Why Evolution is True Feed

The latest Jesus and Mo strip, called “cruelty”, came with the note, “Those poor boys. Has she no feelings?”

The barmaid stymies the boys with her humility, for neither of them could ever echo her sentiments. 

We’re down to one contributor (fortunately, Rik Gern, who sent today’s photos has several submissions), but I’d appreciate your good wildlife photos if you have them. Thanks!

As I said, Rik Gern, from Austin Texas, sent some photos, and they’re of fungi. Rik’s captions and IDs are below, and you can enlarge the pictures by clicking on them.

Here is a collection of four mushroom species found in Wisconsin’s north woods last September, as identified by iNaturalist.

Our first specimen is an Earthy powdercap (Cystoderma amianthinum). The environment in which I found it was in accordance with Wikipedia’s description (“damp mossy grassland, in coniferous forest clearings”), but an image search made me dubious. Perhaps some well informed readers can weigh in. Whatever its true identity, it was plentiful in mossy clearings.

Next we have three photos of the Funeral bell (Galerina marginata). The name provides a not-so-subtle clue that the mushroom is highly poisonous and should not be consumed.

I love the coloring on the cap of the Fragile brittlegill (Russula fragilis):

The last mushroom in this set, Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria, four photos) is a classic storybook/fairytale mushroom! It’s supposed to have psychotropic effects once you boil away the toxins, but I’ll leave it to the more dedicated cosmic cowboys to test that hypothesis. Judging from the pictures on Wikipedia, I’d guess that his one is the subspecies flavivolvata, known as American fly agaric:

Today we have some lovely parrot photos by Scott Ritchie from Cairns in Oz (his Facebook page is here). Scott’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

And on to New South Wales. First stop, Eden. This is at the southeaster-most point where Australia turns north. The first night we drove down to the end of the beach along an elevated ridge. There, I heard the unmistakable almost cat-like call, but softer, of the Yellow tailed Black Cockatoo [Zanda funerea]. Here are some images I got of this small group that was feeding in Banksia seeds along the road. I particularly like the yellow cheek and the nice soft masklike feathers around their beak. There’s a story to tell here that will be given in the photos below.

Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos (YTBC), love Banksia seeds:

Indeed, they become single-minded in their pursuit of these seeds. Taste pretty good:

But while they’re chewing away, there could be danger about. Raptors could suddenly appear from the sky and clean them up. Have them for dinner, literally:

These are smart group, smart birds that travel in small parties—perhaps a family group. And they usually have a sentinel bird. This bird perches high in a tree, eyes peeled for signs of trouble. He called out my presence straight away. He’s often calling by chirping away to his mates. Everything’s fine. Enjoy your meal. I particularly like the cute little mask that they wear over the bill. Reminds me of the Covid mask, the P95:

Anyway, the Cockeys continue to feed:

And they are loving it!:

All of a sudden the sentinel urgently calls. You can see his mask, pulled up even higher, with urgent calls “Warning, warning. Incoming. Take flight now.”:

And sudden suddenly off they go, flying as one right over my head!:

And who should fly by, who may have had his eyes on the cockies, but a White-bellied Sea-eagle [Icthyophaga leucogaster]. He passes behind and flies down the beach:

And is chased by a Masked Lapwing [Vanellus miles] screaming “stay away stay away!” The YTBC warning system worked!:

A Kiwi who wishes to remain anonymous (of course) sent me this link to an announcement of a meeting of three Royal (Scientific) Societies: those of New Zealand, Australia, and Canada. The screenshot below also links to two other short documents, a communiqué and a statement by the Presidents of all three Societies.

The object is severalfold: to eliminate “structural racism” and inequities in science, to tout “indigenous knowledge systems” as not only different and distinct from normal science, but as having contributed valuable knowledge to science in unique indigenous ways, and to assert that indigenous people have a right to “maintain, protect, and develop indigenous knowledge systems, intellectual property, and data.”

Click below (or above) to access the three statements.

The things I agree with are these:

a.) Members of ethnic minorities have surely been discriminated against in the past, and have had difficulty entering into modern (sometimes called “Western”) science

b.) There should be outreach, expanding opportunities for anyone who wants to do science to have a chance to participate

c.) “Indigenous knowledge”, insofar as it tells us something true about the universe, is indeed a part of modern science and should be considered thus

d.)  Any research done using the resources of indigenous people should be done with their permission, collaboration, and full participation

The things I question are these:

a.) Whether structural racism—meaning formalized practices or policies—are still in place preventing minorities in all three countries from doing science. Other words are “bias” or “bigotry”. In the U.S., universities are bending over backwards to recruit minorities, and I can’t think of an example of formalized bias, though of course some non-minority scientists will be bigoted (I’ve also not seen many of them).

b.)  The extent to which indigenous knowledge has contributed to modern science.  It’s telling that, as in nearly all such documents, these three tout this knowledge as invaluable, but don’t provide a single example of the kind of advances that indigenous knowledge have promoted.

And the things I take issue with are these:

a.) Indigenous knowledge is a form of “knowledge” separate and distinct from that produced by modern science. As I’ve argued repeatedly, many forms of indigenous knowledge involve things that are nonscientific in the modern sense.  For example, Mātauranga Māori (“MM”)from New Zeland is described by Wikipedia this way:

Mātauranga (literally Māori knowledge) is a modern term for the traditional knowledge of the Māori people of New Zealand Māori traditional knowledge is multi-disciplinary and holistic, and there is considerable overlap between concepts. It includes environmental stewardship and economic development, with the purpose of preserving Māori culture and improving the quality of life of the Māori people over time.

MM includes not only practical knowledge, like how to catch eels or harvest mussels, but also superstition, word of mouth, tradition, religion, and codes of behavior. Some of it is knowledge in the “justified true belief” sense, but a lot of it is not.  Those who know more about Australian and Canadian indigenous “ways of knowing” can weigh in here.  And none of this comports with modern science in terms of using pervasive doubt, hypothesis testing, experiments, statistics, and the whole armamentarium that is the toolkit of modern science, which stopped being “Western” a long time ago. Modern science is practiced pretty much the same way the world over.

b). While indigenous people can surely design experiments and publish their data, they do not have control over it in the sense of not allowing other people to use it, or refusing to give the primary data behind anything that’s published. While the present document doesn’t say this explicitly, it implies it, and other indigenous people in New Zealand have more explicitly that data are proprietary.

Here are a few quotes from the three documents linked above (direct quotes are indented; my own comments are flush left):

A description of the meeting:

Over 3 days of keynote speeches, wānanga, cultural activities, and panel discussions, top Māori and Pasifika thought-leaders engaged with First Nations experts from Canada and Australia, including Fellows from five of Australia’s learned academies.

Key themes included the need to dismantle academic barriers and inequities for Indigenous students and researchers, share decision-making about research practices and priorities, and shape research agendas to focus on Indigenous knowledges and address challenges that are important to Indigenous Peoples.

Indigenous scholars and knowledge-holders talked about their experiences in academia, and presented research ranging from the study of Indigenous histories, cultures, knowledges, and languages to environmental management and traditional legal systems.

Indigenous scholars and knowledge-holders have championed and led education and research by, with, and for Indigenous communities, and have revitalised interest and awareness in traditional knowledges through language, cultural activities, and creative arts. Their work has explored and built on Indigenous knowledge systems to generate new insights and innovations – such as research methodologies and ethical frameworks based on traditional worldviews and values.

The advances touted for indigenous knowledge (note the absence of examples and yet the assertion that indigenous knowledge systems are separate and distinct “ways of knowing”). Bolding is mine:

 The Taikura Summit has continued and built on those exchanges, and we have now learned of the achievements and experiences of hundreds of Indigenous scholars and knowledge-holders. 

We have heard more about their journeys and achievements, and some of the myriad ways in which they are advancing understanding, particularly in the study of Indigenous histories, cultures, knowledges, and languages. These scholars and knowledge-holders have shown intellectual leadership by practising and advocating for research and education by, with, and for Indigenous communities. They have revitalised interest and awareness in Indigenous knowledge systems by connecting people through cultural activities, creative arts, and languages. 

Indigenous scholars and knowledge-holders have pioneered research practices, methodologies, and ethical frameworks, grounded in traditional worldviews and values, that uplift different ways of looking at challenges and have reshaped research practices across disciplines. Their work has shown that Indigenous knowledge systems are not simply historical artefacts, but living bodies of understanding that continue to evolve and to generate new insights. 

From the Communiqué (bolding mine):

 The Summit recognises that Indigenous Peoples are the rightful leaders, authorities, and stewards of research concerning their communities, territories, and knowledges. Indigenous research is grounded in distinct systems of knowledge, practice, and ethics that have sustained societies and ecosystems for millennia. These knowledge systems, sciences and artistic forms constitute rigorous and essential ways of knowing and understanding the world. They are not supplementary to other science methodologies. They have their own integrity and value. 

Note the clear statement that indigenous knowledge systems are “rigorous and essential ways of knowing and understanding the world” and “are not supplementary to other science methodologies.” This says that indigenous ways of knowing cannot simply fuse with science into a general understanding of the universe.  But indigenous ways of knowing, insofar as they incorporate anecdotal or observational evidence, are already fuse-able with modern science. It’s all part of understanding our universe.

Finally, also from the Commuiqué:

We acknowledge the enduring impacts of research practices that have marginalised, misrepresented, or appropriated Indigenous knowledge. Correcting these legacies requires fundamental transformation within institutes of higher learning and learned academies. This includes:

• addressing structural racism and inequities, including for Indigenous people with diverse sexual orientations or gender identities,

• affirming the sovereign right of Indigenous Peoples to determine their own research priorities, methodologies, and outcomes, and

• enabling Indigenous Peoples to maintain, protect, and develop Indigenous knowledge systems, intellectual property, and data.

This part involves questionable assertions, such as that about structural racism, as well as an implication—and I may be wrong here—that the products of indigenous science belong to the indigenous people.  But one thing is for sure, nobody can control the outcome of their “research methodologies”, for you don’t do research if you already have determined its outcome.

