Why Evolution is True Feed

It appears that the bonded pair of mallards at Botany Pond are here for the long term. Every morning they are waiting at the same spot for their breakfast, and in the afternoon they snooze on the rocks but swim to me for their late lunch when I whistle. Further, I saw two of our five red-eared slider turtles yesterday, swimming and sunning in the warmer weather. Here are a few photos and a video at bottom.

It seems that the ducks are residents now, and so it’s time to name them. As with last year, they appeared on the Jewish holiday of Purim and thus needed Jewish, Purim-related names. My friend Peggy Mason, co-duck-tender, scoured the Purim literature to give the ducks names (we don’t name them until we’re sure they’re going to hang around). The hen (not Esther, as I ascertained from photos published previously), is now called Vashti, named after a character in the Purim story:

Vashti (Hebrew: וַשְׁתִּי‎, romanized: Vaštī; Koine Greek: Ἀστίν, romanized: Astín; Modern Persian: وشتی, romanized: Vâšti) was a queen of Persia and the first wife of Persian king Ahasuerus in the Book of Esther, a book included within the Tanakh and the Old Testament which is read on the Jewish holiday of Purim. She was either executed or banished for her refusal to appear at the king’s banquet to show her beauty as Ahasuerus wished, and was succeeded as queen by Esther, a Jew. That refusal might be better understood via the Jewish tradition that she was ordered to appear naked. In the Midrash, Vashti is described as beautiful but wicked and vain; she is viewed as an independent-minded heroine in feminist theological interpretations of the Purim story.

That seems fairly appropriate given that there’s no other woman in the story save the heroine Esther, who saved the Jews.

A name for the drake was tougher, as the only other notable male in the Purim story is the wicked Haman, who tried to get the King to exterminate the Jews (Esther foiled that plot). And we can’t have a drake named after a genocidal maniac.  Scouring the story and remembering her Hebrew, Peggy suggested the name Armon,  which means “palace” or “fortress” in Hebrew. That’s where the whole Purim story took place. Fortunately, it’s also a Jewish man’s name, and short.

Ergo the hen and drake are now Vashti and Armon, respectively. I’ll have to do some explaining when visitors ask me the ducks’ names and how they got them. But it is cool that last year’s and this year’s ducks both arrived on Purim, though the holidays are two weeks displaced from 2025 to 2026.

Click the pictures below if you want to enlarge them.

Aaaaaand. . . here’s the pair together. I think they make quite the handsome couple:

The lovely Vashti, hopefully destined to produce this year’s brood of ducklings. Here she’s preening, sunning, and sleeping in the warm sun of Sunday:

And the regal Armon, swimming and napping:

We put five large red-eared slider turtles (Trachemys scripta elegans) into the pond last fall, and hoped they’d hibernate in custom turtle houses put on the pebble-y bottom.  Apparently they did, as we’ve seen no bodies floating on the water.  (These were five turtles saved and put in a southern Illinois pond when Botany Pond was renovated several years ago. I believe five more evacuees will come home again this Spring.)

It’s been too cold for them to show up, but yesterday I found a big one blithely sunning himself on a rock, stretching out his limbs to get the sun. (Turtles’ heads and legs are their solar panels, used to warm up the body.) Later I saw another one’s head above the water surface as it was swimming around. So we know we have at least two. Here’s the sunbather:

This is near the northern limit of the species’ distribution, as the eggs can’t survive very cold winters.

So we have our turtles and ducks: all is in place for a lovely Spring and Summer.

And a lousy movie of Armon and Vashti preening themselves after having lunch:

More good news: I’m told the duck camera, which has been re-installed, will be activated this week. Stay tuned for the link!

I am not usually fond of restaurants that serve many small “nouvelle” courses that are lovely and exquisitely curated, as they don’t usually get me full—my prime requirement for a good restaurant. But last night we went to one of these multicourse places and had one of the best meals of my life—and it left me sated. This is the story of that meal.

AT 5:30 I met up with my friend, the engineer and origami master Robert Lang, visiting Chicago to teach a two-day class in origami at a meeting.  And, as I mentioned yesterday, he invited me to a well-known Chicago restaurant for a slap-up dinner, which lasted a full three hours.  It turns out that his niece manages the place, and so we were able to obtain hard-to-get reservations. From Robert:

As I may have mentioned before, my niece Kate is the general manager at Next Restaurant, and she’ll get us in. (You may recall I tried this with you several years ago during a Chicago trip, but the airlines conspired to ruin my arrival. This time, I’m flying in the day before, so there’s more buffer.) Next is in the family of restaurants owned by the famous chef Grant Achatz, the most famous of which is Alinea. Here’s a Wikipedia photo of Achatz at Alinea, preparing a dish tableside: star5112, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

There’s a University of Chicago connection with Achatz, and I well remember his diagnosis of, ironically, mouth cancer. I did not expect him to survive, but he did:

On July 23, 2007, Achatz announced that he had been diagnosed with stage 4 squamous cell carcinoma of the mouth, which spread to his lymph nodes. Initially, Achatz was told that radical surgery was necessary, which would remove part of his mandibular anatomy, including part of his tongue and large swaths of neck tissue. Later, University of Chicago physicians prescribed an alternative course of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. This led to full remission, albeit with some side effects including a transitory loss of his sense of taste, which eventually returned. On December 18, 2007, Achatz announced that he was cancer-free. He credited the aggressive protocol of chemotherapy and radiation administered at the University of Chicago Medical Center for driving his cancer into full remission. The treatment regimen, administered under the direction of Drs. Everett E. Vokes, Blair and Haraf at University of Chicago, did not require radical invasive surgery on Achatz’s tongue.

Yay! It’s been nearly twenty years now and he remains cancer-free. Achatz cooks at Alinea, but owns some of Next and, I presume, visits and gives feedback.

Every four months or so, the appropriately named Next changes its themes—themes that are quite eclectic. You can see the history of the changing themes since 2011 at its Wikipedia page, as well as reading about the difficulty of getting reservations. We were lucky to get in, but Robert began the request several months ago, and of course has a genetic connection to the restaurant.

The theme until the end of April is Japan.

From Next’s website:

Robert sent me this photo the menu, so I knew we were in for a treat:  There’s a more complete menu below. as we got a few extra dishes:

Below is Achatz from a FB video. To prepare for the meal, as he says, much of the Next team went to Japan and spent their time eating at a variety of humble and fancy restaurants. They then, said his niece, came back and spent a few months developing a menu that was inspired by what they tasted.  I think the slurring of Achatz’s speech is due to his treatments for mouth cancer.

There is only one menu, and you can get it with or without a wine pairing (this one includes sake) or with non-alcoholic beverages. We got it with booze, of course, and the wines and sakes chosen matched the dishes remarkably well. They were fancy, tasty, and pricey wines. This place is a class act with some good palates working behind the scenes.

This is our menu; we were comped a few dishes because of Robert’s relationship to his niece, and so we wound up with eleven dishes, six wines, and two sakes (I love sake, and these were good ones, not obtainable, I was told, in local stores):

The food menu (this is what we were actually served including the gratis dishes; they apparently made up a custom menu post facto for us as a souvenir):

The wine-and-sake menu (while waiting for me, Robert was given a glass of champagne):

And now for the dishes (all photos by me except Robert’s, which are labeled “RJL”).

First, a glass of bottle-fermented sparkling sake, a real treat. It was served poured to overflowing in a glass inside a cedar box.  After you take a few sips from the glass, you pour the rest of the glass into the cedar box and drink it from there, a traditional practice that gives the liquid a slight woody flavor:

The sake, one of several made by Masumi. It looks to cost about $60 a bottle retail: they did not stint on the wines but that was not near the most expensive libation we were served:

Me, excited before dinner; photo by RJL:

First course: chawanmushi (a savory egg custard), made with sweet corn, umeshu (a Japanese plum liqueur), and black truffle.  Like nearly all the dishes, I had never tasted anything like it before. It was fantastic. Note the dried cornhusk garnishing the plate.  It’s eaten with the wooden spoon:

The next dish arrived at the table as a gift: osetra caviar (the second best in the world after beluga) served with bluefin tuna, wasabi, and crème fraîche. It came with four sheets of seaweed (to the right next to the wasabi), and two already-formed seaweed rolls (left) with unidentifiable goodies inside. You are supposed to roll the caviar, crème, wasabi, and salmon into a sheet of seaweed and eat it as if it were a luxurious Japanese burrito.

