It is a pleasure for me to be around birds—to experience their many fascinating ways. Those experiences, as I ponder them, come primarily through two senses: seeing and listening. The principal sense is visual: watching their many antics. I’ll address that next time, but for now I’d like to focus on the secondary—but not least—sense: listening.
Field guides can be crucial in visually identifying and learning about birds, but recorded birds calls are essential for figuring out what one hears. And learning the calls of some species may be the only way to know they’re around, since the shy ones may never be seen. I’ll divide the calls into three categories: the simple, moderate, and complex callers.
I use the term “simple,” both to describe the quality of the call, and also because they’re pretty simple to identify. Once you’ve heard the whippoorwill’s onomatopoeic call (same sound as their name), you’ll never confuse it with any other bird. Other types of birds with imitative names that we have are the phoebe and pewee—close cousins to one another. You can guess how their call sounds.
The simple song of the titmouse is easy to copy with a whistle (the only bird call I can replicate this way). I love to tease a male titmouse by imitating his call. He’ll fly in my direction, looking for his competitor—never able to grasp that the big hominid on the ground is toying with him.
Other simple callers are hawks (an intimidating screech), the melancholy calls of the mourning dove (“oo AHH cooo coo coo”), the barred owl (“hoo hoo ho-ho, hoo hoo ho-hoooooaawr”), and the screech owl (a haunting, whinnying tremolo). (The “hoo” and “coo” sounds are courtesy of the Sibley Field Guide to Birds.)
Skipping to the complex callers, there’s no way of adequately describing their songs—they’re just too intricate. I’ve written before (7/19/08) of the wood thrush and its incredibly musical call. Our other local virtuoso is the indigo bunting. His call is a rapid, random-seeming sequence of notes—almost like an accomplished flute player warming up. It took me many months to identify this bird, as it is very shy and nondescript looking, and by the time I could get the bird call CD out, I’d forgotten his intricate call.
Finally the callers in the middle: singing out with neither a simple melody nor a complicated one—but still too much for me to be able to copy with my puckered lips. These birds fill out the local avian chorus—sort of like altos and baritones in a human choir. Cardinals, robins, and Carolina wrens all have roughly similar calls, all are very melodic. Goldfinches sing out with a nonstop twitter and tweet, like a coffee klatch gossip group. Then there are the distinctive woodpeckers—pileated, hairy, downy, and red-bellied. They all utter a brief squawk, a loud drumming on a hollow limb, or a cackle—the latter as if they were splitting their sides after hearing a great joke. (Remember Woody Woodpecker?)
Yes, listening to birds is fascinating, but nothing quite matches watching the flash of colorful wings. About that next time.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Aristotle’s Science—Part 2
Aristotle had different scientific ideas than did his lesser-known contemporaries—and many of those ideas were simply wrong. He refuted Aristarchus, teaching that the Earth did not move and that the stars were permanent (the firmament). He badly misunderstood the motion of bodies and the influence of gravity. He taught that every body had a natural resting place and thus, for example, an arrow can keep flying only because the air it displaces moves behind the arrow and pushes it along. He essentially believed that scientific knowledge was complete at the time—that everything to be known about natural philosophy was in hand. He never put his scientific ideas to test by simple experiments, so they could not be proven wrong. The weight of their implied truthfulness, by the strength of his mind, carried the day.
Why did Aristotle’s erroneous scientific beliefs outshine and outlast the more accurate teachings of his Greek cohorts Herakleides and Aristarchus? Partly it was his gigantic reputation and partly the disciples who followed him. Aristotle founded the Lyceum, an academy that flourished for centuries and solidified his scientific ideas into rigid ideologies. Additionally, the Christian church later seized upon the Aristotelian dogma of an Earth-centered universe and added its weight to the belief. In contrast, Herakleides and Aristarchus were loners, whose more correct ideas died with them.
The result was that these erroneous Aristotelian scientific ideas got locked in for the next 1500 years. They held sway in Europe, into and through the Dark Ages—never getting challenged until Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo began to rediscover and bring to light the truth. But all three of them paid the price for their teachings, as both the established scientific and Christian institutions’ doctrine that an unmoving Earth is at the center of it all had thoroughly ossified.
It makes me wonder how history might have been written, were it not for Aristotle’s dominant views of natural philosophy. How might things have unfolded if open inquiry into the physical nature of the cosmos had continued from Aristarchus? Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo had to be extremely cautious about how they described their theories—lest the church lower its ecclesiastical boom. As it was, the first two deftly ducked, but Galileo got nailed.
It also shows that the history of science is not a logical, unfolding field of knowledge, which is tended by impartial, cool-headed people (sorry, Mr. Spock). It’s a lot more fascinating than that.
Why did Aristotle’s erroneous scientific beliefs outshine and outlast the more accurate teachings of his Greek cohorts Herakleides and Aristarchus? Partly it was his gigantic reputation and partly the disciples who followed him. Aristotle founded the Lyceum, an academy that flourished for centuries and solidified his scientific ideas into rigid ideologies. Additionally, the Christian church later seized upon the Aristotelian dogma of an Earth-centered universe and added its weight to the belief. In contrast, Herakleides and Aristarchus were loners, whose more correct ideas died with them.
