Evolution and Fat: Internal versus External Storage

Nature All Around Us: A Guide to Urban Ecology
by Beatrix Beisner , Christian Messier , Luc-Alain Giraldeau (Editors)
Publisher: University Of Chicago Press; First Edition edition (September 21, 2012)

Another book I chanced upon at the local library is titled, "Nature All Around Us: A Guide to Urban Ecology", edited by Beatrix Beisner, Christian Messier and  Luc-Alain Giraldeau. It is a short book of around 160 pages which contains little snippets about the nature one sees in the urban environment around us. It has a focus on the living things one is likely to see in North America. I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to find out fascinating information about animals and plants which we see around us; and pause to wonder why they look the way they are, and if we can find out what the evolutionary and social strategies favoured by the creature. 

I could write a blog based on each chapter in the book. I wish when I was a kid, I was taught from something like this- to help build a greater appreciation in me about nature that I saw around me. If we stop and think about it, even common creatures  like crows, sparrows, squirrels and pigeons have an evolutionary advantage for living in around an urban human environment.

One fascinating chapter is called a "A Life of Extremes", and discusses an important difference between a squirrel and its cousin, the marmot. I saw both these creatures while doing the "Highline Trail" in Glacier National Park, Montana on a sunny day in late July 2013. It did not enter my mind to think why these creatures are the way they are; a relatively thin chipmunk, the size of a squirrel, (I do know which was the exact sub-species I saw in the picture below), and a pudgier slightly larger marmot.

Chipmunk: External Storage of energy in fats in nuts. Picture taken at Glacier National Park, Montana, USA, in July 2013

The reason for the difference in their shape turns out to be related to the diet of the two creatures. Chipmunks eat a diet rich in energy dense nuts, which are not bulky and easy to store as far as volume is concerned. During winter they sleep in their burrows- but do not sleep all the time. They sleep for up to six days, wake up, gorge on stored nuts and sleep again, continuing the cycle throughout winter.

Marmot: Internal Storage of energy in body fat: Picture taken at Glacier National Park, Montana, USA, in July 2013

Marmots in contrast have a diet of grass and other plants like clovers, buttercups and dandelions. It would take around 50 cubic feet to store all the energy needs in grass for a winter for a single marmot- which can be quite problematic for a small creature the size of a human infant. It is not simply a problem of finding storage space, but grass does not store as readily as nuts, and can get infested by bacteria and fungi. The strategy chanced upon by evolution for them is to store their energy reserves for winter in brown body fat- which is the same kind of fat that newborn human infants have! The presence of a lot of brown fat in human infants helps to keep them warm, and the brown fat for the marmot serves the dual purpose of keeping them warm and providing a source of fuel for the body when nothing grows in winter.

For some creatures storing fat internally is the only option. An extreme case is that of the ruby-throated hummingbird. Some of them fly across the Gulf of Mexico, a distance of 800 km from the Yucatan to Texas in a single non-stop flight. This is possible because the birds weighing about 3 grams double their weight by storing the extra energy in fat for the journey.

It is amazing to think how evolution shapes things in creatures like chipmunks, marmots, humans and hummingbirds. On the surface, we as humans are quick to jump to a hasty conclusion calling an animal cute, fat or slim. In reality the reason for the animal's shape has a lot to do with survival in the external environment, and nothing to do with our perceived aesthetic tastes.

Book Review: "War Play" by Corey Mead

War Play: "Video Games and the Future of Armed conflict"

by

Corey Mead (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt , 2013)





War Play: "Video Games and the Future of Armed conflict"

by

Corey Mead (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt , 2013) 

I chanced upon this book in the new book section at my local public library. It is a fascinating well written book that discusses the US American context of how video games and simulations are playing an increasing role in the US Army.

In one of the earlier chapters in the book, the author discusses the history of how this came to be, and how many technologies which are part of our daily lives now were originally developed for a military purpose. These technologies had received their initial funding from a defense source in the USA and were kept in production by the military even when they were not commercially viable. To quote from the book: "digital computers, first version of the Internet, semiconductors, radar, sonar, jet engines, portable phones, transistors, microwave ovens, GPS - the list goes on".

From other sources, I have read that chemical weapons which were developed for the Second World War effort by many countries-  morphed into pesticides after the war ended. For me the interesting thing to learn from this is that many technologies are hard to develop without having the money to investigate various options- and as can be expected most of the options explored will not result in a success. It also makes one realize why a country like India could not come up with these inventions- it is not that any people lack intelligence, but that one needs a lot of resources for doing research. In addition, many countries in the West and Japan were able to divert a lot of their resources to war efforts, which lead to the development of many different kinds of technologies. They also invested a lot of money in educating people so that they could both develop and use new technology.

For example, after World War II, India did not have a car industry, and it was not until the 1990s and 2000s that we started designing and producing our own modes of transportation. In the early 1990s, the only motorcycles we had in India were Japanese motorbikes produced under a license. Now, we have companies like Bajaj and TVS, which are no longer beholden to Japanese technology, and introduce new motorcycles in the market which have been designed in house. [How the Japanese copied technologies from cars to cameras was not unlike the more recent efforts of some Indian firms] Even in Japan, there are numerous cases of companies like Toyota which were propped up by the government- when they were not doing well financially. Compare India's case with German companies like BMW and Mercedes, which benefitted immensely from World War II- they were able to train people and learn about car technology because of the war effort. This lead they had in technology continues to this day. [Not that producing cars and motorbikes is good for the environment in the long run, - but that is a different story]

He cites a book which discusses this in more detail. "From Sun Tzu to Xbox" - by Ed Halter. (this book discusses how many of the games we play today have an origin in the culture of the military, to take chess for an example.)

