Happy Halloween!

A little holiday magic courtesy of ctenophore cilia. Just a reminder that none of the supernatural creatures we pathetic humans can imagine ever comes close to the wonderful weirdness of the natural world!

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Sky Riding

Each fall, starlings come together in vast, fast-moving clouds of wings and warbling—huge flocks called “murmurations” that billow and wheel through the sky. Each fall, hundreds or thousands of birds rise and turn and bank in a non-quite unison that’s more magical than perfect synchronicity could be, as it makes the shapes of their flocks expand and contract like fireworks or plumes of smoke.

Much of what’s marvelous about these murmurations is watching them in action, but I still (of course) took pictures.

The flocks I saw on my way home from work were smaller—more like murmurs than murmurations, so the effect is somewhat lessened—but the sight of them rising from a tree-top as if the oak's crown had suddenly flown off was magnificent.

The mechanics of starlings’ flight flocks is not entirely understood, although some fascinating studies have been done on the topic by European researchers on starlings in Rome (home of enormous murmurations). Among the discoveries were that individual starlings only pay attention and respond to the movements of six or seven of their nearest neighbors, causing changing in flight direction to ”ripple…through flocks.”

The reasons for this flocking behavior—in other species as well as starlings—are not entirely known, although predator avoidance does appear to play a part. Although it’s ever-so-unscientific, I can’t help but think that pure exuberance must also play a part, since speeding through the skies among a rustling, whistling contingent of your fellows must be a lot of fun.

Certainly it’s attracted the attention of poets, including Richard Wilbur (“An Event”) and Anca Vlasopolos (“Starlings”)—and no doubt others as well (if you know of any other passages or poems on starlings, please let me know).

For me they’re one of the best manifestations of fall: eerie and fantastical and exhilarating and ephemeral—a mystery and delight to scientists and non-scientists alike.

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Not-so-wild-life: Portraits of Residents of a Pumpkin Farm

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Flamingo Friday: Cross Hairs

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Pagan Rituals

We Northern Hemispherites have now slid past the autumnal equinox and are moving slowly but surely towards the winter solstice—but until that point we will have the pleasure and sadness of watching the deciduous trees making an incandescent farewell to their leaves, hearing the scrunch and scuttle of dry leaves underfoot and skittering across the ground, feel the air turn from sweetly crisp to bitterly chill, and watch the light leak out of the sky earlier and earlier each day.

That last one really gets me.

I love autumn—the transition season, the season of gleeful release and abandon before we succumb to winter—but I hate the shorter and shorter days.

And of course the non-human animals have recognized the change in season and responded to it far more attentively and urgently than we: squirrels frantically collecting acorns (which they will bury and never find); mockingbirds preparing for their November mating season; starlings forming their huge flocks that mimic the act of migration.

But those animals aren’t alone. Various human cultures have celebrated the fruitfulness of autumn and the change in season with special foods, parties, and other rituals around the September equinox—and of course the winter solstice has been celebrated by just about everyone (including the residents of Whileaway, author Joanna Russ’s futuristic Earth, who run outside on the night in their underwear and, banging pots and pans, exclaim, “Come back, sun! Come back, goddammit!”)

How do you celebrate the solstice?

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Mommy Deerest

(It’s not the perfect opportunity, but I’ve been wanting to use that pun for years.)

Today Annie and I explored the natural areas around our new home by trekking around Sligo Creek Trail for a couple of miles. Right before we turned around to head back to our non-nature responsibilities, we spotted these deer in the undergrowth (er, is overgrown undergrowth “overgrowth”?) beside the path.

To be fair, we spotted them because another woman on the trail was taking photos of them with her camera, and we followed her gaze.

With a few contortions, I managed to extract my camera from my bag without making too much noise, but of course modern cameras in and of themselves make a fair amount of noise—beeping to assure you they’re in focus, making shutter-clicking noises, etc.

In spite of this, the deer seemed remarkably unaffected by all this digital noise, although they did occasionally pause in their chewing to examine us (especially when the other photographer’s phone went off).

We were surprised to see a stag so near what looked like a doe and almost-grown faun, but a little online searching revealed that white-tailed deer start mating in November, so perhaps the two of them were preparing.

And apparently fauns stay with their mothers for 1-2 years, so perhaps the younger one was hanging out and making grossed-out noises every time the adults made moves on one another.

Or maybe they were just hungry and in the same area.

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Flamingo Friday: Brush Strokes

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Two Seal Pictures and Some Shameless Self-Promotion

These photos don't really tell a story, although they do continue to illustrate the adage "Animals don't pose." Note how seals are able to seal (if you will) their nostrils shut while swimming, a talent I envy a great deal (especially when I'm swimming in the ocean and get a couple ounces of salt water up my nose).

What animal talents do you most envy?

...And while you ponder that question, a word from our sponsors:

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After all, who wouldn't want to receive this:

Ask Me About Satellite Males Pinback Buttons by O_Ambrogio

Or this card:

Appy Owlidays Card by O_Ambrogio

Or this lovely image:

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No need to thank me; I'm just doing my part to encourage slightly more unconventional consumerism.

Sometimes You Just Feel Like Hanging Around

A few weeks ago Kiko decided he didn't feel like rushing along the O-line. After all, why hurry from the Ape House to the Think Tank? Why be fettered by schedules, by the need to get from here to there without appreciating the journey in between?

Why not just stay suspended above the excited visitors for a good twenty minutes?

Why not, indeed?

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Her Look

What I like most are those eyes,
disks wide as the full moon,
twin Os that open on the darkness
of deep water.

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Flamingo Friday: Angles

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Some Sad News, and Some Happy News, About Not-So-Wild Wildlife

I just discovered that the baby howler monkey at the National Zoo died on Sunday—this following the death, a few weeks earlier, of the baby panda.

Unlike the panda baby, who lived less than a week, Loki the little howler monkey was seven months old and, for those who had actually seen her at the zoo, already seemed like a healthy and permanent resident.

We could talk about this in the context of zoo conditions, the artificiality of these habitats, how they mess with animals’ behaviors and physiologies and so on, and I’m sure those can play a role. On the other hand, survivorship of wild animals is not particularly high, either.

Mainly I’m just sad that a fellow creature I had gotten to like, however superficially, died before she could even finish her first year.

On the happy side, a good friend just sent me the link to this New York Times article--news that will be especially exciting to people living in NYC and that comes with maybe the best photo ever:

A Fat, Mustachioed Orphan Finds a Home

It's something guaranteed to cheer almost anyone up. And we all need that.

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A Measure of Relief

I finally saw a couple of the National Zoo’s beavers, and they seemed to be entirely un-rabid!

Instead they displayed a very healthy and entirely appropriate interest in sticks.

Incidentally, the mystery photo last week was of this:

—Which might not tell you anything, but is basically an image of the zoo’s grey seal rubbing her nose with her flipper while underwater. All those little rippling wavelets produced a very different sort of image.

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Flamingo Friday: "It Looks MUCH Better Like This..."

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Guessing Game (2)

…So what is it…?

And what could it be?

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The Master Magician Swirls His Cloak

Or a wood duck preens. Take your pick!

(I am still in post-move frenzy. But stay tuned for some thoughts on Jack London’s wolf novels, the importance of being influenced by literature, and the misreading of “domestication” in London’s works. And also more about non-fictional animals.)

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