So Canada and Australia have bought into the “other ways of knowing” mentality that’s long pervaded New Zealand.

I’ll give a few quotes from my anonymous Kiwi correspondent:

I think these statements have thrown science under the bus in all three countries. If our RSTA [Royal Society of New Zealand] still retained any credibility it’s lost it now. How can you make a blanket statement about indigenous knowledge being as rigorous as other “ways of understanding” when it spans everything from empirically verifiable knowledge to superstition? This legitimises any form of quackery or snake oil provided it’s sold under a banner of cultural authority – there are no standards of universal evidence. I’m hoping that this will lead to change in RSTA, but Canada and Australia now have the same problem! All three scientific associations have abandoned their statutory claim to leadership and  responsibility for global and universalist science. . . . It is appalling. Probably the worst thing for me is that it says to indigenous people that they have to choose between their culture and science. That we’ve got here is because relativist ideology has been used as a Trojan Horse to smuggle non-science into science. I see no difference between this and the separation between religion and science. Religion is also culture, and biblical creationism can equally be portrayed as a “way of understanding”. What’s lost is the epistemological distinctiveness of science. The point is not that indigenous knowledge is all myth and superstition. It’s not. But if the products of different “ways of understanding” are only legitimately viewed through their own “cultural” lens then everything devolves into a political battle – a Foucauldian universe. I think at its heart this is activist politics, and so-called science leaders have fallen for it. Well, read above and judge for yourself. What science and scientists should ensure is that indigenous knowledge, if it’s to be considered a real “way of knowing,” has to comport with the knowledge produced by modern science. We cannot water down science by mixing it with legend, myth, unsupported assertions, or religion. When it comes to science, we cannot indulge in “the authority of the sacred victim.“

Today we have the first part of a series of photos taken at Down House, where Darwin lived most of his life. The photographer is Neil K. Dawe, who lives on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Neil’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

Down House, Kent, UK

On our UK trip this past June, we stopped at a special place, Down House, where we spent some time wandering through the home and grounds of Charles Darwin. The house has been carefully preserved and we spent some time on the upper floor, essentially an exhibition of his life. There we saw a number of Darwin artifacts such as some of the equipment and reference books he took with him on the Beagle voyage, some of his notebooks, as well as manuscript pages from On the Origin of Species.

Darwin purchased the house on 22 July 1842 for £2,200 and moved in that September. He described it as “… a good, very ugly house with 18 acres, situated on a chalk flat, 560 feet above sea. There are peeps of far distant country and the scenery is moderately pretty: its chief merit is its extreme rurality. I think I was never in a more perfectly quiet country”:

The downstairs includes a number of rooms that are laid out much as Darwin and Emma, his wife, had left them, including Darwin’s study, where he wrote On the Origin of Species. We walked through the study, which has been restored to the original 1870s arrangement with original furniture and many of Darwin’s possessions. Since photographs are not allowed in the home I have included the following image of his study by Anthonyeatworld, via Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0, Cropped from the original:

Later, we wandered through the estate gardens to visit the vegetable garden (on the right of the photo) and Darwin’s greenhouse and cloches where he conducted many of his experiments. After completing construction of the heated greenhouse, Darwin requested plants from Kew Gardens and upon their arrival he notes in a letter to J.D. Hooker, “I am fairly astounded at their number! why my hot-house is almost full!. . . I have not yet even looked out their names; but I can see several things which I wished for, but which I did not like to ask for.”:

The greenhouse, where Darwin carried out many of his experiments, was fully stocked during our visit:

A Pitcher Plant (likely Nepenthes spp.) in the greenhouse; Nepenthes was included in a list of nursery plants Darwin planned to purchase:

Another greenhouse plant, an orchid, likely from the genus Lycaste:

We then wended our way over to the Sandwalk. Darwin leased 1.5 acres in 1846 from Sir John Lubbock, planted it with hazel, birch, privet, and dogwood, and created the gravel path. Francis Darwin recalled that “The Sand-walk was our play-ground as children, and here we continually saw my father as he walked round.” Huxley also spoke of “… the famous Sandwalk, where Darwin used to take his allotted exercise after each spell of work, freshening his mind and shaping his thought for the task in hand.” Darwin used stones to count laps, kicking one aside each time he passed, to avoid interrupting his thoughts as he walked his “thinking path.”:

Here I’m walking along the Sandwalk in the footsteps of Charles Darwin, birding as I go.  From Darwin’s notes: “Hedge-row in sand-walk planted by self across a field (years ago when I held field which had from time immemorial been ploughed & 3 or 4 years before the Hedge was planted, had been left as pasture — soil plants, chiefly Hard or clayed & very poor.— . . . plants, have now sprung up in hedge — preserves how the seeds having been brought by birds, for all are esculent & the protection afforded by spinose thorns — a sort of common land—” Photo: Renate Sutherland.

Part 2 to follow.

It looks as if “Real Time” will be off the air for a two months: yahoo! news says, “. . . . Maher will be taking a break from Real Time until late January.” I’ll miss the humor and also the posts.  We don’t even have a “new rules” post today, but below are two minutes of Maher guessing what the headlines will be when he’s absent.

This one is pretty funny, albeit brief.

We’ve known for a long time that sexual selection—ultimately caused by differences in gamete size—can produce marked differences in the appearance and behavior of males versus females within a species. Often males are more ornamented than females, with bright colors and long feathers or ornaments on the head.  We also know that colors and ornamentation of males puts them at a disadvantage in certain respects, as they are more easily detected by predators than are the females, or have difficulty flying because of exaggerated feather displays. This disadvantage also applies to sexually-selected “weapons” like deer horns and moose antlers, which are shed and have to be regrown, at great metabolic expense, each year.

Perhaps the most famous of these features is the tail of the peacock, in which males have long, decorated, and spreadable tails that females lack.  We are pretty sure that this difference is due to sexual selection because experiments show that the “eyespots” on the male tails attract females: the more eyespots you have, the higher chance you have of reproducing. Thus the genes for exaggerated tails accumulate via sexual selection by females.

Of course female preference plays a key role here, as that preference has to exist to give more elaborate males a reproductive advantage.  We don’t fully understand, however, exactly why females prefer many exaggerated male traits. In some cases, like the orange-red color of the male house finch, we have an answer.  As I said, there are also costs of sexually-selected male traits like big bodies (elephant seals) or antlers (moose), who use them to directly fight for access to females. (Darwin called this the “law of combat”.)

But in most cases we don’t understand why females prefer certain bright colors or long tails, though we have theories that are largely untested. This difference in patterning and color was called “the law of beauty” by Darwin, who was the first person to suggest the idea of sexual selection (1871).

Both forms of sexual selection show that this type of selection—really a subset of natural selection—involves tradeoffs.  Males sacrifice flight ability, become more obvious to predators, and have to re-grow antlers and horns each year, which are considerable disadvantages. But those have to be more than compensated for by either the success in combat or the increased attractiveness to females of males with those traits—otherwise the exaggerated traits would not have evolved.

A new paper in Biology Letters (click title screenshot below) shows a novel form of tradeoff in pheasants, and the first such tradeoff known in any animal. In two species of pheasants, males have evolved “capes” around their neck that, when expanded, occlude the male’s visual field (but not the female’s), as well as head feathers that also appear to block the male’s vision.  These are sexually selected traits.  Noticing them, the five authors hypothesized the tradeoff: in the two species of pheasant with head and neck ornamentation (the Golden and Lady Amherst pheasant), they tested whether the male’s head feathers blocked part of his visual field compared to females in the same species.  As a control, they used two pheasant species (Silver pheasants and Green pheasants), in which males don’t have head ornamentation that would block the visual field.

The authors then measured the visual field of males and females of all four species, and, lo and behold, males of the Golden and Lady Amherst’s pheasants did have a considerable blockage of the vertical field of vision compared to conspecific females, while there was little or no difference between the sexes in the two control species.

Click the title below to read the original paper for free, or find the pdf here. There is also a brief précis piece in Science if you want the abridged version.  The quotes and figures below come from the original paper, while the six full-bodied photos of the pheasants come from Wikipedia (credits shown).

First, the birds.

A male Golden pheasant, Chrysolophus pictus:

Bjørn Christian Tørrissen, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

. . . and a female Golden pheasant. The sexual dimorphism is bloody obvious.

Photo produced by David Castor (user:dcastor)

The heads of males (l) vs. females (r) of the Golden Pheasant, taken from the paper itself. You can see how the male’s head feathers could occlude its vision.

The one other “experimental” species with male vision-occluding feathers.

Male Lady Amherst’s pheasant, (Chrysolophus amherstiae):

Sylfred1977, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

A female Lady Amherst’s pheasant:

Lencer, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

And one of the two control species, the Green Pheasant, (Phasianus versicolor). First, a male, with vision not impeded by a crown. (The other control species, the Silver pheasant, Lophura nycthemera, isn’t shown.) Both of the control species show sexual dimorphism of color and plumage in the expected direction, but there are no feathers on the male’s head that could block his vision.

Alpsdake, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

And a female:

Alpsdake, Alpsdake, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons, via Wikimedia Commons

How did they measure the visual field of males and females? They simply put the pheasants in a padded box and fixed their heads firmly so that they could not move. (No pheasants were harmed in this study, which is excellent.) Then, to measure whether an eye could see at a certain angle, they shined a light on the eye. If there was a reflection from the retina at the back of the eye, that meant the bird could see the light from that angle. By performing many tests at various angles around the head, the researchers were able to judge the field of vision of each bird. They could also do this in pheasants whose heads were tilted up or down (see below).