"War Play" goes on to describe the first person shooter game called "America's Army", developed by the army in conjunction with the entertainment and the video game industry. He discusses the role played by key figures in bringing to the market- and  the surprising bureaucratic hurdles faced by many people in the Pentagon in this process. One of the reasons for the introduction of the game was that the US military (which no longer had the draft after the Vietnam War) was facing a shortage of military personnel, and traditional media like advertisements in newspapers and magazines were no longer working.

 A decision was made to not depict the bad guys simply as "Arab" looking- but to include different ethnicities from Europe, Africa and Asia. In his analysis, the author points out that "America's Army" is not a simple first person shooter game where one just goes out and kills people; one first has to undergo basic training, and only then can one advance to the next stages in the game, and that one loses points- or can even be kicked out for killing people on one's team. At the end of the book, the author mentions how the success of "America's Army" is being copied by countries all over the world: the UK, Iran, South Korea and China, all of which have developed similar video games. An interesting thing about the Chinese game called "Glorious Mission", is that in the game there is only one type of enemy- the US military!

Another interesting thing mentioned by the author is how things like standardized testing and even exams which survive to this day like GED (high-school diploma for students in the USA who do not finish high school ) and SAT (scores from this test are used for undergraduate admissions) have origins in the needs of the military during the first World War. The author cites the case of a SAT question which makes the link obvious, "A certain division contains 5,000 artillery, 15,000 infantry, and 1000 cavalry. If each branch is expanded proportionately until there are in all 23,100 men, how many men will be added to the artillery?"

The standardized test came about because during the draft years of the first World War, the army needed a way to quickly compute the intelligence of a person, and assign them to tasks based on their aptitude. The author quotes the work of the famous scientist Stephen Jay Gould from his book "The Mismeasure of Man". Gould points how the data analysis had concluded that whites were more intelligent than blacks, and that darker people of southern Europe were less intelligent than the fairer people of northern European. This continued to shape US immigration policies for decades, and led to the continuation of cultural and racial prejudices. More recently, people have shown that it is wrong to assume that a certain people are "primitive" and lack intelligence- there are many cultural and social factors, (like access to education), which influence the outcome of the test results.

There are many criticisms of standardized tests- but they are still pursued to this day- not just in the USA- but all over the world- just because they are cheap to administer- another logic from the military which has been imported wholesale into the corporate and education world!

The author discusses a lot of other fascinating details in the well written book about the history of the military and education ( how George Washington wanted his troops to be educated to read the Bible for greater spiritual awareness, how the GI Bill sent lower class people to college dispelling the notion that blue collar people were not intelligent, how the video games are being introduced in the class-rooms, the rise of the military-entertainment-education complex). He also discusses how video games are being used to not only train soldiers, but are also being used to treat returning veterans suffering from PTSD.

All in all it is a fascinating book that makes me re-think about the connections and availability of resources in the world, and how society chooses to go about things.

You can get a snapshot of the book by reading this article by the author Corey Mead in the USA magazine Time, titled "Military recruiters have gone too far" : http://ideas.time.com/contributor/corey-mead/

 

The Lesser Big Day

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. to go birding the other weekend. Though I consider myself a beginner, waking up so early made it seem as if I were crossing some invisible line that set me apart from the casual birder. The stated goal was to hit several spots along the Washington coast in search of shorebirds. There were five of us who went. The three beginners included Sugata and me and one other person. Tony DeFalco of Feathers of Color was one of our two experts.   

The first place we stopped was Ocean Shores, Oyhut Wildlife Area. The experts had timed our visit to be within two hours of high tide, and we were on schedule. We passed a structure that emitted a pulsing sound and bore labels warning us that interference could result in loss of life. Something about air traffic control. We ducked through some bushes and followed a narrow path that led us to a muddy flat land.

At first sight, everything looked quiet, but out came the spotting scopes and mud-colored birds quietly picking at the sand came into view. Plovers. Sandpipers. And with the expertise of our experts I added to my knowledge base of shorebirds:

Western and Least Sandpipers flock together. When they land, they tend to separate; the smaller, Least Sandpipers head toward the land, while the larger Western Sandpipers wade into the shallow water.

The other beginner commented that it seemed remarkable that when the sandpipers took off in a flock, they didn't run into each other. This, in turn, sparked a story from one of the experts with the moral that perhaps birds have a harder time predicting the movement of different species of birds.

It can be difficult, I learned even for experts to tell certain shore birds apart. Thus I began to learn the patience required by those that would ferret out the true identity of the species we were observing. While the experts spent ten to twenty minutes trying to determine if the Plovers in our view were American Golden Plovers or Pacific Golden Plovers, we beginners stood around pointing our binoculars at moving objects.  "What's that over there in the mist?" I asked. I'd seen an intriguing large-billed silhouette disappear below a mound that separated us from the ocean proper. It turned out to be a Brown Pelican. Had I known how many Brown Pelicans we would see that day, and how close, and how little we would see of Plovers, I might have attended more to my shore-bird education. 

