Why Evolution is True is a blog written by Jerry Coyne, centered on evolution and biology but also dealing with diverse topics like politics, culture, and cats.
The days go by, and we are already heading for the end of the week.
Today in 1981 an assassination attempt was made on Ronald Reagan injuring him seriously, as well as two others. The would-be killer John Hinckley Jr. was found not guilty for reasons of insanity and spent the next 35 years in a psychiatric facility. Public outcry to this verdict led to the Insanity Defense Reform Act three years later so that defendants can only use this defence if it is proved they are “unable to appreciate the nature and quality or wrongfulness of [their] acts”.
Spanish artist Francis Goya was born today (1746-1828). He produced the famous Sleep Of Reason etching but may be more famous for his more grotesque “Black Paintings” produced in old age, alone, deaf and possibly battling depression.
From the Black Paintings:
Tracy Chapman (1964) also celebrates her birthday today. Fast Car was her first big hit, and still a favorite of mine.
Bill Malcolm forwarded this picture of himself to Jerry, the close encounter with a Kea.
Moving on, we have words from Poland. It seems that Hili is wearing the patience of her staff a little thin. I guess they can see where this is going.
Hili: Spring is the time for birdsong and nest building.
A: Could we talk about something else?
In Polish:
Hili: Wiosna to śpiew ptaków i budowanie gniazd.
Ja: Czy możemy porozmawiać o czymś innym?
And finally, we have some correspondence from the staff of Gus.
The snow has almost all melted. I noticed Gus at this plant pot that had been buried in snow until a few days ago. It took me a moment to remember that it’s the pot I grew catnip in last summer.
Yesterday Don MacKay and I were invited to a “sheep station” (the word “ranch” isn’t used here) to tag along with a bunch of American wine buyers visiting New Zealand to sample the local sauvignon blancs and pinots. Don and his wife Karen are long-time friends of the station’s owners, Paul and Muff Newton, and the Newton’s big station, which goes way up into the hills, is called Kaituna Ridges. While the link says it has 5000 Romney sheep, it’s more like 8000 after lambing season. There are about three sheep for every person in New Zealand (about 4 million people).
The wine buyers were given a visit to the station as lagniappe (and, I suppose, to give them a taste of local culture in hopes that they’d buy more wine!), but we were allowed to see the demonstrations too and even have tea and scones. It was two hours or so of great fun.
Here’s part of the station. Paul and Muff’s property, and the areas grazed by their Romney sheep, go way up into the hills. The anmals roam freely, eating the grass, and are collected by using a combination of a four-wheeled motorcycle and a passel of working sheepdogs.
It was warm yesterday, and sheep congregated in the shade:
There are about a half-dozen working dogs on the station. The black and white ones are the New Zealand equivalent of border collies: smart, active, and good at following whistled commands to round up sheep. Their legs are longer than border collies as they have to run long distances uphill, and have been bred for that. Care is taken not to overwork the dogs.
There are also a couple of larger brown dogs that not only chase the sheep, but are trained to bark, also on whistle command. The barking scares the bejeesus out of the sheep and make them run fast to the station or paddock. The combination of the barkers and “round-up” dogs make bringing the sheep in very efficient. And it has to be when you have 8,000 sheep!
Paul with one of his dogs, which he secured between his legs.
Muff did a swell demonstration, using a small plastic whistle, whose sound carries great distances, to call in a bunch of sheep. Someone asked her how many calls she could make, and she had no idea, but they can make a dog do anything. Further, the calls are dog-specific: they can be issuing commands to three dogs at a time, all working a group of sheep, and each dog knows which command is for him. I have no idea how this is done, but it does work, as you can see:
The sheep were collected from a great distance and brought to us in a compact pack. The whistle tells each dog whether to run round the flock clockwise or counterclockwise. This is an amazing demonstration of human/animal mutualism, though what the dogs get out of it I’m not sure! (It’s exercising their genetic imperative.) It’s impressive to watch how a dog can corral a lone sheep that escapes the pack and bring it back to the group.
Cornered!
We were then treated to a demonstration of sheep shearing by Paul, who began life as a shearer. Each shearer, and they hire six during shearing season, brings his own moccasins (to avoid injuring the sheep, as you hold them with your feet), as well as his own shearing head to cleave the wool.
The sheep come in through a door one at a time and, I must say, are handled rather roughly. Time is of the essence as there are so many sheep. A good shearer can do a sheep in about 2.5 minutes, but there are contests and records, which includes over 600 sheep shorn by one man in 8 hours, or about one sheep every 48 seconds! It’s hard work, and professional shearers go from station to station, moving between New Zealand and Australia.