The only caviar I’d ever had before was pressed caviar made from irregular eggs, and sevruga caviar (the third rarest).  It was hard for me to resist leaving the caviar out of the burrito and just eating it plain with the mother of pearl spoon (the traditional utensil), so I did eat some plain (fantastic) and also put some into two “burritos” (also fantastic).  The two rolls to the left were eaten separately. Note the two “fruits”, actually pickled vegetables) at the top and bottom of the plate. I believe they are a pickled radish and a pickled cucumber, both decorated with nasturtium blossoms.  Those, too, were amazing, full of complex flavors. The “pickle” was like the most delicious pickle you could imagine, and of course you can’t buy them as they’re made in house.

Photo by RJL. Note the lovely setting with chopsticks (and fancy chopstick rests) and spoons:

The wine: Vermintino, an Italian white wine made by Laura Ascero, light, crisp, slightly saline, and dry, a perfect accompaniment to the creamy burritos with caviar. These people know their wines:

Two cute little “ramen eggs” in a spoon with ginger and togarashi (the red spice on top), made to resemble the flavor of Japanese ramen (there’s no ramen in there, and I can’t remember what is). Two cute and savory bites.

A fancy dish: gyoza (a dumpling filled with shrimp and sweet potato), accompanied by a froth made from carrot ponzu. You can see the dumpling at 10 o’clock next to a savory crunchy thing. AI describes “ponzu” as “a tangy, citrus-based Japanese sauce made from soy sauce, vinegar, and citrus juice (like yuzu or sudachi), often with added mirin, dashi, and bonito flakes for a complex salty, sour, and umami flavor.”  Again, it was like nothing I’d ever tasted.

The wine: a Grüner Veltliner (Austrian white), the “Ried Rosenberg” blend made from the Weingut Ott.  A dry version of the wine, it again was great with the dish:

We continued with a fancy dish comprising three items: king crab to the left, a fancy rice in the middle, and a broth (I can’t remember what kind) to the right, with the broth poured from the traditional Japanese metal teapot. Above on the tray is also a pot with sprigs of fresh rosemary, with coals below them to create a herb-scented smoke while you had this dish. You could eat a bit of the incredibly sweet king crab with some rice, and then wash it down with the broth.

With that dish we move to Burgundy for the white wine, A Premier Cru Chablis, the “Fourchaume” blend by De Oliveira Lecestre, a crisp and fruity but dry wine. Another good pairing.

The seventh dish was kare pan (Japanese curry bread), filled with grilled cabbage and heritage pork belly.  This was very complex, and look at the decorations! I didn’t photograph the inside but yes, it was excellent.  There was no dish in the whole meal that I found less than inventive and tasty.

And with the kare pan we moved to the red wines, this one a 2021 Grenache from Cemetery Vineyard from Newfoundland Winery in Mendocino, California.  It was a light red wine to go with the pork, and very tasty (photo by RJL).

I couldn’t remember why they called it “Cemetery Vineyard” (they told us), but AI had the answer:

The “Cemetery Vineyard” (specifically the noted Rockpile Ridge site) is named for a distinct outcropping of rocks at the base of the vineyard that looks like giant, old-fashioned headstones. This specific block has been referred to by this name for over 140 years, long before the wine was commercialized

And then some fish: a luscious piece of grilled cod with a brown butter and miso sauce, accompanied by seaweed and golden mustard seed.  I’m not much of a fish-eater but I loved this:

And for that dish of course we needed sake, and were poured a whiskey tumbler (with ice) of 2024 Tamagawa “Ice Breaker” sake. We were told it was unfiltered, and it was a stronger, slightly sweet, and luscious rice wine. And there was a penguin on the label! The website says this:

Tamagawa’s Ice Breaker is a cask-strength, fresh-pressed junmai ginjo that is undiluted, unpasteurized and unfiltered. This is a seasonal release always listed with the brewery year (BY).

Pairing Notes: The Ice Breaker sake is designed to be drunk over ice as a refresher in the humid Japanese rainy season. Try it with edamame, mackerel, skipjack tuna and eggplant with zesty grated daikon.

I believe the white stuff with the cod above is grated daikon (white radish), but I’m not sure.

When the cod was served, they also put a mysterious bowl of seaweed containing very hot rocks atop a seaweed packet. We asked what it was, and were told was part of the next course being steamed by the rocks while we ate the fish. See below. (Photo by RJL).

Where’s the beef? It was next in a “wagyu au poivre”, and yes, it was real wagyu beef from Japan, the first I’ve had. It was of course rare, and then the seaweed packet was opened to reveal the cooked accompaniments: pear and trumpet mushrooms, along with kombu (edible kelp). Photo by RJL:

Yummers! The beef was so tender and tasty that although the slice was not large, I ate it in very small bites so I could prolong the flavor. It was great with the meaty trumpet mushroom and the fruitiness of the pear:

Of course with that you need a gutsier red wine, which came as a Cabernet Franc (often found in Bordeaux) from Podere Forte, an Italian winemaker. The designation was “Guardiavigna Orienello” with some age: 8 years. It’s a biodynamic wine, tasting much like a Bordeaux; the website describes it this way:

Guardiavigna is a version of perfectly and slowly ripened Cabernet Franc. An intense, deep and vast bouquet. Full bodied, with a very refined tannic structure. A very elegant and endless wine.

It goes for $150-$180 per bottle.

Photo by RJL:

With two courses left, we had dined for about 2½ hours, eating leisurely and catching up.  Robert’s house is nearly rebuilt after the Altadena fire and should be done by June. His studio will take a bit longer.

We were then treated to “Tokyo toast”, with sake lees (I guess the rice at the bottom of the fermenting tank), sakura (cherry blossom), and kumquat. You see that the dishes are inspired by the flavors the team encountered in Japan, but the dish itself is sui generis. It was a very elegant version of a Rice Krispy treat:

And the eleventh and last course: musk melon with saffron, pine nuts, and spaghetti squash. An inspired combination; you have to have a good palate to even think of putting these things together. They melded well. Again, the presentation was carefully thought out, with matching fancy plates, trays, and appropriate cutlery:

Sauternes, my favorite sweet wine, goes with very few things. I eat it either on its own or with a ripe peach or mango. It does not go with chocolate (Thomas Keller hasn’t learned that lesson.) But it did go with the musk melon, which is not too sweet, and the spaghetti squash, barely sweet. And so we were served a 2019 Château Fontebride 2019.  That wine also counted as dessert.  If you haven’t tried a Sauternes, which gets better and more golden as it ages, you might spring for one. (I brought Robert a half bottle of another Sauternes as a gift; it wasn’t clear whether it would make it back to California since Robert is staying with his brother in Chicago.)

And so we wound up at 8:30, having started at 5:30. I was replete, filled with great food and fancy wine, amazed at what we had eaten, impressed by the thought and care that went into the food and service, and, of course, slightly buzzed.  Next is an amazing restaurant and I’d gladly go again—if I was willing to spring for the meal (I have no idea what it cost) and could get a reservation (the website says there are 10,000 people on the Next waiting list!).

When you have a long, sumptuous, and fancy meal like this, you leave the restaurant with a bracing sense of well being. (A Parisian chef once told me that you know a meal is good if the birds sing more sweetly when you leave.) I had that feeling, and of course it was helped along by the slight buzz from wine and sake.

Many thanks to Robert for inviting me, to his niece Kate, the manager, for greeting us and stopping by to chat during the meal (and of course running things), and the staff who organized, cooked and served.

Oh, two dark pictures of the place, the first of the kitchen by Robert and the second of the main room by me. It’s not a large restaurant. Note the Japanese lanterns.

I know that I’m going to get criticized for putting this up, excoriated for eating fancy food and “privilege.” To those who would say that, take a hike. This was a rare treat, and all I can say is that there have been Japanese emperors who haven’t eaten this well.

Bill Maher’s latest news-and-comedy shtick on “Real Time” deals once again with the flak he got for having dinner with President Trump. Remember? Despite Maher constantly criticizing the President’s policies durin gthe dinner, he also reported that he found Trump affable and friendly.

That was enough for liberals to come down on Maher like a ton of bricks, despite the fact that he simply gave his reaction. Trump’s policies were reprehensible, Maher averred, but he was a good host.  In today’s world that will do you in. Larry David, for instance, wrote a satire of Maher’s reaction in a NYT op-ed called “Larry David imagines a private dinner with Hitler” (archived here), and I imagine that pissed off Maher.

