Confused

Mouse 1, Snail 0

I've given up in my war against the mouse. I declared defeat yesterday evening when I went out into the kitchen and found the little bugger ambling along the bench top. On seeing me, it scurried behind the splashback on the stove. Unfortunately, it has done so well on food raided from my pantry that its fat arse got wedged in the gap. Its hind feed scrabbled — cartoon style — for purchase on the spotless surface. I was tempted to haul it out by its tail and toss it over the back fence. But it finally squeezed its plump posterior through the space. I heard it tumble down the back of the stove. It may have won the war of attrition but it sure lost a lot of dignity in the process.

Obligatory cuddly charismatic megafauna post

During the heat of the day, grey kangaroos (Macropus giganteus) prefer to loll around in the shade. They're not silly. They rest in the cool of the forest until the sun starts to go down and then they emerge to feed among the long shadows.

When the weather is mild, they come out much earlier. And where they are used to people they may also be active at any time of the day. (At Anglesea golf club, they swarm all over the fairways and interrupt play.)

I spotted this mob near the You Yangs, SW of Melbourne. They were vigilant but not obviously upset by me and/or the camera. No one was playing golf nearby.

A 'roo lurking among roadside vegetation

A couple by the paddock fence not entirely sure of their next move …

… Now they're sure

Whut?

Whut?

Speed limited

Am on dial up until tomorrow.

Can't.

Cope.

Not.

Fair.

Whinge.

Bleat.

Moan.

Tentacles across the world

A diffusing vapour trail or a sign of the coming apocalypse?

Cthulhu spreads his tentacles over the island of Porto Santo in the Madeiran archipelago.

May you and yours be eaten first.

Headlines you never see

Giant squid sea cucumber attacks boat

January 17 2003

A French yacht taking part in the Jules Verne round-the-world sailing trophy has been attacked by a giant squid holothurian in the mid-Atlantic, its skipper announced by radio link.

Source: Sydney Morning Herald

Molluscs live on land, in freshwater and in the ocean ...

... and echinoderms don't.

Well, except for the ocean. They definitely live there. If you call it living. But you know what I mean.

For the latest on the Invertebrate Battle Royal see Deep Sea News — the only source you can trust.

These little black ducks

Pacific black ducks (Anas superciliosus) are almost ubiquitous in Australia. Any water body larger than a bathtub is likely to sport a couple of ducks on the lookout for a feed of stale bread.

I've been guilty of overlooking these and other common species in favour of the less abundant or more colourful species. Or, indeed, the less abundant and more colourful species. Well, you know, I'm only human.

But now my new lens and camera combo is encouraging me to see them in another way. Not in a novel way, but the way in which I viewed them when they were new to me. And they're worth watching.

So here are some portrait shots of Pacific black ducks on a local pond. I heart my new camera gear.









No bread was thrown to obtain these pictures!

Richard Dawkins Rap

I spent far too much of Easter on the intaweb following PZ Myer's expelled from Expelled comedy-drama. And now this has been chewing up the download quota.

Yes, it's been posted all over the place. But you might have missed it. Rectify that now.



The lyrics have been posted at Pharyngula thanks to MC Escher. Here they are, so you can practice your moves.

My name is D to the I to C to the K, Yeah I'm the Dickie D,
I gots my PhD and comin' your way on the Youtube to bust your world view so just listen to me and don't you argue.

You see, this battle's been ragin' since Zeus was on the bottle, 'tween Science like Democritus and Faith like Aristotle,
who said the mover was unmovin' like some magic trick but
that's no good logic, my posse is far too quick for this
religious shtick.

Cos science is the only way to know y'all, you stand with me y'all, or you can fall y'all
So go ahead and take your pick...

ES: Yeah you tell him Rick ...

Darwin: Cos if you don't know me ...

RD: YOU DON'T KNOW DICK!!

Chorus: Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!
Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!

SH: On the shoulders of midgets we built up this machine

DD: YEAH!!!

RD: Science silenced that watchdog wingnut Paley
growing stronger and harder almost daily, storming Wilber by force as we framed the discourse that faith and science are split in schismatic divorce.

Then Darwin took to the seas to see what no one had seen, and ever since then we've been increasingly keen, they may never adore us, but they'll no longer ignore us,
give it to 'em PZ hit these BLEEP with the chorus!!!

Chorus: Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!
The Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's still smarter than you he studied biology!

Then there was Darrow dukin' it out with the straight and the narrow,
a ragin' bull in the ring, he did his thing, and took it on the chin like he was Bobby De Niro.