The differences were most pronounced in the vertical line of sight. For example, as shown below, when the head is horizontal or looking down,  the male of the Golden pheasant sees 30° less above his head than does the female.  This would be a problem because, as the authors say, “Sexually selected traits such as feather ornamentation of male birds can act as an impediment to movement and predator detection.”  When you’re a male pheasant busily foraging on the ground, which is how they eat, you may not see an approaching predator. That is the cost of the sexual selection that produced head and neck feathers. (The figure says this is a Lady Amherst’s pheasant but it is apparently a Golden pheasant.)

From the paper (Fig 1). Panels (C) and (D) show vertical cross-sections through the binocular fields in the mid-sagittal plane of the head. The head drawings represent typical resting postures for each species, based on photographs of birds observed in aviaries.Panels (I) and (J) display vertical sections of binocular fields when the birds focus on prey items on the ground during foraging

Here are all four species.  The Lady Amherst’s pheasant has an even more severe impediment of vision in the male: he can see vertically a full 40° less than do conspecific females.  In contrast, the sex difference in the control species is much less: a mere 5° reduction in males in the Silver pheasant and no difference in the green pheasant.

(From Fig. 2 of paper): Figure 2. Vertical sections through the binocular fields in the median sagittal plane of the head of four pheasant species. The line drawings of the heads of the birds show them in the approximate orientations typically adopted by the species when at rest, as determined from photographs of birds held in the hand in their aviaries. The left panel shows males and right panel females of (A,B) golden (Chrysolophus pictus), (C,D) Lady Amherst’s (C. amherstiae), (E,F) silver pheasants (Lophura nycthemera) and (G, H) green pheasants (Phasianus versicolor)

The figure below in the paper gives a three-dimensional depiction of a bird’s view, with males on the left and females on the right. You can see that the males are effectively blind (black area) over a much larger space than are the females, and that space is mostly above the bird’s head. Since pheasants are ground foragers, blacking-out of “down” vision would be a very serious impediment, making males unable to locate food. Blocking “up” vision would surely have a smaller cost.

(From paper, Fig. 1): Panels (K) and (L) provide perspective projections of retinal field boundaries from the bird’s own viewpoint, with blind sectors highlighted in black.

The upshot is that the authors’ hypothesis is supported: males but not females in the pheasants having feathers around their eyes appear to have occluded vision, mostly above their heads.  Now we don’t know whether this occluded vision translates into a loss of fitness at all, much less a loss that is outweighed by the gain in fitness caused by the head and neck ornamentation.  Trying to answer questions about fitness is nearly impossible, as you’d have to measure survival and offspring production of males who have bigger and smaller feathers within a species (would you have to give the birds a haircut?). But there is a period of moulting in which males lose their head and neck feathers, and at least researchers could measure the field of vision, and perhaps foraging efficiency, during that period.  Nevertheless, I do suspect that occluded vision reduces fitness, and that the head ornamentation more than compensates for it.

Besides these results, the paper does show how natural selection and adaptation involves tradeoffs.  There are usually no mutations that are “universally” adaptive in that they convey a benefit without any cost. As I said, natural selection will favor the increase in frequency of mutations that produce net reproductive benefits to the individual that outweigh the costs.

We now have about four sets of photos, so I’m even more complacent. But please send in yours if you got ’em. Thanks.

Today we have regular Mark Sturtevant with a collection of insects and one vertebrate. Mark’s IDs and captions are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

Readers may remember the recent post where I showed pictures of the dual emergence of 13- and 17-year cicadas during a trip to Illinois. I naturally did not take pictures of only cicadas, and so here are many examples of other insects I found in the parks that I visited. The rest will be in a later post.

First up is a banquet scene of ants feeding on a dead beetle. According to iNaturalist, the ants are a good match for Bearded Carpenter Ants (Camponotus subbarbatus). The picture took many hours to prepare since the ants were constantly moving around and the depth of focus would not capture all that I wanted. So I had to manually assemble some parts of most of the ants from different pictures to recover different focal points. Like focus stacking, only without the automated software that does that for you. I also moved some ants around to improve on the composition. For example, the one on the far left wasn’t where it is now. It’s worth clicking to embiggen this picture because jeez, it was a lot of work!!:

Next up are two pictures showing a bucket list item for me. This little beetle is from the Brentidae weevil family, and I was excited to find it since I don’t recall seeing a beetle from this family before. Weevils are divided into multiple families, but Brentid weevils are considered to be a primitive example of the group, identified by their straight snouts and lack of elbowed antennae. This particular species is the Oak Timberworm (Arrenodes minutus). Do you see the little mites? They were probably phoretic hitch-hikers, using the weevil for dispersal:

The grasshopper shown next is called the Green-legged Spur-Throat Grasshopper, Melanoplus viridipes. This small forest grasshopper has vestigial wings, although I don’t know why. Flightlessness in grasshoppers is more typical in large species where flying is not practical. In any case, they were pretty common in the screaming forest (screaming because of the millions of cicadas above), and it was fun stalking them because they are quite wily, moving to the opposite sides of leaves as I approached. But I snuck up on this one from a distance and this is a heavily cropped picture:

A few Lepidopterans are next. This is the caterpillar of the Hackberry Emperor Butterfly (Asterocampa celtis). Emperor butterflies are exceedingly common along forest margins, but the caterpillars are seldom seen (at least to me). Perhaps they are a species that stays hidden during most of the day. I believe this one was parasitized since it was not looking nor behaving normally. Notice the elaborate head ornamentation:

The butterfly in the next picture is the Question Mark (with the great binomial Polygonia interrogationis). They are close relatives of the similar Comma butterflies. Commas have a single white squiggle (a , ) on their hind wings, but here you can see a squiggle and a dot – so it’s a ?.:

This small moth is aptly named the Pale Beauty (Campaea perlata). One can easily recognize moths from its large family, Geometridae. Geometrids rest with their wings held out flat, and they usually have angular wing margins. The larvae of Geometrids are the familiar inchworms, and they have a distinctive way of crawling that probably everybody has seen:

Next is an odd little insect known as a Hangingfly (Bittacus sp.). Hangingflies look like craneflies, but they have four wings rather than two, and they belong to a completely different insect order. They hang vertically like this, but usually with their hind legs dangling free in order to snag small flying insects out of the air:

What is going on in the next picture? This insect is a plant bug in the family Miridae, and this particular species is Hyaliodes vitripennis. Plant bugs are Hemipterans that feed on sap, but the puzzle here are the eggs. They are Hemipteran eggs by the looks of them, but they seem way too big for this insect to have laid. Still, it showed no interest in moving away from the clutch:

Next up is a Hemipteran that is NOT a sap feeder. This was one of about a dozen hatchling Wheel Bugs (Arilus cristatus) that were milling around on some plants, slowly dispersing after emerging from eggs. Wheel bugs are predators, and are our largest species of assassin bug. You can see something of their eventual size and why they are called Wheel Bugs in the linked picture:

Finally, here is a dozy tree frog, quietly waiting out the day deep in the woods. It should be either Dryophytes chrysoscelis, or D. versicolor, but it is fairly impossible to visually tell them apart and their ranges broadly overlap. If the former species, then it is diploid with conventional pairs of chromosomes. But if it is the latter species, then it will be a tetraploid with four of each chromosome:

Jerry can most definitely correct me here, but this is one way in which a new species can emerge quite rapidly because once a fertile tetraploid population is established, any hybridization between tetraploid individuals and their diploid ancestors will produce triploid offspring, and these are generally sterile.

JAC:  Yes, Mark is right. An increase in ploidy can cause instantaneous reproductive isolation, and is in fact fairly common in plants.  One issue is how a tetraploid species (which could arise from the union of a diploid sperm and egg, or chromosome doubling after fertilization) can actually establish a population.  That usually requires that the new tetraploid species can occupy a different habitat from the progenitor diploid species, for if it’s outcompeted by the progenitor, then there is no ecological isolation and the tetraploid could be “hybridized to death”.

We now have two more batches of photos in reserve, so I’m feeling complacent (but not happy, which is a rare event!).  If you have good wildlife photos, please send them in.

Today’s photos of fungi come from Rik Gern of Austin, Texas. Rik’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

 Here is the first of several batches of pictures of mushrooms taken in northern Wisconsin last September.

The first seven photos are of Mica cap mushrooms (Caprinellus macaceus), so called because the caps appear to be covered with what look like small grains of salt. Like a lot of mushrooms, they grow in clusters on rotting wood. Their soft colors gave the collection a very autumn-like feel.

One of your contributors recently experimented with black and white, and that inspired me to do the same with the last two in the series (photos 6 and 7).

The remaining three pictures are of oddly-shaped fungi. They’re not nearly as common as the mushrooms, but they’re hard not to notice.

The first one is a peeling puffball (Lycoperdon marginatum), and the one that follows is a White coral fungus (Clavulina coralliodes). The puffball must be very young, because the surface turns darker with age and eventually crumbles off, exposing a brown surface.  The Peeling puffball and the White coral fungus were both covered with bits of the soil from which they had recently emerged, but I used Photoshop to remove the schmutz and create idealized images of both fungi:

Unfortunately, I could not identify the final image below, but since there are a lot of deer in the area I’m calling it “Antler fungus” until a better name comes along:

 

Robert G. Ingersoll was known as “The Great Agnostic,” but today they’d call him “The Great Atheist.” He was the Christopher Hitchens of his time: a great orator, thinker, and eraser of religion, and, unlike Hitchens, uniformly kind.  He was also a lawyer and the Attorney General of Illinois.  D. J. Grothe reproduced one of his writings, “A Thanksgiving Sermon” on Grothe’s public Facebook page, and I reproduce it here from the New Orleans Secular Humanist Association.  It could be renamed “Enlightenment Now”!

Notice that several scientists, including Darwin, get the nod.