Apparently Trump posted about his dinner with Maher on Truth Social (on Valentine’s Day), and Trump’s post was full of lies (surprise!). Here Maher corrects the record, and gets a few shots back at Trump for lying, while calling out people with true “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  (“Get a life: stop making him your whole personality”.) But he adds that Trump bears some responsibility for promoting TDS because his racism, misogyny, anti-democratic acts, and corruption “make people crazy.”  Maher further also ticks off a few good things that Trump did, including asserting that “penises don’t belong in women’s prisons,” which will simply anger “progressives” more.  Maher argues that he may be “the last person from the Lunatic Left that is still an honest broker when it comes to Trump.”

Maher winds up addressing Trump directly, calling him out for his many detestable acts—after he’s given the President plaudits for some things.  Yes, Maher seems defensive here, but he’s honest and I still like the guy.  I don’t have much truck with people who say that Trump never did anything good, and, in fact, it’s impossible for that to happen.

Bill’s guests were Rep. Adam Schiff (D-CA), journalist Don Lemon, and author Annabelle Gurwitch/

As I mentioned yesterday, Robert Lang invited me to dinner last night at a famous Chicago restaurant called Next, whose metier is mulitcourse menus with a theme. And they completely change the theme every four months, so they’re always working on and testing the dishes to come (see the history of the themes at the Wikipedia link given in the first sentence).  The theme of our meal was “Japan,” inspired by the restaurant chef, manager, and some staff having taken a trip to Japan to absorb the food and culture. They they returned to the U.S. and worked for a few months to develop dishes that were not explicitly Japanese, but inspired by the food they tried in Japan.

While preparing the account of our meal for a post, I realized that it is going to take some time, what with 12 dishes and 8 wines (including 2 sakes), as well photos of the menu and the restaurant. I will say now that it was one of the best meals I’ve had in America—even better than the vaunted French Laundry in California, where years ago I paid a lot for a disappointing meal.

We managed to get into this restaurant, which has a huge waiting list, because Robert’s niece is the general manager; and because of that we got a few gratis dishes.

The meal was terrific, with a largesse of small, lovely, and wonderful dishes and thoughtful and appropriate pairings with wines and sakes. The meal did not fail where many of small-dish places do: making you leave when you haven’t had enough to eat. This was not the case at Next: I left dazzled, sated, and a bit buzzed.

I will ask your indulgence because it will take me a few hours to crop the photos, insert them in a post in the proper order, and try to describe the dishes from a memory clouded by sake.  The post will be up tomorrow morning.

To wet your whistle, here’s a photo taken by Robert, showing the introductory tipple, a glass of sake poured to overflowing inside a cedar box. This is traditional: you sip the full glass until it can be poured into the box, and then drink the rest from the box, which lightly flavors the sake with cedar. This was also a rare form of sake for me: a sparkling one.

All will be revealed tomorrow. Right now I am recovering.

We have three cat items and lagniappe today.

This first video was made by Meowtopia, the same people who made the informative video on cat psychology that I posted recently.  Here we have 18 minutes of advice about what not to do to your cats: nine human behaviors that adversely affect cats based on their evolved natures.

The list: failure to greet the cats when you come home; using a laser pointer or other toy that a cat cannot catch (this is a no-no as it violates the predatory sequence that ends with a kill), petting in the wrong places, invasion of a cat’s territory, punishment of trangressing cats by squirting, yelling, or striking them (this conditions them to fear you; the solution is to prioritize a better option), afflicting them with loud noises (their hearing is absurdly sensitive), failure to understand their communications and to respond to it (feral cats don’t meow), picking them up and thrusting them into the hands of a stranger), and, finally, assailing their sensitive vomerine scent-detection system with strange smells like heavy perfumes or air freshener and, worst of all, scented cat litter.

This is a very good and educational effort, not simply a cute cat video. Even if you have a cat, do watch it.

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Winston Churchill was a huge fan of cats, as you can see from this National Trust post below about the lineage of orange (“marmalade”) cats that still roam the grounds of Churchill’s old home, now given to the country. As Wikipedia says in its article about Winston Churchill’s pets (my bolding):

Churchill had many cats in his life, both at Chartwell and in government service. At Chartwell, these included a tabby, Mickey, and a “marmalade colored” cat named Tango. Tango was there in the 1930s and 1940s and appears in anecdotes about those years. But Churchill’s most famous wartime cat was Nelson who was initially a mouser at the Admiralty when Churchill was First Lord. Churchill named him Nelson after the great admiral after seeing the cat chase a large dog away. He then took the cat with him to 10 Downing Street when he became prime minister, where it also chased Chamberlain‘s cat, the Munich Mouser.

In later life, he was given a cat by Jock Colville for his 88th birthday. This was a ginger cat with white markings that he called Jock too. This cat became a favourite in his final years. When he died and Chartwell was donated to the National Trust, the family asked that a marmalade cat with white bib and socks called Jock should always be maintained there. This tradition has continued and Jock VII became the current holder of this position in 2020.

Chartwell was Churchill’s country home in Kent to which he retreated again and again, even when he moved 10 Downing Street as Prime Minister.  Click to read about the two living Jocks:

. . . Generations of ginger cats have lived at Chartwell over the years. Since the National Trust opened the house to the public in 1966, the family of Sir Winston Churchill requested that there always be ‘a marmalade cat named Jock, with a white bib and four white socks, in comfortable residence at Chartwell’.

Here are the last two Jocks that are still alive, though Jock VI retired and, nearly blind, lives with a staff member (see short video below).

Jock VII

In May 2020 Chartwell welcomed Jock VII, a six-month-old rescue kitten, to take up this unique role.

Along with his white bib and white paws, Jock VII has a very mischievous character. His favourite pastimes are investigating what the gardeners are up to and playing down in the long grasses of the orchard. He also likes lots of cuddles on the sofa after an eventful day.

Keep an eye out for him as you tour the property.

Rescued

Jock VII, previously known as Sunshine, was rescued by the RSPCA before being adopted by one of the team at Chartwell.
He was rescued along with 30 other cats from squalid conditions. The kittens were very weak and undernourished but were young enough to be brought back to health quickly. Jock was the most confident of the whole group and was already playful and full of fun.

Jock VI

Jock VII’s predecessor, Jock VI, came to Chartwell in 2014. Sadly, he became almost completely blind and was finding life at Chartwell difficult. After his six years of service, he retired and is now enjoying a much quieter and more peaceful life with a member of staff in a garden of his own.

Here’s Jock VI with his staff; she seems quite loving:

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Finally, from an author called Sean, we have a Medium story about his cat Moon Unit (you may remember that this was the name of  Frank Zappa’s daughter, born in 1967).

Click on the link below to go to the story of a latter-day Moon Unit, a cat who went missing from London and turned up in France, toothless but otherwise okay, 8½ years later!

An excerpt:

A few years passed and we had a new year’s party. The next morning we discovered we had one cat missing. Moon Unit had somehow got out during the party and disappeared. We went out looking, printed out posters, told the local cat rescue places, but no luck. People told us about lots of little black and white cats they’d seen, but none of them had MU’s distinctive white nose or big whiskers. So no luck. And we were very sad.

But about a month ago, out of the blue, I got an email from the Kennel Club saying that a cat with a matching microchip had been found. IN PARIS. Now if that isn’t boggling enough, that party was EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS AGO. We exchanged photos with the French rescue place, and it was definitely Moon Unit. Distinctive nose and whiskers as I said. And she has that fur that is dark on top but white underneath.

She had been found wandering around outside a train station in a French suburb, and taken to a cat rescue place, who checked her chip and got in touch. Well, the chip contact details were a bit out of date (did I mention EIGHT YEARS missing?), but the French people were very stubborn and eventually the KC used newfangled email to get in touch with me.

So this weekend we went over to Paris. In the past few weeks, Moon Unit had been checked at the vet, and given rabies shots and worming tablets, and a Pet Passport organised for her. Two lovely ladies came over to our hotel with her on Saturday (we gave them some chocolates and flowers), and we took her to Calais by train (telling her story to the people around us), and our friends met us at the station and drove us onto the car ferry, and back to London. (There aren’t many foot passenger services that take pets).

.. . .Back in London we closed all the doors and let Moon Unit out into the hallway. She had a look around, and seemed perfectly fine. I spent the rest of the evening in the hallway with her, and she’s been following me around all day. She’s not been doing that “OMG new place I must HIDE” thing that cats often do — in fact she’s curled up next to me on the sofa as I write this. (Remember she only got back yesterday).