We might have lost at Scopes, beaten down by the dopes, and the stooges of popes, but in losin' we coped, becomin' more than we hoped, creationists slipped on the soap of their own slippery slope.

What was impossible, improbable, is now wholly unstoppable untoppleable, the Dick Dawk'll roll up as you creationists foldup
you haters talkin' bull,
don't you know that this Dick is un-cock-frickin' blockable ...

Chorus: Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!
The Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's still smarter than you he studied biology!

Now the machine of our making, sees culture ripe for the taking,
Cos I'm the rappinest, rabidest atheist who unlike the Catholic, Muslim or even the Jew, believes that no God but science could ever be true, hell if I was dyslexic I'd even hate "dog" too.

Time to open your eyes, get yourself wise, the age of science will rise to be religion's demise,
and while you churchies all cry, shouting 'why God oh why,' I'll still be poppin' my collar earning more dollars than Allah.

Hollah!

Chorus: Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!
The Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's still smarter than you he studied biology!

Chorus: Yeah he's the Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's smarter than you he's got a science degree!
The Dick to the Dawk to the PhD,
he's still smarter than you he studied biology!

Nelson (the place)

While I was in the SW, I made a fleeting visit to Nelson, which is only a few kilometres from the South Australian border. The tiny town lies at the mouth of the Glenelg River. With a resident population of fewer than 250, on this fine Sunday afternoon, the place was packed. There must have been … dozens … of people picnicking on the river bank, sunbathing on the beach or fishing.

Because my stay was so brief, I only had enough time to check out the estuary from the car park.

I spotted black swans, crested terns, pied oystercatchers, silver gulls, chestnut teal, a Caspian tern, something with dark legs and an unfeasibly long bill, which I took to be a black-tailed godwit, and a couple of little sandpipery birds that I have no idea about. A lone male musk duck was also hanging around, with his tail spread and his dewlap a-quiver.

Nelson is now on my list of places to revisit.

The gang on the island in the middle of the estuary

Saltmarsh on the Glenelg estuary

Ocean beach

Whistling kites

I managed to fit in a brief visit to Serendip Sanctuary last week. The surrounding area (which includes the You Yangs) is a great locality for raptors. It is (almost) guaranteed that an hour or so of bird watching will turn up wedge-tailed eagles (Aquila audax), black kites (Milvus migrans) and whistling kites (Haliastur sphenurus). You can see all those in half an hour, if you're lucky.

Serendip's lakes attract all types of waterfowl and waders. They, in turn, attract birds of prey. Whistling kites are particularly keen on the ibis rookery at the far end of the sanctuary, where they can feed on young ibis or badger the adults into disgorging food, but they also spend time at the artificial pond system near the entrance. They are sociable birds, especially as juveniles. They are also very vocal. Their plaintive whistles are part of the Australian soundtrack.

Easter surprise!

I was working at home on Easter Tuesday, enjoying the peace and quiet, when a convoy of heavy vehicles rumbled into the street and stopped outside my house. Fortunately it was not a reenactment of the opening scene of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. They were here to replace the water main.

So I sat at the computer wearing ear protectors, while trucks beep-beep-beeped backwards along the road and pneumatic machinery ripped up the asphalt only a few metres from my front gate.

The workmen were wandering in and out of gardens because they had to fix up a temporary water supply for everyone in the street. (We're now supplied from the main in the next street via a Heath Robinson series of hoses.) When I heard a knock on the door and spotted a luminous yellow jacket through the leadlight panel, I guessed that one of them wanted me to move my car. But my visitor was a parcel courier. He was delivering a box of books that I'd ordered from Amazon. But the best thing was I'd forgotten the order, so it was a delightful surprise.

The books are

• Richard Fortey, The Secret Life of the Natural History Museum
• Neil Shubin, Your Inner Fish
• Sean B Carroll, The Making of the Fittest

No idea when I'm going to get a chance to read them, but they're on the pile.

(BTW, I'm thinking of surrounding my vehicle with striped tape because that obviously deters car thieves.)

Occy Health & Safety

I used to have a pet southern blue-ringed octopus (Hapalochlaena maculosa). Well, it wasn't exclusively mine. It was a shared responsibility for those of us who used the aquarium room. We looked after it for a few weeks before it went on public display. That was more than enough time to develop an affection for the lively character.

