Bats, man!

I've had several friends ask recently for my opinion on the new report soon be released by the International Programme for the State of the Ocean on the magnitude and prospective impacts of major threats facing the marine environment. The article has been covered by multiple media outlets already, including Yahoo and Time, among others, but the full report has not yet been released. So, I shall withhold my review until I can see the full doc...

In the meantime, I have to share my recent experience viewing the nightly emergence of Mexican free-tail bats from their haunts underneath the Congress Street Bridge in Austin, Texas. The name of these airborne mammals comes from their abnormally long (for bats, anyway) tails that extend beyond the terminal membrane. The Austin colony numbers somewhere between 750,000 and 1.5 million bats, and is reputed to be the largest urban bat colony in the world. As impressive as those numbers sound, the largest colonies in natural caves outside of urban areas can number in the tens of millions.

Still, the nightly fly-out by the bats in the Austin colony is an impressive phenomenon. Unlike the colonies in more remote locales, the more modest Austin colony provides some very unique benefits. Firstly, the bats collectively consume somewhere in the neighborhood of 30,000 pounds of insects every night. As I ran and paddled along the Colorado River/Lady Bird Lake, I was bugged (pun fully intended) by surprisingly few mosquitoes, gnats, etc., and I thank the little bats for that.

Secondly, the colony provides a very unique and accessible wildlife viewing opportunity. Like the famous sea lions residing at San Francisco's Pier 39, not to mention the many river herring runs along the Atlantic coast that inspired the name of this blog (perhaps best watched at Maine's Damariscotta Mills fish ladder), the bats offer a chance to see abundant, active wildlife without journeying to remote parts of Africa, or the Amazon, or the high Rockies. And, believe me, it's well worthwhile!

Although there are several bridges cross the river/lake, only the Congress Street Bridge houses bats. That is due to the unique structure of the bridge, with a series of narrow open seams underneath that provide a perfect place for bats to shelter:

At first, a few bats begin to appear just past 8PM, and flit about underneath the bridge or above the adjacent parkland where some of the visitors assemble to watch. The earliest bats to emerge seem hesitant to roam too far. Or, perhaps there are ample insects nearby on which to feed, which soon scatter or are all consumed, causing the bats to head further afield. They might also still be a little sleepy and therefore not quite ready for a longer foray, as perhaps evidenced by this little guy that landed on the bag of the lady seated next to me on the lawn (and note the long "free" tail):

The small numbers of bats that emerged early and stayed pretty close to home soon disappeared back into their crevices by 8:20PM or so. Things were quiet for a spell, and then rather suddenly right around 8:30PM, they started emerging in droves. A veritable river of bats took shape and headed out along the actual river and over the top of the bankside trees. I watched this mass exodus from below for a few minutes, before heading up onto the bridge to take in the broader landscape view. And it was quite the sight! This photo does not do justice the spectacle, but you get the idea:

I had been to Austin several times before this trip, but always at the wrong time of the year to watch the bats (although at much better times of year temperature-wise: 106 - ouch!). I'm glad I finally got to see them, for it was one of the the coolest things I've seen. I highly recommend checking out the nightly flight of these Mexican free-tails, as I will certainly do whenever my travels take me to Austin in the summer from now on!

The force of nature

Although I'm still reveling in the natural wonders encountered during my time in Oregon, it's important to remember that while I was having fun, others have been experiencing the power of nature in a very different way. The catastrophic effects of some severe climactic and geological events recently have left many suffering. The tsunami in Japan, the flooding along the Mississippi, and a rash of tornadoes across the southeastern U.S. present sobering reminders that nature can be as destructive as she is beautiful.

Images of devastation and suffering have not been lacking. We have seen houses flattened and submerged, cars and trucks carried along in floodwaters like toys, and people young and old surveying their losses with looks of forlorn desperation.

This link provides a very different perspective on the devastation. It shows the path of the April 27 tornado that tore across Tuscaloosa, Alabama from space. It left a path wider than nearby rivers and freeways, and gives a whole new perspective on the force nature can exert upon the landscape and its inhabitants.

Mmmm, beer.

I just returned from a fantastic vacation to Oregon, one that should provide fodder for a few posts following this one. Not only did the Beaver State present all sorts of natural wonders to write about, but I also spent a few days with a friend who is a very successful writer. Just being around him tends to inspire me to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard, at least). That combination caused me to shake Running On awake from its most recent slumber...

Of course, in addition to letting me spend time with friends and letting me experience some spectacular places, Oregon also introduced me to some outstanding craft beers. I have to admit, the state's self-proclaimed status as micro-brew capital of the U.S. seems to be warranted. A particular favorite, due in part to their beer and in part to a fun bartender and tasty ribeye, was Golden Valley Brewery in McMinnville. Also, its waterfront location in Newport, overwhelming diversity of brews, and the rich smell of yeast permeating the air made the Rogue Brewery a memorable spot as well.

Quite serendipitously, upon returning to the Bay State, I came across an interesting article on the state of craft brews generally and organic brews specifically in the U.S. And it seems that things look good! Craft brews account for around 5% of U.S. beer sales by volume and 7.6% by value (given the higher price point). Both figures represent continued growth, with analysts predicting that sales could reach 20% over the next decade.

Within that market, organic brews still represent a small fraction of the 1,716 craft brews in the country. However, sales of organic brews increased nearly fivefold from 2003 to 2009, from $9 million to $41 million. That is the fastest growth of any sector of the U.S. beer market.

And, fittingly, to close our time in Oregon (for now) we had our last beer at the PDX location of the organic Laurelwood Brewery!

New discoveries!

I signed off in 2010 by sharing the very welcome discovery of a nesting pair of Harpy eagles in the mountains of believe. Not to be outdone, 2011 has kicked off with reports of some exciting discoveries of its own:

Firstly, a previously unknown area of healthy, pristine coral reef has been discovered in deep waters (at least as far as reefs are concerned, i.e., 100-500 feet) off the southwest corner of Puerto Rico. Often, reefs in deeper waters are more low-relief and generally less topographically complex than those in shallow waters. That means they often support lower diversity and abundance than shallow reefs.