So there we have it. A tale of European cooperation and perseverance and international mystery. How did Moon Unit get to PARIS? How has she survived for over EIGHT YEARS? How did she lose all her teeth? Has no vet checked her chip in all that time? Answers we will never get, until she writes her mewmoirs.

. . . And the moral of the story — always get your pets microchipped and keep the contact details up to date, even if they are indoor pets. Moon Unit was an indoor cat while she was with us. Hope you enjoyed reading this.

Here’s a photo labeled “Moon Unit back in the day,” presumably taken by Sean.

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Lagniappe:  Here’s a two-minute cat version of Indiana Jones: “Indiana Jonesy” in “Raiders of the lost treat.” You will remember some of the scenes. No cats were injured in the making of this film.

h/t: Matthew Cobb,

I need a life—even if that is a life outside of writing for this website. That’s by way of informing you that posting here may be a bit light for about a week. I have a writing assignment, which is to answer Michael Shermer’s response to my own post on this site taking issue with his claim (also in his new book Truth) that we have a form of free will.  (My response will appear at Skeptic.) I can do no other than answer a form of compatibilism that gives us free will simply by redefining the folk notion of free will in an un-refutable way so that that we do have free will even if all our behaviors and thoughts derive from and are compatible with the laws of physics. But I digress.

My second task is to go shopping for much-needed Chinese groceries (I ran out of everything during the cold spell), but, most important, to meet my friend origami master and engineer Robert Lang, who’s invited me for splendid dinner at Next. Next is a sister restaurant of Alinea—surely one of America’s most famous restaurants. Next is equally highly rated. Both Next and Alinea are run by the same chef, Grant Achatz (see a Facebook interview with him here). Robert’s in town for an origami convention, and the trip to Next is prompted by his rare appearance in Chicago and the felicitous fact that Robert’s niece happens to be the general manager of Next.  I think that’s how we got reservations given that the site says, “On any given night, there can be 10,000+ guests on our waitlist.”

Next is so named because it changes menus to a new theme every few months.  This most recent theme is Japan, and I have the menu, which has nine courses that look fabulous (Earlier, Robert provided some origami for the menu.)  I’ll save the food experience for a post (with photos) tomorrow or Sunday. There will also be a wine pairing with the many courses, and I’m sure that a great and bibulous time will be had by all.

Stay tuned. As always, I’ll do my best, both at table and at this site. Oh, and don’t forget to set your clocks forward on Saturday night.

I told you that Matthew’s new biography of Francis Crick was good! Now Crick: A Mind in Motion has been given the imprimatur of quality by winning a big book prize in England.  Matthew sent me his Bluehair post below, and when I asked him what prize he won, he replied:

Hatchard’s First Biography Prize. Hatchards is a posh bookshop on Piccadilly where the King buys his books. I will get a proper cheque. £2.5k! 

It is a big check—in both senses:

I won! I have a big cheque!

— Matthew Cobb (@matthewcobb.bsky.social) 2026-03-05T19:23:03.888Z

Below is the site for the prize (click to go there). Note, too that Matthew’s book beat out the John & Paul: A Love Story in Songs, a book about Lennon and McCartney and Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealisme, a kiss-and-tell memoirSarah Wynn-Williams, who used to work for Facebook and who has been clobbered with lawsuits by that company and other people. 

And the site’s announcement:

Hatchards has teamed up with The Biographers’ Club to support the Best First Biography Prize.

The prize awards £2,500 to the best biography or memoir published that year, and has been won in recent years by Daniel Finkelstein, Katherine Rundell and Osman Yousefzada, Lea Ypi, Heather Clark, Jonathan Phillips, Bart van Es, Edmund Gordon and Hisham Matar.

This year’s winner is Crick by Matthew Cobb.

Go buy it, or take it out from the library to read it. (This advice is for people who are interested in science, but if you’re not, you shouldn’t be reading here.)

Congratulations to Matthew! I told him to use the £2500 prize to treat himself to something nice, like a vacation.

Reader Todd Martin sent some photos from the Yucatán (don’t miss the Ocellated Turkey!).  Todd’s captions are indented and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

WEIT Yucatán

Here are some photos from a trip in November to the Yucatán in Mexico. The original purpose of the trip was to see Mayan ruins, but the natural beauty of the area turned out to be equally remarkable.

The first few pictures were taken during a boat tour of the mangroves in the Ría Lagartos Biosphere Reserve along the northern coast of the Yucatan Peninsula. The tour began at dawn and we were greeted by the rising sun and a welcoming committee of Monohelea maya, a species of predaceous midge discovered with some fanfare by scientists in 2000 (and with somewhat less fanfare on this very morning by myself):

The reserve is home to many species of birds, the most famous of which is the American flamingo (Phoenicopterus ruber), which can be observed trawling for brine-shrimp in the brackish water:

This is a Magnificent Frigatebird (Fregata magnificens). The male is easily recognized by the bright red throat pouch which looks like a life vest when inflated but actually serves to attract females. The females can be recognized by their frequent calls of ‘Well, if you’re so magnificent why can’t you take out the trash’:

The largest avian species we saw was this haughtily regal Brown pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis):

This is a Neotropic Cormorant (Nannopterum brasilianum) a diving bird sometimes used by the indigenous people of Bolivia and Peru to catch fish:

Hopefully this Wood Stork (Mycteria americana) has a good personality because it is (as my grandmother might have quipped) ‘not conventionally attractive’. It is, however, the only native stork in North America:

The Osprey (Pandion Haliaetus) is sometimes known as a fish hawk because fish make up the majority of its diet (not unlike Kevin Bacon or the singer Meatloaf):

Some birds are naturally elegant like this Great Egret (Ardea alba).In case you want to know how to avoid confusing it with a Snowy Egret … a Great Egret has a yellow bill and black feet, while the smaller Snowy Egret has a black bill and yellow feet:

Green Heron (Butorides virescens). Here’s a fun fact I cribbed from Wiki: “Green herons are one of the few species of bird known to use tools. In particular, they commonly use bread crusts, insects, or other items as bait. The bait is dropped onto the surface of a body of water to lure fish. When a fish takes the bait, the green heron then grabs and eats the fish”:

This American White Ibis (Eudocimus albus) was quite accustomed to people, which allowed me to get a pretty good close-up:

Morelet’s crocodile (Crocodylus moreletii). They look somewhat fearsome, but our one-armed tour boat operator said this one was ‘practically domesticated’”

Yucatan Jay (Cyanocorax yucatanicus) Jays are the noisy, argumentative neighbors of the animal kingdom. They are often described as ‘gregarious’ which I take to mean that they’ll take food from your plate without asking:

Those who frequented Glamour Shots in the 1980’s might confuse this photo with others of the genre, but it’s an Ocellated Turkey (Meleagris ocellata). The bird was the original inspiration for the marketing tag-line ‘taste the rainbow’. Unfortunately the bird is considered ‘Near Threatened’ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) with numbers that are sadly on the decline:

Whoever named the Black Spiny-tailed Iguana (Ctenosaura similis) wasn’t particularly creative, but I’m inclined to give them a pass because … that spiny tail!:

Finally – we stopped by Florida before returning home and my wife couldn’t resist adopting one of those hairless sphynx cats from the local shelter (Alligator mississippiensis). We love him very much, though he does have the unusual habit of sleeping in his water dish:

Reader Jon Gallant recently finished the essay collection compiled and edited by Lawrence Krauss, The War on Science:  Thirty-Nine Renowed Scientists and Scholars speak Out About Current Threats to Free Speech, Open Inquiry, and the Scientific Process.” (Luana and I have a paper in it taken from our Skeptical Inquirer paper on the ideological subversion of biology).

Jon decided to leave a review of the book on its Amazon page (his review is shown below in the Amazon rejection). Yep, his submitted review was rejected. He sent the rejection to me and I reproduce it and his emailed speculations (with permission).  I’ve put a red box around the submitted review:

At first I was puzzled, as I don’t follow Amazon reviews and know nothing about the ideology of the site or company.  Can you guess why the review was returned with requests for changes?  I suspect you’ve guessed correctly, though we can’t be sure.  I asked Jon what he thought, and here’s some of his response:

Use of the term “woke” in a less than reverential tone is no doubt classified by Amazon’s editors as “hate speech”.  After all, it makes wokies feel unsafe.  My hunch is that the dopier Communications majors from the 2010s work as review editors at Amazon.  The better-connected ones get into the editorial offices of some Nature publications we have encountered.

