage those plants that were tastiest and most nutritious. We transitioned from hunter-gatherers to cultivators. We also discovered that the meat we'd come to crave didn't always have to be hunted down in the wild, but that we could domesticate some of the more tame critters to supply our protein. Very slowly we transitioned from wanderers to settled people—living all year long in one location and building permanent dwellings.

One of the biggest changes that this development brought to Homo sapiens—and one we continue to struggle with—is that our communities grew larger. Whereas hunter-gatherer bands contained at most a few dozen people, we began forming villages of several hundred or more people. It made life a lot more challenging to find ways to allow humans to live together in crowded situations, without constantly getting in each others' faces. Violence and its associated moral dilemmas are problems that we have struggled with ever since. While we had hundreds of thousands (maybe millions) of years to find out ways to get along as hunter-gatherers, we've had only several thousand years to figure out how to live in crowded conditions, without waging constant wars. We're still working on it.

How long ago did that transition to agriculture occur? When did we settle down and begin to create cities and nations? Until recently, the accepted date was about 12 thousand years ago. Archaeological evidence suggested that humans invented agriculture and domesticated animals in the Middle East about then. Of course, the transition took some time—it wasn't an “overnight sensation.”

A recent discovery in Israel, however, seems to push that date much further back—to about 23 thousand years ago. Ancient settlements along the Sea of Galilee from that time have been carefully examined. Researchers found permanent huts, hearths, stone tools, and animal and plant remains. Precursors to domestic plants were also discovered; such as wheat, barley, lentils, figs, grapes, etc.

What I find fascinating is that the clincher to the fact that these 23-thousand-year-old people were farming is that they fought weeds invading their food plantings. What kinds of weeds? The same two prolific varieties that pester farms in Israel today. It seems that after humans clear some land, cultivate the soil, maybe fertilize it a little, what comes next? Weeds. Mother Nature abhors a cleared piece of land, so she created weeds. Our deep ancestors cultivated some of the first crops that humans grew, and had to deal with the same weedy critters that we do today. Fascinating.

Does it matter that we've now discovered that Homo sapiens settled down much longer ago that we'd thought? Maybe not. Maybe it tells us that we've had nearly twice as long to accommodate to an urban lifestyle, and that we should be further along than we are. That could be fodder for evolutionary psychologists who try to understand why our minds work the way they do. Maybe it tells us that we shouldn't get too locked into one theory of how we evolved. Maybe it has deeper implications about human nature, that we have yet to figure out. Maybe it's just more evidence that weeds are here to stay in our human-horticultured world.

Radcliffe's Dagger Moth Caterpillar

I found this guy walking across the hot tub. When I closed in for the photo, he reared up, as if to show me his fearsome front legs, warning me not to come any closer. Click to enlarge.

Cardinal Mate Swap

For at least a half-dozen years we have enjoyed watching our resident pair of cardinals go about the business of foraging, feeding, and rearing their young. We've been treated by their song, their beauty, and antics of the babies. I have written before that, because of the distinctive coloring of the male and female, we can easily tell them apart. Moreover, because the male is very territorial, he prevents any other male from setting up residence in our clearing; therefore, this is the only pair of cardinals we've seen around the homestead. In fact, we've watched them so many times over the years that we've gotten to know both of them—almost as family members. Their behavioral quirks have become quite familiar.

That's why I was rather startled when I watched an adult female cardinal fly to the feeder, a week or so ago. I was surprised because this was not our resident female. The breast of this bird was much lighter in color, her body was more slender, and her wings were a more somber shade of brown. I wondered if she was just passing through, which is odd in the middle of the brooding season; or if she'd soon be chased away by the larger resident female.

The new bird flew off and I went about my chores. A day or so later I spotted the newcomer again. I also recalled that I'd not seen the familiar old female in the meantime. Then I was surprised to see the male fly to the feeder one evening and join the new female. His behavior around her—eating with her, chipping back and forth as they did so, and then flying off with her—was exactly as he had done for years with his long-time mate. It hit me that this must be his new mate! I'm sure that he would not be cavorting with another female—unless his former mate was gone.

Over the next several days I watched the newly-mated pair come and go from the feeder—continuing to act like a typical cardinal couple. Something had happened to his old mate. I pondered the possibilities. I doubt that she's still alive—she'd not have surrendered her queendom of the clearing without a fight. I had watched her assertive ways for too many years to accept the fact that another female would likely dethrone her.

Cardinals may mate for just one season or for life—as our pair seemed to have done. What happens when one of the mates dies? Do they mourn the loss of the partner they've had for several years? Some people have observed the death of a mated bird, watched the behavior of the survivor, and interpreted it as grieving. This may be, but we humans have a propensity to read how we would feel in the situation into an animal's behavior. It's called anthropomorphism.

We humans will likely never know how an animal really feels. I once watched a black snake raid a bluebird nesting box, then kill and eat two babies, before I chased it off. The parents fought the snake noisily and gallantly, but I observed no mourning on their part, after the incident was over. Very soon they resumed feeding their two surviving babies (one of which I had picked up off the ground and put back in the box), behaving as if nothing had happened. They had important things to do.

As for my male cardinal and his new mate: How had he behaved at the loss of his former mate? Was he present when she met her end? Did she actually die? I can't believe that, as a settled pair for so long, he'd simply dump her. It seems odd that this would happen in the middle of the brooding season, but if she did die, why should he not promptly carry on? That indomitable spirit is what has kept this species going for millions of years.

This is yet another of those examples of what happens when you have the time to delve into an event in Mother Nature's wonderful world. You are able to learn some fascinating things—but for every single piece of knowledge you gather, you just uncover at least two more puzzling questions. It's what keeps my life here on the homestead an endless, interesting quest to understand the secrets of the natural world.