The experts had resorted to peering hard through the scope to count "primaries," that is, the feathers found at the wingtips of the birds, which, when the wings are folded, and the subject of study is going about its feeding and could care less about you counting anything on its body, can be difficult to do. Identifying the the Black-bellied Plovers proved no trouble for the experts. One showed up in breeding plumage, brandishing its distinctive black belly. I quickly became confident that I, too would be able to tell Black-bellied Plovers from the rest of Ploverdom, but at home the next day as I leafed tbrough my Sibley's guide, I noticed that all Plovers in breeding plumage boast a beautiful black belly. So much for the brief candle of confidence.

A few drops of rain accompanied by a rumble of thunder sent us scurrying back to stand under the pulsating something-to-do-with-air-traffic structure for cover. In a few minutes the rain subsided and we ventured out again. We saw a flock of Wilson's Snipe, Short-billed Dowitchers probing the sand, Pipits, Dunlin, Killdeer, and a Semi-pulmated Plover which looks very similar to Kildeer but has only one band on its neck instead of two. The Kildeer has more rufous coloring on its back. It also has that distinctive call, the one where it supposedly cries its own name. But the calls we heard it utter were only one syllable and there was some disagreement among the group about whether the poor bird was crying "kill" or "deer." 

The Pipit is named onomatopoeically as well, and its flight undulates much like its call. Up and down, up and down as if hopping over invisible hills of air.

We saw Lesser and Greater yellow legs. A slightly larger size identifying the Greater, along with a slight curve of beak. The experts  seemed to concur that the Lessers tend to be more active, and stride about more vigorously on their long, (yes, and surprisingly bright) yellow legs.

Sugata and I took notes on paper, but we lost track of precisely how many sights we visited and which birds we had seen. But Tony was well-prepared and subtle in his record-keeping. I saw him look occasionally at his phone and assumed he was sending or receiving texts. What he was really doing was noting down each location and each species in a special app. His records indicate that we visited at least nine different locations in our quest for birds. 

The other expert had an especially keen ear for birds. Before the three of us in the back seat could entirely extract ourselves from the Toyota Rav 4, he would be pointing skyward or to a tree, incanting, "Hairy woodpecker," or "Orange-crowned warbler." 

We were not, of course, restricting ourselves to shorebirds. The smallest Savannah Sparrow feeding among the red sedge was worthy of our list, as were the song sparrow, the starling, the gull.  Sugata cried out with delight every time he saw a pelican, though we saw many. The other members of the party who had already turned their optics toward scarcer and more exotic birds, may have been amused, but for Sugata, Pelicans always proved magnificent subjects for photography.

We'd seen plenty of the Double-crested Cormorants near the Willamette in Portland, but on the coast we saw the Pelagic cormorants which are all black, and a little sleeker looking. Sugata noticed that one of the cormorants was sitting with its wings spread out and asked what the bird was doing. "Drying its wings," the experts told us. Cormorants are ancient birds, and unlike many younger waterbird species, never developed water-repellent feathers.  

Once while birding in an isolated location, the other beginner spotted  someone in the distance and asked jokingly whether the "White-capped human" was male or female. "Male," was the immediate answer. Tony claimed that the hobby tended to be male-dominated. Which led us to a discussion of gender bias in bird-watching. He suggested that one of the reasons for the gender bias was that women generally weren't as comfortable being out alone as men were. The other expert, who teaches classes at the Audubon society, claimed that 95% of the students in his classes were women. Thus it became unclear as to the true ratio of male to female birdwatchers as the female may be well-inclined to learn about birds, but less inclined to bird alone.

Individually, Sugata and I recognized, growing in the sand, the sea beans we often buy at the farmer’s market.

We walked out on piers and jetties for chances of seeing birds that prefer the open ocean to land. One expert pointed out a line of dark shadows skimming just above the surface of the sea.  I could barely make them out. He identified the shadows as Sooty Shearwaters, and they were travelling northward in a steady but somewhat sparse stream that seemed to break into clumps of about half a dozen at a time. 

I was initially unimpressed with the Sooty Shearwaters, those nearly invisible wisps in the mist, though one expert piqued my curiosity by mentioning that they breed in Australia or thereabouts.  He scanned the sea with his binoculars hoping to find among the Sooties, a glimpse of a Manx Shearwater, a "life bird" for him. He told us that once on a Pelagic trip, he'd seen 100,000 Sooty Shearwaters migrating. Pelagic trips tend to truly separate serious birders from casual birders. Pelagic trips involve going at least 25 miles out to sea on a small boat, getting immensely seasick and seeing birds that you wouldn't otherwise see on shore. Shearwaters are among these. Tony told us of his Pelagic trip. He was sick the whole time he told us, but had a great time. A true and valiant birder.

On our way to our final destination, the Tokeland Marina, we noticed a heavier stream of Sooty Shearwaters and pulled into turnout for a better look. I spied down the line, what appeared to be a sort of bird rave with gulls, Sooties, and Pelicans. There were birds circling and diving and sitting on the water. "What's happening over there?" I asked pointing. The experts said it must be a “bait ball,” a huge school of small fish, ready for the taking. I know of few species that can resist delicious free food. The bait ball made its way back toward us, until the air and the sea in front of us was swarming with birds. The expert told us that what we were seeing, right there on the coast was what we'd normally see on a Pelagic trip. We stood agog for several minutes, our faces toward the sea. One local pulled into our turnout, and getting out of his truck remarked. "I've never seen anything like this," he says. "I live here and I've never seen anything like this before."  The expert first estimated the number of Shearwaters as somewhere near 100,000, but changed his number as we traveled farther down the road kept seeing the birds flock in. The final estimate entered was 250,000.