But it does not mean they are less ecologically important. Deepwater reefs can be home to very different species than shallow reefs, so they harbor unique biodiversity. For those species held in common between deep and shallow reefs, the deeper habitat can serve as a refuge to buffer the population against natural or anthropogenic impacts, such as storms and fishing, which typically have more severe impacts in shallower water. Also, low-relief deepwater reef habitat can serve to link larger and more complex shallow habitat areas as a sort of underwater highway, or at least as a series of stepping stones across open and unsheltered bottom (for a stimulating discussion of this function, see this fine volume).

Of course, the couple of photos provided in the article on the discovery of these reefs linked above suggest that these might be more complex and higher relief reefs than one might expect in deep water. Sure, 100-500 feet is really not that deep in comparison with some truly deepwater corals (i.e., 400-2000 meters, not feet!), so we might be looking at something more akin to shallow reefs than deep.

In any case, there are many exciting scientific questions waiting to be addressed concerning the species composition and ecological function of these reefs, both in their own right and in relation to other nearby shallower reefs. Perhaps more importantly, hopefully we will implement quick and aggressive conservation measures for these reefs to get ahead of the curve and ensure that we do not lose their lessons and value before they can be understood…

A second discovery is that of a new and very unique species of freshwater crayfish in the streams of Tennessee. It’s also a very large crayfish, and interestingly has oddly “bearded” antennae. Reports of this discovery note that, while finding new species in remote jungles of Borneo or in the depths of the ocean is neither uncommon nor entirely unexpected, finding new species in very accessible streams of a highly populated and developed nation like the U.S. is unusual. I agree – that’s pretty cool. Like the newly discovered Puerto Rican reefs, this species lives in deeper parts of streams, and also seems to be in fairly low abundance, which together perhaps explain why it has escaped out attention. And, like those new reefs, hopefully we will act quickly to understand and protect this newly discovered beast…

Finally, a personal new discovery, albeit one long known to science: I’ve been working my way through the BBC’s excellent “Life” series (the follow-up to its celebrated “Planet Earth”). In the “Fish” episode, I was introduced to the – and I still cannot believe this name – Sarcastic Fringehead, which lives in water off the U.S. Pacific coast. In many ways, this fish seems to be a Pacific version of one of my favorite Atlantic species, the oyster toadfish. Both live in patches of structured habitat amidst areas of open sand, and both are ambush predators and aggressively territorial.

But where the fringehead – and it pains me to say this – perhaps proves the superior species is its amazing territorial contests, which cannot be adequately described and really need to be seen. Of course, toadfish exhibit some impressive vocalizations, and I’m not sure whether fringeheads do or not, so maybe the determining factor is whether one has more of an audio or visual inclination? Or, maybe both species should just be appreciated for their undeniable coolness and not ranked?

In any case, 2011 has presented some fascinating discoveries so far, and hopefully will continue to provide many more!

Countdown to 2011, Part III: Harpies!

Finally, to send 2010 off into the history books, I was absolutely tickled to see this report about the discovery of an active nest of Harpy Eagles in the mountains of Belize! This pair is raising chick in an area where Harpies were recently thought to be extinct, a full 700 miles north of the what we thought was the extent of their range. The Harpy Eagle is high on the list of animals I most want to see in the wild at some point in my lifetime (joining the Great White Shark, Komodo Dragon, Nile Crocodile, African Elephant, Kodiak Bear, and Mandarinfish among others), and knowing there is one more place where that might be possible is encouraging.

Indeed, any report of species showing recovery, resilience and adaptability gives me hope and encouragement. To be sure, the Belizeans are owed credit for protecting tracts of good habitat in which the Harpies could re-establish. But the birds themselves deserve the most credit for their perseverance, not to mention my personal thanks for sending me into 2011 on a positive note!

Countdown to 2011, Part II: Numbers

Although I find my thinking as a scientist, not to mention my work, has evolved over the past 5-7 years away from original training and interest in population biology much more toward the more complex arena of ecosystem ecology. That evolution began when I began to work on watershed and habitat issues, stepping beyond the single-species demographic studies that had dominated my doctoral and post-doctoral work. More recently, I find my interests moving further still toward the concept of social-ecological systems, which essentially means truly integrating the full complexity of the human species into ecosystem science. It's an exciting, albeit somewhat overwhelming, area, about which I have much to learn.

Still, I think there is still an important place for the more focused study of populations of individual species in their own right. From an applied point of view, single-species population biology will establish the conservation and management backstops guiding action when we find a species in dire straits, or is the species is sufficiently important (most likely economically, but perhaps culturally or ecologically as well) to warrant more focused attention. Moving toward ecosystem science and management involves trade-offs in what we factor into our understanding and decision-making. Specifically, we will generally pay less attention to the intricacies of individual species' biology, but factors in more of the external factors that also drive their dynamics yet are largely ignored by classical population biology. But population biology will be where we turn when a species needs special attention.

Also, in terms of my own personal satisfaction from scientific study, I find in-depth examination of population biology to be more gratifying because it allows one to know a species in a way that is almost intimate, uncovering the uniqueness and complexity that shape its numbers and place in the world. The study of populations is heavily grounded in numbers (growth and mortality rates, abundance and density, age and size structure), but taken together those numbers become something more, a whole greater than the sum of its parts. When I think about an area of the ocean from an ecosystem perspective, I consider a wide array of species interacting in that space. But each is somewhat anonymous, and I feel special affinity for those species I have studied in more depth (notably, the stripey bass that was the focus of my doctoral dissertation, and to a growing extent the humble alewife that inspired the name of this blog).

In any case, I have entered into this discussion of populations because two milestones in the population of our own humble species are at hand. Firstly, the U.S. Census Bureau recently released the results of the 2010 Census, announcing to the world that there are now 308,745,538 Americans. Frankly, that number seems low to me. For some reason, I thought we were up above the 350,000,000 mark.

Regardless, it's tough to know exactly what that number really means. Probably very little. What is more important is how that population is structured and distributed, not to mention how its members interact with one another and the world around us. In the coming weeks, I'll be poking around that site more deeply to see what interesting patterns lie in the data. And I won't be alone. Census data form the cornerstone of any number of analyses by government agencies from the local to federal level, non-governmental organizations, academicians and corporations (marketing...). Indeed, my guess is that the decadal U.S. census is the most widely used database in the world.

The second milestone is our global approach toward 7 billion people. Whoa. That number and scale is a bit too daunting to say much more about right now, but National Geographic has done an interesting exploration of its significance that is well worth checking out.

So many numbers, so little time!