Southern blue-rings are cute little things. Not that you'd want to pick one up and pat it … That's a mistake you'd only make once. A blue-ring's body is packed with tetrodotoxin (TTX), a fast-acting toxin produced by bacteria living within the octopus' tissues. Not only does TTX occur in the salivary glands, from where it is injected into prey and predator, but it's also found in the arms. No wonder our blue-ring had attitude. What we'd interpreted as an outgoing personality was really the cephalopod version of 'Dirty' Harry Callaghan. (When we fed it, our octopus would flash its peacock blue markings. We thought it was happy with the table service but it seems that our colourful friend was looking at its pallid providers and asking the question 'Feeling lucky, pink?'*)

Blue-ring envenomation affects the mammalian nervous system, especially the somatic system. The result is paralysis of voluntary muscle, including muscles involved in respiration. And that's the lethal impact of a blue-ring — not enough oxygen. There's no direct effect on the heart or brain but once breathing stops, they succumb to hypoxia.

Bad, huh? Well, it gets worse.

In their review of molluscan toxins, John Williamson and Jacquie Rifkin note:

The absence of direct brain effects of TTX and TTX-like substances can result in an apparently dead patient who is receiving skilled resuscitation listening helplessly in a paralysed state to everything that is said and done.

So take my advice. Don't get bitten.

Although they get all the publicity, blue-ringed octopuses aren't the only molluscs to harbour TTX-manufacturing bacteria. Microscopic toxin factories occur in at least eleven snails families, including Nassariidae, Olividae, Naticidae and Muricidae. These snails are unlikely to take down a human with a radula scrape but may cause problems if served up on a seafood platter. There is a well-established precedent among the backboned animals.

HOMER
There’s got to be something I haven’t tried. Huh? Hey, hey, what’s this? Fugu!

AKIRA
Gasps
It is a blowfish, sir. But I should warn you that one—

HOMER
Come on, pal. Fugu me!

So respect the molluscs. (And avoid the blowfish while you're at it.)

_______

* Sorry

Taking sides in the invertebrate war

Daniel Cressy of The Great Beyond has nailed his colours to the mast.

Having spent the weekend playing with octopus in the Med, the Great Beyond is committing the full weight of Nature’s reputation behind the mollusca cause.

Take that, echinoderm fanciers!

Rain!

The view on my way into work this morning.



Local radio got so excited about the rain, someone sent a reporter outside to describe it. The poor woman almost succumbed to hypothermia so they had to bring her in again.

More forecast for the weekend. Yay!

The one that almost got away

A friend sent me this photo from a recent fishing trip.



He wrote:

We were on Lorna Shoal about 50km west of Darwin. It "was" the biggest Golden Snapper (Lutjanus johnii) we'd ever seen — probably would have tipped 10kg — was almost in the landing net when it was "modified" by a shark — one bite.

What was left of this Goldie (3.2 kg) weighed more than my Grass Emperor (Letherinus laticaudis) (2.2 kgs).

Ah, well, You win some ...

It reminds me of a zoology lab class where our second year students were dissecting sharks. We opened the gut of one individual (shark, not student) and found a large fish reassembled like a three-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Berry go round #3

The latest edition of the Berry go round carnival of plants is up at Greg Laden's blog.

Stepping on rakes

I was going to write a lengthy post about Expelled, that Russian doll of idiocy. (Truly, whenever you think you've encountered the last piece of stupidity associated with the film … oh, look! There's another piece inside.) But it renders me almost incoherent as I oscillate betweem mirth and irritation.

There's no need for me to retell the tale. And I don't think I could do it justice, anyway. It's a long and complex story with interleaved layers of irony and absurdity. For those who are not familiar with the bizarre developments over Easter, Greg Laden has harvested all the links.

This latest episode kicked off last Thursday as this post by PZ Myers explains. (Beware if you're on dial up. It attracted well over 1400 comments.) But whereas that post was hilarious — the film's production team now appear to be spending most of their time stepping on rakes while trying to control the damage — what preceded it and what follows are not.

The film purports to be about academic freedom. A very special version of academic freedom that applies only to those who believe in creationism. It does not extend to evolutionary biologists.

And there's more.

Josh Timonen saw the film last Thursday:

The film moves on to claim that Darwinism was "necessary" for Hitler, the Nazis, and the Holocaust. Stein says something like "Darwinism may not only be wrong, but it may also be dangerous." Up to this point the film has been fairly dull with poor attempts at humor, but now they're laying on emotional appeal. We see B&W footage of people opening up concentration camp ovens with bodies still inside, emaciated Jews in the camps, and so on. It is of course all very horrible to see, but the premise is so rotten it made me doubly angry. They want you to think that teaching evolution will lead to another Holocaust, basically. We see shots of Ben Stein attempting to look as if he'd just learned of the horrors of the Holocaust on-camera. Way to exploit, Ben.

