tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32939573073730027812024-03-13T11:57:30.835-04:00Variant MindsThoughts about plants, games, King Arthur, and direct eye contact on public transportation.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.comBlogger705125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-78001701658452730062021-10-02T01:58:00.000-04:002021-10-02T01:58:39.500-04:00A Good Knight<p>One thing I like about Arthurian literature is that the same story is told over and over again; one might even say that the creative emphasis is on delivery rather than content. I was fortunate to be reminded of this today in a used book store when I picked up <i>La Mort le Roi Artu </i>(in translation), not to be confused with the Alliterative <i>Morte Arthure</i>, the Stanzaic <i>Morte Arthur</i>, or Malory's <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>, the most well-known of the four.</p><p>In all these iterations of the fall of Arthur, one of the main themes is the question of what makes a good knight. Ideas of faithful love, honor, and bravery rise as answers to this question, as well as skill in riding and fighting, the literal meaning of 'chivalry'. If you ask who the Best Knight of the Round Table, many people might say Lancelot, who is essentially never defeated in combat, but whose affair with Guinevere is the largest catalyst of the death of Arthur and the destruction of the flower of chivalry. Another common answer is Galahad, who is even more unbeatable and perfect than his father Lancelot, but he is almost more of a priest than a knight, and he is barely 'of the Round Table' because his only quest is the grail and he fights more Round Table knights than he cooperates with. Tristram is another essentially unbeatable knight, but he shares all of Lancelot's flaws and fewer of his virtues.</p><p>If I was pressed to name the Best Knight of the Round Table, I would probably go with Percival or Bors, but I think the most interesting answer is Gawain. In most Arthurian tales, Gawain is often defeated and commits many sins, but he nevertheless remains one of the most esteemed and influential knights of the Round Table. There are many sides to this conversation, but for now I propose that Gawain is a good knight because he admits his flaws and shows contrition. This passage at the beginning of <i>La Mort le Roi Artu</i> gives a good example:</p><p><br /></p><p>"The king [Arthur] had heard the rumor that Gawain had killed several [knights], and he summoned him before him and said:</p><p>'Gawain, I order you, by the oath you swore when I knighted you, to answer the question I am going to ask you.'</p><p>'My Lord,' replied Sir Gawain, 'since you have asked me in that manner I shall not fail in any way to tell you, even if it brought me shame as great as ever befell a knight of your court.'</p><p>'I want to ask you,' said the king, 'how many knights you think you killed, by your own hand, on this quest.' Sir Gawain thought for a moment and the king said again: 'By my oath, I want to know, because there are people who are saying that you have killed a very large number.'</p><p>'My Lord,' said Sir Gawain, 'you obviously wish to be certain of my great misfortune, and I shall tell you, because I see that I must. I can tell you in truth that I killed eighteen by my own hand, not because I was a better knight than any of the others, but since misfortune affected me more than any of my companions. Indeed, it did not come about through my chivalry, but through my sin. You have made me reveal my shame.'</p><p>'Certainly, my nephew,' said the king, 'that was truly great misfortune, and I am well aware that it happened through your sin. Nevertheless, tell me whether you believe you killed King Baudemagus.'</p><p>'My Lord,' he said, 'I definitely did kill him - and I have never done anything that I regret so much as that.'</p><p>'Indeed, my nephew,' said the king, 'if you have regrets about that it is not surprising; because, may God help me, I regret it too. My court has lost more in him than in the four best knights who died on the quest.'</p><p><br /></p><p>Gawain is clearly a flawed knight in this scene, but contrast his admission of weakness with Lancelot's behavior during a fight with a young Gareth in <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>: </p><p>"[Gareth] fought more like a giant than a knight; and his fighting was so passing durable and passing perilous, for Sir Lancelot had so much ado with him that he dreaded himself to be shamed, and said, 'Beaumains, fight not so sore! Your quarrel and mine is not so great but we may soon leave off.'"</p><p>Shame is mentioned in both passages; Gawain publicly accepts his shame and shows contrition, while Lancelot fights to preserve his image. Many years later, after being caught with Guinevere, Lancelot continues to fight rather than admit fault, to the point of killing Gareth (who loved Lancelot more than his own brothers) and destroying the Round Table. A full discussion of knightly shame would require many more sources; for example, Gawain's ability to confess sin and accept the consequences at the cost of reputation is a major part of <i>Sir Gawain and the Green Knight</i>.</p><p>Just as Gawain's moral weakness is redeemed through confession, his relative weakness in combat leads him to be a more good knight, while not a better knight, than his stronger compatriots. There is an idea in chivalric stories that right makes might, i.e. whoever is on the side of justice will prevail in combat (which is why trial by combat is valid). Because of this, one might say that since Lancelot always wins battles, he must be the most morally upright knight. On the other hand, Lancelot fights just as well when killing unarmed knights to save Guinevere from the consequences of his actions as he does on any of his nobler adventures, and there are plenty of tales with evil knights who are strong enough to defeat all but the best from the Round Table. Therefore, I would say that an often-defeated knight such as Gawain shows more bravery in going out questing than an undefeated knight such as Lancelot or Tristram; it takes more fortitude to lose a fight and suffer for doing good than it does to go from victory to victory.</p><p>Anyone, then, with the necessary equipment and skill in fighting might be good at being a knight, but as Gawain shows us, it actually takes weakness to be a Good Knight.</p>Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-83958850704657768962021-09-05T01:54:00.000-04:002021-09-05T01:54:19.908-04:00Tire Repair<p> I was one hour into my five-hour drive home from Atlanta when I noticed that one of my tires was losing air pressure. Even worse, the rate of loss was increasing, so while I thought at first that I could make it back home and deal with the issue later, it soon became clear that I needed to get off the highway. I took the next exit and checked my tire in a gas station parking lot, and found a large nail in it. It was more than I could fix myself, and my spare tire is one of those small ones not suited for long distances. Fortunately, since I wasn't too far from Atlanta, the area was pretty built up and there were several tire shops around-- I counted three just near the exit. Unfortunately, since it was 7 PM on a Friday, they were all closed.