Many other species of birds were a significant part of this trip. I'd like to thank the Marbled Godwits, the Elegant Terns, The Heermann's Gulls, The Belted Kingfisher, and the Bald Eagle. Each of you helped make this trip memorable. A special thanks also to the two experts without whom, I might have seen less than half of the species that I did, and certainly wouldn't have identified most. I hardly have time to thank all my "sponsors" (i.e. bird species) as there are seventy-one of you in all, but to each, I want to extend a personal thank you for all you contributed to this Lesser Big Day.

Why a Lesser Big Day? Despite the fact that I arose at 3:00 a.m. and returned home at 10:30 p.m., we were informed by the experts that on a true "Big day" we would have gotten up earlier and gone on to look for owls.

Abode of the Acorn Woodpecker: to be chopped down as usual

One or All of these magnificent 200 year old trees(? do not know exact age- they could be older!) will be chopped down: soon. I have seen blue jays and acorn woodpeckers frequent this stand of trees.

At the Orenco station for the inter city train line in Hillsboro, Oregon, USA is a stand of old magnificent Oregon White Oaks. Till recently I did not know anything about these trees. I would get off at the station, and be off to work. As a transplant from across the world, the trees did not mean  much to me- they looked like other trees and I did not know that it was an oak tree.

About a couple of months ago, I got off the train as usual, and noticed that there was a woman at the station who was asking people to sign a petition. I was almost about to walk by, when I overheard what she said to someone else, "Saving the oaks over here".

I talked to her and found out that she was asking people to sign a petition to show the city of Hillsboro that there were people who cared about the oaks; Oregon White Oaks that were slow growing trees; trees that were at least 200 years old; trees vital to the ecosystem which provide food and shelter to a myriad range of species- the magical interconnected web of nature. I signed the petition to voice my support.

On the same day, when I was coming back from work, I saw the same woman standing in the blazing hot summer sun asking people to sign the petition. I felt sorry for her, and admired her love for the trees.

Panoramic view of the property where houses will be built: looking west from the sidewalk on the edge of the property. The property is currently owned by Trimet.

A bit of googling led me to find out about the trees and the region. OreNCo stands for Oregon Nursery Company, which used to operate in this region in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The MAX train line property was initially part of the Oregon Electric Railroad, which was planning to build a branch train line from Portland to Hillsboro via Beaverton. Trimet currently owns the "Right of Way" - on which the current train line and property stands.

There is a developer who wants to build a $120 million housing complex in this area, and the initial plan was to chop down the trees: because the trees would get stressed during the construction, and eventually die. The latest news is that the city recommends chopping down one of the three large trees: (here is the link to the article in a local newspaper with the story:
http://www.oregonlive.com/hillsboro/index.ssf/2013/07/platform_district_2_white_oaks.html)

Curiously, the newspaper article mentions the citizens petition which I had signed, (along with around 140 other people). I could not find the citizens group online through my initial googling.

According to some people a tree needs water in its dripline area to survive. The dripline is the area under the tree from which water can be partaken. Recently, some scientists think that the dripline for a tree may extend as far as twice the distance from the base of the tree to outermost extent of the foliage. Here is an article containing the questions posed by the citizens, and some of the controversy regarding how the health of the tree is assessed. :http://www.oregonlive.com/hillsboro/index.ssf/2013/06/holland_hillsboro_arborists_me.html

A fallen acorn (The seed of the Oregon White Oak)on the ground at the Orenco Train Station. Birds like the scrub-jay and the acorn woodpecker depend on this as a vital source of food.

Of Seeds and Birds

Acorn Woodpecker with an acorn from an Oregon White Oak in its mouth at the nearby Dawson Creek.

Recently, I went on a birding trip to a nearby area in Hillsboro, called Dawson Creek by the Hillsboro Public Library. I was with an excellent group of birders, and among the many birds we observed was the Acorn Woodpecker. It was my first time seeing this bird in action. I had seen glimpses of it in the past, but here I saw all the drama of a bird trying to drill a hole in its tree; the cache location being observed by other birds, the bird flying to another tree nearby and resting and observing other birds caching the seeds. After observing them for over half an hour, a bird landed close to me, and I was able to get some good pictures of this bird.

Holes drilled into trees to cache acorns by the Acorn Woodpecker.

The acorns (seed of an Oak tree) contains bitter tannin. The tannin is thought to prevent the absorption of protein into the body, and thus this nut does not contain easily absorb-able nutrients, and prevents a bird from putting on much bio-mass. The native people of this area used to soak the acorns in water to leach out the bitter tannin, and make a flour out of the dried nuts.

The Oregon White Oak is a slow growing tree whose seeds form a vital part of the diet for many birds in the area. It is facing habitat loss in much of the areas around the Portland metro area. According to the Metro.gov website, only about 1% of the original 500,000 acres of the original oak savannah habitat remains in the WillametteValley, (most of it lost to agriculture). In many parks like the Mount Talbert park in Clackamas county, fast growing fir trees are "girdled" to kill them; this allows the slow growing Oregon White Oak to survive.