It begins:
Shearing:
The flank:
Front leg and belly:
Under the head:
Done! A denuded sheep (a thin layer of wool is left):
The wool from one sheep:
A close-up: the wool from these sheep is curly, forming little spirals:
Muff spins the wool into thread and then knits it into lovely caps and scarves. Sometimes she makes a thread of wool mixed with possum fur, which makes for a very soft fabric.
Some sheep, like Merinos, which have very fine wool, are shorn with shears. Here are instructions for taking care of your shears:
Havelock, the nearest large town to the MacKay’s house, is famous as the Green Mussel Capital of the WORLD. New Zealand green-lipped mussels (Perna canicula) are farmed in the nearby bays but processed in Havelock. The local tourist office has three friendly green mussels in front. ‘
Green-lipped mussels are large (not as large as the ones below!) and delicious.
Here I am in front of the town sign:
We went out for a mussel dinner on Tuesday night. This is the best place to get them, and also has a good selection of local craft beer. Here are Karen and Don, with all of us ready to tuck in:
We started with a dozen fancy Bluff oysters, just coming into season.
Don had a dozen slightly broiled mussels with four different toppings. See how large they are?
Here’s my dinner: a dozen green-lips steamed with wine and butter, served with fries, garlic mayo, and a good brew. They were terrific, and a dozen were enough for dinner after the oyster starter. The green lips are clearly visible.
A male mussel (females are orange as they have roe). It’s a substantial bite.
Each New Zealand town has a monument to its young men who died in World Wars I and II, many in Gallipoli. In World War I, the Kiwis fought together with the Aussies in the ANZAC alliance: the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps.
Havelock has two famous sons, both of whom left New Zealand to make their names in science. One is William Pickering, an aerospace engineer who, in the U.S., designed guidance systems for both ballistic missiles and spacecraft. He’s commemorated near the war memorial.
William Pickering (who was on two Time Magazine covers)
The other, more famous, is Ernest Rutherford, the physicist who won a Nobel Prize for Chemistry. His achievements were many and legendary; here’s a precis from Wikipedia:
In early work, Rutherford discovered the concept of radioactive half-life, proved that radioactivity involved the nuclear transmutation of one chemical element to another, and also differentiated and named alpha and beta radiation. This work was done at McGill University in Canada. It is the basis for the Nobel Prize in Chemistry he was awarded in 1908 “for his investigations into the disintegration of the elements, and the chemistry of radioactive substances”, for which he is the first Canadian and Oceanian Nobel laureate, and remains the only laureate born in the South Island.
Rutherford moved in 1907 to the Victoria University of Manchester (today University of Manchester) in the UK, where he and Thomas Royds proved that alpha radiation is helium nuclei. Rutherford performed his most famous work after he became a Nobel laureate. In 1911, although he could not prove that it was positive or negative, he theorized that atoms have their charge concentrated in a very small nucleus, and thereby pioneered the Rutherford model of the atom, through his discovery and interpretation of Rutherford scattering by the gold foil experiment of Hans Geiger and Ernest Marsden. He conducted research that led to the first “splitting” of the atom in 1917 in a nuclear reaction between nitrogen and alpha particles, in which he also discovered (and named) the proton.
I had a discussion a few days ago with someone who told me that many very smart people he knew were also religious. I thought about that for a minute, and after reflection I just couldn’t agree. I don’t think one can be really smart and religious at the same time.
Yes, I know that some people who are academically smart and who have done great things, like Newton, were and are deeply religious. But in the old days you had no choice about being religious: you imbibed faith with your mother’s milk. And there was little chance to think for oneself, for it was either a death sentence or permanent ostracism if you questioned religion, and there were few ways to find like-minded souls.
Now, however, it’s different, for—except in some benighted lands—there is far more freedom to learn about nonbelief and hear the arguments against God; parents and society aren’t so insistent about instilling religion in young folks; and you face less ostracism if you’re a nonbeliever. (Of course it’s always easier if you keep that to yourself.)
And many public intellectuals—and virtually all accomplished scientists—are atheists. Why? Because there’s no credible evidence for God. It’s palpably and painfully obvious that religion is a human construct and that the tenets of different faiths are not reconcilable. The things that the faithful say they believe are simply ludicrous. I cringe, for example, when I hear a “smart” person like Rabbi Sacks or the Archbishop of Canterbury profess such stuff.
To me, this means that someone, regardless of how “smart” they seem, is at the very least irrational if they believe in God or the attendant superstitions. It is as if their brain is a jigsaw puzzle with one crucial piece missing: the piece that accepts important propositions in proportion to the evidence supporting them. And to me that kind of irrationality is a form of stupidity, which the Oxford English Dictionary defines as “dullness or slowness of apprehension; gross want of intelligence.” It’s not that they’re totally stupid; just partially stupid.