In truth, I can see no other explanation.  The review was not worshipful enough of wokeness, and in fact made fun of it, even expressing a hope that it would disappear.  If you have another explanation, by all means put it in the comments. I had no patience to read Amazon’s “community guidelines” to see if there were other infractions.

I don’t know if Jon will resubmit his review, but I thought that this was both sad and amusing. The other reviews (126 of them) are bimodal (70% five star, 18% one star), and it’s also amusing to look at the negative ones, most of them finding the book guilty of association with the wrong people, or not hard enough on Trump and right-wing assaults on science (not its purpose)

Send in your good wildlife photos, as I’m out save for singletons and doubletons.

Today’s photos come from reader Jan Malik from New Jersey and are geese and DUCKS. The captions and ID’s are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Here are some Barnegat Inlet ducks (and other visitors) from the last day of this February.

Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) and Brant (Branta bernicla) in flight.  Same genus, similar body form, and a fairly recent common ancestor—only about 1–2 MYA in Pleistocene North America. Anne Elk’s (Mrs.) theory about brontosauruses could be adapted to geese: they are thin at one end, much, much thicker in the middle, and thin again at the far end. My new theory is that these two species split when the Laurentide Ice Sheet separated the American coast from the inland regions. The Brant specialized in coastal habitats and feeding on seaweeds, while the Canada Goose evolved inland, feeding mostly on herbs and grasses. Perhaps this theory is not new. Or not mine.

Arguably the biggest stars of the winter Barnegat Inlet are the Harlequin Ducks (Histrionicus histrionicus). The drakes’ plumage is so dramatic—and their calls so comical (resembling a bath rubber ducky)—that many people come to Barnegat Light just to see them. The hens’ coloration is more subdued but still lovely.

JAC: You can hear their calls on the Cornell page for this species. Just below is a hen:

Every year I see them bobbing along the jetty, sometimes tossed around by heavy seas but always masterfully avoiding the rocks. They seem attracted to heavy surf and avoid the open sea. They stay mostly in a loose flock, which in recent years appears to have declined from 20–30 ducks in 2010 to just 10–15 in the last couple of years.

Drake:

They can preen while in the water, but they do catch a breather by climbing onto slippery rocks. Their feet are set a bit farther back, like in other diving ducks, but they can walk on land—although a bit awkwardly. By late February most of them are gone, heading back north to their nesting grounds on Labrador’s whitewater rivers and streams:

Like other diving ducks, they dip their heads before diving for fish. My other theory—Theory Number Two—is that by doing so they defeat the air–water interface diffraction and better locate prey:

They are exceptionally buoyant, which makes sense given their rocky surf habitat, but it also means they must put extra effort into diving. They have to jump slightly into the air before the dive to gain momentum, then use their wings as paddles to become submerged:

I once heard that the difference between geese and ducks is that ducks can launch themselves directly into the air from a resting position, while geese need to run for a while, either on water or land. This is probably true for dabbling ducks (like Mallards), but a Harlequin—with its feet set back a bit—must run some distance to become airborne:

Another common winter visitor: the Red-breasted Merganser (Mergus serrator), drake. Their bill serration is more pronounced than in other diving ducks, helping them catch fish:

Merganser hen. These are the most sea-loving mergansers. The other two I’m familiar with—Common and Hooded Mergansers—rarely appear in coastal waters. They are said to be very active underwater predators pursuing fish, but I’ve never seen that myself:

Common Eider (Somateria mollissima), probably an immature drake in transitional plumage. They are quite large and plump, which—together with the proverbial “eider down”—makes them well adapted to nesting in the Arctic. Reportedly, hens with ducklings may form crèches on their nesting grounds (a defense against polar foxes and skuas perhaps?) One day I must see that:

Several readers astutely mentioned in comments on today’s Hili Dialogue that a primary goal of the American attack on Iran wasn’t to democratize the country, but to remove Iran as a Chinese proxy.  As Haviv Rettig Gur, a journalist who writes for the Times of Israel, argues in the piece given below, a mutualistic relationship between Iran and China has developed, with Iran providing China with cheap oil that allows the People’s Republic to build a strategic petroleum reserve (nobody else will buy that oil), and China providing Iran with missiles and sophisticated weapons to go after Israel and the West. As Gur says:

Iran is to America what Hezbollah is to Israel—the smaller second-front proxy you have to take out to have a clean shot at the main foe later on.

This is also why President Trump seems to be pursuing a strange sort of regime change—something very different from what George W. Bush or the neocons meant by the term. Trump doesn’t care one whit about democratization, or, as Venezuela showed us, about changing any element of a regime that doesn’t stand in America’s way. He’s interested in regime change in Iran only because it is fundamentally, in its founding theology, unswervingly anti-American. It is thus not swayable from the Chinese orbit by any other means.

He doesn’t need a democratic Iran, he just needs a not-anti-American Iran.

Why are we so worried about China? Because, says Gur, a potential conflict with China is in the offing—over Taiwan:

The picture that emerges from all of this is of a Chinese forward base, a linchpin of the country’s naval architecture; cyber efforts; an economic Belt and Road influence program—every element of Chinese power projection and empire-building—positioned at the throat of the global oil supply, armed with weapons designed to penetrate advanced American defenses and kill American sailors, and embedded in a strategic architecture whose explicit purpose is to constrain American military freedom in any future conflict over Taiwan.

When Iran began to look like that, it stopped being Israel’s problem and became America’s.

Click below to read, but only if you have a subscription to TFP.  They don’t allow their articles to be archived.

Gur begins by noting that this is not one war but two: America’s on the one hand and Israel on the other, with Israel having existential worries as opposed to America’s concern with China:

. . . across the world, from Brazil to Beijing, London to Karachi, the argument is the same: America is fighting Israel’s war.

But this isn’t true. And the confusion matters, because if you misread what this war is actually about, you will misread everything that follows.

This is not a war about Israel. This is not a war for Israel’s sake. Israel is a beneficiary, a capable and willing local partner, but it is not the reason America is in this fight. America is playing a much bigger game, about more than what happens in the Middle East. The subtext, that Israel exercises outsize influence or “drags Americans into wars they don’t want,” borders on the conspiratorial.

This isn’t one war, but two. There is a regional chessboard, on which Israel, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the other Gulf states all play. Iran’s proxies, its drones and ballistic missiles, its nuclear ambitions, its funding of Hezbollah and the Houthis: All of that belongs primarily to this smaller game. Israel has always understood this board. So have the Saudis. So has everyone in the neighborhood.

But there is a second chessboard, vastly larger, on which the United States and China are the primary players. On this board, the central question of the next 30 years is being worked out: whether the American-led global order survives, or whether China displaces it. Every significant American foreign policy decision, from the pivot to Asia to the tariff wars to the posture in the Pacific, is ultimately a move on this board.

Of course dodos like me (I never claimed to be a pundit) have missed all this, but Gur gives reasons why the U.S. decided to attack now (remember that China has said it will go after Taiwan within seven years):

. . . Reports emerged in late February of a near-finalized deal to supply Iran with supersonic anti-ship cruise missiles capable of speeds exceeding Mach 3 and engineered to evade the Aegis defense systems deployed on American carrier strike groups. China was replacing Iranian government and military software with closed Chinese systems, hardening Iran against CIA and Mossad cyber operations. Joint naval exercises between China, Russia, and Iran in the Straits of Hormuz were becoming regular events, building real-time operational familiarity between the three navies. Iran had switched from the GPS system to the Chinese BeiDou system. And Iran was providing China with the port at Jask, as part of China’s “string of pearls” base system in the Indian Ocean.

The picture that emerges from all of this is of a Chinese forward base, a linchpin of the country’s naval architecture; cyber efforts; an economic Belt and Road influence program—every element of Chinese power projection and empire-building—positioned at the throat of the global oil supply, armed with weapons designed to penetrate advanced American defenses and kill American sailors, and embedded in a strategic architecture whose explicit purpose is to constrain American military freedom in any future conflict over Taiwan.

Gur adds that the U.S. has had a hard time articulating this, but I can understand why they would not want to, even if that articulation would lessen America’s opposition to the war (more than 50%).  But it wouldn’t, since the American public doesn’t think much about China.