</p><p>I was marooned in an Americana wilderness of parking lots and plazas. I was pretty stressed at this point, but eventually I asked myself one of the questions I often use while planning things: what's the worst that could (reasonably) happen? The tire shops were right there, so all I needed to do was wait until they opened the next morning. There were plenty of stores and restaurants around, so I could get dinner and maybe even watch a movie or buy a book somewhere. I had a sleeping bag in the car so I could even get some good rest that night. It started sounding almost fun! However, I couldn't in good conscience consider myself stranded unless I made a genuine attempt to leave. Robinson Crusoe's adventures would seem much more artificial, for example, if he had the option to leave the island any time he wanted.</p><p>So, I looked online for all the tire shops in the area, and found one only two miles away that was still open. It had a lot of good reviews, and from the website (particularly the font choice), it looked like a locally-owned business. I called ahead to ask if they could do something about a nail in my tire, and they told me to come on over. When I pulled up to the shop, the guy I had talked to on the phone was outside waiting for me, and he seemed pretty friendly. The shop itself was a garage filled with stacks of tires, with a hydraulic jack out front to lift cars.</p><p>Since the nail was stuck in the edge of the tire, the diagnosis was that it couldn't safely be patched, so I needed a replacement tire. This ended up being quicker and cheaper than I expected; I drove away twenty minutes later with a fresh tire, $50 less, and an amiable wave. As I got back on the highway, I felt happier than I would have if I hadn't gotten a nail in my tire in the first place. Maybe it was the relatively painless solution to what I imagined would be a terrible ordeal-- after all, who doesn't enjoy a rollercoaster of emotion every now and then?</p>Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-22621184542814606672021-08-28T22:26:00.000-04:002021-08-28T22:26:35.922-04:00Critter Encounters<p> I've been working in rural Florida this summer and have been impressed by the determination of all sorts of small creatures to get into my house. There are hordes of insects, frogs and geckos that congregate on the windows at night to look in at the light. A few frogs have made it in and I was once surprised to feel a frog jump onto my head while I was working at my desk. There is always one earwig in the shower, never more, never less. And a mouse, the smartest small creature here, took up residence in my kitchen, where I saw it licking my silverware clean late one night. I later opened an unused drawer and saw that the mouse had made its nest there out of some fluffy white material from who-knows-where. The mouse was home at the time and stayed perfectly still as we looked at each other-- it probably didn't know that the drawer could open, an unfortunate trait for a mouse house.</p><p>My car, parked in the shade outside, is apparently a mansion for small frogs. They settle under the hood by the windshield wipers and in the lining around the trunk. At least one has found its way to the interior, as I discovered while going 70 miles an hour on the interstate. It jumped onto my neck and I felt the cool moistness of its feet (distinct from the scratchy dryness of an insect) for a second before I spasmed it off and managed not to swerve out of my lane.</p><p>I had another instance of critter-caused distracted driving today, also on the interstate, when I reached down for my drink and felt a sudden sharp pain like a needle-prick. I was confused for a few seconds until I looked down and saw a large wasp that must have been trying to share my drink and had stung me on the palm. It was a real shock and the best I could do to react without crashing the car was to open all the windows and hope the wasp would fly out. Instead, it crawled up the dashboard and into an air vent, which I closed behind it. Now, I imagine that the wasp either made it out of the ventilation and is living happily ever after, or that it built a nest somewhere and I can expect dozens of wasps to come out of my air vents sometime in the near future.</p><p>This is why I work with plants: while they can have all sorts of thorns and poisons and irritating hairs, I've never had a plant jump on me in the car.</p>Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-73535851758390350022020-11-26T05:53:00.000-05:002020-11-26T05:53:10.149-05:00My Pandemic Experience<div>I'm eating a thanksgiving dinner alone today, like an unusually large number of people this year, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic. On March 25, near the beginning of coronavirus spread in the US, I wrote the following as the start of a blog post on the topic:</div><div><br /></div>"The number of COVID-19 cases is on an exponential trajectory at the moment, and it seems like a good idea to write a bit about the situation now because it's something I may be fortunate enough to look back on in the future."<div><br /></div><div>At that point, I put off writing for another time, as with most of my other blog posts in the past few years. Luckily (in a very narrow sense), the pandemic is as relevant today as it was in March, so despite my procrastination I still have time to reflect from the midst of the event.</div><div><br /></div><div>So far, I have been as fortunate as I hoped; my personal experience this year only involves the indirect effects of the virus. I was able to work remotely, and I was able to go and bunker down with my parents for April and May, the great lockdown. The highways were as empty as I had ever seen them when I was leaving Atlanta in late March, and the electric highway signs were flashing ominous messages like "Coronavirus: stay home" and "Wash hands. Cover cough." These highway signs have evolved over the months of pandemic; later in the summer I saw "Wear a mask, it's the right thing to do" and "Keep gatherings <10 people" and "Protect the vulnerable."</div><div><br /></div><div>There was a lot of uncertainty in the early days. Masks weren't officially recommended yet and we weren't sure how paranoid to be about things like disinfecting groceries and receiving mail. As the months passed, we got a better handle on how to manage and mitigate risk to stay safe without going crazy. The phrase 'new normal' gets thrown around a lot these days, and I think it's a testament to human flexibility as to how normal pandemic life has gotten. Going shopping with a mask on feels natural now, and social gatherings have generally contracted in size or moved outside or online. I was perhaps better prepared than some to spend an inordinate amount of time in isolation; I've had a good deal of previous practice and if I'm going crazy I haven't noticed.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's been good news about vaccines recently, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel and hope for a post-pandemic life in the not-too-distant future. Among other things, I'm looking forward to relaxed restaurant meals and in-person conversations with my coworkers.</div>Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-48155795790486816882019-12-20T00:15:00.002-05:002019-12-20T00:15:59.567-05:00Chocolate MouseA couple days ago, I was just going to bed when I heard a clatter from the kitchen. I assumed the spatula had fallen over or something and went to sleep. Yesterday, I saw a little pellet on the bathroom floor that could conceivably be a mouse dropping. I was suspicious, but not entirely convinced. I haven't seen any mice in the year and a half I've been in my current basement apartment, but there is a good chance that the recent cold snap could be driving some creatures to seek shelter in warm houses.<br />
<br />