A Thanksgiving Sermon

 Whom shall we thank? Standing here at the close of the 19th century — amid the trophies of thought — the triumphs of genius — here under the flag of the Great Republic — knowing something of the history of man — here on this day that has been set apart for thanksgiving, I most reverently thank the good men. the good women of the past, I thank the kind fathers, the loving mothers of the savage days. I thank the father who spoke the first gentle word, the mother who first smiled upon her babe. I thank the first true friend. I thank the savages who hunted and fished that they and their babes might live. I thank those who cultivated the ground and changed the forests into farms — those who built rude homes and watched the faces of their happy children in the glow of fireside flames — those who domesticated horses, cattle and sheep — those who invented wheels and looms and taught us to spin and weave — those who by cultivation changed wild grasses into wheat and corn, changed bitter things to fruit, and worthless weeds to flowers, that sowed within our souls the seeds of art. I thank the poets of the dawn — the tellers of legends — the makers of myths — the singers of joy and grief, of hope and love. I thank the artists who chiseled forms in stone and wrought with light and shade the face of man. I thank the philosophers, the thinkers, who taught us how to use our minds in the great search for truth. I thank the astronomers who explored the heavens, told us the secrets of the stars, the glories of the constellations — the geologists who found the story of the world in fossil forms, in memoranda kept in ancient rocks, in lines written by waves, by frost and fire — the anatomists who sought in muscle, nerve and bone for all the mysteries of life — the chemists who unraveled Nature’s work that they might learn her art — the physicians who have laid the hand of science on the brow of pain, the hand whose magic touch restores — the surgeons who have defeated Nature’s self and forced her to preserve the lives of those she labored to destroy.

I thank the discoverers of chloroform and ether, the two angels who give to their beloved sleep, and wrap the throbbing brain in the soft robes of dreams. I thank the great inventors — those who gave us movable type and the press, by means of which great thoughts and all discovered facts are made immortal — the inventors of engines, of the great ships, of the railways, the cables and telegraphs. I thank the great mechanics, the workers in iron and steel, in wood and stone. I thank the inventors and makers of the numberless things of use and luxury.
I thank the industrious men, the loving mothers, the useful women. They are the benefactors of our race.

The inventor of pins did a thousand times more good than all the popes and cardinals, the bishops and priests — than all the clergymen and parsons, exhorters and theologians that ever lived.

The inventor of matches did more for the comfort and convenience of mankind than all the founders of religions and the makers of all creeds — than all malicious monks and selfish saints.

I thank the honest men and women who have expressed their sincere thoughts, who have been true to themselves and have preserved the veracity of their souls.

I thank the thinkers of Greece and Rome. Zeno and Epicurus, Cicero and Lucretius. I thank Bruno, the bravest, and Spinoza, the subtlest of men.

I thank Voltaire, whose thought lighted a flame in the brain of man, unlocked the doors of superstition’s cells and gave liberty to many millions of his fellow-men. Voltaire — a name that sheds light. Voltaire — a star that superstition’s darkness cannot quench.

I thank the great poets — the dramatists. I thank Homer and Aeschylus, and I thank Shakespeare above them all. I thank Burns for the heart-throbs he changed into songs. for his lyrics of flame. I thank Shelley for his Skylark, Keats for his Grecian Urn and Byron for his Prisoner of Chillon. I thank the great novelists. I thank the great sculptors. I thank the unknown man who molded and chiseled the Venus de Milo. I thank the great painters. I thank Rembrandt and Corot. I thank all who have adorned, enriched and ennobled life — all who have created the great, the noble, the heroic and artistic ideals.

I thank the statesmen who have preserved the rights of man. I thank Paine whose genius sowed the seeds of independence in the hearts of ’76. I thank Jefferson whose mighty words for liberty have made the circuit of the globe. I thank the founders, the defenders, the saviors of the Republic. I thank Ericsson, the greatest mechanic of his century, for the monitor. I thank Lincoln for the Proclamation. I thank Grant for his victories and the vast host that fought for the right, — for the freedom of man. I thank them all — the living and the dead.

I thank the great scientists — those who have reached the foundation, the bed-rock — who have built upon facts — the great scientists, in whose presence theologians look silly and feel malicious.

The scientists never persecuted, never imprisoned their fellow-men. They forged no chains, built no dungeons, erected no scaffolds — tore no flesh with red hot pincers — dislocated no joints on racks, crushed no hones in iron boots — extinguished no eyes — tore out no tongues and lighted no fagots. They did not pretend to be inspired — did not claim to be prophets or saints or to have been born again. They were only intelligent and honest men. They did not appeal to force or fear. They did not regard men as slaves to be ruled by torture, by lash and chain, nor as children to be cheated with illusions, rocked in the cradle of an idiot creed and soothed by a lullaby of lies.

They did not wound — they healed. They did not kill — they lengthened life. They did not enslave — they broke the chains and made men free. They sowed the seeds of knowledge, and many millions have reaped, are reaping, and will reap the harvest: of joy.

I thank Humboldt and Helmholtz and Haeckel and Buchner. I thank Lamarck and Darwin — Darwin who revolutionized the thought of the intellectual world. I thank Huxley and Spencer. I thank the scientists one and all.

I thank the heroes, the destroyers of prejudice and fear — the dethroners of savage gods — the extinguishers of hate’s eternal fire — the heroes, the breakers of chains — the founders of free states — the makers of just laws — the heroes who fought and fell on countless fields — the heroes whose dungeons became shrines — the heroes whose blood made scaffolds sacred — the heroes, the apostles of reason, the disciples of truth, the soldiers of freedom — the heroes who held high the holy torch and filled the world with light.

With all my heart I thank them all.

Here’s Ingersoll photographed by Mathew Benjamin Brady, (Public domain via Wikimedia Commons):

Here’s a lovely 52-minute PBS nature documentary that aired in 2011 (h/t Debi).  Instead of thinking of turkeys as comestibles today, this will show you how they live real lives in the wild. It’s a wonderful video of a naturalist who, raising a passel of wild turkeys from eggs to adult, is allowed a fantastic and informative glimpse into the lives of birds that nobody thinks about.

Here is the PBS description:

After a local farmer left a bowl of eggs on Joe Hutto’s front porch, his life was forever changed. Hutto, possessing a broad background in the natural sciences and an interest in imprinting young animals, incubated the eggs and waited for them to hatch. As the chicks emerged from their shells, they locked eyes with an unusual but dedicated mother.

Deep in the wilds of Florida’s Flatlands, Hutto spent each day living as a turkey mother, taking on the full-time job of raising sixteen turkey chicks. Hutto dutifully cared for his family around the clock, roosting with them, taking them foraging, and immersing himself in their world. In the process, they revealed their charming curiosity and surprising intellect. There was little he could teach them that they did not already know, but he showed them the lay of the land and protected them from the dangers of the forest as best he could. In return, they taught him how to see the world through their eyes.

Based on his true story, My Life as a Turkey chronicles Hutto’s remarkable and moving experience of raising a group of wild turkey hatchlings to adulthood.

YouTube notes that “My Life as a Turkey” premiered on November 16, 2011. There’s more information on this page, inbcluding a Q&A with Joe Hutto.

I decided when I read the NYT review of Ian McEwan’s latest (and 18th) novel, What We Can Know, that I had to read the book.  (Click the screenshots to read the review if you have NYT access, or find the review archived here.)  I quote some of the encomiums from the review:

Ian McEwan’s new novel, “What We Can Know,” is brash and busy — it comes at you like a bowling ball headed for a twisting strike. It’s a piece of late-career showmanship (McEwan is 77) from an old master. It gave me so much pleasure I sometimes felt like laughing.

McEwan has put his thumb on the scale. This is melodramatic, storm-tossed stuff. There is murder, a near kidnapping, a child hideously dead of neglect, multiple revenge plots, buried treasure and literary arson. Writers treat other writers’ manuscripts and reputations the way Sherman treated Georgia. No one is a moral paragon.

. . . I’m hesitant to call “What We Can Know” a masterpiece. But at its best it’s gorgeous and awful, the way the lurid sunsets must have seemed after Krakatau, while also being funny and alive. It’s the best thing McEwan has written in ages. It’s a sophisticated entertainment of a high order.

I had to get it via interlibrary loan, and since it’s new it took some time. But I did get it, and read the 300-page book in a week. And yes, it’s excellent.

 

 

I’m a fan of McEwan, and especially like his novels Atonement (made into a terrific movie) and the Booker-winning Amsterdam. This one also does not disappoint. The NYT gives a plot summary, but I’ll just say that it’s a novel about a poem, and the action takes place over two years more than a century apart: 2014 and  2119. A well-known British poet named Francis laboriously pens a “corona” poem for his wife Vivien on her 53rd birthday. It would be hard to write a normal corona, much less one that, like this one, is said to be a masterpiece. Here’s what the form comprises according to Wikipedia:

A crown of sonnets or sonnet corona is a sequence of sonnets, usually addressed to one person, and/or concerned with a single theme. Each of the sonnets explores one aspect of the theme, and is linked to the preceding and succeeding sonnets by repeating the final line of the preceding sonnet as its first line. The first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the final line of the final sonnet, thereby bringing the sequence to a close.

Imagine how hard that would be to write, as the first lines have to form a stand-alone sonnet, and rhyme properly, when put in sequence at the end! To see an example, go here, though the corona has only 12 rather than 14 included sonnets.  At any rate, Francis’s poem gets a national reputation although Francis won’t let it be reproduced or published; it is read aloud on Vivien’s birthday to a dozen guests and then given to her, handwritten on vellum. But only Vivien sees it in print.

Over a hundred years later, with the world devastated by nuclear exchanges, global warming, and skirmishes, a scholar named Thomas Metcalfe, specializing in poetry of the early 2000s, decides to track down the corona to see why it was so renowned despite being unpublished (a nostalgia for the past pervades the 22nd century). As he searches for the work, the story flips back and forth between the 21st and 22nd centuries, giving us two casts of characters, both of which engage in adultery and, in the earlier century, crime.  These intrigues determine the fate of the poem, but I won’t give away the ending. The novel starts a bit slowly, but builds momentum to a roller-coaster finish.  And yes, it’s the best novel of McEwan’s I’ve read since Atonement.

