I went outside yesterday. I got some very dirty looks. Won't be doing that again!
Monday, December 28, 2015
|Click pictures to embiggen|
A lot of natural history comes from patience, from watching for events that only happen rarely, and then are over, in the blink of an eye. There are, of course, some very spectacular natural events that aren't exactly sneaking up on you. More like, they walk up to you and grab your attention by the collar. Collective behaviour, has definitely been one of these: a large number of organisms doing things all at once, and somehow, together. Crowds, swarms, flocks, schools, all sorts of collectives are being studied. Advances in theory, measurement and notions of emergent behaviour have all led up to this.
The emergence of red sided garter snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis parietalis) in Narcisse, in Manitoba is most certainly a collective event. And the sheer number and coordination is impressive. How do thousands of these animals time their collective exit so exactly? How do they know that now is the time to crawl to the surface for their annual spring orgy? A few thousand snakes out at the same time is definitely the thing that brings so many people out to Narcisse, in the middle of the otherwise featureless flat Manitoba plains. But it isn't necessarily the most interesting thing going on here.
Well, what is going on here?
Before there were the flat lands, there was a first a huge ice sheet and then a huge lake in Manitoba, lake Agassiz. Agassiz was formed from the melt waters of that glacial ice sheet from the last ice-age. The ice-sheet was so large and heavy that Manitoba may still be undergoing isostatic rebound (i.e. the land-mass is still lifting back up after a weight was removed from it!). It is the reason the land is so flat and featureless, the ice sheet scraped everything down to nothing.
So where did all the water go?
Some of it remains in the remnant lakes, lake Manitoba and lake Winnipeg, that are nearly large enough to rival the great lakes. Some of it went underground and carved very deep caves into the bedrock. Some of these caves are so far below under the ground, that they are below the frost line. When winter comes to Manitoba and surface temperatures drop below -30 degrees Celsius, in these deep caves, its still above freezing. So at some point in the geological and evolutionary history of Manitoba, red-sided garter snakes started using these caves to hibernate. In the fall they go underground and they sleep off the winter there. Come spring, when the temperature is a bit more conducive to a happy life for a cold-blooded animal, they all wake up nearly at once and out they come!
And when you see the numbers, its seems like it is all at once, a few thousand at once. This is already quite the feat: for a few thousand snakes to time their metabolism so they can all emerge within a day or so of each other. But it's not even the best of it, it gets even more interesting. It isn't all at once. Males tend to come out first, when it still isn't quite warm enough outside. And once they are out, they hang around, soaking up what little watery sun they can get; here they wait. They're waiting for the females.
When the females do wake up and make their way out of the cave, a whole bunch of males are waiting for them right at the entrance. The males will then proceed to chase every single female as she comes out of the cave. Several males chase every single female that comes within their ambit. They try their best to align their bodies up against the females, to wrap around her and to mate with her, all the while signalling to her with pheromones and by rub her with their chins. If enough of them try to do this at the same time, it leads to balls of snakes wound tightly around each other, often known as mating balls.
|A mating ball|
Sometimes a mating ball is all male.
Some males will pretend to be female in order to attract courtship from other males. The snakes seem to recognize each others sex only through pheromones which they detect on each others skin. Snakes don't have external genitals and male hemipenises are held inside the body and everted from the cloaca only during mating. So all the males need is a chemical disguise. So gender-bending males produce female pheromones and this is enough to fool the other males into courting it and making mating balls around it.
Why on earth though? Well, for the one thing that most cold-blooded animals are short of: warmth. The core of a mating ball is warm and is constantly being warmed up by the bodies that pile up around it. Typically these 'transvestite 'males come out later than the other males, they might be in worse physical condition, and so cold and unable to court other females by themselves. By attracting a mating ball around themselves, they can raise their body temperature a few degrees. For a cold-blooded animal, that's a pretty big deal. When this is done, the gender bending males seem to turn the female pheromone off magically. With the other males no longer pursuing them, they get down to finding some mates of their own. In fact, the current theory is that the female pheromone has just the right degree of volatility: when the male's body temperature rises to where it needs it to be, the pheromone just evaporates off on it's own!
There can be a cost to this trickery, a cost some females pay and some males probably do as well. The mating ball is a pretty frantic affair. These congregations last only a few days, so the urge to get it on is very very strong. And sometimes the mating balls end up suffocating the female they are formed around. With the males there is the added fear of injury from forced copulations. So this strategy isn't without risk, but what a cool adaptation!?
In almost all systems, there's a lot of amazing detail beyond the obviously impressive spectacle and I hope we can keep looking beyond the obvious and finding it.
Have a great Christmas break, guys!
PS: A lot of the research done here was done in the labs of Richard Shine and Robert T Mason in case you want to read some of the primary literature.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Respost for folks from Reddit.
Here's some sense of how the whole process goes. The series also gives you an idea of how long I spent on getting these images. Its only towards the completion of the second or even third pot that I got what I wanted. I think it took a week I think before I nailed the lighting and focus.
I wanted the wasp completely in focus, so absolutely parallel to the lens plane. So I watched it to figure out its behavior and realized it would hover in front of the pot for just a couple of seconds before landing. So I rigged the tripod to be just low enough to be eye level to the wasp and just parallel to its incoming flight path.