Now, the rodent menace has showed itself beyond a doubt. I have a cardboard advent calendar with one chocolate for each day, and when I came home today I found two of the cardboard doors messily chewed off and the chocolates missing. Even worse, the mouse hadn't chosen the right dates, so now I have to finish the calendar out of order.<br />
<br />
In any case, I went into pest control mode and did a full inspection of my apartment. I found a few droppings along likely mouse runways, and a few other examples of nibbled cardboard. In the kitchen, an easily accessible sleeve of crackers was untouched, but the plastic lid of a container of cocoa mix had been aggressively chewed at; it seems that my rodent roommate has a sweet tooth. The next step, of course, is to take some time to design and implement an integrated pest management solution, but I have already set out two traps baited with chocolate.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-59336423449753905892019-10-13T00:38:00.001-04:002019-10-13T00:38:55.882-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day SevenIt was still drizzling when I woke up on day seven. I packed up what I could while still inside my shelter, then braced myself and stepped out. It was a bleak morning, which felt fitting for my departure from a spot in the woods that was comfortably familiar, if not actually comfortable. My aim when leaving was to carry back all the equipment I had brought in, so I needed to dismantle my shelter to get back the rope and plastic lining. The bed, which was just a pile of spruce boughs on top of some logs, was left intact and is still there for all I know, but the full shelter only exists in memory and this rare photograph.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16mPG5GYZuDtdJyA3_gahRnWgftVCokjasZbIlWaGX1z9nFqALFPcNBitXHtzDFF07FVidiP-cbWo3zh3ZOuWVSM5gx0mQ-TOHdYql4aO_v-xUxjpOadsnI59Z0vFpfSeYY1mfHAZ390/s1600/Shelter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16mPG5GYZuDtdJyA3_gahRnWgftVCokjasZbIlWaGX1z9nFqALFPcNBitXHtzDFF07FVidiP-cbWo3zh3ZOuWVSM5gx0mQ-TOHdYql4aO_v-xUxjpOadsnI59Z0vFpfSeYY1mfHAZ390/s400/Shelter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I had arranged for a pickup near the local stream, and by mid-afternoon I had rejoined civilization at Squirrel Camp. We had a celebratory thanksgiving-style meal that evening, with mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce and stuffing. The week in the woods had been fulfilling in many ways, but perhaps the most gratifying thing was realizing that I had been missed.<br />
<br />
In the following two days, I rejoined civilization to an even greater extent as we drove to Whitehorse and I boarded a plane back to the USA. Again, I took with me mostly the same things I had brought in at the beginning of the summer. I had a few new shirts and some gear that I had picked up in the course of work, but no real mementos. It's the stories themselves that have stuck with me, from staring at bears to swimming in glacial lakes, so I've tried to record some of them here before they fade too much. I don't know if I'm any more rugged than I was before my time in the Yukon, but I might be a bit more adventurous. I'm grateful to have had such a great opportunity, and if I can help it this won't be the last time I spend a week in the woods.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-62319099959000802652019-07-13T23:59:00.000-04:002019-07-13T23:59:16.257-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day SixDay six was hard to distinguish from my other days in the woods. The rain from the previous night continued on and off, but my shelter stayed dry and I stayed warm. My reading went on at a rapid pace; I finished <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> and was left with whatever I could find of interest on my Kindle. Trips to the stream for water were a polished routine at this point, as were meals of peanut butter, granola, and fruit on my kitchen hill.<br />
<br />
In the evening, I was visited again by a representative from Squirrel Camp, and we decided to do a bit of exploring-- after all, there is safety in numbers. When we had gone along the nearby trail for a bit and taken a few turns, we were surprised to see a clearing full of rusted cans. Other scraps of metal and wooden planks were scattered around, as well as a few glass bottles and other old 20th century objects. There were even a few 55-gallon drums lying around, just as rusted as everything else.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTzVm5_jrxybgGfPZSLqP_bGq6SnLB8RFxSKLPpPkXZujA5PToGzUpV9v35BVmh5gw8_dOgB2AE7xV-3Sh-xgO3Xlcm8oyMvLEjW7tGvGJNXQYAfCawR3Ng0uhZJEjmpfKozzGa6Tbuc/s1600/Can+graveyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTzVm5_jrxybgGfPZSLqP_bGq6SnLB8RFxSKLPpPkXZujA5PToGzUpV9v35BVmh5gw8_dOgB2AE7xV-3Sh-xgO3Xlcm8oyMvLEjW7tGvGJNXQYAfCawR3Ng0uhZJEjmpfKozzGa6Tbuc/s400/Can+graveyard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our best guess for the origin of the can graveyard was some early road-building activities undertaken by the US army when the modern Alaska highway hadn't yet been completed. It was strange to see such a heap of human activity in the middle of nowhere, but it was a good reminder that while it's possible to go places where human's aren't very often, there's not too many places (on land, at least) that humans have never been. Following this line of thought can be useful when thinking about conservation and the role of humans in nature, but that's another blog post.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After poking at the abandoned cans for a bit, we headed back to my camp and tried to make another campfire, but it started drizzling again so we just sat beneath a well-leafed tree, nature's umbrella. The clearing was really starting to feel like home.</div>
Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-63327259283707689192019-07-08T00:22:00.002-04:002019-07-08T00:24:37.655-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day FiveNights in the Yukon were fairly cold. Even in the peak of summer temperatures frequently dropped below zero, and by mid-August when I spent my week in the woods, the first chills of autumn were already being felt. As a result, my sleeping bag alone was not enough and I wore all my clothes to bed, five layers all told. This had been alright for the first few days, but on the morning of day five I woke up with my feet hurting from the cold, even with two pairs of my thickest socks on. It was an unpleasantly new feeling, but I suppose it was better than them being completely numb. For the first time, I considered returning to the relative warmth of Squirrel Camp, at least to get extra blankets or something. I would like to think that I wasn't too proud for such an option, but I ultimately decided to try wearing my boots to bed instead. This ended up working well; it was perhaps not the cleanest option for my sleeping bag, but was tolerably warm at least for the rest of my nights in the woods.<br />
<br />
Once my feet were safe, I had another slow morning. It was Sunday, so I sang a few hymns and read from my Bible with the spirituality evoked by being in nature and the formality gathered by the habit of doing that sort of thing on Sundays. In the afternoon, I went on another exploratory walk through the forest, but the increasingly cloudy skies combined with the general unease of being away from my shelter drove me back after half an hour or so.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG21FWzzNAOfvWl5zKEc5iG6EM8pDkhQLt_4G70Ojgb4_P4SyWxNT-ahg2y6nz6iC_DbRyuNHtqcjiv56qFm9JE1r2jwWL1JNqZs_xgMhN6g_lmzMLU6Sc8P8JA5Of2VISKflItsdxGI/s1600/Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="899" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG21FWzzNAOfvWl5zKEc5iG6EM8pDkhQLt_4G70Ojgb4_P4SyWxNT-ahg2y6nz6iC_DbRyuNHtqcjiv56qFm9JE1r2jwWL1JNqZs_xgMhN6g_lmzMLU6Sc8P8JA5Of2VISKflItsdxGI/s640/Rain.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<br />