The result was that these erroneous Aristotelian scientific ideas got locked in for the next 1500 years. They held sway in Europe, into and through the Dark Ages—never getting challenged until Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo began to rediscover and bring to light the truth. But all three of them paid the price for their teachings, as both the established scientific and Christian institutions’ doctrine that an unmoving Earth is at the center of it all had thoroughly ossified.
It makes me wonder how history might have been written, were it not for Aristotle’s dominant views of natural philosophy. How might things have unfolded if open inquiry into the physical nature of the cosmos had continued from Aristarchus? Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo had to be extremely cautious about how they described their theories—lest the church lower its ecclesiastical boom. As it was, the first two deftly ducked, but Galileo got nailed.
It also shows that the history of science is not a logical, unfolding field of knowledge, which is tended by impartial, cool-headed people (sorry, Mr. Spock). It’s a lot more fascinating than that.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Aristotle’s Science—Part 1
I’m reading a book entitled Debunking History: 152 Popular Myths Exploded. Its authors’ central theme is that commonly-accepted perceptions of historical events are often wrong. We come to believe a version of history that feels right—sometimes just because it’s been repeated so often. Or it is a simpler story of events than the complex reality. Or it fits the mindset of those who record history (which is written mostly by the winners).
Science is my background and I get fascinated by discovering the reality of scientific history—truths that either debunk accepted views or bring to light little-known incidents that steered science (and its part in human history) in the direction it eventually took. I also enjoy uncovering the truth about the foibles and humanness of well-known scientists of the past—people who are often misperceived as scrupulously ethical and dispassionate, as modeled by Mr. Spock on Star Trek; when they are often quite emotional and too often unprincipled.
An example of a revered ancient expert whose scientific contributions are often misunderstood is Aristotle. He is known and revered the world around as humanity’s first and greatest philosopher. He has often been referred to as simply “the philosopher.” No one’s reputation quite approaches Aristotle’s—and for good reason. The depth of his understanding in many fields of human knowledge was remarkable, and most of his penetrating insights into human behavior and conduct remain as valid as when he taught them, some 2300 years ago.
As a scientist, however, Aristotle’s legacy has been very problematic and even detrimental to our understanding of the natural world. In ancient Greece science (or physics) was called “natural philosophy.” Aristotle’s pronouncements on science were thus regarded as simply another branch of philosophy and his supreme reputation in philosophy brought unquestioned allegiance to his scientific teachings—most of which were simply wrong.
Prior to Aristotle’s entry on the Aegean scene (some 200-300 years before him), ancient Greece had been a thriving hotbed of learning. Pythagoras was at the center of the action then—achieving profound breakthroughs in mathematics and geometry. In fact, the word “philosophy” is Pythagorean in origin. Its archaic meaning is the love of and search for knowledge and wisdom. Pythagoras was the essence of a scientist: original in thought and meticulous in his observations. His ideas got exposed to experimental light, whenever possible. He laid the foundation for a rigorous kind of Greek science.
In the mode of Pythagoras, the duo of Aristarchus and Herakleides—both contemporaries of Aristotle—initiated the concept that the Earth and other planets revolved around the sun. This was a major departure from previous teachings of the Babylonians and Egyptians—whose more rudimentary observations and worldviews made them certain that Earth was at the center of it all. In contrast, Aristotle held to the older idea that we are at the center of the action and his reputation saw to it that his position prevailed.
More on Aristotle’s legacy next time…
Science is my background and I get fascinated by discovering the reality of scientific history—truths that either debunk accepted views or bring to light little-known incidents that steered science (and its part in human history) in the direction it eventually took. I also enjoy uncovering the truth about the foibles and humanness of well-known scientists of the past—people who are often misperceived as scrupulously ethical and dispassionate, as modeled by Mr. Spock on Star Trek; when they are often quite emotional and too often unprincipled.
An example of a revered ancient expert whose scientific contributions are often misunderstood is Aristotle. He is known and revered the world around as humanity’s first and greatest philosopher. He has often been referred to as simply “the philosopher.” No one’s reputation quite approaches Aristotle’s—and for good reason. The depth of his understanding in many fields of human knowledge was remarkable, and most of his penetrating insights into human behavior and conduct remain as valid as when he taught them, some 2300 years ago.
As a scientist, however, Aristotle’s legacy has been very problematic and even detrimental to our understanding of the natural world. In ancient Greece science (or physics) was called “natural philosophy.” Aristotle’s pronouncements on science were thus regarded as simply another branch of philosophy and his supreme reputation in philosophy brought unquestioned allegiance to his scientific teachings—most of which were simply wrong.