Now the first thing I asked myself why I saw Gur’s thesis was this: What is the evidence that this is the real American strategy?  Here is what counts as evidence:

The Americans went to war together with the Israelis because that’s the best way to fight a war like this. Having a capable and loyal local ally willing to deal damage and absorb blowback lowers the costs to America and increases the chances of success. If America ever finds itself in a kinetic fight with China, it presumably expects Japan and Taiwan and South Korea to play a similar role in the fighting. It’s one hell of an operational advantage.

To Gur, the targets give away Trump’s intentions:

. . .In the first 24 hours of the war, American strikes, as confirmed by U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM), focused on Iranian naval vessels, submarines, ports, and anti-ship missile positions along the southern coast. The port of Bandar Abbas, headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy, was hit. So was Jask, which China had hoped would become a permanent naval foothold on the Indian Ocean. Isfahan and Tabriz, hubs of ballistic missile production and drone assembly, were struck. The goal, explicitly stated by American officials, was not merely to degrade existing stockpiles but to destroy the industrial base from which those weapons are produced, so that China cannot spend the next few years quietly rebuilding it.

President Trump announced the operation in terms that could not have been more direct, explicitly mentioning all those elements of Iranian power—the navy, the missile production sites—that would serve as that second front in a war with China.

Many of these targets so central to CENTCOM’s efforts are no threat whatsoever to Israel.

So far from China: crickets. It’s been silent and has left Iran hanging. In truth, there’s little that China can do save join the war itself—and it’s clearly not keen to do that. As for Trump’s notable omission of words about freeing the Iranian people, or creating a democracy in Iran, Gur says “He doesn’t need a democratic Iran, he just needs a not-anti-American Iran.” Finally, as to why the U.S. has remained mum about what are supposedly its real goals, Gur says this:

So why can’t Secretary Rubio say it? Why hem and haw and offer half-hearted non-explanations to a question that has set the conservative movement aflame?

One obvious answer: They don’t want to push the Chinese to more overt responses. One should always give one’s enemy an excuse not to respond in kind, on the off chance that they don’t want to. It’s a sensible ambiguity on the world stage, but it’s causing damage at home. It may be time for the administration to speak clearly on its grand strategy—not in policy papers, but in clearly articulated statements that actually answer the good-faith questions of a great many Americans.

America went to war in Iran because Iran made itself a Chinese weapon. It didn’t need to do this, to invest so much of the administration’s political capital and of the military’s firepower, just to shore up a second-run Israeli operation. This isn’t about Israel. Iran has been a growing threat to Israel for decades, and yet Trump has always resisted intervening.

As I said, I’m no pundit, and although this all sounds plausible, it hasn’t convinced me completely. Gur makes a good argument, and one that several readers agree with. Perhaps they’re right, and if so kudos to them. But I’m depressed at the thought that if Gur is right, Trump doesn’t give a fig for freeing the beleaguered Iranian people, or about creating a democratic regime. The Iranian people are hoping for that, and perhaps we’re deceiving them.

And if we ever go to war with China, Ceiling Cat help us all!

Andrew Doyle, the creator of both Jonathan Pie and Titania McGrath (both of whom some people still take seriously), has taken out after wokeness in the article below from his own site (free to access).  It contains 20 short but inadvertently funny videos documenting the “woke era”—an era that Doyle sees as circling the drain. (I wish!). Here’s his intro:

There is little doubt that historians of the future are going to look back on the ‘woke’ era with utter bafflement. How is it that intelligent people were suddenly caught up in this identity-obsessed hysteria? Why did they forget that free speech mattered? Or that human beings cannot change sex? Or that judging people by the colour of their skin rather than the content of their character was a bad thing?

The lunacy was so intense that these same historians will probably have to be persuaded that any of it happened at all. So I thought it would be helpful to compile some of the more ludicrous and shocking video clips from this recent culture war. A kind of digital time capsule, if you will, for the sceptics of the future.

Woke may not have ended, but with any luck we are over the worst of it. With that in mind, here are my top twenty snapshots of this bonkers period of our history. Enjoy!

Here are the 20 topics; I’ve put asterisks next to my favorites. Some of the topics include more than one video.  Do watch them all; it’s a good summary of how crazy things have gotten.

1.  The homophobic horses
2.  The no-no square*
3.  Gay conversion therapy goes mainstream
4.  The abolition of history
5. The alphabet soup (starring Justin Trudeau)
6. Queers for Palestine*
7. Problematic allies
8. “Progressive” racism
9. Pronoun lunacy, starring Kamala Harris and Jeremy Corbyn*
10. Student meltdown (the Christakis incident at Yale about the Halloween-costume fracas. It’s worth finding the whole thing on YouTube.)*
11.  You ain’t black
12.  Humza Yousef’s own goal
13.  Childhood indoctrination
14. Male breastfeeding*
15. Politicans forget about biology
16.  Thought police*
17.  Misogyny becomes “progressive”
18. Everyone is a Nazi*
19. Osama bin Laden gets some new fans (his “Letter to the American people” that the young wokesters so admired was removed from the Guardian, but can be seen here (and read about it here).
20.  The sancification of drag

I suppose my overall favorite is #2: the “no-no square”, described this way:

In Finland, Oulu city council established a €2.5 million project to address the rising cases of sexual assaults by migrants. It was called ‘Safe Oulu’, and this was the official dance.

This performative “dance” is supposed to reduce sexual assault, as if people don’t already know where are the parts that shouldn’t be touched.

 

Today’s Jesus and Mo strip, called “alps2” is “A resurrection. . . from 2008”.

And Mo is basically right on the etymology, at least according to this NPR site:

Cretin is a word derived from an 18th century Swiss-French word meaning “Christian.” The connection is basically pious, asserting that a mentally innocent person so-labeled is possessed of a Christian soul by way of baptism and is worthy of our mercy and pity.

As for “rug-butter,” I couldn’t find it but assume it is a derogatory reference to Muslims worshiping on prayer rugs, touching their heads to the ground.  But no, Jessus is not literally a cretin as he’s neither deformed nor hails from the Swiss Alps.  But I guess Mo literally butts rugs, though I’ve never seen him kneeling in prayer.

We have a few more batches in the queue now, but it’s never enough.

And today we’re featuring lovely bird photos from Ephraim Heller. I had no idea this gorgeous creature existed! Ephraim’s ID and captions are indented, and, as usual, you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

I never had a favorite bird. Oh, sure, I’ve seen plenty of bewitching bee-eaters, mesmerizing manakins and motmots and macaws, plummy pigeons, parrots and pheasants, and tangy toucans and tanagers, but they never held my attention.

In Trinidad I first met a tufted coquette (Lophornis ornatus):

My coquette is 6.6 centimeters (2.6 in) long and weighs just 2.3 grams (0.081 oz) – much smaller than my thumb! My coquette doesn’t eat at hummingbird feeders with the big boys – its bill is too short:

Its food is nectar, taken from a variety of flowers, and some small invertebrates. Across hummingbirds, specialization often involves bill length and curvature for particular flowers; my coquette is relatively unspecialized in bill morphology. My coquette often must sneak nectar from the territories of other hummingbirds. With its small size and steady flight, my coquette resembles a large bee as it moves from flower to flower:

Many hummingbird genera have territorial males, but the combination of extreme ornamentation, very small body size, and intense aggression is a hallmark of Lophornis.

There are 11 species in the genus Lophornis, all as beautiful as my coquette. The name Lophornis combines Greek for “crest” (lophos) and “bird” (ornis), calling out a shared trait of all the birds in this genus:

Per the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a coquette is “a woman who endeavors without sincere affection to gain the attention and admiration of men.” But I forgive my coquette. The females are more subdued than the males, but still marvelous:

In French my coquette is called “Coquette huppe-col,” which literally translates to “tufted collar coquette.” That sounds lovely in French. In German it is called “Schmuckelfe,” which combines the literal terms “jewelry or ornament” and “elf or fairy.” To my ear, “jeweled fairy” sounds more pleasant and less insulting than “schmuckelfe”:

I find it wearisome to have to say, each time I criticize the Democratic Party, that yes, I am a Democrat and have never in my life voted for a Republican. I also find it wearisome to repeat that I detest Trump and think he’s a terrible President. But what I cannot say is that everything Trump’s done, without exception, is bad, and that he’s incapable of doing anything good.