As evening began, it started to rain-- not too hard, but enough to be the first real test of how waterproof my shelter was. I retreated inside with my books and was pleased to find that I stayed dry and, in my sleeping bag boots and all, relatively toasty. Wanting to stay dry while it rains isn't a uniquely human urge, but being under a roof and hearing the rain outside did give me a feeling of primal satisfaction.<br />
<br />
I read in bed until I was tired, then I snuggled in for another night of spruce-smelling sleep.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-19270091801217008062019-05-20T00:56:00.000-04:002019-05-20T00:56:08.643-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day FourWhenever I'm free from the constraints of a tight schedule, I like to take my time waking up in the morning. Sleep is great, but hard to enjoy in itself since you're asleep the whole time, so it's the dreamy period between first awareness and finally getting out of bed that I like to appreciate. On day four in the woods, I woke up at 8 AM and marinated under wraps for an hour or so before being brave enough to poke my entire head out of the hole in my sleeping bag that had been previously occupied only by my nose, periscope-like, for breathing purposes. Having thus greeted the dawn, I played some music on my phone and sang along for another couple hours until I finally emerged entirely for breakfast and a trip to the stream.<br />
<br />
In the afternoon, I did some light construction work. One of my coworkers had let me know via walkie-talkie that she would try and visit my camp that evening, so I built a bench from fallen poplars and spruce branches in anticipation of the event. My clearing was getting fairly civilized by this point, and I wanted for nothing-- at least nothing that could be made of tied-together branches.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlgReYCeO0skglpPxRAYT-TlT6mvgyfxAY9Mqf6-kSar9YOKti2QxH5P_Kmj5aJgs7xdprCGv3-GaQnIzHVaGir6z8OGu0qcedwEMqCPOwz-YdkNqT-U307ubETWflKWJIxWPzDljxUQ/s1600/Swamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlgReYCeO0skglpPxRAYT-TlT6mvgyfxAY9Mqf6-kSar9YOKti2QxH5P_Kmj5aJgs7xdprCGv3-GaQnIzHVaGir6z8OGu0qcedwEMqCPOwz-YdkNqT-U307ubETWflKWJIxWPzDljxUQ/s400/Swamp.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
That evening, an expected halloo sounded over the hill from the trail and I had company. We had a nice meal of spring rolls brought from Squirrel Camp, and a thermos of hot chocolate for dessert. Now, hot chocolate is nice just about anywhere, and it's pretty great in a wood-heated shack in the Yukon, but for a temporary inhabitant of an unheated hovel in the woods, it's just about sublime.<br />
<br />
After dinner, we adjourned to the parlor and made a small campfire in an improvised firepit (many precautions were taken). It was late August, so the unending brightness of earlier summer nights was replaced with a slow twilight. We sat on the spruce-scented bench and watched the fire, and then we told stories. She told the Greek myth of Arachne, the weaver who challenged Athena and was turned into a spider, and I rehearsed the story from the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations of how the raven got blue eyes. It was almost dark when we finally put the fire out.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-88326458002085179592019-02-25T01:56:00.001-05:002019-02-25T01:56:03.905-05:00A Week in the Woods: Day ThreeFriday morning dawned and the newly foliated roof of my shelter was still in place, so I celebrated by staying in bed and reading until I ran out of water and had to make the day's first trip to the stream. Breakfast was enjoyed on my kitchen hill, just out of sight of the shelter, and it was the same as every other meal I had that week. I sat at the top of the hill next to a flat stone that I arranged my bags of granola and dried fruit on, and I alternated between these and spoonfuls of peanut butter, eating slowly until I wasn't hungry anymore. At the end of each meal, I had four squares of chocolate to round things off. I listened to audiobooks during most meals, and now I'm sure that eating dried apricots will forever remind me of <i>East of Eden </i>and vice versa.<br />
<br />
With my shelter finished, there was no big project to fill my time, so I began some of the most undisturbed relaxation I've ever experienced. I made a reading chair from an upturned tree stump not far from the mouth of my clearing, padding the ground with moss and the stump with spruce branches. I sat and read without marking the time, switching between books when I felt like something different. The mosquitoes weren't as bad as they had been earlier in the summer, but I still wore a bug net sometimes while reading because sitting in one place gives them plenty of time to find you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aOeGRANP6ERCwciudlc0Hffury6qr-scjAaB7ocnslDGT7qs4fyfh73rOvc7Duobem683zfi0-RCq3VjB0cNiO_GCwq47EQXHlxSpMmptvQzel3CFHWeaBbkjD2hrjdgW3XQu4sy5JI/s1600/Reading+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aOeGRANP6ERCwciudlc0Hffury6qr-scjAaB7ocnslDGT7qs4fyfh73rOvc7Duobem683zfi0-RCq3VjB0cNiO_GCwq47EQXHlxSpMmptvQzel3CFHWeaBbkjD2hrjdgW3XQu4sy5JI/s400/Reading+chair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Later that afternoon, I explored some of the surrounding area. For the most part, there were just more trees. I was a bit disturbed to find some bear droppings about a minute's walk to the west, but they didn't look particularly fresh, so I had some comfort. Still, for some reason, it felt risky to be away from my camp and I kept looking over my shoulder until I was back in the clearing. Even when I was home again, I still felt very alert to noises that could be large animals approaching, and I decided to make a door for my shelter by tying together thick branches to make a sort of large grille. It wouldn't necessarily stop a curious bear, but it could at least give me time to grab my bear spray.<br />
<br />
Combined with the other safety precautions I had taken, this barrier was enough to give me peace of mind while in my clearing. Another (mostly psychological) aid to this was the old moose bone I found, about two feet long but surprisingly heavy and just the right thickness to grip comfortably. I read most of <i>Robinson Crusoe </i>at my reading chair with this club held in one hand. A larger wooden club stored next to my shelter completed the primitive but comforting arsenal I had against the wild.<br />
<br />
Looking back on it, it does seem strange that the most restful week of my life featured a constant background of mild primal dread. Perhaps I was unintentionally practicing mindfulness.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-44964629026939343772018-10-11T00:17:00.003-04:002018-10-11T00:17:48.743-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day TwoI slept for eight and a half hours the first night, which is about as much as I've ever slept while camping. A warm sleeping bag over several layers of spruce branches and needles was just slightly worse than my mattress at home; the thin branches form a springy frame and the needles flatten under your weight into some sort of prehistoric memory foam. Even better, as you crush the mattress beneath you a pleasant spruce aroma is released.<br />