Countdown to 2011, Part I: Jumo?

Well, I set a goal back in November of publishing more posts in 2010 than the whopping 4 that went live in 2009. Today, I woke up to find the final day of 2010 upon us and my yearly total sitting at an underwhelming 2. D'oh! Looks like I have some work to do, and fast. Brace thee for a fast and furious barrage of thought-provoking nuggets, all of which will be teasers for themes to be developed more extensively in the New Year...

Let's start with this story that caught my eye a month ago. It describes the launch of "Jumo", a new social media site focused on social change. I was intrigued by this site for two reasons. The first is my general exploration of the potential and limitations of social media in general. As I posted not long ago, I recently (and somewhat hesitantly, not to mention almost inexplicably) began some low-key dabbling in the word of Twitter (a place I once swore I would never venture...). Of course, I also shared Malcolm Gladwell's poignant piece from The New Yorker on the limits of social media in really changing the world. It will be interesting to see how far Jumo can push the envelope, although I can't see any way that Galdwell's central premise will be disproven by the new site. Action will always ultimately require standing up from the keyboard, walking out the door, and engaging the world...

My second interest lies in the potential for Jumo to help my goal of keeping Facebook personal. I rather like Facebook. But I want it to be something fun, and something first and foremost about re-connecting and keeping up to date with family and friends, and not something for work, politics, and other less light-hearted matters. Sure, I've been know to post a status update addressing matters of policy, etc., not to mention commenting when others do the same. And I do show support for various organizations and such through my page, although most of those are groups that friends work for and my support is more for the person than the organization. However, I've avoided any sort of social, political, or other less personal action through Facebook, but might get more active in those arenas through Jumo.

So far, I've gone to the site, looked at the home page...and done nothing more. Early in the New Year, I plan to set up an account, poke around a bit, and report back to the RO faithful with my take on the site. Stay tuned!

The right alignment

So we know that the sun, earth and moon will in the right alignment in the wee hours of Tuesday morning to produce a lunar eclipse. As a scientist, I always take notice when the night sky will provide us with an eclipse, meteor shower, comet, or other astronomical phenomenon. Of course, "take notice" doesn't necessarily mean "actually get out of bed and watch". After all, the heavens have an annoying tendency to showcase their wonders at an incredibly inconvenient hour. This week's eclipse, for example, will begin around 1:33AM EST, will reach totality at 2:41AM, and last for 72 minutes thereafter, with the deepest shadow at 3:17AM. My primary scientific interest lie in the forests, deserts, lakes, streams, and especially the oceans. For all of its vastness and mystery, the cosmos is at best a peripheral interest, and generally one that is not strong enough to lure from a warm bed at a late hour on a cold night...

However, the good people as NASA have provided a particularly compelling description of what the moon and the landscape it illuminates at night will look like during this eclipse (the link is also the source of the eclipse timeline recounted above). And I have to say it sounds pretty cool! The deep amber color that overtakes the moon and bathes the land has given the nickname "blood moon" to a lunar eclipse, and the phenomenon has given rise to numerous myths and legends across the globe, and at least one instance of cross-cultural deception.

With so much rare beauty possible, and so much science, history and legend tied to the event, I foresee setting my alarm to 2:45AM or so before bed on Monday night. Of course, there is one other alignment that will be an important determinant of whether my sleep is interrupted or not: the weather. Snow showers are forecasted for Monday night and Tuesday morning amidst cloudy skies. If those come and go before the eclipse, the land might be covered in a new white blanket ready to absorb the red hues. Or, the whole shebang could be obscured from view by clouds and flurries. It seems that some very subtle differences in weather patterns could be the difference between a rare night outside and a good night's sleep...

The revolution will not be tweeted…but this blog will be...

As Thanksgiving 2010 winds down, with family gone home, the leftovers stowed away and the dishes washed and drying, I’m taking a quiet moment to finally initiate the second revival of Running On. Since I began offering this periodic dose of links and thoughts in April of 2007, I’ve only had one lay-off of any significance, which was between June and November 2008…until now. Now, devoted readers, I find myself posting for the first time since April 2009 – a whopping 18-month break. Well, 2010 will not be blanked, and in fact I aim to surpass my four posts in 2009 during the month and change remaining this year. As for 2011, well, the 19 posts of 2007 will be under very serious threat…

Can that be done? Certainly. I’ve been stockpiling a diverse array of links, which I could weave together in one post by finding (or forcing) common threads and themes. However, by separating them into separate posts…well, it may be a cheap way to hit my mark, but it’ll get the job done. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, “They don’t ask ‘how?’, they ask ‘how many?’”

One other change accompanying the revival of Running On is my foray into the world of – gulp – Twitter (as “jakeofish”). I have been a harsh critic of the strong odor of narcissism and ADHD that I smell from those who “tweet”. However, I have been convinced recently by a fellow fellow in the Environmental Leadership Program that it can be a really effective way to quickly and easily see blog posts, articles, reports, scientific papers and other resources that might otherwise have been missed. Take for example the outstanding collection 2010’s best underwater photos as selected by National Geographic, which I discovered on Twitter. So, my “tweeting” will not deal with the minutia of my brain and life (see my Facebook status updates for that, despite the way they annoy my new hero, Columbus). Rather, I will stick to information of broader interest and relevance.

Of course, it would be a mistake to overstate what this high-minded approach to tweeting (or blogging, for that matter) will accomplish. Malcolm Gladwell recently penned a stimulating article in The New Yorker arguing the severe limitations of any form of social media in really changing the world. His central thesis is that real, meaningful, dedicated action requires both a much deeper connection to the cause than can be generated by the inherently disconnected nature of social media, and that it requires more committed action than the fairly simple action usually invoked by social media. And I think he’s right. Changing the world ultimately requires people getting up and away from their keyboards and out the door day in and day out for long periods of time.

