This is the first time this bird has visited the feeder. It usually keeps to the deeper forest.

Wood Burning Joys

We have heated our domicile solely by burning wood, for over 30 years now. I have enjoyed the many satisfactions of wood burning, but recently read an article that added one more pleasure to the process. But first, let me count the ways that I find heating the house with a wood stove fulfilling.

First, gathering wood is excellent physical exercise. I think it was Thoreau who ticked off the numerous times that wood burning warms the body and soul: when you cut it, when you haul it, when you split and stack it, and finally, when you burn it. Being well into my Social Security years, cutting and collecting wood helps keep me young. (Well, OK, it does force this aging body to do hard work, which is therapeutic.)

Second, we save lots of money over conventional heating methods. We are fortunate to be surrounded by woods and our logs come free. Just the cost of some sweat labor and a chain saw are the price we pay. 

Third, wood is a renewable resource. Trees are continually growing around here. We're not burning nonrenewable fossil fuels.

Fourth, there is the satisfaction of being self-sufficient and free of being forced to rely on the whims of the volatile fossil fuel markets. There is something important about holding onto one's autonomy these days, through developing some proficiency of being able to take care of yourself. We can't depend on governments and businesses to be as reliable as they once were.

Fifth, all these years of handling wood, as I cut, carry, split, and stuff it into the stove, have given me the pleasure of coming to know and appreciate wood...even revere it and the trees that provide it. I love the smell of freshly-cut red oak and the way its straight grain yields to my splitting maul. I love being able to cut up a hardwood tree that a strong wind has toppled—saving me the danger of felling it myself—and using its heat value before it has a chance to begin rotting. I love being in the woods, looking up at those majestic trees, feeling a deep reverence for their great size and longevity. They both dwarf and provide for me.

If these weren't enough reasons for enjoying burning wood, I recently added another one to my list. An article in a magazine described how the wood stove has traditionally been a focal point of the home. Warmth radiates from it—filling the interior space with cheer. People cuddle up to a stove. They gather round it and enjoy each other's company. Wood stoves literally build community!

In contrast, a furnace relegates the source of warmth to the basement, or hides it in a closet. We feel no coziness with a furnace and have little understanding of or familiarity with it. There's a thermostat on the wall—put there by an expert, whose operation we only dimly comprehend. We listen to it click noisily on and off. When it suddenly quits working, we call another expert in a panic to come fix it. We have no real involvement with or understanding of a furnace.

 

What have we lost in trading our wood stoves for furnaces? Some people would say that we've thankfully lost messiness, inconvenience, and a sore back. Good riddance! I think there are some tangible benefits to burning wood, however. In fact, I've just listed six of them! That said, I have to admit to looking forward now to some warm days, when the windows are open and those balmy breezes waft through. (Now I labor in the garden.)

Six-spotted Tiger Beetle

This beetle (Cicindela sexguttata) is a forest beetle that likes to gobble ants, spiders, and caterpillars. Unlike their cousins, the ground beetles, these guys forage in broad daylight, their shell shining spectacularly. (Click to enlarge.)

Charming Chickadees

Watching some birds come and go at the feeder recently, I found myself focused for an extended period of time on a few chickadees. They, along with tufted titmice, are the most prevalent species of bird to dine on our offered sunflower seeds. Being the most common of birds, it can become easy to disregard them, allowing my attention to be drawn to those rarer species that less frequently visit the feeder.

There are two varieties of chickadee here in the eastern US: the black-capped chickadee, which lives to the north of us and the Carolina chickadee, which inhabits the southern states. It challenges the most inveterate birdwatcher to be able to distinguish between these two subspecies. The challenge is even stiffer where we live, since we occupy the borderline range between them, and the two species even interbreed around here—fostering what might be called the “Hybridized Black-capped Carolina Chickadee.” 