<br />
My first task of the day was to fill up my 1 liter water bottle from the nearby stream. I had done this a couple times the day before, but I decided to record how long it took this time around. Walking to the stream took 4 minutes, then filtering took another 14. A fellow researcher had kindly lent me a hand-pumped water filter, and my system was to fill the bottle at the stream, drink as much as I felt like on the spot, then refill it to take back to camp. Factoring the 4 minute walk back, my final result for a water trip was 22 minutes. I made this trip roughly 3 or 4 times a day throughout the week.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8g99uSXgYML9eP2Q46asJYg0fsfBt7Xj8UcV0xDYzF1E8QKDCABShNXA6UZr35cFbfbp1ucRDMmghJ3z-UV2opnHrJ1kEPCRx4E66eFzMjlEDEELCsop4Q9EDy3VAP6Pa9oaioz0PDI/s1600/Stream+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="899" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8g99uSXgYML9eP2Q46asJYg0fsfBt7Xj8UcV0xDYzF1E8QKDCABShNXA6UZr35cFbfbp1ucRDMmghJ3z-UV2opnHrJ1kEPCRx4E66eFzMjlEDEELCsop4Q9EDy3VAP6Pa9oaioz0PDI/s640/Stream+2.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next big job of the day was to finish roofing my shelter. I thought I had cut a lot of spruce boughs to make my mattress, but the local defoliation required for covering the shelter was on another level. I determined to cut just 5 boughs from any one tree so as not to injure their health unnecessarily, but there was no shortage of spruce in the area so I still didn't need to walk very far. I used the saw blade on my multi-tool extensively in the collection and it is stained with spruce sap to this day.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I built the roof up in layers, starting at the bottom with one ring of boughs, then laying another ring above but overlapping, and so on to the top. Growing up in the village, I had seen people thatch huts in a similar manner, and in both cases it worked pretty well to make rainwater run off the roof instead of dripping through.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the evening, two of my coworkers from camp came to visit my site, which was pleasant. They brought a container of fried rice and a thermos of hot chocolate as housewarming gifts; it tasted practically gourmet even though I had just been on my diet of granola, raisins, and peanut butter for one day. It was a good end to a productive day, and I lay down to sleep happily that night with spruce above me and below me.</div>
Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-18756591077673178252018-10-07T01:06:00.003-04:002018-10-07T01:06:49.501-04:00A Week in the Woods: Day OneSo there I was, standing in a forest clearing with my backpack, my wits, and a generous 10 hours of sunlight in which to build my shelter. It was August 16, 2017, and my fellow researchers had taken me by truck a ways up the dirt path of the Old Alaska Highway, to a place where a stream crossed the track. There, I said my goodbyes and continued on foot. A short hike later, I saw a clearing just off the path, a sort of depression that looked like it might once have been a pond. Reaching the other side of the depression, I crested a small hill and came upon another clearing, about twice as long as it was wide, and well out of sight of the Old Alaska Highway. This seemed to be as good a site as any to set up my camp; I put down my backpack and began to look around.<br />
<br />
I discovered that my immediate surroundings weren't at all unpleasant. Dense patches of young spruce trees sheltered my clearing to the east and west, and several formations of fallen logs provided a barrier on the north. To the south, back towards the path, there were a few low hills; I designated one of these hills, about twenty meters away from the clearing, as my kitchen area and I left the bear canister containing all my food there so that I might be undisturbed even if a bear did direct its interest towards my edibles.<br />
<br />
The next order of business was to start building my shelter. I had done some light research on boreal survival and the main thing that I picked up about shelters was that it was important not only to have a roof, but also a bed to elevate myself so that I would not lose huge amounts of body heat to the cold ground at night. Fortunately, dead wood is easy to find in the Yukon, and I soon had myself a rough rectangle of logs about eight feet long, four feet wide, and six inches high. I covered this surface with spruce branches for padding, and it was surprisingly springy and comfortable. I decided that the easiest shelter to make in this situation was a sort of A-frame, and I found a fallen poplar sapling that was about twenty feet long that would make a perfect main beam. With the help of the two trees at the foot of my bed and a few forked branches, I soon made my vision a reality.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7PAl0tADbt40qUR3ELQ8LT7ugqER-vr8pdSEtg_jGet8RukCdkSWMf6y01nA2-EBlygwQjVJpiQQR3x51qm52szGLHI1CZIxER61R_R3qqvleo3hk1q8F3nTHT9VbQdSJv5hwqTzjcI/s1600/Frame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="899" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7PAl0tADbt40qUR3ELQ8LT7ugqER-vr8pdSEtg_jGet8RukCdkSWMf6y01nA2-EBlygwQjVJpiQQR3x51qm52szGLHI1CZIxER61R_R3qqvleo3hk1q8F3nTHT9VbQdSJv5hwqTzjcI/s640/Frame.jpg" width="359" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Getting to this point took more time than I thought it would; I wasn't in a hurry, but I also began to appreciate the 'infinite labor' Robinson Crusoe cites whenever he talks about the things he built with minimal tools. I placed several branches to make the frame of the roof, put my garbage bag waterproofing layer on, and then added several more branches overtop the plastic before tying it all together and calling it a day. The shelter wasn't quite finished, but it kept the wind out and it didn't look like there was any more serious weather on the way.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I hung my battery-powered lantern just inside the entrance of my shelter, rolled out my sleeping bag on top of the spruce mattress, and laid down to read a bit and then sleep. I had all my sweaters and jackets on in the sleeping bag and my winter hat pulled over my ears, and I was just about able to stay warm.</div>
<br />Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-61147483995860521822018-05-17T23:10:00.004-04:002018-05-17T23:10:19.549-04:00A Week in the Woods: PreparationI've done a lot of packing in my life, but preparing for a one-week stay in the Yukon wilderness provided a relatively new experience. Most of what I needed was pretty basic: clothes, food, things to help me make a shelter, and several books to read in the free time I anticipated having. The generosity of my coworkers helped a lot-- I got a backpacking-sized backpack from a tech who was leaving and I borrowed a battery-powered lantern and a hand-pumped water filter from a grad student.<br />
<br />
The main specialty item I needed to get for this trip was a bear canister to keep my food safe from bears and other interested parties. I decided to rent a bear canister from Parks Canada, a process that involved going to their nearest outpost and filling out some paperwork. Everything went smoothly until the ranger asked me where I was going to be using the bear canister (this is done mostly so that Parks Canada knows where campers are in case an emergency situation arises). My first answer, "Oh, I'll just be in the woods north of here," apparently didn't cut it. I hadn't considered my rescuability by Parks Canada as a factor in choosing a random section of forest rather than a designated backpacking trail for my expedition, but in hindsight it makes sense. As far as the bear canister rental was concerned, I realized I could be more specific, and I wrote "in the woods near the Old Alaska Highway, people at Squirrel Camp will know where I am," and the ranger was happy with that.<br />