This one I recommend highly.  I keep hoping that McEwan, like Kazuo Ishiguro, will win a Nobel Prize, for he’s pretty close to that caliber. (I tend to lump the authors together for some reason.) But do read it if you like good fiction, and dystopian fiction even more. Two thumbs up!

By the way, it makes constant references to things going on in 2014: cellphones, social media, and people prominent today. I was surprised to find on p. 282 (near the end) a reference to Steve Pinker.  In the earlier century, the pompous poet Francis and his wife invite a couple over to dinner, and the man, named Chris, who is relatively uneducated, uses the word “hopefully” in a sentence, meaning “I hope”.  That was (and is to me) a faux pas, and Francis rebukes the speaker at the dinner table, saying that he doesn’t want to hear that word in his house again. (What a twit!)  But at a later dinner, Chris, rebuked again for the same word, takes Francis apart, showing how he used the word properly and, in addition, a bloke named Pinker said it was okay (I presume this is in Pinker’s book A Sense of Style).  Here’s the passage on p. 282. Chris is speaking and explaining how he discovered that it’s okay to say “hopefully”:

“I don’t know a thing. First time Francis jumped down my throat, I look on Harriet’s shelves. She poined me towards Burchfield’s Fowler and a bloke called Pinker. Seems like some ignorant snob years back picked on hopefully, and a mob of so-called educated speakers got intimidated and joined in and scared each other into never using the word and crapping on anyone who did. Pathetic!”

Below is the book with a link to the publisher. Read it. And, of course, my reviews hopefully will prompt readers to tender their own recommendations. If you have such a book, please name it and tell us why you liked it in the comments below.

Today’s Jesus and Mo strip, called “tricksy”, features a trademark tendency of Mo: he criticizes something, and then Jesus then points out Mo’s hypocrisy, for what he’s criticized is also true of Islam. Poor Mo, blinded by faith!

As the artist commented, “That’s exactly what you’d expect from Mo.”

Remember, the strip has been going 20 years, and you might donate a few bucks to support the artist.

Well, these Thanksgiving photos are the last I have, so if you have others suitable for Readers’ Wildlife, please send them in. Thanks!

Today’s butterfly photos come from reader Martin Riddle. His IDs are below (indented), and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Top to bottom:  Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui), American Lady (Vanessa virginiensis), Great Spangled Fritillary (Speyeria cybele),Yellow Swallowtail (Papilio machaon), and Monarch (Danaus plexippus). All photos are from the resident gardens at Brooksby Village in Peabody, Massachusetts.

For reasons I don’t really understand, Steve Pinker gets piled on when he claims, correctly, that humanity has made both material and moral progress in the last eight centuries or so.  But there seems to be a group of miscreants who think that they’d be better off in the 13th century and were devout Christians, obeying religious dicta. This is not only wrong but stupid. If they returned to the times they tout, they’d most likely be living in filth, ridden with maladies, not be able to read or write, and, finally, would die at about 30 from a tooth abscess.

But they were religious! The absence of faith is the latest argument for the failure of modernity.  Material progress and improvements in health, so it’s said, have left humanity only with that damn “god-shaped hole”. Despite our higher well being, it’s said, we are still bereft, yearning for a god.  Although you can have your modernity and gods too, somehow these advocates of material regression think that the benefits of modernity have in fact produced that god-shaped hole by distorting our values, and we need to get back to Christianity (they never mention the other religions).

One of the biggest advocates of the god-shaped-hole (henceforth GSH) hypothesis is Paul Kingsnorth, an English writer who penned a dreadful article in the Free Press along the lines above, called “How the West lost its soul“. Kingsnorth argued that only religion (preferably Christianity, though he mentions others) can save us from the malaise caused by the lack of religion. The Enlightenment, he says, has failed, and so, lacking a morality that cannot exist without religion, we tack our way through life without spiritual mooring.

This is nonsense, as I argued here on October 13 (see also here).  And now Steve Pinker and Marian L. Tupy (the latter described as “the founder and editor of Human​Progress​.org, and a senior fellow at the Cato Institute’s Center for Global Liberty and Prosperity“) have taken Kingsnorth’s thesis apart, showing both the benefits of progress that came from the Enlightenment as well as the failure of religion to forge a workable morality. The resurgence of “Christian nationalism” in America, they argue, has only brought back the old morality that impeded progress.

You can read their piece by clicking below (if you subscribe, for it isn’t archived):

First, though, look how the Free Press‘s author Freya Sanders introduces the piece by Pinker and Tupy (henceforth P&T). The bolding is mine:

We write about this a lot here at The Free Press—about how phones have robbed kids of their childhoods and how young people think corporate jobs are pointless. Paul Kingsnorth argued earlier this year that when people in the West stopped going to church, “the vacuum was filled by the poison gas of consumer capitalism.” TikTok is warping our moral codes, and porn has ruined our sex lives. People are depressed, nihilistic, and increasingly illiterate.

What’s the answer? God, according to a lot of people. There has been a boom in religiosity across the West. We’ve published a lot about that, too—about how Americans are flocking to podcasts and apps that teach them about scripture; how young people are getting baptized in record numbers, or traveling to France to go on a pilgrimage; and how female Catholics are bringing back chapel veils because they want to connect to a “lost type of Catholicism.”

But in certain corners of the intellectual right, the idea that life was better in the good old days has intensified into a longing for—of all social orders—medieval Christendom. There are calls to replace American democracy with a monarchy. To make our laws and lawmakers more Christian. When Tucker Carlson says feudalism sounds good, you know things have gone too far!

So we’re glad to present the opposing view today, in the form of an essay by Steven Pinker and Marian L. Tupy—who believe that we are alive at the best possible time to be human: right now. And we don’t need the Bible to have a moral code, because we have a secular one that is the reason for all human flourishing: the set of ideas we refer to as Enlightenment ideals. They are the ideas America is built on. And they are written into the Constitution, right next to God.

America has always been a negotiation between reason and faith. Right now, the negotiation is fierce. We’re proud to publish arguments on both sides of it—including this thought-provoking essay. Don’t miss it.

This is disingenuous. Note that Sander says, “we’ve published a lot” about the “boom in religiosity” and the need for God.  Indeed they have, but the P&T piece is really the only humanistic attack on religion that I’ve seen on the site. The fact is that the Free Press is always banging on about religion and its virtues (Bari Weiss is, a Jew who, I think, believes in a higher power), and I think they published this just to show that the venue does indeed publish a variety of opinions, thus being “objective”.  (It also has some well known and eloquent authors) But so far it’s been about ten pro-religion articles to this single dissent, so I call that ratio slanted journalism.

But onward and upward, for this piece is a good palliative for all the Free Press‘s god-touting. P&T begin by describing how conservatism has brought us back longing for the good old days when Christianity ruled the West. They explicitly single out Kingsnorth’s article, for these two men have written a long rebuttal. In the introduction, they obliquely criticize the Free Press, too:

Of course, humanity has already tried monarchy and theocracy—during the Middle Ages—and sure enough, some of the new reactionaries are saying that those times were not so bad after all. Dreher writes admiringly: “In the mind of medieval Christendom, the spirit world and the material world penetrated each other. . . . Men construed reality in a way that empowered them to harmonize everything conceptually and find meaning amid the chaos.”

Other influential conservatives go further in justifying medieval hierarchies. On his eponymous show, Tucker Carlson recently declared: “Feudalism is so much better than what we have now. Because at least in feudalism, the leader is vested in the prosperity of the people he rules.”

And The Free Press recently showcased a full-strength expression of pre-Enlightenment nostalgia in an essay by Paul Kingsnorth called “How the West Lost Its Soul” (an excerpt of his book Against the Machine).

According to Kingsnorth, Western civilization has lost the sacred story that sustained it for 1,500 years: Christianity. The story begins with the Garden of Eden, where humanity chose knowledge over communion with God, which led to exile and suffering, though with a path to salvation through belief in a grisly human sacrifice and a miraculous resurrection. For centuries, “the mythic vision of medieval Christendom” offered people meaning and morality, writes Kingsnorth. But starting with the Enlightenment, and accelerating in the 1960s, it gave way to a “partial, empty, and over-rational humanism,” leaving societies spiritually adrift. With sustaining myths gone and no shared higher purpose, Westerners now live amid “ruins.”

The Free Press introduction captures the contrast starkly: “Conventional wisdom insists that technology has made life better,” whereas the abandonment of the religious story has left us with “a complete lack of meaning.”

I don’t want to reproduce huge portions of the article here, and since it’s not archived, you won’t be able to read it if you don’t subscribe (I suggest you do, if only for Nellie Bowle’s weekly “TGIF” column. Or perhaps judicious inquiry will yield a copy. But I am excerpting more than normal for those who can’t access the piece.

Here are the areas that P&T consider, with excerpts (indented) and perhaps a few words (mine flush left) on each.

Well being and morality. In a section called “knowledge is more meaningful than ignorance and superstition,” P&T argue that religion did not improve people’s well being in the old days, but simply justified bad stuff. They argue that humanism provides a better grounding for morality than does religion, and who would argue otherwise? After all, even religious people pick and choose their Biblical morality, implicitly assuming that things are good because God approves only of what is good, implying that the “good” pre-dates the pronouncements of God. Quotes (all indented):

It’s said that the best explanation for the good old days is a bad memory, and the historical amnesia of the romanticizers of medieval Christendom is near-complete. Among the blessings of modernity is an Everest of data about life in the past, painstakingly collected by economic historians from original sources over many decades. This quantitative scholarship circumvents fruitless back-and-forth about whether the Dark Ages were really all that dark: We can go to the numbers.

In this essay we will show how the reaction against modernity has it backward. Before the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution, and the resulting “Great Enrichment,” life in the West was characterized for most people not by meaning and morality but by ignorance, cruelty, and squalor. Today we are blessed not just with prosperity and its underappreciated gifts, but with a robust moral mission—one that is grounded in our best understanding of reality, and the indisputable goal of reducing suffering and improving flourishing. Meaning comes from reason and well-being, not scripture and salvation; from governance with the consent of the governed, not rule by kings and clergymen.