Look at it this way: if someone spent much of their lives worshiping Santa, elves, fairies, or even Zeus, and maintained in all seriousness that Santa delivers presents to Western children at nearly the speed of light each Christmas, you’d think they weren’t playing with a full deck. But somehow it’s okay if they do the same with Allah, Jesus, Muhammad, God, Vishnu, and the like. They can profess such stuff and still be considered “smart.” I can’t agree.
So I have to admit this: when a person who seems intelligent tells me that they are religious—at least in the sense that they’re theists who believe in unbelievable stuff—I immediately discount their minds. Yes, I can still respect what they say as scientists or doctors or electricians, or any area of their expertise, but I always regard them with a bit of pity. If that sounds arrogant, so be it; but don’t you pity a 9/11 theorist or a believer in UFO visitations? Why is religion any different? Why should we “respect” religious belief but denigrate belief in Bigfoot and homeopathy?
I understand that some adults are unable to shake habits and beliefs instilled in their youth—after all, evolution has almost certainly molded our minds to accept what our elders tell us in our formative years—but that’s less excusable these days, days when you can easily find arguments against God and religion.
I’ll admit here, then, that if you tell me you’re a theist, or adhere to a religion that makes untenable reality claims, I’ll think less of you. I won’t deem you “stupid,” which is an overall assessment of one’s mental acuity, but I’ll think you somewhat irrational and, as the Brits say, perhaps a tad thick.
Of course I expect readers to weigh in below. And tell the truth!
In this video, which the Freedom from Religion Foundation (FFRF) says was filmed covertly, FFRF lawyer Andrew Seidel talks about how Answers In Genesis, Ken Ham’s organization, sworn to purvey lies about biology to children, has benefited from taxpayer subsidies. (As you may remember, the Ark Encounter has a supposedly life-sized version of Noah’s Ark which contains, among other things, miniature dinosaurs.)
The land for Ham’s “Ark Encounter”, Seidel says, was given to the park, the organization is still benefiting from tax breaks (meaning the citizens of Kentucky subsidize it), and now public school children can get in for only $1. (The normal admission price for children 5-12 is $28.)
The FFRF, rightfully, is trying to ensure that no public school sends its kids on school-sponsored trip to the park, as that is indoctrination in a specific religion expressly prohibited by the First Amendment. I wasn’t aware that that such trips were happening, or were being planned by some schools, but it’s not only unconstitutional but detrimental to education.
The FFRF is my favorite secular/atheist organization, and I’d urge you to join. Of all the organizations of that genre, it’s the one that, I think, really gets the most stuff done, thanks to Dan Barker, Annie Laurie Gaylor, and their crack staff of lawyers and assistants. It’s only $40/year, and you get a swell monthly newspaper loaded with cool stuff.
Tara Tanaka informs me that I put up the wrong video the other day, and so here’s the right one: a new one, 3.5 minutes long, called “For the love of cranes”. These are of course sandhill cranes, Grus canadensis.
Here are Tara’s notes.
I finally culled the remaining video I shot in November, 2016 at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Reserve last week, and have worked non-stop on this video ever since. There are some clips from our trip there in 2014, as well as a couple of clips I shot exactly one year ago in Florida. I will always look back on the days I spent capturing this footage as some of the best of my life.
The night that I videoed the super moon, I had been standing on the edge of one of the crane ponds where there were many Sandhills roosting overnight. As I was walking back to the truck in the moonlight, I heard a loud roar from what sounded like the far side of the pond, and then I immediately heard splashing and flapping. I had desperately wanted to see one of the mountain lions that was reported to be at Bosque last year, but at least I got to hear him.
It has lovely music as well as wonderful bird noises and adorable chicks. Be sure to watch it on full screen on the Vimeo page, and in high-definition.
Tara’s Flickr page is here, and her Vimeo page is here.
Today is New Zealand actress Lucy Lawless‘s birthday (1968) famous for playing Xena, Warrior Princess and unlike many “action” women of the time, actually looked like she could kick the living daylights out of the baddies du jour.
Eric Idle (1943) is celebrating his birthday as well. Long time member of the Monty Python group, his unique brand of comedy frequently took a musical bent and has enriched the world with beloved songs such as this one. (There are two people on this planet who don’t like the song, but mostly because they strongly disapprove of Life Of Brian).
Lastly, it is also the birthday of English composer William Walton (1902-1983). He wrote concertos and symphonies, but also composed for ballets and films; his style notable for containing eclectic and diverse influences.
From Poland our furry friends are discussing means of communication while they get comfortable.
Hili: Sometimes I’m lost for words.
Cyrus: Me too, but then I’m using body language.
In Polish:
Hili: Czasami brak mi słów.
Cyrus: Mnie też, ale wtedy używam mowy ciała.