<br />
A trip to Whitehorse, the city which contains two thirds of the Yukon's population and most of its grocery stores, allowed me to fill the rented bear canister with all the food I would need. The canister was small enough to be carried comfortably under one arm, but since I went for fairly dense foods, I ended up packing about 20,000 calories into it. As in other areas, I erred on the side of over-preparation.<br />
<br />
I made an inventory of all the supplies I brought with me for the week; this was inspired in part by the highly-organized lists my mom makes when packing for important trips, and in part by <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, one of my favorite books and a source of my interest in wilderness survival and building shelters and other such stuff. When I finally set out, I had a full backpack on my back, the bear canister under my arm, my neatly-packed sleeping bag in one hand, and a stout stick in the other. Here is what I took with me for my week in the woods:<br />
<br />
<u>Apparel</u><br />
Two sets of clothes (including those I was wearing)<br />
Two jackets<br />
Boots<br />
Sweater<br />
Bandana<br />
Bug net (a mesh hood that rendered my face and neck inaccessible to insects)<br />
Rain coat<br />
Rain pants<br />
Gloves<br />
Two warm hats<br />
Backpack<br />
Sunglasses<br />
<br />
<u>Tools</u><br />
Belt knife<br />
Multi-tool<br />
Two whistles<br />
Compass<br />
Flashlight<br />
Two pens<br />
Sharpie<br />
Flagging tape<br />
Mechanical pencil<br />
Binoculars<br />
Walkie-talkie<br />
18 AA batteries<br />
Bear spray<br />
Chapstick<br />
Water bottle (1 liter capacity)<br />
Water filter<br />
Toothbrush (I must have forgotten to bring toothpaste, typical)<br />
Kleenex<br />
Toilet paper<br />
First-aid kit<br />
<br />
<u>Campsite Materials</u><br />
Four large garbage bags (for waterproofing my shelter)<br />
Thick rope<br />
Thin rope<br />
Wire<br />
Duct tape<br />
Lantern (battery-powered)<br />
Sleeping bag<br />
Small Canadian flag<br />
<br />
<u>Food</u><br />
1 kg granola<br />
1 kg peanut butter<br />
1 kg raisins<br />
1 kg dried apricots<br />
750 g dried cranberries<br />
400 g chocolate<br />
Bear canister<br />
Ziploc bags<br />
Spoon<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u>Media</u><br />
<i>The Bible</i><br />
<i>Robinson Crusoe</i><br />
<i>Wildflowers Along the Alaska Highway</i><br />
Journal<br />
Kindle<br />
Smartphone<br />
iPod<br />
Rechargeable battery<br />
Charging cablesMicahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-74354971934806213522018-05-13T23:30:00.001-04:002018-05-17T22:55:59.747-04:00A Week in the Woods: Safety FirstOnce I had determined that I would like to spend a week in a handmade shelter in the boreal forest, there were several safety issues to take into account. While I liked the idea of being out in the wilderness by myself, I didn't like it enough to risk injury, mortal or otherwise. Brainstorming with my coworkers and reading survival literature produced the following concerns:<br />
<br />
<u>Bears</u><br />
In the weeks approaching my expedition, bear sightings had become relatively common, and several of us had <a href="http://variantminds.blogspot.com/2018/01/bear-encounters.html" target="_blank">encountered bears</a> at a closer range than we would like. Me being alone for this week exacerbated the issue; a single person may have more difficulty frightening off bears than a group, and nobody would be close by to call for help if an incident did occur. Bear risk reduction happened in a number of ways.<br />
1. Food - I didn't bring any meat in my food supply, and food was stored in a bear-proof canister about 20 meters away from my sleeping site. In general, I tried to avoid giving bears any reason to confront me.<br />
2. Alarm system - I chose a site for my camp that was surrounded by three squirrel territories; squirrels bark when large animals are nearby, so I hoped to get some warning of any intruders. For the first few days, however, the squirrels mostly just barked at me.<br />
3. Defense - I had a can of bear spray with me at all times, and when I went to sleep at night, I kept the bear spray propped up in a boot at the entrance of my shelter to be ready at a moment's notice.<br />
<br />
<u>Exposure</u><br />
My week in the woods was planned for the middle of August, and things were beginning to get chilly in the Yukon. If it got too cold at night or if it rained, things could range from unpleasant to dangerous. Since I picked a spot in the forest that was just a few hours hike from the main camp, the most important thing as far as exposure was concerned was for me to give up and go back to camp if things got too extreme. But to prevent this eventuality, I planned:<br />
1. Shelter - I brought four large garbage bags to line the roof of my shelter to ensure that it would be waterproof. In theory, a roof of spruce boughs alone would have kept me dry, but I didn't want to take any chances.<br />
2. Clothes - in addition to my base of jeans and a t-shirt, I brought a sweater, a light jacket, a heavy jacket, a rain jacket, and rain pants. I wore all of it except the rain gear for the majority of the week, only getting down to the t-shirt once when it was the middle of the day and I was getting warm from manual labor.<br />
<br />
<u>Falling Trees</u><br />
I was glad to have picked up a book on wilderness survival in the weeks before my expedition because I learned from it that an important danger to consider when one is sleeping in a forest is that of falling trees. There were a lot of dead trees in our valley thanks to an epidemic of beetles in the 1990s, and it doesn't pay to assume they won't fall at any given time. The solution for this was fairly straightforward.<br />
1. Location - I chose a spot for my shelter that would be untouched even if every tree in the area fell directly towards it. This took a good deal of time, but I was very happy with the location I eventually found.<br />
<br />
<u>Poisoning</u><br />
Throughout the summer, I was one of the more adventurous members of the camp when it came to consuming the local flora. I always make sure to identify a plant and make sure it's edible before I go to town on it, and even then I start with small morsels and wait to see if anything happens if it's a plant I haven't eaten before. There was much discussion in camp of <i>Into the Wild, </i>a book (and movie) telling the true story of an Emory graduate who went to live in the Alaskan wilderness and died there after eating a poisonous plant. In the end, I decided it wouldn't hurt to be extra safe on this one.<br />
1. Avoidance - originally, I planned to not try any new plants during this week, but ultimately I decided to not eat any wild plants at all-- I had enough fun with that earlier in the summer and it made everyone feel better about this risk.<br />
<br />
The final elements of my comprehensive safety plan were communication and transportation. For the whole summer, we had generally reliable radios that we used to communicate while in different study grids, and I brought a radio and two month's worth of batteries to ensure it kept running. I was too far away to radio the main camp, but I could talk to people who were on a nearby grid, so at least I could check in each day to say I was still alive and kicking.<br />
