Siberian March

I have been collecting daily weather data for nearly 30 years now: high/low/average temperature, precipitation, etc. At the completion of each month and year I play with all my data, computing things like total precipitation, average temperatures, heating and cooling degree days per month and season, the winter's amount of wood burned, monthly electrical usage, snowfall, number of days of temperature extremes, first and last days of frost, drought and heavy rain spells, and a few other eccentric calculations.

That's why I know that March 2013 set a 30-year record for the coldest March, here on the old homestead. When a month's average temperature is 3-4 degrees above or below the long-term average, we can subjectively feel it. When it's 7-8 degrees different, we really feel it! All month long this March felt very chilly to us and the month's end statistics confirmed our impressions: the average daily high temperature was 10^o below normal! The days of March simply refused to warm up.

March may metaphorically come in like a lion and exit like a lamb, but this one stayed Siberian the whole time. Those normal, warm, late-March afternoons induce plants to bud and bloom, as they prepare themselves for a showy April. But not this March! Wisely, the buds kept themselves tightly rolled up from the cold, and the daffodils hunkered down close to the ground, leery of poking their delicate heads into the frigid air.

We stayed mostly inside, stoking the wood stove far more than usual, as we chomped at the bit to get outside and prepare the garden for another summer's bounty. Warm up, dammit!

In stark contrast, last year brought an unusually warm March—the days' high temperatures were 18^o higher than this year. Eighteen degrees! That's the equivalent of having last year's March be as warm as April, while this year's March was more like February! Now, that two-month spread has got to be confusing to Mother nature's flora and fauna. Yet they've dealt with it, rolling with the hot or cold punches.

Climate doubters will scorn any thoughts of global warming, in the face of an unusually cold month like this March. They simply misunderstand the difference between climate and temperature. As the climate gradually warms, cold spells will still visit us. In fact, colder temperatures at our latitude can be directly chalked down to a warming arctic region, because the warmer weather up there disturbs and forces the jet stream farther south, bringing that chill down here.

I don't mind a cool early spring period, however, because it keeps those delicate blossoms under wraps longer than usual, so they are less likely to be damaged by a late April frosty night. After last year's warm March, we lost all of our fruit crop, because the warmth had made all the blossoms open too early. They all got zapped by that April night's chill. Maybe this year the fruit trees will bear a bounty!

Remains of a Pileated Woodpecker's Lunch

There must have been a lot of bugs in that log!

More Beautiful

An article in a September 2012 Guardian newspaper makes the case for, as its title describes, “Science is More Beautiful Than Art.” The point being made by the (science) writer is that science is bringing us ever more beautiful images, in the way of gorgeous and breathtaking photos from the Hubble Space Telescope, deep sea pictures, and recently-discovered exotic animals, for example. And, as if the photos are not stunning enough, he writes that science brings us mind-bending descriptions of quantum mechanics, insights into the wonders of deep space, and opens the beauty of the world of mathematics.

The article notes that, while art has traditionally demonstrated the beauty and higher workings of the human mind, science pushes our minds even further than art. It stimulates our imagination more.

I have pondered the point of this article in recent months, feeling a general sense of agreement, but still not quite buying it all. Given my science training and past research work, I have always had an interest in and sympathy with the sentiments of those who see lovely and charming things in science. I’ve always thought that science presents us elegant messages and theories—in the sense that they are both ingenious and simple. But science more beautiful than art?

Then it hit me a few days ago what my reluctance about the article is: I don’t think that science is what’s beautiful; it’s what science reveals to us about the natural world that is delightful and appealing. There is nothing in the realm of human accomplishment that can inspire awe in me like certain sunsets, the sight of a red cardinal at the birdfeeder, a Hubble Telescope image of a distant galaxy, the delicacy of a flower blossom, the breeze-induced sway of a large oak tree, the sight of Appalachian Mountain ridges receding into the hazy distance, and the graceful flight of a hawk.

Yes, human art can lift us up and thrill our senses, but it doesn’t hold a candle in my mind to the wonders of nature. For those who live in urban areas, it’s easy to become overly focused on the human species’ accomplishments in the various fields of art. I believe one can cure that bias by traveling to the country, lying back on the ground on a clear night, and gazing into the sky, or becoming mesmerized by the stunning colors of a sunset.

Early Spring Snowstorm

May this be the last one!

Capacity for Cooperation—Part 2

Why will a soldier sacrifice himself for his buddies? Why have countless martyrs given up their lives for the cause? Similar situations exist in the animal world. The selfish-gene theory cannot account for this phenomenon, so the proponents of this theory tend either to ignore this situation or disagree that it has any relevance.