, , ,the popular canard among theoconservatives is that religion is the only conceivable source of morality, and so a secular society must be mired in selfishness, relativism, and nihilism. Kingsnorth, for example, favorably cites the philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre’s diagnosis that the Enlightenment left us with a morality that, “loosed from theology,” consists of “nothing more than [an] individual’s personal judgment.”

The dismissal is breathtaking.

The Enlightenment project of grounding morality in reason and well-being left us with a coherent fabric of arguments against the brutality and injustice that had been ubiquitous in human history. These arguments became the foundation of civilized society

Barbarism and immorality.  P&T show that “premodern Christianism was not moral, but barbaric.” Again, what rational person could doubt that?

In contrast to the Enlightenment’s exaltation of universal well-being, the morality of holy scriptures was dubious at best. The God of the Old Testament prescribed the death penalty for blasphemy, idolatry, homosexuality, adultery, disobedience, and working on the Sabbath, while finding nothing particularly wrong with slavery, rape, torture, mutilation, and genocide. Indeed, he commanded the Israelites to commit all of these against their enemies.

Whatever humane advances we might attribute to Jesus, his followers did not adopt them for an awfully long time. For some 1,400 years that separated Constantine’s embrace of Christianity in the early 4th century to the rise of the Enlightenment in the 18th, most Christians remained untroubled by slavery, the persecution of heretics, and brutal colonial conquest.

The point about the delay in adopting “Christian humane advances” is a good one. If Christianity causes moral improvement, why did it take millennia for this to get going?

“Health and prosperity are more meaningful than starvation and squalor”.  Steve has argued this clearly in two books (Better Angels and Enlightenment Now), and surely Tupy—whose work I don’t know—has made similar claims.  I’d love to ask people like Kingsnorth if they’d rather live in medieval Europe or in modern Scandinavia. If they accepted Rawls’s “veil of ignorance” and had to be embodied in a random person, they’d surely choose the latter.

Westerners have been complaining about how wealth causes moral decline for millennia. Few of the complainants have reflected on how it was wealth that gave them the luxury to complain about that wealth. Their contemporaries who died in childbirth, or whose lives were wracked with hunger, pain, and disease, were not as lucky. The vanquishing of early death, propelled not by prayer but knowledge, may be humanity’s greatest moral triumph.

Some numbers can shake us out of this spoiled complacency. (For sources, see our respective books Ten Global Trends Every Smart Person Should Know and Enlightenment Now.) In 1800, the European life expectancy was 33 years; today, it is 79 years—which means that we have been granted not just extra life, but an extra life. Much of that gift came from leaps in prosperity that spared the lives of children. Before the turn of the 20th century, a third to a half of European children perished before their 5th birthday. Today that fate befalls three-tenths of one percent. Even the poorest countries today lose a fraction of the children that Europe did until recently. If being spared the agony of losing a child is not “meaningful,” what is?

Children who survived often faced orphanhood, hunger, parasites, workhouses, and beatings. Famines, which could kill a quarter of the population, recurred around once a decade. Today, starvation in much of the world has given way to obesity. It is easy to condemn gluttony, but searching for life’s meaning is surely easier on a full stomach.

Christianity comes with antisemitism.  P&T argue that the hegemony of Christianity both in older times and now is inevitably accompanied by a rise in antisemitism, for if you embrace “Christian values”, you perforce see Jews, who supposedly killed Christ and cannot get to heaven by accepting Jesus, as being “anti-moral.” This, too, appears to be the sentiments of modern Christian nationalists, but is dispelled by secular humanism:

[Yoram] Hazony said: “All the classical questions of: Why is the Old Testament in the Christian Bible? What are we supposed to get out of it? Do the Jews have any role in history at all, or was it just supposed to have ended?—all of those questions are on the table.” It’s notable that Kingsnorth, in his essay railing against modernity, consistently cites the Christian, never the “Judeo-Christian,” tradition.

America was founded on the secular Enlightenment principles of equality, rights, flourishing, and democratic governance. It’s no coincidence that Jews thrived here. Nor can it be a coincidence that a movement founded on parochial Christian theocracy would be accompanied by a recrudescence of the world’s oldest hatred.

In the end, I am both amazed and amused at people like Kingsnorth who long for the good old days when people embraced Christianity and thus were both moral and fulfilled. There were no god-shaped holes then.  But, given a choice of living then and now, I’m sure that all the Christian luddites would choose to live now. As for the god-shaped hole, all I can say is that many people, including me, don’t have one.  Our lives get meaning not from embracing Jesus, but from whatever we find fulfilling: friends, loved ones, and family, work, hobbies, and so on. True, some people will always glom onto faith because it’s so easy: all you have to do is go to a church and you get a preexisting set of beliefs, friends and supporters.  But people like me simply can’t believe in god if there’s no evidence for god.

In their last section, called “Modernity is not a ruin”, P&T reprise their argument, and I’ll give a longer bit:

the 21st century, with all its woes, is a better time to live than any time before. Extreme poverty, child and maternal mortality, illiteracy, tyranny, violent crime, and war deaths are lower than in any previous century. The wealth that theoconservatives find so corrosive funds the education and leisure that allow individuals to contemplate meaning, whether it be in work, family, community, nature, science, sport, art, or yes, religion. Another gift of modernity is that people are not burned alive for their beliefs but allowed to hold whichever ones they find meaningful.

It’s sometimes claimed that for all these opportunities, people today are suffering from a new “crisis of meaning.” Here again we shouldn’t confuse nostalgia with fact. Illiterate medieval peasants left us with no records of how meaningful they thought their lives were. As the historian Eleanor Janega points out, they themselves thought they were living in a time of decline, and “they were rebelling constantly.”

When we ask people about their lives today, their own judgments belie any narrative of decadence and decay. Global surveys find that it’s the richest and freest countries, not the backward theocracies, in which people express the greatest satisfaction with their lives. Pathologies like homicide, incarceration, child mortality, educational mediocrity, and premature death are more common in the more religious countries and American states than the more secular ones.

People also express their conception of a better life by voting with their feet. In 2020, of the 281 million who moved to another country, 232 million of them sought a better life in high-income, increasingly secular countries, particularly in Europe and North America. Today’s reactionaries can’t have it both ways, asserting that the affluent secular West is a decadent ruin while fending off the millions of people from poorer and more religious countries who risk their lives to get in.

And if people voted with their hands and had a time machine, they’d surely set it for now instead of 1350.

This is the last batch I have, so we’ll have a photo hiatus over Thanksgiving unless somebody sends in some pics.

Today’s photos come from reader Uwe Mueller, who sends us bird photos from Germany. Uwe’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

The first five pictures were taken in the Bergisches Land, Germany.

A Great tit (Parus major) taking a steep turn directly in front of the camera. It took a lot of attempts to get this kind of shot from this little bird in flight:

This bird was really a hard one to identify. It could either be a Marsh tit (Poecile palustris) or a Willow tit (Poecile montanus). Both birds are very similar and only distinguishable by some minor differences in a few features. After a lot of investigation I tend to think that this is a Marsh tit. But I could still be wrong:

Grey wagtails (Motacilla cinerea) are to be found mostly at small creeks or shallow ponds where they meticulously search the water and the banks for food like worms and insects. They are quite skittish birds and don’t like the human presence. To get a close shot like this you have to stay low-key in nature and have a long lens:

A Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla), one of the most widespread warblers in Germany. I had some difficulty with its identification because the blackcap of the bird in the picture is more like a mid-brown cap:

A European green woodpecker (Picus viridis), another bird that you often hear but rarely see:

A Great crested grebe (Podiceps cristatus) is feeding one of its chicks with fresh fish. This picture was taken at the river Ruhr:

A flock of Canada geese (Branta canadensis) flying over the Ruhr. In the upper right corner of the picture you can see a Greylag goose (Anser anser) and two hybrids also flying in this flock. My guess is that the hybrids are the offspring of the Greylag goose. Canada geese and Greylag geese are known to mate with each other and produce offspring:

A European herring gull (Larus argentatus) flying very low over the Baltic Sea near the town of Kiel, Germany:

A male Red-breasted merganser (Mergus serrator) with its distinct red eyes, also near Kiel:

Another picture from Kiel, a Great cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo) sitting in a surge of waves:

This funny little fella is a Sanderling (Calidris alba). They are constantly rushing over the beach with little mincing steps that are so quick that you hardly see their feet while running. Due to this behaviour they are called “Keen Tid“ in Northern German dialect which translates to “Don’t have time“. Every now and then they stop and stick their beak into the sand, searching for worms and small crabs, like in this picture that I took on the East Frisian island of Juist:

Trigger warning: blood!

Yesterday I posted this photo of an injury I sustained, and asked readers to guess what caused it:

Given what readers know of me, the most common answers were “bit by a duck” and “bit by a squiirrel.”  It turns out that the latter answer (first suggested by Robert Wooley) is correct.  Ducks can’t really bite, at least not hard enough to break the skin, and when I’ve fed them out of my hand, they simply hoover up duck pellets from my open palm. No duck has ever caused me pain (I’m ignoring swimmer’s itch from parasites in the pond as well as the injury I sustained as I ran to rescue a baby duck being attacked by a mallard hen, slicing open my ear as it was caught on a thorny tree).

The most accurate answer came from Johan Kleynhaus:

Our host posted photos some time ago of him feeding the squirrels. My best guess is an over-excited squirrel, at the prospect of scoring a fat nut, who jumped up and the boss’s thumb got in the way.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, and comrades, that’s the answer.

I have been feeding squirrels in two places: around Botany Pond and in the Regenstein Library courtyard across the street, for winter is coming on and the fluffy rodents need to lay in their food.