<br />
As for transportation, the site I chose for my camp was close to the Old Alaska Highway, a dirt road wide enough for one vehicle that had been abandoned upon the construction of the new Alaska Highway. My camp was out of sight of the road, but I marked a few trees with initialed flagging tape so that people would be able to find it if need be. In short, if things did start to go wrong, I had a good chance of being able to let people know and they had a good chance of being able to get to me quickly.<br />
<br />
A few other dangers were considered; apparently moose are very unpleasant if they feel threatened. A coworker kindly lent me a water filter so I wouldn't have to risk disease from the local stream. Getting lost in the woods would be a downer, but with a compass and two ranges of mountains to navigate by, I couldn't go too far wrong, and in any case I stayed around my camp for most of the week. There is, of course, no way to ensure complete safety in the wilderness, but after all this planning I felt that the risks were both minimal and manageable.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-68267988283211115872018-05-10T23:03:00.001-04:002018-05-10T23:03:28.130-04:00A Week in the Woods: the IdeaI have vague memories of a childhood in a village in rural Nigeria. I remember playing in the rain outside our cement-block house, and I remember watching our neighbors thatch one of their huts. I remember the red hill sparkling with crystals at the end of the road, and the coolness of the mango grove near the well. Ever since my family left the village, I've spent most of my time in cities, and while that has certainly has its perks, I miss the sort of wilderness that I was fortunate enough to inhabit at a young age.<br />
<br />
Last summer, when I had the opportunity to do research in the Yukon for a few months, the chance to live in the wilderness was a big pull. The camp we worked from was a gathering of wooden shacks in the middle of a forested valley backed by a line of stony hills that would have been more picturesque if they hadn't had to compare with the range of snow-capped mountains on the other side of the vale. It was certainly a different sort of wilderness than I had previously encountered, but it was great nonetheless. We worked six days a week, but even then we found time for hiking in the hills, foraging in the forest, and swimming in several of the extremely cold local lakes. It helped that the sun only set for a couple hours each night.<br />
<br />
For me, the culmination of this wilderness experience happened in my final week in the Yukon. Each research technician was entitled to a one-week holiday, the only condition being that they weren't allowed to stay in camp (perhaps it would lower the morale of those still working). Some techs used their week for roadtrips, to see the rest of the territory and maybe Alaska too. Some techs flew back to their hometowns for a week back in civilization. For most of the summer, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Backpacking along a trail in a nearby national park sounded appealing, but I didn't have a good tent to use. The idea occurred to me to take a tarp instead of a tent and just build a shelter for myself each night along the trail. After all, I've always enjoyed the idea of building shelters from natural materials. Upon more reflection, however, it sounded like a lot of work to walk all day and then spend a few hours gathering branches and tying them together before I could sleep.<br />
<br />
Finally, the solution struck me: instead of backpacking down a trail (which is a sort of curated wilderness in many cases), I could have the experience I wanted by walking into the woods with a week's worth of supplies and building a shelter to keep my bones warm and dry while I spent the days doing whatever I liked. It would be just me, nature, and a bunch of gear because I'm not an experienced survivalist by any means. As I pitched this idea to my coworkers, logistical issues were raised and safety concerns were voiced (it was bear season, after all), but ultimately I got the impression that this was the first time in the camp's memory that such a vacation had been attempted, and, being scientists, everyone was interested to see how it would play out.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-22768189961410202292018-04-21T21:20:00.006-04:002018-04-21T21:20:52.294-04:00Graphical UpdatesMy laptop computer has begun to show its age in various ways; things have started to run more slowly and buggily, and it crashes more often than it used to. Since I have entered a relatively static residential situation, I decided to make the leap to using a desktop computer. I did some research, ordered the parts, and put everything together with my brother's help and only a little bit of smoke and melted wire. Being new, this desktop should be a big step forward in computing power compared to my laptop. I'm looking forward to running games at higher graphics settings than I ever thought I would be able to use.<br />
<br />
My real-life visuals have also received an upgrade. Over the past couple years, I started to notice that I couldn't read far-away road signs as well as I once could. A few months ago, I tried on my brother's glasses just for goofs and was surprised to see that everything became clearer and sharper. After an eye exam last Saturday and a few days of waiting, I now have my first pair of glasses. It has been a good week.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-88075632158658077622018-04-13T22:58:00.004-04:002018-04-13T22:59:20.494-04:00Wheel BugsWheel bugs have a very legitimate claim to their name; they are true bugs (order Hemiptera) and they have a protrusion on their back that looks like a wheel. They are predators on caterpillars and other such creatures, so they are described as beneficial insects, like ladybugs.<br />
<br />
Like other true bugs, wheel bugs have piercing-sucking mouthparts; they stab prey and inject enzymes that dissolve tissue, then suck it all up. When provoked by humans, this stab-and-inject routine apparently turns into one of the more painful insect bites one might have the misfortune to experience. The field guide I was consulting says the pain generally lasts for ten days, but followed with "In the case of multiple bites, the discomfort gradually decreases over six to nine months."<br />
<br />
Having read that, I think I'd rather have ladybugs in my garden.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-55782106281367277392018-04-07T23:31:00.003-04:002018-04-07T23:31:19.221-04:00Fun in the SunRecently, I've gotten into the habit of wearing sunglasses. I've spent a lot of my life under the sun, but I'm not very keen on cranial adornment, so sunglasses (and hats too) haven't been on the menu until now. I suppose I always just squinted.<br />
<br />
The big change, I suppose, is work that requires me to drive around on sunny days, and squinting or looking away while behind the wheel seems like a bad idea. That being said, I've found a new appreciation for sunglasses while on foot as well. I walk east to get to work in the morning and west to get home, so it's nice to not be blinded both ways.<br />
<br />