Still, social media can play an invaluable role in building networks and spreading information, as Gladwell also argues. To wit, the rejuvenation of Running On and the spread of its content via – (again) gulp – Twitter…

Caz and the (dead) seal

This tale begins on Saturday, March 14 during a stroll along the beach at Wauwinet, at the east end of Nantucket Harbor, when we happened upon a dead harbor seal. Caz checked it out:

It seemed fairly freshly dead. It didn't smell, nor did it seem to be bloated or rotting yet. Only the eyes were missing, presumably pecked out by seagulls based on the numerous tracks surrounding the body. Caz continued his inspection at the other end:

He did not seem especially anxious, excited or agitated. He just smelled the carcass calmly, but with purpose. But then he did something rather odd. After a brief pause, he dug his snout into the sand near the hind flippers of the seal and pushed a pile of sand onto the flippers:

He continued this until the flippers were completely covered:

He then moved up to the head and front flippers and continued his snout-shoveling:

Soon the front third of the seal began to disappear beneath the sand:

Eventually the head was completely buried:

So he moved onto the side of the seal and began pushing more sand over the midsection:

Before too long, the entire seal was covered:

I have never seen Caz do anything like this before! The whole process took only 10 minutes or less. His work was not hurried, but he was focused and worked consistently. I was impressed by the precision of his "shoveling"; very little sand piled upon the seal was redundant, with each new dig largely covering exposed area. He paid little attention to me or anything else during the process, only his work. For my part, I stood by, mouth agape, amazed and awed by this new behavior.

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The big question lingering in my mind is what this was all about? I have shared the photos with many friends, and received many different responses. Most if not all expressed some degree of awe comparable to my reaction, and also wondered what was going on. There were some who did not want to know the underlying motivation, and simply appreciated the uniqueness and strange beauty of the act. And I respect that.

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But I find myself with an inescapable curiousness about the intent of Caz's behavior that won't seem to pass. Perhaps it's the nature of being a scientist. Or perhaps it's born of a desire to better understand my longtime friend and companion, to bridge the inter-species divide that inevitably is between us, no matter how many years we've had together or how strong of bond we feel.

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So I've been asking the question of myself and others: What was he doing? There seem to be two prevailing (and perhaps obvious) theories:

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1. He was storing (and maybe "seasoning") a large and fresh food source.

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2. He was burying (and maybe protecting) the dead, not for food but out of honor or respect (for lack of better terms).

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Of course, I'd like to believe #2. It would seem to reveal some deeper wisdom, or at least soul, in the boy. But logic at first told me that #1 was more likely. After all, it is well known that domestic dogs bury bones, and this has been linked to age old instincts to guard food from competitors and store it for leaner times.

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So perhaps I am not passing through life with the canine Gandhi by my side that wishful thinking had me starting to believe. But maybe so. A few things have me thinking that my initial hope might have some merit, and my initial reasoning might not necessarily be the case.

Firstly, he's never buried food or bones before. He will dig in the sand or snow, but it's usually because he's trying to retrieve a ball or frisbee or stick that is dug in, and needs to get under it a bit to get a grip. He has also come across animal carcasses before and has never made any effort to bury them.

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Secondly, other animals are known to protect their dead. I recall seeing footage in a documentary some time ago of a hippo protecting the body of its mate from crocodiles for days before being forced to leave it to forage. Of course, all the googling in the world hasn't turned up any footage, photo or even mention of this behavior. But I did find reference to elephant not simply protecting their dead, but burying them too.

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Of course, those hippo and elephant examples are one species protecting or burying their own kind, whereas this is a different species. However, there have been various reports over the years of dolphins protecting humans from sharks, so sort of inter-species empathy is not out of the question. Also, pinnipeds do have a distinctly canine look about them, and seals are in fact more closely related to dogs than are cats.

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Finally, one friend made an interesting observation that warrants consideration: There might be some significance to the fact that Caz faced the seal and buried it with his snout, rather than turn his back and kick sand backwards with his forepaws. Apparently in the dog world, facing someone is a sing of respect, whereas turning your back is a sign of disrespect (not unlike the human world, I suppose). So, facing the seal might reflect respect for the dead, whereas he might have faced away had he been storing food. Of course, there might be efficiency gains to be had by facing the body, as noted in my comments above about the precision of his efforts.

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I'm a bit uncomfortable with seeming like I'm making a case for theory #2 over #1, and therefore risking biasing the answer. However, #1 would seem to be more likely, on the surface at least, so it requires less of a case to be made. #2, on the other hand, begins to stray from very basic instincts from the wild into some deeper emotional aspects that are harder to explain and understand, but might nevertheless be at play. So, for what it's worth, my intuition, experience and, if I'm being honest, preference leads me to toward #2 (n.b. By "experience" I mean with Caz specifically and not with dog behavior in general. The uniqueness of the act and his demeanor just told me something else was going on...).

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So, I'm curious to know what others think, including those with relevant expertise and those who simply have some insight. Please visit the brief survey I created to gather perspectives, and be on the lookout for a post with an update on the results in the near future. Thanks!

Monsters!

There was flurry of coverage recently in various news outlets across the globe of the discovery of fossils of a prehistoric relative of the boa constrictor, the giant "Titanoboa". The behemoth could reach 45 feet in length, and weigh over a ton. Sweet.

This discovery reminded me that I have yet to write what is perhaps the most important post I will ever craft in this space: My Top 5 Monster Movies! I love monsters and monster movies. I'm talking about gigantic monsters, not your human-sized vampires and werewolves and such (n.b. When did werewolves become "lycans"? When I hear "lycan", I think about moss.). I can't really explain why. Perhaps it's due to my fascination with nature. Monsters represent the extremes of nature - evolution and biology pushed to the edge. They are terrible (although sometimes misunderstood) and dangerous and so damn cool.

And they are unique. True monsters are one-of-a-kind in the movies (or at least very-few-of-a-kind, for reproductive/sequel purposes), although in the real world we get entire populations of monster-like species. My favorite is probably the saltwater crocodile, a species I encountered once or twice during my years in Australia. Crocodiles are also the subject of one of the most original and insightful natural history books I have ever read: Alistair Graham's Eyelids of Morning: The Mingled Destinies of Crocodile and Men, which not only has the greatest subtitle in the history of subtitles, but is also peppered with mind-blowing photos by Peter Beard, the photographer who accompanied Graham on the expedition that forms the basis for the book. It can be hard to find, but check it out if you can find it.

Anyway, I'm slipping into nerdy scientist mode when I'm supposed to be in geeky monster-loving mode. So, without further adieu, the list...

Honorable mention: Jurassic Park (1993) - Science, thrills and dinosaurs: What more could you ask for?
Honorable mention: Gamera (1965) - Like Romancing the Stone, it's a shameless rip-off a wildly successful movie, but a rip-off that works nonetheless.