To counteract that venality, here's a clip of Jacob Bronowski in The Ascent of Man. His words, by the way, were not scripted. Science is vital.

Stormy weather

At last! Unfortunately it's a bit late because just about everything in my garden is dead. Even the weeds. I will have to start again from scratch, I suspect.

Am about to unplug the computer because those orange things coming in from the NW are storm cells and there's plenty of thunder and lightning right now. For anyone interested, I'm just south of the 'o' in Melbourne. I know it's not terribly exciting on a global scale, but we haven't had decent rain for ... a long time. I might go outside and dance around. (Avoiding the lightning, of course.)

Bizzy backson.

It takes two tuataras to tango

At the ripe age of 100, temperamental tuatara Henry has finally found his mojo.

The Southland Museum had big plans for Henry when he first arrived there in 1970, but unfortunately the younger ladies Juliette and Lucy were not quite doing it for him.

After 38 years of checking out the talent it was the older woman, 80-year-old Mildred, who won out.

You can catch Henry and Mildred in the act in this video from New Zealand's TV3. (Perfectly safe for work. Unless you work with narrow-minded tuataras.)

The curator should get his own show.

Hat tip to Lynsey at Marginalia for the link.

Molluscs vs echinoderms

Those fine gentlemen at Deep Sea News are telling it like it is. Molluscs are way cooler than sea cucumbers. Check out these posts for the scientific evidence.

On clearing up the matter that mollusks are better than echinoderms

On how mollusks are cooler than echinoderms (or anything else) Pt 2

On how mollusks are cooler than echinoderms (or anything else) Pt 3: the radula

And now for my weighty, well thought out contribution — the Google Fight. Yes, I think that's the definitive answer.

Little big birds

Wattlebirds are loud and argumentative but I do have a soft spot for them. A red wattlebird (Anthochaera carunculata) occasionally sits on the side fence watching me when I'm at the computer. I'm sure it's the same one, a sleek, well-fed bird with wattles like scarlet sealing wax and a splash of sulphur on its belly. It never stays around long enough for me to get a photograph. It lands on the fence with a thud (I did say 'well-fed'), poses picturesquely until I fire up the camera and then flies off. The fence is only two metres from my computer, so if I ever manage to get a photo, it will be a good one.

(Luckily, other people are more organised. Here are a couple of red wattlebirds I prepared earlier from Trevor and Duncan.)

I've managed to get photos of the red's dowdier cousin, the little wattlebird (A. chrysoptera). As the common name indicates, little wattlebirds are the smallest of the three wattlebird species. (Tasmania boasts the yellow wattlebird, A. paradoxa, which is so big that it would probably knock over the fence.) They don't possess wattles or any fancy patches of colour but the plumage is a subtle combination of earthy colours. They might not be as flashy as their larger rellos but they have a certain appeal.

Although all wattlebirds are related, the grouping is not as neat as might be expected. Red and yellow wattlebirds are sister species, occurring on either side of Bass Strait. Little wattlebirds east and west of the Nullabor Plain are also sister taxa. (They may or may not be different species.) After that, it gets a bit untidy.

Despite appearances, the red + yellow pair is actually more closely related to the regent honeyeater (Xanthomyza phrygia) than it is to the little(s). At first glance, it's all a bit odd. Regent honeyeaters are splendidly decked out in black and gold with white lace and not the modest mottles of the three (or four) species of wattlebirds. But those differences in plumage are counterbalanced by the similarities between the eggs. Furthermore, although regent honeyeaters lack wattles, they possess patches of bare skin around the eyes that are covered in warts. And there's always the genetic evidence, which provides pretty strong evidence for this grouping.

Images: I photographed this little wattlebird at Cape Nelson, SW Victoria. Like New Holland honeyeaters, little wattlebirds are abundant in the coastal heath but are difficult to pin down with the lens. Still, I've had more success with both these species than with the red wattlebirds. Go figure.


Reference
Driskell, AC & Christidis, L. (2004). Phylogeny and evolution of the Australo-Papuan honeyeaters (Passeriformes, Meliphagidae) . Molecular Phylogenetics & Evolution 31: 943 – 960.

Where the gannets weren't

Had I consulted my bird books first, I probably wouldn't have driven out to Point Danger to photograph gannets. But then I would have missed the opportunity to sit in the morning sunshine in total solitude and watch the waves roll in from the Southern Ocean. (And, of course, I need encouragement to do that.)