Acorn Woodpecker in an Oak Tree.

Canoeing the Tualatin River

Sonya and I went canoeing in the Tualatin river yesterday. We rented our canoes from the non-profit group: http://www.tualatinriverkeepers.org/ at Cook Park near Tigard, a town south of Portland, Oregon. We joined as members, and rented a canoe for 4 hours- all for $35.00. The friendly staff supplied us with life-jackets helped us launch our canoe around 11:30AM. One need not be a member to rent a canoe from them- but becoming a member helps you get a discount on future rentals, support this non-profit organization, and find out more about the river from the newsletters we will be receiving.

As is the story of many rivers in the 19th and 20th centuries, this river had become quite polluted due to human activity in the area. However, these days the river is in a much better condition due to the efforts of many organizations like the Tualatin Riverkeepers and The Tualatin River Watershed Council (TRWC), a local watershed stewardship organization. A full history would be a book length study!

The river contains washed off silt from nearby areas, silt which is so fine that if one were to let a jar of water from the river sit on a table, it would take more than 6 months to settle. The river was calm with a gentle current- which meant that paddling upstream was not too tiring. There is a map at the launch site which contains information on sections of the river which are safe and sections which can be dangerous due to dams and possible log jams. We were only planning to canoe 2 or 3 miles upstream and return-and did not have any serious hazards on the way.

"Oooh! Its like glass here"- comment by a fellow kayaker. 

We were lucky to see some new animals and birds today. 

- River Otter?: a dark brown snake like hairy body along the river's edge caught my eye, and its undulating shape slithered beneath the bushes and disappeared from view.

- Spotted Sandpiper?: Grey top- white underneath: this bird (there were two on them on a small grass meadow by the river, one flew away, another landed on a log on the river), dipped its head and tail alternately in a weird dance move.

- Pileated Woodpecker: Its flight made me think it was a northern flicker, but when I trained my binoculars on it, I noticed a red patch on the head, white in between and a black body on a dramatically foreshortened bird that flew directly away from me with cries like "pok a pok a pok wok".

- Green Heron: This is the bird that adorns the logo of the Tualatin Riverkeepers. On the way back, I wanted to have a closer look at some violet flowers growing on a rock, and we saw a bird fly into the bushes as we approached the bank. As we were leaving the area, we noticed a bird land on a log-through the binoculars it looked a miniature version of a great blue heron- a foot tall, with yellow eyes, a long yellow beak and yellow feet-with a "S" shaped neck and striped feathers. Juvenile?

Guide to exploring the Tualatin River: "Exploring the Tualatin River Basin" : A Nature and Recreation Guide by Tualatin Riverkeepers.

- Olive-sided flycatcher?: This bird was on a branch on a tree close to the heron, and had a pale yellow chest, and its angular head in profile looked like a miniature kingfisher.

- "Tree Bass": this is what a guy said pointing to his fishing line caught in the tree as he was standing on a boat launch dock.

Some of the regulars were

- Belted Kingfisher: The placid canoe trip began with a loud belted kingfisher emitting loud cries in the bushes, and then darting back and forth in the river ahead of us. We saw the same bird (or possibly another specimen according to Sonya) a few more times on the river and on our way back.

- Red-Tailed Hawk: we saw a few of them circling overhead scanning the area along the river for food, and heard their "kileree" through the tree canopy without being able to locate the bird at other times.

- Scrub Jays

-Starlings

-Norther Flicker: Many of them criss-crossed the river with their familiar flight pattern, flying up and then diving like a custom input to a power electronic device.

- Dragonflies skirting the surface of the water.


- Mallards: flying by, and mallards extending their necks to eat low hanging berries from an unknown plant

It was fun to watch mallards sitting in the water, extend their necks to reach for the berries shown in the photo above

There were many paddlers on the river; some muscular, some not in the best of shape, families with children, couples, singles, people fishing from private docks along the river, all politely saying hi and waving to each other as we passed each other. A woman kayaker put it perfectly with her comment "It is like glass here!" on a quiet section of the river. For the three hours we spent on the river, we were only passed by one motor-boat- that too someone who courteously slowed their pace to a gentle crawl as they passed us.






Food:
- Onion flavored Thanh Son Tofu
- Gluten-free bread with basil cashew pesto made  by Sonya
- sugar plum tomatoes
-organic baby carrots


Public Transit:
- MAX from Goose-hollow to Beaverton Transit Center
- 76: from Beaverton Transit Center to stop near Cook Park: http://goo.gl/maps/YbIae
- Walk from bus stop to Cook Park: http://goo.gl/maps/zfUvq

 I would highly recommend this trip as a relaxing way to connect with nature in a place that can be easily accessed by Public Transport.

Cinco de Mayo

We are late, so instead of walking down to the waterfront, Sugata and I hop on the MAX and find ourselves in a car where more than half of the passengers are Mexican American. They must be going to the same place we are headed: Portland’s 29^th Cinco de Mayo celebration. 