#5 Cloverfield (2008)
It only came out last year, and I wasn't expecting to like it. I HATED The Blair Witch Project, not so much because of the jerky hand-held camera style, but rather because nothing really happened. Very much not the case here. If you can accept the fact that these people kept filming while things were trying to kill them, I thought this movie did a great job of keeping up the action and suspense, and especially at incrementally showing us the beast. Given the format, we never learn exactly what it is and how it got here, and I was OK with that. This movie was about flight and survival...or not.

#4a King Kong (1933)
#4b King Kong (2005)
I can't pick one, so I'm including both. The original is, well, the original. It was way ahead of its time, and more than 70 years later provided sufficient inspiration for a genius like Peter Jackson to put his own spin on it, with the benefit of modern technology. Unlike the decent but not list-worthy 1976 re-make, Jackson stuck to the original story and time period, but took Skull Island and its inhabitants to a whole new level with the special effects tools at his disposal. The Kong vs T. rex X 3 battle might be the best action scene I've ever seen in a movie. Jackson's version goes on a bit too long before we see the big ape, but the original portrays Carl Denham as too much of a hero and not enough as a scumbag. So neither is perfect, but both are great.

#3a Anaconda (1997)
#3b Lake Placid (1999)
The late 1990's gave us a magnificent trinity of animals-gone-awry movies with these two gems as well as Deep Blue Sea (1999). Unfortunately, the latter does not qualify for this list because the sharks weren't abnormally large, only abnormally smart. But a big-ass snake and a big-ass crocodile are good enough. I can't separate these two. In my experience, there is probably a slight edge in popularity to LP, but I'm not ready to pick one over the other. Both are loaded with witty tongue-in-cheek performances by ensemble casts of great B-list actors. Both mock themselves and have fun doing it. And both feature great big scary animals. Three out of three ain't bad.

#2 Jaws (1975)
I am so close to making this #1 I can taste it. A classic movie in every way, with a maritime theme to boot. The characters are unique and brilliantly acted. The dialogue and relationships that develop among Brody, Quint and Hooper are superb: at times witty, touching, macho or acerbic. The movie actually begins as more of a horror movie than a monster movie, since at first we don't see much of the shark, only the bloody remnants of its carnage as it lurks invisible in the depths. But by the end we see the big fella in all his glory, and he is a magnificent beast. Ultimately, he is no longer simply hunting as he had been for most of the movie, but going to battle against his human foes. He attacks not for food but for victory, and does so with an almost boyish delight (yes, I can read emotion in the face of a 30-foot mechanical shark). I never tire of watching this movie.

#1 Godzilla versus Megalon (1973)
How could the top spot go to anyone but the King of the Monsters??? I love Godzilla. I mean, alot. I have a weird boy crush on him. I wish he was real and that he was my friend. I could deal with him smashing a few buildings around my neighborhood so we could hang out together. There are many Godzilla movies I could have put in this spot (although NOT any of the movies made after the 1970s - garbage; but check out this collection of Godzilla's co-stars, and other movie monsters - cool collage), but it was never going to be any one other than GvM. It was made the year I was born, and when it made it to the States a few years later and dad took me to see it, it became the first movie I ever saw in a theater, just beating out Star Wars. When I Googled it, I found this fantastic page on the movie, which was also the author's first cinematic experience. Godzilla is the good guy in this one (he bounces back and forth from movie to movie), teaming up with the robot Jet Jaguar (a character that apparently was created by an elementary school boy in a contest, according to the IMDB page) to defeat the beetle-like Megalon and his partner-in-crime Gigan. It's not on DVD yet, but it should be if there's any justice in the world.

So there you have it: My Top 5 list, in which I managed to squeeze 7 (or 9 if you count the HMs). See them all. And stay tuned for my next post on the Stimulus Package! Woo hoo!!!

Caught between two legacies

In just over 12 hours, Barack Obama will take the oath of office and become the 44th President of the United States. In less than one hour, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day will pass for another year. And yet, my guess is that tomorrow's inauguration would mean a hell of a lot more to Dr. King than his own holiday, and it no doubt means a great deal to those for whom he fought and those he inspired (myself certainly included). As Tavis Smiley noted on Meet the Press this past Sunday, Obama's election is not the fulfillment of Dr. King's dream, but rather another down payment on it. But it is the most significant down payment our nation has made since the Emancipation Proclamation and the Thirteenth Amendment.

Of course, Tavis also urged us not to give Obama a free pass. His election and forthcoming inauguration are profound moments in our collective history and psyche, and should be celebrated as such. But the new president must be held accountable. However, we must also remember that he is inheriting some of the most severe messes ever handed to an incoming president. The legacy of Dr. King that makes this moment so important unfortunately will be compromised by the legacy of George Bush that will limit what can be done with the moment at hand.

Still, I head into tomorrow with a hope that is genuine and not simply a campaign slogan. Part of that hope comes from the man who will take the oath of office. I see his intellect, trust his integrity, and believe that he will take measured but meaningful steps to move our country and our world forward, more often than not with success. But more of my hope comes from a sense that something has been awakened in the nation. That something is a belief that we are not powerless, that we can take our destiny into our hands, and that we can all act to make this world a better place. Barack is ultimately fairly moderate, and even where he is more progressive he will be constrained by the problems he is now charged with fixing. But the other 300 million of us, despite not holding the highest office in the land, are less constrained, if only by the strength of our numbers. It is now our choice as to whether we let his rhetoric, which channels that of Dr. King, be simply the text of a political stage show or instead be a call to arms to build the world and the future that we want.

Science and the environment: what was and what will be

I had planned for many weeks to compose an indictment of the Bush administration's record on science and the environment, a post-mortem of sorts on eight long, long years, and an examination of the final flurry of efforts to undermine science and abuse the environment. Indeed, the record is long and inglorious. The Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS) provided a comprehensive look at scientific integrity (or, more precisely, the lack thereof) in policymaking in the first term of the Bush White House. Since then, UCS has examined media policies concerning science in government agencies under Bush.

The UCS assessments were not positive, to say the least. To rectify this disturbing trend, they called upon both the White House and Congress to codify policies of freedom within, transparency of, and support for science as a central component of responsible government. Not surprisingly, the Administration did not respond. Instead, Bush et al. planned a broad slate of rollbacks on environmental regulations. Most disturbing among those proposals, in my mind, was a plan to allow federal agencies planning actions that might harm endangered species to determine for themselves whether harm will come to the species in question, rather than consulting the agencies with both the expertise and the legal mandate to assess threats and protect species (i.e., the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service and the National Marine Fisheries Service). This is disturbing not only because it puts biodiversity, ecosystems, and the jobs and communities that depend upon them at risk, but also because it continues the dangerous trend of suppressing and marginalizing sound science.

