Practical course birdwatching

	Distinguishing the Tureluur, Kievit, Smient, Wintertaling and Brandgans from the brand-new birdwatching cabin in the Bourgoyen.
	Trying to understand avifaunal behaviour through imitation.
	Birdwatching is tiring… *Sigh*

How inconvenient

Last night, I tried to organize a “green initiative” by showing An Inconvenient Truth in my electrically-heated-to-25°C apartment with wooden floor and furniture originating from irreplaceable woods. The intention also was to provide drinks for which a lot of CO2 was emitted during distillation, and fatty snacks causing an increase in body weight to the extent that public transport would double its CO2 emissions if it was to transport the victi… er, my guests. Of course, coming by car was absolutely out of the question.
Due to my late notification, I ended up with one guest who, naturally, came by car. Not a bad thing, in the end, as I had the DVD on loan from a kind American phycologist visiting our lab, and the country code caused a lot of trouble reading the DVD. It wasn’t possible at all on the PlayStation 2 console, and as we played it on my laptop computer, the DVD player stopped suddenly (even twice) virtually for no reason at all.
Anyway, apart from the melodramatic scenes in between with rather soft reflections on key moments in Gore’s life (of no interest to the story at all, and typically American, if you ask me), he gives a really neat and convincing presentation on the undoubtedly anthropogenic rise in atmospheric CO2 beyond all natural limits, and the suspected link with a significant temperature rise including severe consequences for crowded coastal areas.

Yes, suspected link, in that it is still unclear what combination of factors explains global warming. This question has not yet been resolved qualitatively, let alone quantitatively. But IT IS BEYOND ANY DOUBT that CO2 is one of the factors, is strongly correlated with temperature, and that at least part of this correlation is of a causal nature. A 650000-year record of (ice-core) CO2 and oxygen isotope temperature measurements proves that. Atmospheric CO2 has already risen well above any historical peak, and is about to double that increase in 50 years, but the temperature hasn’t yet risen proportionally. Yes, it will rise, it is already rising, but no-one knows for sure to what extent it will continue. The thing is, by the time we will know for sure, it will be too late. So for now, the only thing we can do is to strongly limit the emission of the only demonstrable factor we can control: CO2. And a professor still doubting human influence and, most of all, looking at a geological timescale while human lives are involved, somewhat bothers me…

Let’s talk about… methane

Seriously, what’s all the fuzz about carbon dioxide (CO2)? Sure, it is a greenhouse gas causing global warming, and true, mainly humans are to be blamed for its massive emission and the resulting temperature rise, and consequently, especially humans should be able to do something about it. But this narrow-minded focus on nothing but carbon dioxide is dangerous. It draws all our attention away from another, yet far more aggressive greenhouse gas also mentioned in the Kyoto protocols, although no-one actually cares about it: methane (CH4). On the short run, it is over 60 times as effective when it comes to causing global warming. Over centuries(!), its effectiveness decreases to about 7 times that of CO2, but only because chemical reactions in the atmosphere transform CH4 into, among others, CO2! (btw, the Wikipedia page on greenhouse gasses provides a wealth of information on this topic)
How does CH4 get into the atmosphere? By several semi-anthropogenic ways, as I call them – natural ways enhanced by humans. For instance, permafrost soils (frozen mud, basically) in the Siberian tundra contained huge quantities of CH4. Contained, in the past tense, as it appears now that, together with the melting ice in the permafrost due to mild global warming until now, the CH4 is released into the atmosphere (visible as bubbles in the swamp). This could trigger a massive warming event far beyond any human control, especially far beyond half-hearted Kyoto efforts. Just like a nuclear explosion is far beyond human control after a potentially controllable melt-down reached a certain threshold. This is probably also the process explaining rapid warming following the latest ice ages, although the initial warming was of course purely natural back then. Also, anaerobic fermentation in flooded rice fields accounts for a major proportion of methane in the atmosphere. Yet a perfectly natural process, the increased demand for rice by an increasing world population might be disastrous when it comes to global warming – especially when the rice is subsequently transported overseas by airplane.