This cute bird is our smallest bird at the feeder—deferring to any other bird that wishes to muscle in. Only the hummingbird is smaller, and it prefers the sugar feeder. The perky and acrobatic mannerisms of the chickadee always fascinates and charms me. Interestingly, although it is the most timid bird and thus at the bottom of the avian pecking order, the chickadee is the tamest of birds around humans. If I stand still just a few feet from the feeder, one of them will soon land close to me, give me the cute eye, and proceed to choose a seed. They can even be trained to pick seeds out of the palm of your hand—something I would like to try someday.

As I was watching a couple of them the other day, it suddenly occurred to me that they looked a little like perky penguins—all decked out in their formal black-and-white attire. Their throat and the cap of their head are inky black, with a blindingly white triangular patch running from their bill, under the eye, and back to the nape of their neck. Or maybe they resemble diminutive, plump Catholic nuns. All three of these formally-attired creatures are cute (unless, of course, you were once a little kid under the eye of a stereotypical stern nun in a strict Catholic school).

 

Although some 8-10 chickadees will congregate as one happy family at our feeder during the cold months, they are in the process of pairing off and choosing nesting sites at this time of year. They will mate for life—a fact that I can't verify, because I can't tell one from the other, since male and female appear identical to me. There's a lot of jousting going on between (what I assume to be) males, as they compete for the better nesting locations. Proximity to the feeder is the most highly-valued territory.

Sometimes it's a good idea to place focused attention to the more common things in life. We can do well to remind ourselves just how special they are, which then reminds us how wonderful it all is.

Bess Beetle

Also called patent leather beetle. Can you guess why from the photo? They are in the stag beetle family, because of their anterlike mandibles, which the males use to fight over ladies. He was about an inch long.

Click to enlarge.

Digital or Analog?

Is the fundamental nature of the universe continuous or discrete? Does matter come in lumps or waves? Is the material universe intrinsically a digital or an analog thing?

It's an ancient debate that has relentlessly been waged for over two millennia in the Western world. (I can't speak for the Chinese; they may have been arguing about it for 5,000 years or so.) The pendulum periodically swings toward the discrete side, as scientists view the natural world as made up of particles: discrete elements like atoms. Then it will swing the other way for a period of time, as those who view nature as continuous will gain the upper hand. The dispute carries on today.

The ancient Greeks were among the first to draw opposing sides on the issue. Aristotle and his camp saw the world as continuous, while the atomists saw it as discrete. Long before technology advanced to the point that the existence of atoms could be demonstrated, their actuality was presciently posited by Democritus and his followers.

Look at a river. The flowing water looks continuous. No matter how much you subdivide it—down to a trickle or even a drop—it appears to the naked eye to be the same thing: a clear, unbroken liquid. So Aristotle and his buddies reasoned. And yet we moderns know that water is composed of discrete molecules of H₂O; tiny discontinuous entities. Modern chemistry shows us that the water molecule is further composed of atoms of hydrogen and oxygen—which are themselves made up of protons and electrons...just finer, discrete lumps of matter. 

But wait: we don't need to stop at these particles. Protons and electrons are made up of quarks and leptons...still finer particles. But wait again: modern particle physics knows that another way of looking at these most fundamental building blocks is that they are apparently composed of continuous energy fields. Some physicists call the newly-discovered Higgs boson a particle, some call it the Higgs field. So these most fundamental particles can also appear to be like “ripples” in continuous energy fields. 

Now we seem to be back to the analog. And so it goes: Is the universe continuous or discrete? Analog or digital? It seems to depend on how fine you look at it and your preference. The debate goes on.

Another conundrum of this type can be encountered when one considers light. Ever since Newton's time (18^th century) one scientific camp has considered light to be made up of particles (photons) and another camp views light as waves. Quantum mechanics entered the fray in the early 20^th century and added its weight to both sides of the argument. Is light particles or waves? Discrete or continuous? Well, the discomfiting thing about quantum mechanics is that the answer is never definitive. The answer always seems to be: depends; could be both. Depends on how you look at it. That's no help!

So here we are in the 21^st century—still not sure if nature, at its heart, is analog or digital. The debate rages on. Will we ever find an answer? Maybe a more pertinent query is: Are we even asking the right question?

Spring Dandelion

Who says dandelions aren't gorgeous? Click to enlarge.