However, events have unfolded that make me feel less interest and urgency in outlining and critiquing this disgraceful record. One was Bush's decision to declare 200,000 square miles of ocean within the United States' Exclusive Economic Zone as three new national monuments. Combined with Bush's earlier designation of a national monument in the Northwest Hawaiian Islands, this recent action raises the total area of the marine environment protected under Bush to around 350,000 square miles. Let me repeat that number: 350,000 square miles, and all very remote and pristine, major repositories of biodiversity, and generally free from severe anthropogenic impacts (climate change aside). That is a mind-boggling step forward for conservation, and one for which I am - and I can't quite believe I'm about to write these words - incredibly grateful to President Bush.

Do these bold steps negate or offset the other detrimental actions Bush has taken to politicize science and threaten the environment? Of course not. But these ocean protections will have more permanence than those other actions. Monuments generally remain as part of our natural heritage, while regulations and processes can and do change. And, the second event (or series of events, actually) suggests those needed changes might be coming.

In her blog for the New York Times, Dr. Olivia Judson issued a call to arms to President-elect Obama to restore the role of and respect for science in policymaking. Our next President has answered the call so far. Obama held a high-profile meeting after the election with former Vice President Al Gore, one of the most scientifically literate men ever to hold the office of President or Vice President, and a tireless crusader for meaningful action to curb global climate change. This seemed to signify that his earlier pledge to make reduction of greenhouse gas emissions a high priority was genuine. Obama then went on to nominate a suite of top scientists to key positions, signaling the very central role that science will play in his administration.


The final event that quelled my once seething drive to craft a lengthy and scathing condemnation of the Bush record on science and the environment was that mid-January rolled around. And with mid-January comes both my birthday and that of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Thinking about Dr. King, his work, his dream, his death, tomorrow's inauguration, and my own path forward in life all make any more energy and emotion directed toward Bush seem rather like a waste.

Farewell to an imperfect genius

Before I turn my attention to the aftermath of the elections and the environmental policy road ahead, I need to say a few words in the wake of the passing of sci-fi author Michael Crichton. Dr. Crichton's books are some of my favorite works of contemporary fiction. He wrote a type of science fiction that was distinct from the Star Wars/Trek mode of robots and aliens and spaceships and lasers. Crichton's sci-fi takes place in the here and now, and is built upon current scientific knowledge. His work is in the tradition of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, and reading Crichton made me go back and re-discover those earlier sci-fi masters. He studied an area of science, understood the state of the game, and then made some leap or tweak to what we know or what is possible in order to craft a tale beyond the realm of the possible (or at least beyond the realm of the probable). His books are each about some scientific discipline: Jurassic Park is not about dinosaurs, it's about genetic engineering and cloning. The Lost World is also not about dinosaurs either, it's about community ecology. Unfortunately, the movie adaptations of his books rarely did justice to them (JP is a notable exception). That his main characters are generally ordinary scientists who become heroes by finding themselves in extraordinary circumstances is an element that certainly resonates with me: It fed my longstanding dream of being Indiana Jones!



Of course, Dr. Crichton's last years were defined less by his creative work and more by the role he adopted as a critic of global climate change. State of Fear, his second to last book, tells a tale of a plot hatched by environmentalists desperate to prove the veracity of human-induced climate change in order to reap the financial and political gains that come with a crisis connected to their issue. As a work of fiction, this is an intriguing and potentially interesting concept, and one I might have even picked up despite the implicit indictment of people in my line of work. After all, it's a story, and I can stomach being made into a villain for storytelling purposes. The problem, however, was that Crichton didn't stop there. He accompanied the novel with a manifesto of sorts decrying the predominate theory of anthropogenic climate change. And he then began a speaking crusade that included a series of lectures on the topic and, most significantly, testimony before the U.S. Congress. Given that manifesto and his activism, it became clear that the book was not simply a story, perhaps with a message or perhaps simply a test to see how seriously environmentalists take themselves and whether they can cope with being fictional villains. Rather, the book was part of, indeed the launch of, a propaganda campaign.



Now, I am not opposed to famous people using their celebrity to speak on public policy issues. After all, in a democracy, we all have the right to express our views, and we should all take advantage of any opportunity afforded us to voice our ideas and opinions. The fact that those opportunities are presented disproportionately to the famous is not their fault (in fact, it is the fault of the rest of us), and they should not willingly avoid the platform presented. In a nation of 300 million people with a complex chorus of perspectives, anyone should seize any chance to be heard.



Nor is my grievance with Dr. Crichton's climate change campaign his use of his art to convey his message. This is what artists have done throughout time. For example, Bob Dylan, on the left, and Charlie Daniels, on the right, have sung songs that convey their critiques of American politics. At the moment, I am working my way through the Genesis of Shannara trilogy of novels by fantasy writer Terry Brooks. Terry and his wife Judine have become friends of mine, and I know that he is an avowed environmentalist. The Genesis books are set in a post-apocalyptic world brought about by war, disease and rampant environmental degradation. There is an unmistakable political message in the books, and if asked in front of a camera or microphone I have no doubt that Terry would very clearly make his views known on what we need to do differently.



The difference, however, is that Terry speaks directly and through his work as an advocate, but not as a specialist. He speaks as a citizen with a point of view that is worth hearing. Crichton, on the other hand, crossed a line from advocacy to technical advisor. He used his fame and credentials to speak as a technical expert. The problem is that he is not a technical expert. His background is in medicine and genetics, not in meteorology, atmospheric chemistry, oceanography, ecosystem ecology, or any of the other disciplines at the core of understanding global climate change and its consequences. Dr. Crichton had a remarkable ability to learn the state-of-the-game in a scientific discipline, to a point where he could craft mesmerizing tales of adventure with a believability stemming from his homework on the core subjects. But learning a discipline well enough to write a plausible sci-fi novel does not make one an expert on the subject. That requires years of study and research, of probing the inner workings of a system (the global climate, a coral reef, the human body...whatever), understanding as much as possible how it works, identifying where the key uncertainties lie, and working to answer those questions, all the while continuing to revisit and challenge the working paradigm. When it came to climate change, Dr. Crichton did not have those bona fides. But somewhere along the line, Dr. Crichton either willingly adopted the guise of climate change specialist or fooled himself into thinking he was an expert, and subsequently set out into the policy arena as an expert in sheep's clothing.