Anyway, the other semi-anthropogenic way is the one I wanted to raise awareness about: decomposing manure and (excusez le mot) livestock farts and burps (some bacteria produce methane during digestion, and this is then released through relevant body openings). Ever wondered why you somehow (maybe subconsciously) associate Flanders’ Fields with a nasty odor? Ever wondered why the air always seems so pure when you’re abroad on a holiday, no matter where? I found the answer while searching the Global Ecosystems Database for environmental background GIS data in our “phylogenetic niche modeling” project: a map depicting global methane emission through animals. Guess what, it turns out that no-one is worse off than we are (except for Bangladesh, although if you live in Bangladesh, you probably have a lot more to worry about than methane). I sincerely wonder if Verhofstadt takes livestock methane emission into account when calculating marketable emission rights… or how Leterme would react if Flemish farmers would not only be obliged to control nitrogen release, but also methane emission…

Perpetual knowledge

As I was emptying my bedroom in my parental home yesterday, I came across neat stuff like the class photo when I was in 3rd grade of primary education, with our teacher (miss Lieve) and a whole bunch of wildlife and ethnic pictures pinned to the bulletin board on the background. Couldn’t be more typical, for she’s the special someone who determined me to study biology (when I was barely 8!), taking us on convincing trips outside the classroom, and telling us about the beauties and concerns related to the environment. She succeeded in stressing the importance of knowledge and appreciation of the environment far beyond the limits of the “world education” courses.

Although no-one in our family had studied biology before, I was lucky enough to have a speech therapist as a mum who offered us a wealth of adapted books to jump-start our reading skills already from kindergarten, and many of those were of an earth-exploring or even “scientific” nature. We literally cherished and devoured these books, and I couldn’t resist thumbing through some of them again yesterday. One book concerning extreme values of physical properties (designed for 7-year olds, mind you) mentioned this particular phrase, catching my interest: while in deserts summer temperatures may rise well above 50, winter temperatures at the pole vary between -40 and -80°C. I suddenly wondered if I could still read this book (convinced of its truth) to, for instance, my godchild over 7 years, considering the global warming. So I took a swift test on the Internet. I assumed the book meant “[south]” pole temperatures, as north pole temperatures do rise well above -40 due to the tempering effect of the ocean, absent on the continent of Antarctica. I downloaded monthly averaged winter (June – September) temperatures from the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station from 1981 until 2005, and I applied a rough regression analysis extending until 2015. Actually, given the wide range of the premise, I wasn’t really surprised by its correctness. Moreover, temperatures are all between -50 and -70. But surprisingly, the average winter temperature at the South Pole has been decreasing during the last 25 years with 0.75°C, and so when Witse will be 7 years old, average winter temperature at the South Pole will be 60°C and hence this particular book will be more correct as it has ever been. In the meantime, the sleeping bag I bought him will be very convenient for him to go out camping on Antarctica to experimentally verify my hypothesis. Another great scientist is born!

Maiken

Just found this great sailing blog by Fredrik Fransson and Håkan Larsson (listed under “links” as their blog has been inactive since their arrival) – no, not by simply randomly surfing the internet during working hours
I was browsing to the NASA’s OceanColor Web in search for information about their “.out” file type to import processed MODIS satellite imagery in a GIS (for those who care, apparently it’s just the same as HDF, or at least it works just fine with Idrisi’s HDF-Eos import tool). It’s been a long time since I last visited the OceanColor homepage, so I don’t know how long this particular topic has been online, but satellite imagery of a South Pacific volcano eruption was highlighted for general interest. A rarely seen phenomenon was mentioned in the caption: the plume of ash and pumice carried downstream at the sea surface. Already very well visible from space, and completely otherworldly when seen from a lonesome yacht in the pacific, as showed by the link to this blog. The post with the pictures ultimately received 259 comments!
However rare, this kind of experience is exactly what makes wandering the seas on a sailing yacht worth it. Seeing things that you wouldn’t if you’d stay at home or walk on the trails (or, in this case, take the crowded ferry lines from point a to point b in a fast, straight line). I’m sure there is plenty of other interesting stuff and pictures on their blog (for instance, swimming with the whales), of course I haven’t read it all yet, but I will. But for now, it is an excellent bit of publicity for those planning a sailing holiday. A bit more elaborate than my previous sailing experiences (see “unjealousing” and “blue“).