Prior to Aristotle’s entry on the Aegean scene (some 200-300 years before him), ancient Greece had been a thriving hotbed of learning. Pythagoras was at the center of the action then—achieving profound breakthroughs in mathematics and geometry. In fact, the word “philosophy” is Pythagorean in origin. Its archaic meaning is the love of and search for knowledge and wisdom. Pythagoras was the essence of a scientist: original in thought and meticulous in his observations. His ideas got exposed to experimental light, whenever possible. He laid the foundation for a rigorous kind of Greek science.
In the mode of Pythagoras, the duo of Aristarchus and Herakleides—both contemporaries of Aristotle—initiated the concept that the Earth and other planets revolved around the sun. This was a major departure from previous teachings of the Babylonians and Egyptians—whose more rudimentary observations and worldviews made them certain that Earth was at the center of it all. In contrast, Aristotle held to the older idea that we are at the center of the action and his reputation saw to it that his position prevailed.
More on Aristotle’s legacy next time…
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Swarm Intelligence Revisited
I wrote earlier about the concept of swarm intelligence (1/29/09, “Nascent Wisdom”), wherein I gave examples of how social creatures collectively exhibit far more skill and wisdom than any one of them would ever be capable of. I described some of the intelligent behavior that colonies of ants and bees demonstrate. I also described how flocks of birds and schools of fish cleverly avoid predators when their collective mass instantly changes shape and moves organically.
Audubon Magazine recently offered some gorgeous photos of flocks of starlings, as the cloud of birds undulates and assumes some fantastic shapes. Some of these photos can be seen at http://www.richardbarnes.net/ , the work of photographer Richard Barnes.
The Audubon article also described ongoing research that is exploring the dynamics of these clouds of birds—trying to understand what each bird must be doing, in order for the whole flock to act instantly as one organism. The researchers have been able to identify some of the basic parameters of the process, but seem stumped as to explaining the overall phenomenon. I believe that understanding the process of swarm intelligence is beyond us at this time, because it’s an emergent capability that cannot be anticipated or described by current scientific capabilities.
There are other examples of emergent qualities that science has as yet been unable to explain or comprehend. The major one is the emergence of life on Earth. Science is tantalizingly close to understanding that the advent of Earthly life was preceded by a crucial collection and mixing of what is called prebiotic compounds—certain amino acids, proteins, etc. But how the compounds interacted and why these complex chemicals suddenly sprang to life is another, far deeper story.
Another example of an emergent quality is the appearance of consciousness. Out of a complex collection of primitive brain cells in ancient animals consciousness arose at some point. Neither the emergence of life nor of consciousness (or the cloud of bird dynamics) can be explained by conventional science. It can be modeled by incredibly complex computer simulations, but that’s not an explanation, it’s just a recreation.
Of course, one way to answer the dilemma is by stating that God created life, and that may well be the case, but that’s also not an explanation of how. Suffice it to say that I’m content to live with the mystery. Someday down the road we humans may well come to understand emergent processes, just as we once came to understand that all the stars are suns, and that the planets revolve around our sun, not the Earth.
It seems as if Homo sapiens might be on the verge of yet another emergent quality: wisdom. We might be at the point when a sustainable, spiritual worldview emerges, replacing our current destructive, immature mentality. It needs to happen soon.
Audubon Magazine recently offered some gorgeous photos of flocks of starlings, as the cloud of birds undulates and assumes some fantastic shapes. Some of these photos can be seen at http://www.richardbarnes.net/ , the work of photographer Richard Barnes.
The Audubon article also described ongoing research that is exploring the dynamics of these clouds of birds—trying to understand what each bird must be doing, in order for the whole flock to act instantly as one organism. The researchers have been able to identify some of the basic parameters of the process, but seem stumped as to explaining the overall phenomenon. I believe that understanding the process of swarm intelligence is beyond us at this time, because it’s an emergent capability that cannot be anticipated or described by current scientific capabilities.
There are other examples of emergent qualities that science has as yet been unable to explain or comprehend. The major one is the emergence of life on Earth. Science is tantalizingly close to understanding that the advent of Earthly life was preceded by a crucial collection and mixing of what is called prebiotic compounds—certain amino acids, proteins, etc. But how the compounds interacted and why these complex chemicals suddenly sprang to life is another, far deeper story.
Another example of an emergent quality is the appearance of consciousness. Out of a complex collection of primitive brain cells in ancient animals consciousness arose at some point. Neither the emergence of life nor of consciousness (or the cloud of bird dynamics) can be explained by conventional science. It can be modeled by incredibly complex computer simulations, but that’s not an explanation, it’s just a recreation.
Of course, one way to answer the dilemma is by stating that God created life, and that may well be the case, but that’s also not an explanation of how. Suffice it to say that I’m content to live with the mystery. Someday down the road we humans may well come to understand emergent processes, just as we once came to understand that all the stars are suns, and that the planets revolve around our sun, not the Earth.
It seems as if Homo sapiens might be on the verge of yet another emergent quality: wisdom. We might be at the point when a sustainable, spiritual worldview emerges, replacing our current destructive, immature mentality. It needs to happen soon.
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