My only light source was either natural light or my handheld manual Vivitar 5000. I did have an extension cable at least. Initially I just worked on getting the exposure right so I got nice wing blur but a stable insect. You can see their bodies are quite still, even when their wings move.
Then I worked on getting enough light on the wasp and on the wall behind the wasp. If you held the light parallel to the wasp body, the light on the wall fell off very fast and the right edge of the image was too dark. Not to mention the ugly shadow of the pot either below or beside the pot (See images 2, 3 and 4). I didn't have a second flash to do a fill light. (I was a poor grad student then.)
So the light had to be held just so. Once the wasp was hovering, the ring-light was held behind it so the insect was in its centre. And the light was tilted towards the wall, so off at an angle to the wasp and pushing more light to the wall, behind the pot. The light is also slightly above the wasp, pointing down a bit as you can infer from the specular highlights and shadows. This last part wasn't necessarily intended, but altogether it worked. The image hangs together
As you can see there is still some fall off on the wall and the front of the mud ball and the face of the wasp is not as highly lit as the thorax and abdomen. But both those are acceptable compromises. The image hangs. And that is how I made this image. I didn't click it, I didn't snap it, no, no, I stalked it and I made it.
|Bring mud to make pot|
|Shape pot out of the mud brought in|
|Stock the pot with alive but paralysed soft bodied prey like caterpillars and spiders.|
|Lay a single egg and seal the pot. See sealed pot in image no 1.|
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
The Don valley parkway was closed this weekend. But it was very very busy in other ways. A few million midges had an end of summer party over it!
They had fireworks and everything!
It was quite the show. Summer got a grand send off.
Copyright © Natasha Mhatre If you're reading this without attribution to me anywhere other than at my blog Talking Pictures, its probably being plagiarized.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Monday, May 25, 2015
Tuesday, May 05, 2015
Saturday, May 02, 2015
Friday, April 10, 2015
Monday, March 02, 2015
I know that some of you came here to look at my science art. You may be interested in the fun and games at the #SciArt hash-tag. Don't bother with the 'Is it art' question. No line has been drawn between art, craft, illustration or doodling by anyone at all. This is Twitter after all but its fun nonetheless. Have a look.
To look at my word beasts
To look at my word beasts
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Friday, February 06, 2015
Monday, December 22, 2014
Monday, October 27, 2014
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Continuing in the theme of names:
A black form flies
chasing would-be thief
and with harsh cries
defies him to try again.
He's a king, not crow,
he's a black drongo.
Before him a bee
twists him in flight.
Though you cannot see,
he has it in a trice.
He's a king, not crow,
he's a black drongo.
My song is mine
but yours is too.
I use it as a sign
to misdirect and fool.
I am a king, not crow,
I'm a black drongo.
But he too is fooled
raises anothers child
and is cuckool'd.
Sometimes it no use
being a king, not crow,
sometimes, you're just
a black drongo.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
This caterpillar puts up an impressive display of defences. An bushy density of barbed utricating hairs covering every segment, pointed in all directions. And for all that they mean naught to our elegant little wasp, the wasp with iridescent wings, and a fragile waist. A slick player so small that it gets lost within the defences of the caterpillar. It is precisely because it is so small that it can get past the hair that keep large predators and perhaps even larger wasps away. Good things, small packages.
It is leaving some packages of its own behind. This is a parasitoid wasp. Such an innocuous sounding word, not parasite, merely like a parasite. An -oid, eidos, form of, an imperfect resemblance. But this imperfection is not in the least bit innocuous, it is very very sinister. This wasps imperfection is that it will kill the caterpillar. Well, its progeny will. The eggs it is laying in that caterpillar will hatch into larvae. These larvae will feed on the caterpillar from within until they are ready to pupate. At this point they will eat their way out of the caterpillar, now an emptied and dead cul-de-sac, and will pupate once outside.
A good parasite loves its host. It keeps it alive. In possibly the most ancient case we know, it loves it so much it nurtures it (our lovely endosymbionts: mitochondria, chloroplasts). The perfect parasite is one where the host cannot live without its parasite. To kill your host means you must find another one: a very imperfect situation. So, a parasitoid, an imperfect parasite.
'I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.'
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
It used to be called the pariah kite on the Indian subcontinent, the shite-hawke in England. Its lovely habit of rooting through your dustbins probably earned it this name. Now its more simply called the black kite in India and the black-eared in England. To seperate it from the red, which the English seem to like better and perhaps the Brahminy kite (Haliastur indus) in India, so named for its white head. In Australia, the Brahminy is called the much more regal name of red-backed sea eagle. It's a dumpster diver just the same.
I cannot help but think that the Pariah was pejorative name, and referred specifically to the occupations of pariahs in India. (Pariah was a catch all name for all lower castes who usually did the dirty work, collecting and clearing garbage, including said shite.) Bird names and identities have always had their own heirarchy. There are the special birds we see when we go out twitching, the ones we keep records of. And the others whose existance goes unnoted. The Pariah was onesuch.
From the 'Boke of St. Albans'
An Eagle for an Emperor,
a Gyrfalcon for a King;
a Peregrine for a Prince,
and a Saker for a Knight;
a Merlin for a lady,
a Goshawk for a Yeoman,
a Sparrowhawk for a Priest,
& the movie.