I have now written one paragraph celebrating Dr. Crichton's craft and the joy it brought me, and several more criticizing his work against action on climate change. I feel somewhat badly about that, and do not want to belabor the point. But I feel it is an important illustration of the difference between being a citizen with a view and a voice versus acting as an uncredentialed technical expert, and a caution against others trying to blur that line. Ultimately, however, I want to thank Dr. Crichton for (most of) the body of work he left behind and the hours of joy his tales have brought me.

Three things

It's been just shy of 5 months since my "Happy Oceans Day!" post. I believe that's a new record for a gap in posting by the staff at Running On. But I have to say it feels good to see the old Blogger window again, and to have words flowing from my finger tips, through the keyboard, across cyberspace, and into all of your hearts and minds.

What finally precipitated my logging back into the control center of everyone's favorite blog and (once again) trying to build some momentum? Well, there are three things:

Firstly, while walking through Boston's Public Gardens this past Saturday, I had the pleasure of watching two red-tailed hawks perched amidst the autumn foliage, flying from tree to tree, and occasionally eyeing with intent squirrels foraging out on the open lawns. They seemed relatively unconcerned with the human passersby, and would perch and fly fairly low, affording fantastic views of these beautiful birds. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see them catch any of the smaller park residents, but they were a joy to watch nonetheless. Of course, my *&%#$@ camera died earlier this summer after a horribly misnamed "dry bag" allowed it to be inundated with seawater while kayaking in Santa Barbara (the final shot, of my colleague Scott on the tail end of nicely ridden wave, taken by that fine camera is situated above). But it was still a nice treat.

Secondly, later that same day, I picked up a copy of Boston's Weekly Dig and came across a little article therein, the contents of which I had to share. It seems that a company called Holistic Wisdom is producing - how to put this? - adult paraphernalia that is environmentally sustainable. As someone who has made his life's work the pursuit of greater balance between our species and the rest of the natural world (for the benefit of both, as discussed in the first ever RO post), I for one am thrilled to see the greening of the sex toy industry. Moreover, I am pleased to see that the emergence of a company like Holistic Wisdom is due in part to the work and advocacy of a non-profit organization, the Coalition Against Toxic Toys, or CATT. You may recall that in my February 1 post announcing the official Running On endorsement of Senator Barack Obama for President, I cited as an important reason for my support of Senator Obama his call to arms for greater civic engagement by all of us, to not simply rely on the government to change the world but to get out and do it ourselves. I then went on to discuss how non-profit organizations are the ultimate embodiment of civic engagement, making it a full-time endeavor for their staff (regardless of whether an organization's aims are noble or nefarious). To see an organization like CATT bring about the sort of social change seen in a company like Holistic Wisdom is truly inspiring.

Speaking of the RO endorsement, the third thing bringing me back to the blogosphere is a little thing happening tomorrow in which the good people of the U.S. of A. head out to select a new leader. I'll have some thoughts on the winner of the Presidential election to be sure, but I also want to address a backlog of links I've been compiling on the environmental record of George W. Bush, and perhaps more importantly looking ahead at what might await us in his final months in office. Stay tuned...

Happy World Oceans Day!

Today, June 8, is World Oceans Day, so I thought I should post at least a little something (even if it will likely be my shortest post yet). And this seemed fitting, given the international scope of the story: The UN has apparently been reading Running On! Check my "Bad Idea" post of November 13, 2007 and then check the recent UN agreement to implement a global moratorium on ocean fertilization. As will be evident from the 11/17/2007 post, clearly I think this moratorium is a good idea.

Coincidentally, I was at the UN not long after this agreement was signed to give a seminar on a new report on management of the coastal ocean. Rest assured, once the final report is posted online, I'll provide the link...

Upheaval

Once again, a lengthy spell has fallen between my last post and this one. I'm sure the loyal readership of Running On has learned on their own, with no help from yours truly, that the crew of Le Ponant was released about a week after their capture. The company that owns the ship paid a ransom, the pirates released the crew, and French commandos then pursued the pirates, capturing six and recovering half of the ransom. The circumstances along the coast of Africa that have spawned this scourge of piracy are sad, largely overlooked, and in need of much greater attention. But I take comfort in knowing that in at least this one instance, the stand-off was resolved with no harm to the hostages. I hope the crew are all recovering and enjoying being back home with their families.

Speaking of families, my own life experienced a bit of turmoil last month when my dad suffered heart problems and had to be rushed to the hospital. That happened the day after the release of the crew of Le Ponant. So, I went from relief to worry in a matter of hours. However, I am pleased to report that Dad has been back home for about a month, and seems to be recovering nicely.

Dad's homecoming took place just in time for me to begin the disruptive and unsettling process of moving. Caz and I loaded up a U-Haul (well, he really didn't help much) and left New York City, to return next as visitors and not residents. The next day, we parked on Charles Street in Boston, right in front of Gary Drug in Beacon Hill, and carried boxes and bags and other junk up to my sunny new studio (again, Caz contributed very little), officially becoming Boston residents. Leaving New York is not easy, since there's really no place quite like it in the world. But I'm really digging Boston, and coming here has softened the blow of the departure.

I'm sure the faithful who are reading this are asking, "What the hell is this? We come here for pearls of wisdom about nature and environmentalism, not the ins and outs of your personal life!" Fair enough, but these things have really had me preoccupied the past few weeks, and the time, energy and focus to write something more insightful have been lacking. But, things are settling down, and - I swear! - something more deep and meaningful is on the way...

In fact, amidst the personal chaos created by Dad's health and the move to Boston, I've encountered some fairly chaotic events in the larger world that are relevant to the themes of this blog. Firstly, I finally got around to watching the "Battle at Kruger," which has now been watched by 32 million people on YouTube. And I have to say: Whoa. Water buffaloes, lions and even a whopper of a crocodile thrown in for good measure, all acting out some of the most fascinating predator-prey dynamics you're likely to see. With jaw on the floor, I watched and thought what beautiful chaos was unfolding before me.

