The Oatmeal: Why Captain Higgins is my favorite Parasitic Flatworm
Because everyone should have a hero.
The Oatmeal: Why Captain Higgins is my favorite Parasitic Flatworm
Because everyone should have a hero.
Relax — Triceratops Really Did Exist
Triceratops (described in 1889) was named before Torosaurus (described in 1891). According to the rules by which scientists name organisms, this gives Triceratops priority, so the name “Triceratops” isn’t going anywhere.
Sigh. So at least we haven’t had another Brontosaurus – Apatosaurus debaclosaurus.
… if there was one. Until then, we still have the ant overlords.
You think it’d be impossible to share your house with your wife, your daughter, and fifty million or so Argentine ants. And you would be correct.
…
There are billions of humans on earth, and trillions upon trillions of ants — an estimated 1.6 million for every human being. If the earth were a scale, and all the humans were placed on one side and all the ants on the other, it would not budge. Ants have answered the ever-expanding human biomass with an ever-expanding biomass of their own, so that the planet is poised, teetering between its two most successful civilizations — each of which is social, aggressive, expansionist, and well suited for war.
Morph-osaurs: How shape-shifting dinosaurs deceived us
Science robs my youth. There is no triceratops.
Scannella and Horner say that triceratops is merely the juvenile form of torosaurus. As the animal aged, its horns changed shape and orientation and its frill became longer, thinner and less jagged. Finally it became fenestrated, producing the classic torosaurus form
Last year, gg triggered my Jealousy-o-meter by getting some pictures of hummingbirds, putting my previous effort to shame. I plotted revenge in the form of a plan to get slo-mo footage and was thwarted, though I managed to get a hummingbird moth.
I now claim success. Mwuhahahaha.
On my recent vacation we were back at our old digs, where I had gotten the previous shots on my DLSR, and set up to use my Exilim high-speed camera (EX-FH20 model). We got a visitor within a day, and some more action over the course of the week. Mostly females, though it’s tough to say if it was just one repeatedly visiting or not, and I did spot a male, with its prominent red patch on his throat, on one or two occasions. After discovering that reaching for the camera and turning it on usually scared them away, I went for the option of mounting the camera on my Gorillapod and placing it on the table in front of me, requiring only a click to turn the camera on (it tended to shut off during the wait for a visit to the feeder). I also left it running while I stepped away, and then scanned the footage for evidence of a visit. The drawback of that option is that 5 minutes of elapsed time is more than an hour of footage at 420 fps, and almost three hours at 1000 fps. That’s a lot of data to sort through. The fixed targeting of a tripod caused some missed shots when the bird would hover about a foot away from the feeder, but the alternative was more missed shots. The difference between this and shots “in the wild” is that you know where the subject is going to be — at the feeder — and don’t have to track it as it flies. And you know it will be flying, unlike the many potential subjects who just sit there until you run out of patience and stop filming. That’s when they decide to jump or fly.
I got shots at both of the faster frame rates, along with some stills using the burst mode, which captures 40 frames in a second.
Here’s a sequence of stills from the burst mode, turned into a movie
Now we go to 420 fps
and finally, on to 1000 fps. This last movie is even better at showing the distinct change in the pitch of the wings as the bird moves away from the feeder, hovers, and then flies away. Which is pretty cool.
Note that all three movies should represent between a second or two or so of elapsed time. 420 fps = 14:1 and was 37 seconds long with some dead time at the end, and 1000 fps is 33.3:1, with a playback of 40 seconds. I slowed the frame rate of the stills down to 15 fps when I converted the sequence to a movie, to make it last longer than one second. Even so, the flap rate seems very slow for that sequence — I suppose it’s possible there’s aliasing going on, and/or my settings are different from what I thought they were. Other still sequences show more flapping. The sound they typically make jibes with what I get from the internets, that the beating is somewhere in the range of 20-200 Hz; it was this low-pitched fluttering that was my first indication that a visitor was nearby.
I did get many more shots, but uploading them to youtube is a bit of a pain — the upload generally craps out at least once, which makes me reluctant to try too many large files. I have had limited success with the java option which supposedly lets you restart a stalled upload (finally got the 420 fps movie shown here to upload; I had originally uploaded a shorter clip).
If you want to see how the pros do it, go here. Better shots, but they put in a whole lot more time and have better equipment at their disposal.
UPDATE (8/4): I have uploaded stills to flickr, and will probably add more later
What You See When a Kingfisher’s About to Eat You
Photographer Charlie Hamilton James placed the camera in a waterproof box and set it up in the pond, wired to an infrared trigger that fired when something crossed its path. This image was the result of several weeks of patient monitoring.
NPR: Look Up! The Billion-Bug Highway You Can’t See
You can see them launching themselves, says entomologist Matt Greenstone:
“They just stand straight up on their little back legs and just by doing that they can get part of their body up into this layer [of air] where it’s more turbulent and then, if you can get a ride on a parcel that’s going up, you can get off the ground and then if you’re lucky you can get carried aloft.”
When they screw us, the earth doesn’t move.
A little earthquake this morning, a 3.6, at a smidge after 5 AM. I didn’t feel it (don’t flatter yourself, Otter, it wasn’t that great), but was probably in my car by then.
Sam Kean is doing a series of blog posts in support of his new book, The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World From the Periodic Table of the Elements
The Baron of Bubbles
The Sultan of Soda
The Ayatollah of Coca-Cola
Cocktail Party Physics: father of fizz
In honor of ” Pepsipocalypse,” and my own inordinate fondness for Diet Coke (which I share with Bora!, as evidenced by the photo at the end of this post, although he’s partial to the sugared variety), it seems appropriate to pay tribute to the grand-daddy of fizzy drinks: British scientist Joseph Priestley. He didn’t actually invent carbonation, which is a natural process: at high pressures underground, spring water can absorb carbon dioxide and become “effervescent.” “Seltzer” originally referred to the mineral water naturally produced in springs near a German town called Niederseltsers, although today, it’s pretty much just filtered tap water that’s been artificially carbonated. No, Priestley is responsible for the artificial carbonation process, along with “discovering” oxygen (more on that, and the caveats, later) and eight other gases, including carbon dioxide and nitrous oxide (laughing gas).
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What to call it: I have previously linked to a Soda vs Pop map