In a few more months, I might even start wearing a hat instead of shading my eyes with a hand.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-75760121798376291762018-04-04T23:46:00.004-04:002018-04-04T23:46:58.145-04:00Scientific IntegrityI recently got a subscription to the magazine <i>Popular Science</i> and was disturbed to find a two-page ad for a water distillation machine that is said to produce healthier water by increasing the hydrogen bond angle of the molecule. This high-energy water supposedly cures all sorts of diseases and keeps its drinkers in peak physical condition.<br />
<br />
Now, this product might sound bogus because it's too good to be true or it's chemically unviable or it lacks proof of efficacy, or all of the above. In the case of this water machine, the ad is full of red flags beyond the basics, from ridiculous claims (drinking this water will multiply the battery life of your watch tenfold) to earnest assurances that it is not a con (the creator of this device received a grade of 100% in his college engineering course). An attempt is even made to turn scientifically-grounded criticisms of the product into a selling point: "Like Thomas Paine, the author of <i>Common Sense</i>, anyone not generating controversy isn't doing much of anything."<br />
<br />
An advertisement like this is perhaps itself a test for common sense, but while the untruth of it may be clear upon reading or investigating the claims made, the larger problem for me is that my trust and interest in <i>Popular Science</i> has taken a severe hit. Printing ads like this in a scientifically-inclined magazine is either reckless or mercenary, and I can't think of any positive explanation for it. I suppose the 'popular' in the name of the magazine has greater emphasis than the 'science'.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-47204892779644786962018-04-02T23:39:00.004-04:002018-04-02T23:39:29.399-04:00Wall ArtAs the stocking and decoration of my apartment nears completion, one living room wall remains blank and lonely. The chairs and couch in the room are facing this wall, so it would be a good place to put a TV or fireplace, but I doubt I would use the former and I doubt my landlord would appreciate the latter.<br />
<br />
Since many of the items in my apartment came from large retailers such as Amazon and Target, I looked up 'art' on Amazon to see if they had anything interesting to place on the wall, but everything that I saw was about as soulless and uninteresting as you might expect mass-produced art retailed by a large corporation to be. A replica of a famous painting might do nicely, I suppose.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, I could leave the wall blank; in a way--not a particularly inspiring way--a work of art all by itself.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-67580185857651064572018-04-01T00:00:00.000-04:002018-04-01T00:01:46.297-04:00Home CookingIn the past few years, I've been trying to slowly expand the list of things I can cook. Staples like rice and pasta were among the earliest items in my mental recipe book, and poached eggs are a highlight added last year.<br />
<br />
After enjoying cooking with cast iron in the Yukon, I've acquired a cast iron skillet of my own for all frying purposes. I'm certainly attracted to the idea of a pan being imbued with all the flavors it encounters over time. Experiments with steak have been tasty, but not really restaurant quality. Burgers seem to be much easier. In fact, after making my first simple burger, adding nothing but ketchup and a slice of cheese, I became impressed by how bland and dry McDonald's burgers are. Maybe it's something about mass production. Alternatively, overcooking burgers is probably a good way to avoid food poisoning liability.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-88862424633955630012018-03-28T23:10:00.005-04:002018-03-28T23:10:46.044-04:00Insect SleepWhen people talk to a pest control technician, they generally expect that the technician will know a lot about pests. This is very reasonable, but knowing things about stuff doesn't happen automatically. Earlier today, I was trying to think of questions people might ask me that I wouldn't know the answers to, and I eventually found myself wondering-- do insects sleep?<br />
<br />
A quick web search suggests that insects do indeed sleep; having a central nervous system seems to be one of the major prerequisites for sleeping and insects do check that box. There have been several experiments in insect sleep-- in one instance, researchers kept a vial of fruit flies awake by regularly tapping on the glass. When the tired flies were finally left alone, they were much less active than flies in another vial that was undisturbed. I can just imagine meetings in this lab to brainstorm how to keep flies awake. Apparently, a later insect sleep study found that caffeine would also have done the job.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-27142069850674312012018-03-25T23:05:00.001-04:002018-03-25T23:05:23.664-04:00Motivational PoemThe first best time to plant a tree<div>
Is twenty years ago or so</div>
<div>
The next best time to plant a tree</div>
<div>
Is right today, then watch it grow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The motivation from this verse</div>
<div>
Is strong until the thought begins</div>
<div>
The third best time to plant a tree's</div>
<div>
Tomorrow, so just do it then</div>
Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-69661059247236689832018-03-22T23:29:00.005-04:002018-03-22T23:29:37.775-04:00LayeringWorking outdoors is a great way to develop appreciation for the power of the sun. When I was in the Yukon, we slept in a few hours past dawn and then started work at 7am; the temperature was usually still around freezing at this point. As the sun got higher, things started to warm up (moving around helped with warmth too) and by mid-afternoon it could be almost t-shirt weather.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This, then, is where I was introduced to the art of layering-- while a single heavy jacket may be fine at a constant cold temperature, being toasty in the morning without being toasted in the afternoon required, in my experience, four or five thin layers that were all worn at the start of the day and successively removed and tied around the waist. A warm hat and gloves usually came off around 11am.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Currently, in the South Carolina winter, three layers is the most I ever need, but the same concept applies. I'm assuming that when summer rolls around, I'll start my day with just one layer and have nowhere to go from there.</div>
Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293957307373002781.post-32608901102432787982018-03-19T22:17:00.001-04:002018-03-19T22:17:51.982-04:00Fast and SlowSome weeks go by fast, others seem to last forever. What makes the difference?<br />
<br />
I remember noticing this effect on vacations when I was in middle school. If we went somewhere, the first day would stretch on and on, the second day would be a bit faster, and things would keep speeding up until it was all over. If this is true, it could be novelty that makes time seem slower; if there's more interesting stuff going on, each event is remembered as special and unique, but when habits take over and each day is the same, time flies by with any bumps.<br />
<br />
In the past few years, I've created many time bumps for myself by going to new places and doing new things, and there certainly are a lot of memories to fill out those years. I hope that as I go forward I can keep finding ways to find novelty and treat each day as something precious.Micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370586281275216283noreply@blogger.com0