Gannets swooped and soared around Lawrence Rocks and skimmed the water off capes Nelson and Bridgewater. But they weren't at Point Danger. They had been in November but now the chicks had fledged and everyone was out at sea.

In the absence of anything to guard, the maremmas loafed in the sun. I loafed a bit too. It was that sort of day.

Point Danger and its gannet colony are part of a 500 ha reserve that surrounds Alcoa's aluminium smelter, the "smelter in the park". The land is owned and maintained by the company. The coastal heathland supports all the usual plant and animal suspects, including a good population of rare rufous bristlebirds. Not that I saw any. But I think you probably guessed that. Next time it's gannets and bristlebirds, for sure.

The view from the Great South West Way as it crosses the reserve.
Cape Nelson (top) and the smelter (bottom).

Lots of gannets on Lawrence Rocks

No gannets at Point Danger

Maremmas looking for something to guard

A long way off Cape Bridgewater

I and the Bird #71

The latest edition of I and the Bird is up at The House & other Arctic musings. It's packed full of birds and literary quotes. Something for everyone!

Emus by the dozen

A lot of farming land in the SW is now used for timber plantations. Thousands of hectares of blue gum (Eucalyptus globulus) and Monterey pine (Pinus radiata) line the roads between Portland, Coleraine and Nelson. Every day is Christmas on the Princes Highway.

Monocultures aren't usually good for birding, so I wasn't paying a great deal of attention to the road side as I headed south from Dartmoor. But even I couldn't miss this gathering among the seedlings.




Dad and the chicks* were cautious at first, then became increasingly curious about me, the camera and the car. I kept clicking, they kept peering, until a passing truck surprised them and they jogged away.




I saw four more emus on the trip — two adults in another pine plantation and two chicks at Tower Hill. (Possibly a couple of those I saw on the previous visit in January.) That put emus as the fourth most abundant native species on the trip (after Australasian gannets, magpies and long-billed corellas). Something I didn't expect!


_____

* I counted twenty seven in that second photo. Imagine having to keep your eye on that many kids

Avenue of Honour

Many Victorian towns have an avenue of honour, a living commemoration of those from the town or local district who served in the Great War. When Dartmoor's avenue of Atlantic cedars succumbed to the effects of age, chainsaw artist Kevin Gilders ensured that the memorial lived on. Nine of the cedars have been carved into images from the war.

Details of the sculptures can be found here.

The nurse

Bad news

The boy at war

At arms

Over the top

The road to Dartmoor

No, not that one. The one in western Victoria.

A party of pardalotes

Striated pardalotes (Pardalotus striatus) are abundant in open woodland and parks just about everywhere in Australia. These lively little birds feed on insects (especially lerps) among the foliage of eucalypts, so are sometimes difficult to spot and even more difficult to photograph. I saw this small group at the Points Arboretum in Coleraine, where they had not only given up skulking in the leaves for the morning but also seemed to be posing for the camera.

Banksias R Us

Of the 76 species of Banksia, 60 occur in SW Western Australia. Although the Stirling Range is the centre of the universe for this iconic genus (20 spp), the Gairdner Range near Geraldton isn't far behind (17 spp). Both regions have endemics.




The Burma Road banksia (Banksia scabrella) is confined to sandy heathlands in the Walkaway – Mingenew and Mt Adams – Arrowsmith River regions near Geraldton. It is considered rare but not currently under threat of extinction. Although they normally flower from September to January, this cultivated specimen was still going strong only last week. The bees were taking advantage of the lengthy flowering period. So were the honeyeaters.

Banksias are pollinated by animals. Their inflorescences are made up of hundreds — sometimes thousands — of small, elongate flowers filled with nectar. In the Burma Road banksia, the flowers open from the top of the inflorescence. (In most species, they open from the bottom.)

Just before that takes place, pollen is transferred from the anthers to the stigma. Despite that, the flowers usually don't pollinate themselves. The stigma is not yet receptive and doesn't become so until that pollen is removed — hopefully by a nectar-feeding bird, insect or mammal. Once that occurs, things start moving. The stigma is now ready to receive the other pollen that's shuttled around by the nectar-feeders as they move from flower to flower and plant to plant.

Although there may be huge numbers of flowers on an inflorescence, only a relatively few seeds are produced during a season. They develop inside valved cases embedded in a woody 'cone'. I didn't see any on the Burma Road banksia. I'd love to know if they're as big and bad as this one.

(Note for non-Australians: the big bad banksia men were the villains of May Gibbs' tales of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie, the gumnut babies. I don't think I'm the only one who was on the side of the banksia men.)