Now the squirrels around Botany Pond know me, and run to me when I whistle. Several of them will even crawl up my leg to retrieve a nut from my hand, and, since they know me, they are not aggressive.  But the squirrels at Regenstein are not yet used to me. I’m training them by throwing them nuts and making my characteristic whistle, just as I did at Botany Pond.  They now know to come to my whistle, but they’re still wary of me.

One of the great pleasures of feeding squirrels is seeing them encounter big nuts for the first time, and not knowing what to do with them. (They learn quickly.) I’ve been giving them hazelnuts in the shell, as well as pecans in the shell. They particularly love pecans, and can handle them well as one end is pointed, making it easy to grab with their mouths, after which they run off and bury the nuts. (They store most of what I give them for the winter, which raises the question of whether they remember where their nuts are buried.)

The local store ran out of pecans, but I found that good walnuts in the shell are available at a reasonable price ($4/pound) on Amazon, and I bought several pounds. I put about five nuts in my pocket as I walk home each day, dispensing them to whoever comes to my whistle. Yesterday, though, the rodents were ravenous, and I ran out of walnuts before I got to the library.  But I was still approached by a hungry squirrel who ran up to me.  I had a few hazelnuts left: small ones. It’s not wise to give a small hazelnut to a squirrel who doesn’t trust you, as they’re inclined to simply go for your hand to get the nut, and that means the possibility of being bitten. Which I was.  The little fellow didn’t intend to hurt me, but simply wanted that nut come hell or high water. And, grabbing it, it bit me by accident.

Squirrel bites are nasty, for their sharp incisors go through flesh like butter, leaving a deep slice like a knife. And that’s what happened yesterday. I will no longer feed hazelnuts to unfamiliar squirrels. But the wound isn’t dangerous, for squirrels almost never carry rabies, and this one acted normally. I went home, cleaned off the cut, soaked it in very hot water for a while, and then doused it with isopropyl alcohol. Here’s what it looks like today. There is no pain. (Sorry for the blurry photo; I don’t know how to take closeups with my iPhone). Note that the slice is small, but produced a lot of blood because it was deep. (I also have superglue on my thumb, as I got it on my hands while trying to glue together a plastic key fob. I am a schlemiel.)

This wasn’t the first time I got chomped by a squirrel. I was badly bitten during my first job at the University of Maryland. As I walked home one day, I saw a student playing with a baby squirrel in a tree outside my building. It was small and adorable, and the student held it and petted it. I couldn’t resist. “Can I hold it, too?”, I asked foolishly.  “Yes, of course,” she said.  “Will it bite me?” I asked. “No, she said,” “it doesn’t bite.”  I picked up the squirrel, whereupon it put its front legs around my thumb (the same one!) and chomped deeply into the pad of flesh and fat at the base of my thumb. It wouldn’t let go, and I shook my hand to dislodge the attacking rodent. “Don’t hurt it!” she cried, oblivious to my own pain. It was one of the most painful injuries I ever sustained.

And the cut was deep. It immediately began spewing blood—a lot more than in the first photo above.  And within a few minutes the base of my thumb swelled up to the size of a ping-pong ball.  I thought I’d better go to the doctor, but it was hard to locate one, as it was Sunday. I finally managed to find one after a few hours, and the doctor took a look and pronounced it “a nasty bite.” He told me that I wouldn’t get rabies, but since the bite occurred a few hours before, he thought they may have to open up my hand and do something to prevent infection (an operation?). At any rate, the doctor didn’t do that, but used some device to open up the cut, and then made me sit in his office for half an hour soaking my hand in the disinfectant betadyne.

Yes, I am foolish, but I’m not going to stop feeding squirrels. I will just be more careful, and will feed unfamiliar squirrel just by dropping the nut in front of them.

That is my story. I have another tale about being bitten through my nostril by an albino baby skunk, but that’s for another day. . .

I don’t know how many times Agustín Fuentes, an anthropology professor at Princeton, will keep repeating the same arguments about why biological sex isn’t binary (see these posts on my site). It never seems to end. You’d think he’d stop banging the drum now that he’s written a whole book on the issue called Sex is a Spectrum, but he keeps on making the same old arguments that have been refuted many times (see this review by Tomas Bogardus, for example).  Why does someone make such weak arguments, and continue to do so without ever addressing the many criticisms he’s encountered?

I strongly suspect it’s because Fuentes is an ideologue: he believes that if people see biological sex as spectrum rather than a binary, opprobrium against trans people will lessen or vanish. But trans people should be treated with respect no matter whether or not sex is binary, for “is” does not equal “ought”—a lesson Fuentes should have learned. Further, nearly all trans people implicitly accept a sex binary: after all, they transition from having a male role or appearance to having a female role and appearance, or vice versa. But I’ve written about that before.  Nor does the binary nature of sex have anything to say about how we should regard people of nonstandard gender.Making that argument is another violation of Hume’s Law.

Now Fuentes has been joined by Nathan Lents, a professor at John Jay College. Lents has done good work refuting Intelligent Design, and I’m sad that this essay, published in ProSocial World, an endeavor of biologist David Sloan Wilson and colleagues, is not of Lent’s usual quality. In fact, it’s a terrible article, replete with mistaken arguments and bad logic.

Now it’s possible that these authors really believe that biological sex is a spectrum and are not just trying to buttress a “progressive” gender ideology, but I would find that behavior obtuse. Read Dawkins (link below) or Bogardus to see why.

I am so tired of this misrepresentation and confusion that it deeply nauseates me to have to discuss them again, but I’ll try to do so briefly, using quotes from the article by Fuentes and Lents. Click on the headline below to read (it’s also archived here).

Fuentes and Lents (henceforth F&L) first admit the binary of gametes, a binary used to define the sexes by most biologists who aren’t ideologues:

The major clades of eukaryotes – plants, animals, fungi, and the many kingdoms of protists – have evolved both unique and shared aspects in their sexual reproductive mechanisms, but one such aspect – the differentiation of gametes into two major forms – is a common theme. Anisogamy, the property of having two types of gametes – one very large and relatively immotile and one very small and highly mobile – is a key feature of sexual reproduction in all animals, all land plants, and many protist kingdoms.

F&L’s beef is not that there is a gametic binary (see Richard Dawkin’s great Substack essay for why defining—actually, recognizing—the sexes this way is essential and useful), but rather that organisms recognized as “male” (small mobile gametes) and “female” (large immobile gametes) show variation in other traits related to sex.  On average, human males differ in body size from females, but there is variation within each sex. And so it goes for body hair, gene expression, behavior, penis size, and so on.  But of course these traits, while correlated and connected with sex, are not part of the definition of sex, which involves the gamete binary.

Some quotes from F&L:

In our view, this binary classification of sex in animals is insufficient for capturing the full breadth of biological sexual diversity.

Some of the inadequacies of the binary sex classification for individuals are uncontroversial, as it has long been known that a large number of species – around 20% of non-arthropod invertebrates – include individuals that are simultaneously hermaphroditic. Many others, including around 2% of vertebrates, are sequential hermaphrodites. Animal bodies exist in a variety of sexed forms, with some even reconfiguring their biology relating to sex, including for the production of gametes, within their individual life history, sometimes multiple times. The presence of simultaneous and sequential hermaphrodites vexes the binary classification for sexed bodies and demonstrates that sex is neither immutable nor neatly reducible to gamete production.

Furthermore, sexual dimorphisms, sexual bimodalities, and a spectrum of sex-influenced gene expression are observed throughout animal bodies and across animal species. Some of this variation is patterned in close association with gamete production, but much is not so simply described. Across bodies, behaviors, and physiologies, there is substantive inherent variety and diversity, creating a sexual continuum of genetic, developmental, and behavioral biology within and across species. Individual animals can vary widely in the development, patterning, and expression of sexual biology in a variety of ways, from body sizes and compositions, to color patterns and genital anatomy, to courtship behaviors and parental investment, to name some of the most commonly diverse components of sex. These biological variations rarely collapse into two discrete sex-based categories defined by gamete production. Moreover, much of the biological variations in bodies, even those closely associated with reproduction, are also engaged in a diversity of other bodily functions and processes with myriad phylogenetic, ecological, and behavioral constraints and affordances, which are also not ubiquitously or consistently associated with the type of gametes a body produces.

But nobody contests this form of variation; but to pretend that hermaphrodites refute the sex binary is disingenuous. Yes, some individuals can make both types of gametes, and some, like the infamous clownfish, can actually change their sex, but the gametic binary remains. (I don’t much care if you call hermaphrodites a “third sex”, but they still bear only two types of gametes—the only types that exist.) Human hermaphrodites, like other individuals called “intersex,” are vanishingly rare, and none have been able to produce viable gametes of both types. But F&L’s arguments are not about hermaphrodites or “intersex” individuals with differences in sex development. Instead, their arguments are about variation among individuals, most of them of regular sex.

They also extend their argument among species. In various species of animals, for instance, biological sex can be determined by genes, chromosomes, rearing temperature, social milieu, haploidy versus diploidy, and so on, but there are only two types of gametes and reproductive systems, no matter how sex is determined.  That in itself should tell you something important about the binary.  Nevertheless, F&L persist with their “variation means there’s no binary” argument:

Dramatic sexual diversity and variation is not limited to adulthood. There is also substantive diversity in mechanisms of sex development across various animal taxa. There are chromosomal systems, other genetic systems, as well as systems based on season, temperature, age, social status, and population density, most of which have convergently evolved in multiple disparate lineages, emphasizing the relative genetic, cellular, and developmental flexibility and adaptability of these sex systems.

But, to paraphrase Ronald Fisher, the sexes are always two. Why is that?  F&L are using a familiar but misguided tactic trying to refute the sex binary. I call this “The Argument from Complexity” and it can be stated this way:

There is variation among individuals in traits related to and correlated with gamete type, and that variation is often not binary but bimodal or even forming a spectrum. Further, the determination of these traits, like body size or behavior, depends on a complex interaction between genes, development, and the environment.  Therefore biological sex itself is not a simple binary, but a spectrum.