The "Fifth of May" was the date in 1862 that was won against the French in the city of Puebla in Mexico. It did not end up being a very decisive battle, but was a celebration of the victory of "the little guy" over "the big guy" as the Mexicans had far fewer troops than the French. It is interesting to note that the holiday is more American than it is Mexican. if you are curious, read more about it here: http://www.cnn.com/2012/05/05/us/cinco-de-mayo-origins/index.html

The Cinco de Mayo celebration in Portland runs for three days straight. On Friday evening we absorbed the sights and sounds of Mexcio. The Mariachi bands, the Folklorico dancers who hypnotized us with their smiles and their swirling, twirling dresses. We ended that evening watching fireworks explode over the Willamette River. 

Our purpose Sunday night, however, is to see the luchadores. I remember seeing the masks for sale in the streets of Playa del Carmen, Mexico which were nightly thronged with tourists. I'd thought about buying one but had never done so. I'm eager to see what this masked wrestling will be like.

Sunday night’s crowds are thicker. When we finally squeeze our way to the ringside, I am disappointed. “Where are the masks?” I ask Sugata. In the ring there are about half a dozen heavyset maskless men who neither speak Spanish nor look Mexican. Sugata shrugs and digs into his bag for the camera. I sigh and settled in to watch. A man near me is eating a funnel cake. A gust of wind blows a puff of powdered sugar off the top. 

I remember seeing wrestling matches on T.V. from my childhood days. Mostly I’d just watched long enough to get the gist of it. These huge guys that were acting entirely too tough, impressing me not with their muscles, but with the ridiculousness of their posturing. Somehow the prospect of Mexican wrestling had seemed more interesting to me. But I do not see what I expected to see, namely masks.

Finally, much to my delight, after the ring clears, in comes a character with a mask. He is best described as “an evil clown.” He wears a colorful polka dot suit and a mask with a sharp-toothed grin. His hair is blue yarn. He pats the ref down as the reft pats him down, checking, I suppose that the padding is proper and concealing nothing dangerous. Evil clown is undoubtedly the “rudo,” or the bad guy who resorts to jokes and pranks.

Evil clown’s opponent wears a blue and white mask and a skin-tight uniform. Wing patterns stretch over his slender body. When Wings manages to throw the evil clown out of the ring, the kids scurry to see. One ten-year-old girl, wearing her own luchador mask holds her pink tablet in front of her to video the whole scene.

"Get those kids out of there," yells the fence guard, the same fence guard who earlier had shooed Sugata and I out of the path leading to the emergency exit. He has an eye for safety, that one. In a minute or two the ref has sent the kids back to their seats.

As the match continues I hear a couple of kids talking behind me. "Why didn't he just throw him?” says one in apparent disgust. "This is fake," says the other, then toward the performers, but not loud enough so they can hear, "You guys suck."

The luchadores are actually avoiding hurting each other. When they throw each other to the mat, there is a loud smack, but this is only for effect. They fall, just as I learned to do in my martial arts class, slamming my arms into the mat. When one jumps and lands upon his opponent, he does not really land on him, but strives to make it looks as if he has.

I am affected by this "fakeness" differently than I would have been when I was a kid. I think kids have to call out the fakes, whether it be Santa Claus, wrestlers on T.V. or something else.  

What I do feel is closer to laughter than it is to betrayal. I am grinning. The match is a melodrama. We cheer the “good guys” and boo the “bad guys.” We laugh at the clever plays, the acrobatics and the pranks. The talent of the luchadores is not focused on hurting their opponent but in entertaining the audience, and they are doing a marvelous job of it.

There are several more rounds with different luchadores. We stay and watch until the end when each of the luchadores comes out and the kids gather around to get pictures with their favorites. One luchador keeps hoisting children to his shoulder for his photos. He’s a superhero. It’s the mask that makes him.

With those who never don a mask before they fight, you can never be sure of who they are on and off the mat. Your impression of them from the mat follows them into the street.  But with masks, the egotistic persona can be slipped off along with the mask. The unmasked man becomes normal again. If you see him on the street, you won’t know him. 

"The other NRA" and thoughts on workers in the retail industry in the USA

"The real cause of all this is an industry lobby called the National Restaurant Association, that we call the other NRA, that has made a deal with Congress that tipped-workers’ wages will never go up ever.  So it’s been stuck at $2.15 an hour for the last 22 years. " 

"There’s severe racial segregation. In fine dining and casual restaurants, white workers in the front, and workers of color in lower paid busser, runner, back-of-the-house positions."

- Saru Jayaraman (http://rocunited.org/)

I had purchased the newspaper called "street roots", from a vendor outside the central branch  of the Multnomah County Library, and one of the articles in it contained an interview with the labor organizer, Saru Jayaraman. The original article appeared at this website, and can be read in full here: http://realchangenews.org/index.php/site/archives/7643

It is always fantastic to hear the opinion on a social issue from someone who is working in the field: their level of understanding of the intricacies and nuances greatly improves one's understanding of the subject.  It makes one realize how indebted one is to all the people who worked and are working on improving social conditions; work that takes years of dedication with daily setbacks and challenges. I am looking forward to reading Saru Jayaraman's book "Behind the Kitchen Door". [ http://thewelcometable.net/behind-the-kitchen-door/]

It was an eye-opening article- and contained information which I had always suspected- that service workers in the restaurant industry do not make decent wages and work hard. It contains sobering statistics, and makes one wonder what one human being can subject another to- whether it was slavery until the 19th century (which continues in many parts of the world today), or sweatshop factories in poor countries.