From the African savannah to hallowed halls of the White House, President George W. Bush has apparently decided he is not going to be outdone by a bunch of mangy buffalo, and is looking to steal some of the ecological spotlight for himself. NPR is reporting that the Administration is poised to launch the largest, most ambitious marine conservation initiative in U.S. history. The paradox of the most anti-science, anti-environment President of all time launching such a transformative effort is enough to make the head spin...kind of like watching a pride of lions play tug of war against a crocodile with a baby water buffalo, which goes on to survive the whole ordeal, no less. Of course, Bush's plan is not yet official or finalized, so I'll hold off on further comment until talk becomes walk...

As a final note, earlier today while walking with Caz along the Charles River Esplanade, we stopped for a half hour or so and watched the bluegill sunfish building nests, spawning, and guarding their clutches in the shallows. It wasn't quite as grandiose as an African megafauna battle, but it was pretty cool nonetheless.

Oh, as for the photo above, it is symbolic of Running On taking flight once again, now that my brief period of tumultuousness has passed. OK, it actually has nothing to do with this post. But I just got back from a pretty cool trip to Santa Barbara and wanted to used one of the shots I took. Until next time...

Hang in there, mes amis

Before I even got around to writing my first Seychelles post, I received the frightening news that the ship on which I sailed, Le Ponant (pictured to the right shot from Picard Island within Aldabra Atoll), was taken by pirates off the coast of Somalia in the Gulf of Aden. According to a friend in Paris, the story is all over the French news (the ship is owned by a French company, and the crew is mostly French as well). It has also been picked up by just about every major news service outside of France, including the New York Times and CNN. However, I took heart in this report from an Australian site that notes Somali pirates typically treat their captives well in order to get a large ransom. I was also dismayed to read in this report that most Somali pirates are former fishermen, turned to piracy presumably in part due to the depletion of local fishery resources and the consequent inability to earn a sufficient living. It seems this may be a very real and, for me, personal manifestation of the problems with African fisheries described in my Janaury 27 post "The Tangled Web". Three of the pirates can be seen here.

I wish courage, strength, and safety to the officers and engineers, Bertrand and Arthur (the able barmen), chef Jean-Paul, maitre d' Mederic, Olga, Coralie, Celine, Elodie, Tom, and all of my friends aboard the ship. My thoughts are with you.

Amtrak Safari

This past week, I rode Amtrak's Acela Express round-trip from New York to Boston. I really like this trip for the stint along the Connecticut coast, which runs south of I-95 right along the shore. This affords a great look at the marshes and marinas along the way (albeit an often quick look since the Acela can max out at 150 mph). And there is no shortage of the birds featured in my previous post, with numerous osprey platforms and their resident ospreys themselves lining the route.

But my return journey yesterday featured two unexpected bird sightings: The first was a large male wild turkey (a colorful "gobbler") wandering across a salt meadow. And the second was a bald eagle soaring across one of the small coves toward a perch in an old dead tree. At first, I thought I was watching another osprey. But as we drew closer, the size and coloration of the bird were unmistakable. As we raced by, I sank back into my seat with a contented smile while quietly whistling "Freedom Isn't Free" from the Team America: World Police soundtrack...

Welcome Back...

...to me, that is! I've been on the road (and on the rails, and in the air, and under sail, and even underwater) for the better part of the last month, with stops in New Hampshire, Maryland, London, and most notably the Seychelles. My Seychelles trip has given me material for at least a few posts that will follow in the coming days (Ah, who am I kidding: They'll follow in the coming weeks more likely).

But I also want to say "welcome back" to the two fine feathered friends pictured above and all of their kind. Mid-March is the time of year when ospreys return to the Northeast from their overwintering grounds in South and Central America. I look forward to their arrival with eager anticipation each year, and this past week I saw my first pair of the year. I spent three days at meetings in the amazing headquarters of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation in Annapolis, right on the banks of the Bay (I snapped the pair above elsewhere in the Chesapeake two years ago). A pair nesting atop a platform emerging from the marsh grasses kept me distracted as they collected sticks and twigs to build their home, and spent a fair bit of time mating as well. They also made me feel a bit better about no longer exploring the remarkable Seychelles, reminding me that my part of the world has its own wildlife treats too.

Ospreys may be my favorite type of bird. Their rivals for that prestigious title are the laughing kookaburra and the brown pelican. The osprey probably gets the nod, though, for the same reason that I officially rank Sam Adams Boston Lager above Sleeman Honey Brown and Brooklyn Lager as my favorite beer: It's the New England bird among the group of contenders and, with certain exceptions such as my devotion to the mighty Detroit Pistons, things New England tend to trump their counterparts in my personal hierarchies. But I digress...

Those birds reminded me to check the Dennis Puleston Osprey Cam (my favorite web cam, but only slightly ahead of this equally important one). This video camera is positioned over the top of an osprey platform at the mouth of the Carmans River in the Wertheim National Wildlife Refuge on the South Shore of Long Island. Just before the arrival of the nesting pair using the platform, the camera is installed and begins a live 24-hour web feed of the activities in the nest. At the moment, most of the action is the birds coming and going as they build their nest, interspersed with moments of osprey love. However, before too long one bird or the other (mostly the female, but not exclusively) will remain in the nest full-time, sitting atop this year's clutch of eggs. The other bird will be off fishing, and many of their quarry will be the river herring that inspired the name of the this blog. In the years ahead, this herring run should grow tremendously thanks to a fish ladder recently installed in time for this year's alewife run. (For more observations on the importance of river herring for ospreys, check out David Gessner's book The Return of the Osprey. Gessner's follow-up book Soaring with Fidel tracking the lives of ospreys during the southern part of their migration is worth a look too.)

The osprey cam is named for the man in whose honor my job for the past four years was created, and who fought to save dwindling ospreys populations from the impacts of DDT back in the mid-1960s. Dennis Puleston was an absolutely giant figure, and one I never had the pleasure of meeting. But I have read about his extraordinary deeds, read several of his books, and met and talked to many people who knew him well and who recount through unique individual experiences with the man but with common fondness and reverence just how much he shaped their lives and our world (for a taste of these stories, go here). He traveled the world to far-flung places, and worked tirelessly to protect natural resources closer to home. There was something about my recent transition from the wonders of the Indian Ocean to re-acquaintance with the birds that defined his legacy that made me truly feel his spirit.