I cannot judge all of Trump’s motivations, and cannot agree with some readers who argue that even if he does something that has good results, his motivations were bad, evil, or self-serving.  I will judge an action by its results, not by its motivations.  As I’ve said before, I align with those Democrats who used to lean more Left, but since the entire party, dragged by the donkeys of progressivism, has shifted to the Left, I now find myself in the center—but still a Democrat.

The video below by pro-Israel activist Lizzie Savetsky, expresses some of this sentiment. I can’t find her party affiliation, but again I don’t care much, as what she says should not be judged by whether she’s a Republican or a Democrat.

Which brings us to our attack on Iran. Savetsky calls out the Democrats for now supporting Iran and criticizing Trump for his attack on the country. Given how the attacks have played out, generally support them, hoping for a toppling of the terroristic and murderous regime, for the Iranian people to be free of that regime, and for its nuclear program to be abandoned forever. Will that happen? I don’t know. Like many actions, this attack cannot be judged until it’s been over for quite a while, and I have no crystal ball.

Have a listen to the five-minute video.  I agree with much of it, though Savetsky is too hard on the Democrats as a whole. I don’t, for example, think that the entire party is riddled with fraudulent positions (many of us, for example, have not been silent about the oppressive Iranian theocracy).  And Savetsky’s argument that the Party is driven by an “oppressor vs, oppressed” postmodern ideology is incomplete. Those Democrats crying “Hands off Iran,” also see Muslims as oppressed because they are people of color, and the U.S. (and Israel) as odious because we are seen as “colonizers”.

I think Savetsky is right in saying that the Democrats’ position has devolved largely into demonizing one man: Trump. We are not allowed to say he’s taken any action that has good results, for that would be an admission that we agree with some actions taken by Republicans. If something does have a good result, then we must say that it was driven by bad motivations.  That’s what happened when, not long ago—in an attempt to mend some of the American rifts—I asked people to name something good that Trump has done. I still get flak on that one.

But if I put up only posts that don’t get me criticized, this website would become an anodyne mouthpiece for progressivism and wokeism, as some other sites have. And I would be a coward.

I hope that some day the Democrats will become less driven by progressivism and its monomaniacal concentration on Trump, so that I can feel comfortable in the Party.

And I stand with the brave people of Iran, and hope that at the end of the battle they get freedom, and that the government stops its singleminded drive to export terror and build nuclear weapons.

Watch Savetsky below, and weigh in in the comments, remembering Da Roolz.

Today we have some singletons, doubletons, and tripletons from readers: that is, miscellaneous photos. The IDs and captions are indented, and you can click on the photos to enlarge them.

From reader Jay, a photo from St. Augustine beach, Florida:

This photo shows two terns (possibly Royal Terns, Thalasseus maximus), in front of four Black Skimmers (Rynchops niger).

From Keira McKenzie:

These photos were taken on a warm afternoon in Hyde Park [Sydney, Australia], sitting beneath the plane trees at the eastern end of the park.

Here you have Australian White Ibis (Threskiornis molucca,  commonly referred to as bin chickens here—which is a bit rude. In the second picture it’s with an Australian wood duck (Threskiornis molucca; there is quite the family here in all their regimental delight), both birds roosting on the island in the eastern pond in the park. While most of the undergrowth was cleared, these birds still manage to find somewhere to roost. The ibis lost their favourite tree in the clearing process, but they have found others. The wood ducks seem happy as well and I love watching the family being marshalled for the march up to the lawns to either graze or look for beetles or whatever. When they come back to the ponds, they fly in a ragged formation careless of persons what might be sitting there chatting and drinking coffee!

And the egret: it’s a Great Egret, either Ardea alba (the western Australian one) or the equally common Ardea modesta: the Eastern Great Egret (subspecies modesta) . The reason I can’t decide is their are supposed to have black legs, but my photos all have them having yellowish legs which doesn’t come up in any descriptions.

I’ve added a pic of the little Baba Yaga in her outside tiger pen just to make you smile (she is currently yelling at me to come to bed!)

And Daniel Baleckaitis, who works for both our department and Organismal Biology and Anatomy, sent three mallard pictures (Anas platyrhynchos)—taken in Botany Pond! I don’t know the ducks but the pictures are great (and clearly taken a few years back when the pond was full of vegetation):

Ducks in action:

This morning a friend who works in the department office called me and said “there are two ducks in the pond.” I instantly knew that this would be a male/female pair of mallards scoping out the pond as a potential nesting and rearing site. Within one minute I grabbed my camera and my container of adult duck food (I saved it from last year; I have plenty and it’s still good), and ran down to the pond.

Sure enough, there was a pair of mallards at the far (south) end.  Moreover, then swam near me when I whistled, though they didn’t come right up to me. This suggests that these are the mallards knew me, though, based on bill patterns in the hen, I don’t think they are Esther and Mordecai from last year.

Those ducks were named because they arrived on the Jewish holiday of Purim, and, sure enough, that holiday is tomorrow.  These are again Jewish ducks and will have to be named accordingly.

I am so happy. There is no guarantee they’ll stay, but food is thin on the pond, and I am making sure they know it is a place to get a nice meal. After filling their tummies, they retired back to the south end for a rest.

Photos. First, the pair (name suggestions welcome, especially Jewish-themed names—but not Mordecai and Esther):

The hen:

The hen eating (out of focus). They were hungry!

The drake, dripping water from his bill after having eating a food pellet (I give them only the best):

The hen’s bill:

This is Esther from last year. The bill pattern of today’s hen is clearly different, so the hen we have now is not Esther. But there’s no guarantee that this one will breed here (remember, Esther was our first ground-nesting female). Note that today’s duck lacks Esther’s black markings on the top and tip of her bill, and those should have remained over a year.

Stay tuned for 2026 Duck Adventures.

Originally I was going to call this post “The New York Times coddles faith again,” but there is not all that much coddling in this review of Christopher Beha’s new book Why I am not an Atheist. 

What puzzles me is that the review is on the cover of the NYT’s latest Sunday book section. That position is usually reserved for important or notable books, but Timothy Egan’s review doesn’t make the book seem that interesting. Could it be that the cover slot came from the book being about . . . . God? At any rate, given that Beha’s book came out February 17, the fact that its Amazon ranking is only 1,562 (very low for a new book on the benefits of faith), and there are only 8 reviews (all 5-star reviews, of course), is not a sign that this is a barn-burner that will fill the God-shaped lacuna in the public soul.

Beha has previously given an excerpt of his book in the NYer, which I discussed in my recent post  “A New Yorker writer loses faith in atheism.”  I found Beha’s arguments lame, and I summarized the book this way, as well as provided information on the author.  From my post:

Even the title of this New Yorker article is dumb: “faith in atheism” is an oxymoron, for a lack of belief in gods is not a “faith” in any meaningful sense. But of course the New Yorker is uber-progressive, which means it’s soft on religion. And this article, recounting Christopher Beha’s journey from Catholicism to atheism and then back to a watery theism, is a typical NYer article: long on history and intellectual references, but short on substance. In the end I think it can be shortened to simply this:

“Atheism in all its forms is a kind of faith, but it doesn’t ground your life by giving it meaning. This is why I became a theist.”

So far as I can determine, that is all, though the article is tricked out with all kinds of agonized assertions as the author finds he cannot “ground his life” on a lack of belief in God. But whoever said they could?  But it plays well with the progressive New Yorker crowd (same as the NY Times crowd) in being soft on religion and hard on atheism.  The new generation of intellectuals need God, for to them, as to Beha, only a divine being can give meaning to one’s life.

Christopher Beha, a former editor of Harper’s Magazine,  is the author of a new book, Why I am Not an Atheist, with the subtitle Confessions of a Skeptical Believer. The NYer piece is taken from that book

You can read the Sunday NYT review by clicking on the screenshot below, or find it archived for free here.

Here’s the cover highlighting the book (thanks to Greg for sending me a photo of the paper version he gets).  Stuff like this roils my kishkes:

Reviewer Tinothy Egan is somewhat lukewarm about the book, even though he avers that he is a believer and had his own search for faith as well as an inexplicable faith epiphany. The NYT identifies him this way:

Timothy Egan is the author of “A Pilgrimage to Eternity: From Canterbury to Rome in Search of a Faith,” among other books, and a winner of the National Book Award for nonfiction.

So both author and reviewer, as well as the MSM (including the NYT), are rife these days with either promotions of religious books or softball reviews of them.  And all this manages to center on the search for meaning in these dire times, a search for meaning that always winds up filling the “God-shaped hole” in our being. That is something Egan apparently documents in his own book and is, of course, the subject of Beha’s book.