It is one thing to read about something in a history textbook, and another to see it in front of your eyes. I had always wondered about the suffering of the restaurant workers, and if anyone had ever documented their conditions. I have never talked to any restaurant worker outside their work settings- that kind of conversation never happens in the USA (or in India for that matter). The interaction with the waiter consists of ordering food from the menu, and asking for suggestions- and then hoping to catch the waiter's attention so that I can pay the bill and leave.

I now live close to an upscale shopping district, 23rd Avenue on Burnside- it is lined with many stores that are outside my price range. Most of the stores are staffed by "hip and attractive" young people- mostly white in their 20s and 30s- at least in the front. It makes one wonder- what happens when an "ugly" person applies for a job interview? Do they get rejected because they do not have the "look" or perhaps are too "old"?  In contrast, when shopping at a super store like Fred Meyer or Safeway, you meet people with different ethnicities, and a wider spectrum in ages.

It also makes me think of a former room-mate who worked as a waiter in a restaurant in his 20s- where he had no trouble finding a job as an attractive young male- whilst he has not been able to find a job in the service industry in the past few years- perhaps it is because of his beard or his age (he is in mid-40s now).

Another friend of mine, who is a black female, was telling me about her experience working in retail- where the manager of the store wanted her to "smile more". She was wondering why the manager had singled her out, when there was another white worker in the store, with a perpetual frown on his face, who had never been asked to offer a smiling face to customers.

A Walk at Balch Creek

On the first nice day of weather, I spent the day inside resting and hoping to rid myself quickly my cold. On the second day of nice weather Sugata decided to give me an “assignment” to get me outside: I was to spend no less than two hours on the Balch Creek path in Forest Park. I was to take photographs of nine different wild flowers, take notes on their location, find out what they were, and write about my whole experience in no less than 1500 words. As my illness was minor—just a slight scratch in my throat—I decided to give it a try.

Sugata’s idea about going to Balch Creek was inspired by our first walk down from the Audubon society last weekend where we had spent Sunday afternoon volunteering at the annual native plant sale.  We had walked up Cornell road to get there and while this route saved us time, it is not the most pleasant for the nostrils or lungs. On the way back we opted to hike down through Balch creek. It was a lovely, slow, and magical walk.  The weather was overcast, but pleasant, and the fresh air was invigorating. We saw many small wonders including a tiny salamander and a snail.

Balch Creek is apparently named after the first man in this area who murdered his son-in-law and was legally hanged.

Of course I always find naming places after people a bit absurd. People are so transient compared to the landscape, and posterity generally finds the names irrelevant and perplexing. At least in the case of Balch Creek, the name has been preserved not in an attempt to impress the undue greatness of an individual upon us, but to remind us of someone admittedly notorious. Interesting.

I set out for Balch Creek Tuesday after lunch and spent nearly three hours in the woods. There was plenty to see and learn, especially for an earnest but ignorant would-be naturalist.

There is a fair amount of foot traffic along the path. Portland residents are fortunate to have such a wonderful hiking trail so close to the city. Were it not for a few loud motorcycles that occasionally cut through the stillness, you might easily forget how close the city actually is. Many people go out for a trail run or to give their dogs some exercise. In fact, little packets of poop sometimes in yellow, white or blue baggies cab be found at intervals along the trail. Most of the trail is litter free, but for these packets of poop. The are left, I imagine because the walker does not wish to take them along for the duration. The walker imagines he or she will pick the packet up on the way back. But poop is an easy thing to forget. Let us likewise forget the poop and focus our attention on the flora around Balch Creek.

I found the first six  flowers listed here on the Lower Maclaey trail that leads up to the moss-covered stone structure built in the 1930s for picnicking and storing tools. The Fairy Bells, Evergreen violets and Salmon Berry Bushes are abundant along the trail. Trillium is not apparent at first, but not too far up the trail you will begin to see them everywhere.

If you wish to challenge yourself to a little flower trivia, you may cover the caption below, look at the picture and try to identify the species before reading. Extra points for scientific names.

1. Hooker’s Fairy Bells (Disporum hookeri)—These were the first I took a picture of and are abundant along the trail.

2. Salmon Berry (Rubus spectabilis)—Right now the bushes are dotted with fuscia blossoms with yellow centers which will later turn into yellow or red berries which are edible but not always delicious. These were found especially right smack beside the milky-colored Balch Creek.

3. Yellow Wood Violet (Viola glabella)—I found many of these in great clusters and one bunch in the direct sunlight was attracting a great variety of insects. I had to stop and test my speed at photographing insect. (Insects not pictured as the bee, who buried its face in the center of the flower obscured the markings that are helpful for identification).

4. Trillium (Trillium ovatum)—This one has kept its Latin name. A lot of variation in color, some white, some more pinkish, some reddish, some purple. These appear to be more “solitary” than the violets as I noticed individual specimens more than clusters. Each trillium seed has an oil-rich appendage that is attractive to ants. The ants lug the seeds back to their nests, eat the oil and leave the rest. This helps the trillum to spread its kind around.

5. False Solomon’s Seal (Smilacina racemosa)—I somewhat resent the labeling of plants as “false” as if the plant exists merely to trick you. “False” means that the namer, found this plant second. False Solomon’s Seal is native, though the people who named it that undoubtedly were not. The Coast Salish and the Gitksan used the roots for medicinal purposes.