You can recognize the fallacy in this; I believe Emma Hilton calls it a “bait and switch”. Yes, determination of ovaries and testes itself is complex, with many genes (as well as the internal environment) involved. And individuals vary in gene expression, body size, ornamentation, and other traits connected with sex. But there are still only two types of gametes and two sexes. Male and female peacocks look very different, but nobody says that refutes the sex binary. (In fact, the sex binary explains this difference.) And individuals of the two sexes must mate with each other to produce offspring—save for parthenogenetic or self-fertilizing species, which still participate in the gamete binary. Regardless of the complexity of development in humans, you get an offspring only when a male having sperm mates with a female having eggs.  If the male is very short, or has a tiny penis, that makes no difference!

Here’s F&L’s version of The Argument from Complexity:

Importantly, the recognition that sex can be a complex mixture of anatomy, physiology, and behavior does not serve to deny or minimize the existence and impacts of sex differences. In fact, it affirms them and emphasizes their importance. While the matter of which gamete an animal body makes – its gametic sex – is clearly important, it is not the only variable by which animal morphologies or behaviors can be, or are, sexed. If these other variables were neatly binary, immutable, and non-overlapping, it would not be necessary to distinguish between gametic sex and biological sex. But, since nearly all other sex traits are either continuous or bimodal, are not always immutable nor perfectly correlated, a simple and categorical definition of sex that is based purely on gamete production is both unwarranted and potentially misleading.

. . . Animal morphology and physiology are the product of complex interactions of biological, developmental, and environmental systems, and the human environment is a particularly complex assemblage of biotic and abiotic factors: what we refer to as human culture.  Human phenotypic expression is always mutually shaped by cultural milieu.  It is well-established that adult height and weight, childhood development trajectories, taste bud reactivity, muscle development and coordination, patterns of sexual arousal, resistance (or lack thereof) to disease-causing bacteria, and nearly every other aspect of human bodies emerge from mutual and interactive development of physiology, morphology, cultural context, and lived experiences.

All that is sand thrown into the eyes of the public; it has nothing to do with the binary nature of biological sex.

Finally, N&L even make the bonkers argument that the athletic advantage of males or females may not be a result of their evolved differences (based on gene expression), but could be a result of social conditioning. This is an argument made by those “progressive” individuals who think that we should not be dividing sports into male versus female leagues. (The Olympic Committee has just decided otherwise.):

Furthermore, it is not currently known which, or how much, of all of this patterned variation is shaped by differences in how boys and girls, and men and women, use their bodies on a daily basis. While human anatomical development is a fairly canalized pathway producing a relatively consistent phenotypic range, the developmental process itself both affects and is substantively affected by how that anatomy is physically and socially engaged, especially during childhood and adolescence. Indeed, there is emerging evidence that persistent culturally mandated gender differences in play behaviors and sports participation, which are quite substantial in many cultures, have clear and strong effects on the developmental dynamics of skeletal and muscle formation.

Similarly, gendered differences in the social environment likely contribute to differences in sexed bodies in ways that are probably impossible to untangle. For example, it is well established that hormone levels and ratios are affected by the social environment, and these same hormones directly impact both the development of many tissues and sex-related and non-sex-related behaviors (muscle hypertrophy, hair distribution, metabolism, mental alertness, and libido, to name a few). Such complexities are not limited to humans by any stretch, as Patricia Brennan explains in another essay in this series, in Ruddy Ducks, social interactions directly impact the seasonal growth and development of the penis, emphasizing the dynamically responsive nature of sexual anatomy, even in adult animals.

It’s not clear to me what the penis of ruddy ducks has to do with human behavior and sports participation. Sadly, F&L don’t discuss the evidence that even injecting biological males with hormones and giving them puberty blockers, an important change of internal environment, nevertheless still gives these trans-identified males an athletic advantage over biological women.

I hope that I don’t have to make these points again, but I suspect I will.  The ideological termites have dined well, and have even managed to convince biologists and science popularizers like Steve Novella and Bill Nye that sex is a spectrum.  Have a look below at Bill Nye using the Argument from Variation to claim that sex is a spectrum. (I have never liked his arguments, and this bit shows he’s drunk the Kool-Aid.)  Nye also notes that sex is “assigned at birth”.  What is extra confusing is that he conflates sex with both “sexuality” and gender.

This is the last collection of photos I have, so the feature won’t be available until I get new pictures. Just sayin’. . . .

But today we have a photo-and-text essay from Athayde Tonhasca Júnior.  His captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

The unfairly despised

The renowned entomologist, evolutionary biologist, naturalist, conservationist and target of woke troopers Edward O. Wilson popularised the concept of biophilia (love of life), the intuitive affiliation humans have with nature that is expressed by our attraction to animals, plants, landscapes and other natural things. For Wilson, biophilia is an evolutionary trait ingrained in the human personality. While his hypothesis has been supported by anecdotal and quantitative evidence, not all forms of life are equally cherished. Snakes and spiders, for example, evoke fear and revulsion in many people, responses that are also embedded in our brains and shaped by ancestral fears of animals that could harm us.

Little Miss Muffet being scared by a spider, by William Wallace Denslow © Wikimedia Commons:

Among the many types of animal phobias (the irrational, exaggerated and uncontrollable aversion to certain creatures), entomophobia is one of the most common across countries and cultures. Many theories have been proposed to explain the negative emotions triggered by insects (Lockwood, 2013), but anthropologist Hugh Raffles was spot on in describing entomological scenarios that can trigger primordial horrors: “there is the nightmare of fecundity and the nightmare of the multitude; there is the nightmare of unguarded orifices and the nightmare of vulnerable places; there is the nightmare of swarming and the nightmare of crawling; there is the nightmare of awkward flight and the nightmare of clattering wings; there is the nightmare of entangled hair and the nightmare of the open mouth.” (Raffles, 2010).

The fear of being stung, bitten, or swarmed by flying living things help explain why, in a 2021 survey, Britons placed spiders and wasps at the top of the list of unpopular invertebrates. The survey also revealed an interesting aspect of human perceptions and attitudes: largely harmless animals are more disliked than mosquitoes, the world’s most lethal to humans.

Results of a YouGov 2021 survey © Statista:

Cockroaches came third on the British dislike scorecard, surely only because they are not that common in the country. In warmer places, where people are likely to have had close encounters with cockroaches, these insects shoot up to the top of the list, and by a considerable margin. A shiny, greasy appearance, probing antennae, erratic skittering and a sewage aroma are off-putting enough, but their flying and occasional accidental entanglement in one’s hair can send the toughest character shrieking away. On top of that, domestic cockroaches are associated with filth, which triggers an uncontrollable feeling of disgust. For psychologist Mark Schaller, this reaction reflects our Behavioural Immune System, a set of innate responses shaped by evolution to identify signs of contamination by pathogens and avoid disease. If something looks like it could make us sick, we flee from it.

A sight to make many people cringe: an Oriental cockroach (Blatta orientalis) sharing our table © H. Zell, Wikimedia Commons:

The upshot of all this bad PR is that many people loathe cockroaches. Fervently. And yet, there’s more to cockroaches than abjectness and pestilence.

There are some 4,500 described species of cockroaches, of which 25 are synanthropes (organisms adapted to live near humans) and considered pests. The remainder are found in a variety of natural ecosystems, predominantly in tropical and sub-tropical regions. They live among leaf litter, rotting wood, underneath tree bark and among vegetation, feeding on almost anything of nutritional value. Together with termites, which belong to the same order Blattodea, cockroaches are highly beneficial by accelerating the breakdown of organic matter and the release of nutrients into the environment.

Florida woods cockroaches (Eurycotis floridana) munching away on rotten wood © Happy1892, Wikimedia Commons:

And another ecological role of cockroaches is slowly becoming better known: pollination.

Some plants and cockroaches share the same type of habitat: shaded, humid spots under the cover of thick vegetation. These places are not the best for recruiting the usual pollinators such as bees, hover flies and moths. But a cockroach may be the ticket for efficient transport of pollen from one plant to another. And that’s an opportunity not missed by Balanophora tobiracola, a parasitic flowering plant from Yakushima Island, Japan. Margattea satsumana cockroaches are seen scurrying all over B. tobiracola plants, suggesting they may do more than feed on pollen and nectar. Indeed, exclusion experiments – where plants accessible to visitors are compared to those with no access – revealed that cockroach visitation enhanced pollination, while the contribution of moths, flies and beetles was negligible (Suetsugu, 2025).

A M. satsumana cockroach visiting a B. tobiracola plant © Suetsugu & Yamashita, 2022:

Cockroach pollination on a Japanese island is not an isolated case. In French Guiana, the cockroach Amazonina platystylata is the main pollinator of Clusia aff. sellowiana (a potentially new species related to Clusia sellowiana). The cockroaches have no specialised pollen-collecting structures, but their bodies are coarse enough to retain pollen grains and transport them from flower to flower (Vlasáková et al., 2008).

An A. platystylata cockroach and a Clusia flower © Cockroach Species File and Scott Zona (Wikimedia Commons), respectively:

Cockroaches are known to pollinate some ten other plant species, so they are not exactly major players in plant reproduction. But part of the reason for these meagre figures is lack of information. Shy, nocturnal insects living deep down in thick forests are not observed very often, much less researched. Cockroach pollination also illustrates plants’ capability to adjust and make the best of challenging settings; when run-of-the-mill pollinators are not around, a busy, inquisitive cockroach would do just fine.

Not all cockroaches are unappealing to us, like the Mardi Gras cockroach, aka Mitchell’s diurnal cockroach (Polyzosteria mitchelli), from Australia © Evelyn Virens, iNaturalist:

Take a gander at my hand in the the photo below, and then tell me what happened. Be as specific as possible, but if I have already told you (a few people know), do not post it.  You have to guess. And do not say that I got injured: you have to be specific  If you know about my doings, you will be able to make a more informed guess.

Answer will be up tomorrow a.m.