As I noted when reviewing Beha’s New Yorker piece, he went back and forth from a youthful Catholicism to a materialistic atheism and then found his way back to God again, always tormented by the fact that he saw an angel who spoke to him when he was 15.  As reviewer Egan says:

As someone who also saw something inexplicable (a long-dead saint opening her eyes from a crypt in Italy), I preferred the teenage Beha who was filled with religious wonder. Not to worry. By the end of the book, he returns to the angel with an expanded view. It was both miracle and real. “I know what ‘caused’ these visitations, from a strictly material standpoint, but I also know what they in turn caused — a lifelong journey that I am still on.”

Not to worry! That statement alone speaks volumes. But Egan continues:

In between are several hundred pages that make up that journey, almost all of it through the mostly atheistic philosophers of the Western canon. Unlike a traditional pilgrimage, this book is an odyssey of the mind. Beha debates the old masters: Descartes, Kant, Locke, Mill, Hobbes, Camus, Nietzsche and many, many others, but he starts with a poke at the “New Atheists” Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and the like — all of them now passé, in his view.

This tells you two things: the reviewer is soft on spiritual experiences, since he himself had one (see the link three paragraphs back), and that the author bashes the New Atheism as being “passé”, a cheap shot which doesn’t at all give New Atheism credit for pushing along the rise of the “nones” and making criticism of religion an acceptable thing to discuss.

But Beha is still somewhat critical of the scholastic tenor of the book, so it’s not a totally glowing review:

Beha is not a stone thrower or even much of a picker of fights. He reveres the great minds, to an obsessive degree. He’s the guy you wanted as your college roommate in the pre-A.I. era. Or maybe not. He’s done all the reading and even wrote a memoir about it, “The Whole Five Feet,” recounting the year he consumed all 51 volumes of the Harvard Classics series. Just looking at the list makes most of us tired.

He climbed that mountain, so we don’t have to. But, alas, at times in his new book he gets lost in the clouds. Here’s a sample, discussing Immanuel Kant, the German philosopher: “Kant is here invoking two binaries we’ve already discussed. The first is that between a priori and a posteriori truth; the second is that between analysis and synthesis.”

But Beha is sincere, honest and likable on the page. I found his personal story more engaging than his intellectual one. He started to doubt his faith at 18 when he nearly lost his twin brother to a car accident. He suffered from depression and life-threatening cancer, drank too much and took too many drugs. (He was an atheist for a long time.)

But as for the things I highlighted in my own take on Beha’s NYer article—things like the “faith in science” that we supposedly have, and the “romantic idealism” that is coequal to science in its inability to apprehend universal truths—of these things Egan says nothing. Nor does he point out that many people (I’m one) have found satisfaction without God, though many of us don’t have a God-shaped hole nor are actively looking for meaning.  Instead, Egan’s take is anodyne, for one simply cannot get away with pushing nonbelief in the New York Times. What you can do is bash atheism in general and New Atheism in particular.

Egan:

Ultimately, atheism failed [Beha], as it did some in the French Revolution who briefly converted the Notre-Dame Cathedral into the spiritually barren Temple of Reason. The religion of nonreligion can be like nonalcohol beer: What’s the point?

I have to interject here to note that “nonreligion”—atheism—is not religion, in the same way that not drinking is a form of alcoholism.  The trope that atheists have “faith” is simply ridiculous. What they have is a failure to be convinced of a phenomenon when there is no evidence for it. But I digress. Egan continues his review’s peroration:

Beha is not interested in trying to sway those who’ve given up on God. He simply wants to explain what moved him back to the faith of his fathers, “listening to the whispering voice within our souls.” There’s no Road-to-Damascus conversion. He’s not blinded by the light. It’s more about his often miserable life getting better with the right woman, a Catholic confession, regular attendance at Mass. And that woman — “she was the reason I believed in God” — isn’t even a believer. She’s a lapsed Episcopalian.

If Beha doesn’t necessarily win his argument with Russell, give him credit for following the imperative of all sentient beings — to deeply consider the mystery of ourselves in an unknowable universe.

“I don’t believe I will ever see things clearly; not in this mortal life,” he concludes. “The best we can hope for is to be looking in the right direction, facing the right way.”

The proper response to this conclusion is “meh”.

I put something like this up years ago, but it’s a good way to see, with just a few clicks, what happened to Iran after the “Revolution”. Let’s taken women’s dress, a touchstone of misogyny and theocratic oppression.  Before the Islamic Revolution of 1979, it was a pretty free country in that respect, and everyone could dress how they wanted.

To see that, do a Google Image search for “Iranian women, 1970”. I’ve done it for you: click here.  And this is the first images you see (click photo to enlarge):

And the “after” page. Click “Iranian women, 2000” (again, just go here).  This is 21 years after the “Revolution.”  You’ll see this.

I didn’t manipulate the search in any way save put in what’s above, and I’ve used the first four rows of photos for both.

I don’t think I need to comment on the change, which speaks volumes about the oppression of women in that country.  Oh, and why the cry for change is “Women, Life, Freedom.”

This is the last full batch I have, though I’m saving singletons and the like for a melange post. But today is our first post (as I remember) that features carnivorous plants, from reader Jan Malik. Jan’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

A few species of carnivorous plants grow in New York and New Jersey, primarily in swamps or bogs where it is difficult for plants to obtain nitrogen and phosphorus. Compounds of both elements are highly soluble in water and are poorly retained in waterlogged, low-pH soil. So far, I have found two species, each using a different strategy to catch its prey.

• Sundew (likely Drosera intermedia).
  “A small plant growing in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. While there are other Drosera species in the Eastern USA, this one has leaves spaced along a short stem rather than a ground-hugging rosette. The plant must receive a rich payoff for the resources spent producing mucus and protease enzymes, as the remains of digested victims were obvious on many leaves. Research suggests that nitrogen from captured invertebrates can account for 30% to 70% of the plant’s total uptake, depending on prey density.”

• The “Expensive” Glisten.
  There must be something in the glistening droplets of mucilage on these tentacles that attracts insects. It looks like a lavish investment, but mucilage is mostly water with a small amount of polysaccharides to provide stickiness. The “expensive” enzymes are only produced after a victim is captured. I wonder if this secretion occurs only in the leaf where the victim is immobilized or systemically throughout the plant. In this shot, it even looks like the plant accidentally produced a web of sticky mucilage strands (on the right), mimicking a spiderweb.

• Digestion in Progress.
  An example of a fresh victim: a species of crane fly being digested. By plant standards, this process is quite fast; in a couple of days, little will remain except for fragments of chitin.

• Purple Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia purpurea).
  Photographed in the High Peaks region of the Adirondacks, NY, this species is a less “active” predator than the sundew. Both plants form traps from modified leaves, but pitcher plants form jugs that fill with rainwater. When small invertebrates (or occasionally small salamanders) fall in, they drown. Unlike the sundew, the pitcher plant generally doesn’t produce its own enzymes (except in very young pitchers); instead, it relies on a micro-ecosystem within the water—protozoa, mosquito larvae, and bacteria. These organisms decompose the victims, eventually releasing nitrogen and phosphorus for the plant to absorb through the leaf wall.

Carnivorous plants have a dilemma: how to capture invertebrates but let the pollinators live and do the job. The Purple pitcher plant soles it in the most logical way, by extending stems of its flowers so that they are far away from entrances to the pitchers. Apparently, that is the investment that pays off for the plant.

• Durability vs. Chemistry.
  Pitcher leaves are green in June but eventually turn deep purple. These plants are more cold-hardy than sundews and are likely the most northern-reaching carnivorous plants in North America. In the Adirondacks, they survive harsh winters buried under snow for half the year, and their leaves can remain active traps for several seasons. While Droserainvests in “biochemical weapons,” Sarraceniainvests in durable structures. Nutrient uptake is slower in pitchers but comes at a lower metabolic cost.

• The Downward Path.
  A close-up of the barbs on the lower lip of the pitcher trap. These guide victims downward, aided by scent and secreted nectar. Because they are downward-pointing, a victim has a difficult time climbing out, especially given the waxy, slippery surface of the leaf. Functionally, these barbs serve the same purpose as the sundew’s mucilage—preventing escape—but they are much “cheaper” energetically since they are part of the permanent leaf structure.