6. Siberian Miner’s Lettuce (Claytonia sibirica)—The leaves of this plant look very different from the miner’s lettuce I know (Claytonia perfoliata). I noticed also that the flowers are a great deal farther away from the leaf than those of the Claytonia perfoliata. The leaves of this plant are edible, but the native peoples did not use them as food.

I stopped for a moment at the stone structure to sit on a log and journal. Here is the somewhat edited version of what I wrote:

“A Stellar’s Jay has swooped in silently. All seems still but the creek swishes by. Single lines of spider web, scattered through the shrubs catch the light. The light runs back and forth across the lines as the gentlest of breezes moves them. The jay, in taking off and landing stirs the sunlit leaves, jarring the picture of serenity, yet he has not broken the stillness with his loud voice. As a man walks by with his child in his arms, a chime sounds, presumably he just received a text message. The sound of an airplane overhead.

When I lingered long in front of the yellow flowers a woman asked me if I’d seen a snake. “No,” I said, “Just insects.” Then comes a woman with a black top, red shorts, white shoes. I take note of what she is wearing because she also happens to be walking a huge black and white great dane with a red leash. If you stop long enough you realize there are a lot of people out here. Now a group of teenagers has taken over the stone structure and are inside it hooting like idiots inside to hear their voices echo.”

After the stillness of my meditation at the stone structure was broken, I took the Wildwood trail up the slope. The following four plants were found on the hillside:

7. Wild Strawberry or Wood Strawberry (Fragaria vesca)—I used to eat wild strawberries when wandering out in the woods behind my house in Bozeman, Montana, so the blossoms are very familiar to me as are the shape of the leaves. Little did I know that there are also the woodland strawberry, the pacific strawberry, and even the coastal strawberry. I only found a smallish patch of these right along the path, so whenever they bear fruit, I’m sure they will disappear quickly. Though I must note that I have tasted a few wild strawberries in Portland, and none have seemed nearly as sweet as the wild strawberries of home.

8. Fringe cups (Tellima grandiflora)—There were plenty of these fascinating plants along the way, but it was hard to get a satisfying picture. According to my plant guide, it was said to be eaten by woodland elves to improve night vision. I'm not sure how that factoid ended up in the guide book, but I'm certainly curious.

9. Vanilla Leaf (Achlys triphylla)—only one sighting of this plant along the Wildwood trail. However, after reading my plant guide I wish to encounter it again, this time with my nose. The leaf is fragrant when crushed and can be used as an insect repellent. The Saanich of Vancouver Island kept dried bundles of them in their house to keep flies and mosquitoes away.

10. Oregon Grape (Mahonia nervosa)—the pointed jagged edges of this plant remind me very much of Holly (the plant, not my friend). The berries are edible, but not very sweet. (As a kid, I made a pen out of a hollowed out bit of cow parsley, and a shaft of a feather. I used the juice from the Oregon Grape for ink. This whole project was one of the few astonishingly successful experiments I did as a child). The shredded bark and root were used to make a yellow dye. The bark and berries were also used medicinally.

11. Herb-Robert or Robert Geranium (Geranium robertianum) This one is certainly not native, and was likely introduced as an ornamental plant. Though it is also said to repel mosquitoes, some have described the scent as “burnt rubber.” In Washington it is known as “Stinky Bob” and is listed as a noxious weed.

It's a shame to end the list with Stinky Bob, but the whole experience of photographing and staying in the woods was a treat for my senses. My eyes were scanning for flowers and my ears for the sounds of birds. I stopped for a moment on the Wildwood trail and wrote again. Here is an edited version of what I wrote in the woods:

“I pass once by a spot on the trail where a tree separates into three trunks like the tines of a pitchfork, which then branch off again. It is a rustle in the leaves at the foot of the trees that stops me and just as I have spotted a bright-chested robin, I hear another rustle and find a paler robin. I stop only a moment to watch and then move on. Yet on the way back my attention is caught by the same sound and I stop again to find the same two robins. Some time has lapsed since I was here last. Perhaps they have a nest somewhere. And as I begin to speculate and scan the visible trees for signs of a nest, I see two chickadees perched on an upright snag about ten feet tall. The snag is adorned with licorice ferns sprouting off the top like a shock of hair. The chickadees, on two different branches are quietly glancing about. I did not see them fly in. It is hard to see their dark caps against the dark cedar behind them, yet their black throats and white cheeks are highly visible. As I watch, one flies off into the woods, while another flies to a nearby alder and begins pulling of dry moss from the tree with its beak. It murmurs a soft “chickadee” call as it does so and stuffs its beak until it seems too full to fly with. Yet, fly it does straight back to the snag, where it hops into a crack and disappears.”

This moment is interrupted by a runner who jogs past with his handheld canteen. (There are a lot of runners out there!) I go up the trail a little ways and come back to observe the chickadees and write at the same spot, but am not able to witness the chickadee at work again.

It was at home that the real work of my journey began. Although I knew a few species and had some hunches about others, it took a great deal of time to search out and learn about each of the species. My main resource was Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast, compiled and edited by Jim Pojar and Andy MacKinnon. Another helpful resource was Wikipedia which helped me find a list of likely species in the Balch Creek area. 

There are still a couple of flowers I found that remain a mystery to me. I am providing the picture so that someone else wiser (or just luckier) can help me identify them:

1. 

2.