An alternative to the selfish-gene theory of evolution has recently been gaining adherents. This view sees cooperation as being at the foundation of evolution, not the selfish gene. This camp perceives the survival of the species to be more dependent on the group surviving, than the individual. After all, what good does it do for an individual, if all other members of its group dies off? He can’t send his genes into the future in that case. When the group is fit and healthy, however, everyone is better off. What’s more to the point, the group thrives when its members cooperate.

This is the crux of the current battle in biology—and it's a raging battle, too. Emotions are high and strong; tempers have flared. Those who favor the selfish gene theory have dominated the scene for a couple of decades now. So they have a lot at stake—many of them have based their careers on this assumption. The upstarts who favor cooperation are taking a lot of flak. Many people look upon scientists as cool headed, dispassionate dudes, who let the facts decide. But new and opposing facts are always—and often inconveniently—arising, and heads have gotten rather hot, in the current debate.

I'm biased towards the cooperation side of the argument. I've written before in this blog about how some biologists believe cooperation has been a positive factor in evolution. (See “Higher Cooperation,” 1/13/10 and “Be No Competition,” 10/2/10.) This topic is a very complex one. I don't think it can be boiled down to a simplistic explanation such as the selfish gene theory, that sees us all driven as automatons to respond in a competitive manner, as if we are helpless.

It was an incredible accomplishment for Darwin to parse out the complex process of evolution. Scientists are still trying to figure out the details, and they'll be arguing for some time yet.

Since we humans are a species that tends to be very competitive, we aren’t inclined to look upon cooperation as important (especially in a capitalistic environment). I believe, however, that cooperation is an instinct that we and other creatures settled upon long ago as an effective way to further the species. Yes, I'd like to see my genes flow into the future, and I certainly feel that inner drive to do so, but I also know that my success as an individual depends very much on the health of my local community. I benefit when the group is strong and it provides me safety, food, and a good place to live. If the group does well, I do well. It makes sense, therefore, that I should do what I can to help my group do well. I will place a high priority in doing so...maybe even to the extent of sacrificing myself for it.

The Promise of Spring

A very pregnant quince bud. (Click to enlarge.)

Capacity for Cooperation—Part 1

A battle has been raging in biology for a few decades, about the role of cooperation in evolution. Is evolution primarily driven by competition or cooperation? Darwin posited his theory of evolution on the basis that competition for life dominates in the natural world. He saw that far more offspring of any given species are born than can survive in any given situation and location, so there's an intense struggle for survival—which later came to be dubbed “survival of the fittest.” (That’s not Darwin’s term, but was coined by enthusiasts who followed him.) Those critters most fit will survive and those less so will perish...it's that simple and that brutal. 

Any tiny advantage—any favorable minuscule genetic mutation that pops up—may offer a critter a wee bit better chance of survival that its competitors. If the critter does have a better chance of staying alive, it has a better chance of reproducing and sending that advantage into the future. In contrast, a tiny disadvantage in a genetic mutation may see the critter die early and fail to send its genes into the future. It's the end of the line for that less favorable mutation.

So far, what I have described is no cause for the disagreement that prevails between the opposing biological camps. They both agree…thus far. The debate enters when we come to consider what's called “inclusiveness fitness”—when a critter sacrifices itself for others. Martyrdom prevents one's genes from continuing on, and since the propagation of one's genes into the future seems to be a driving factor, how can one explain the systematic willingness of some members of a species to sacrifice themselves for others, when that sacrifice terminates one's genes? If all critters are driven solely by the urge to send their genes into the future, how does one account for those who voluntarily give up that drive?

Richard Dawkins is a prominent leader of the camp that considers our genes to be firmly in control—that we are “driven” by our “selfish genes.” He writes that our behavior is literally determined by our self-seeking genes, simply to transport them into the future. Dawkins’s camp insists that inclusive fitness is the only way to explain why some members of a species will sacrifice themselves. All members of a bee colony, for example, share common genes (they are all sisters). Thus, if a sister sacrifices itself, it's doing so to protect the family—the family's genes will survive, even if the individual bee dies. Similarly, a human being may sacrifice himself for a close family member. By doing so, his genes will get terminated, but the family genes may go on.

That's all fine. There’s still no real argument among biologists. The debate comes in because there are a few situations where individuals will sacrifice themselves for others who are not family members. What's going on here? How do you explain why someone would willingly give up her chance to send her own genes into the future, just to help foreign genes to survive? Does this not seem to violate the principle that we are controlled by our selfish genes? This is the core of the disagreement between the biology camps.

More on our capacity to cooperate next time…