Scientific leisure diving

From: coral-list-bounces@coral.aoml.noaa.gov on behalf of Nathan T. Schwarck
Sent: Fri 1/26/2007 7:19 PM
To: coral-list@coral.aoml.noaa.gov
Subject: [Coral-List] American Academy of Underwater Sciences AnnualSymposium Invitation

All persons interested in underwater sciences or scientific diving are
invited to attend the American Academy of Underwater Sciences Annual
Symposium. This year’s symposium is hosted by the University of Miami’s
Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science in Miami, Florida; March
5-10, 2007. Scientists, Dive Safety Officers, students and diving
technicians are invited to contribute and present papers or posters
describing recent research, underwater research diving techniques and
technological developments related to scientific diving.

Hmm… This is typically the sort of symposium that people attend who always find an excuse to get paid for diving under the guise of science. Er… like me. But I won’t go; I seriously don’t think the international scientific diving community would appreciate my way of “scientific diving”, you know, like getting 24 cages of 20kg each up and down all the time on my own, or diving alone with someone snorkeling at the surface for “surface security”, or getting arrested for not having a diving flag marking the boat (that was cool! My first time taken into custody!). I’m actually quite lucky I’m a marine scientist in Belgium: the expensive “Scientific Diver Certificate” is not required here, but it is elsewhere, and it is almost always required to attend an international expedition. However, the reality of low-cost field research in the middle of nowhere differs enormously from the neat scientific missions organized by wealthy laboratories or research initiatives… And sadly, there’s no session on low-budget scientific diving in the symposium…
Anyway, if I get to dive again in Oman in the framework of a monitoring contract, I’m sure decent logistics and support in the field will also be assured, to the relief of certain people staying at home

Okay, enough cowboy-talk, to reassure you: I don’t do this kind of “rodeo-diving” deeper than 5m anyway, so there’s no need to worry.

The deep blue *boo!* effect

It was on the news the day before yesterday: a “prehistoric” shark normally living hidden away in the depths of the ocean off Japan came up to the surface and, unfortunately, died. Scientists recognized the species, although from 80 million year-old fossils instead of live specimens. A schoolbook example of a “live fossil”: If the environment doesn’t change (and it almost doesn’t, at that depth), there’s no need for obvious evolution. Anyway, the footage looks terrifying (just as one would imagine a prehistoric marine monster), and frankly I wouldn’t have had the guts to almost put the camera in its mouth, as the maker of this videotape did… To list the freakiest close encounters I experienced diving in Oman:

3. Giant Green Turtle emerging from tons of accumulated dead macroalgae at the bottom. It’s usually quite turbid and a bit dark above the dense algal packs at about 10m depth due to the decomposition, and turtles hide in there completely for shelter and feeding. When you’re swimming right above the algae, sometimes turtles emerge because they’re scared and swim away. Although you know what a turtle is and that it’s completely harmless, it scares the hell out of you when a creature the size of you suddenly and unexpectedly appears right in front of you. They swim away so quickly I never had the chance to capture such a moment on camera.

2. A Teira of almost 1m height pops up right in front of your face out of quite turbid waters. It was very inquisitive and followed us for quite some time. At that time I had no idea at all what it was and I didn’t know it was harmless. The picture was taken after I’d drawn my knife in a reflex and I’d put it away when I was at ease a few minutes later. The thing is, as with the turtle, under water you see everything one third bigger than it is (due to the optical properties of water), so I had the impression of looking at a fish that was 133cm high.

1. Fantail Stingrays of about 180cm disc diameter (already more than I am tall!) and 300cm overall length – no need to explain how one perceives that size under water. There’s one bay in the south of Oman we visit each time where you’re guaranteed to see several of those at any given time. Already the first time, 3,5 years ago, I didn’t dare to approach these “monsters” closer than 10m. Over time, I got used to them, but it still frightens me when they suddenly arise from the sand where you didn’t see anything before. And when you did, it’s probably because you saw the eyes or the tail first, and it always takes a few moments before you’d find the other end and realize its full size. Last time I saw them was actually exactly two weeks after Steve Irwin, the famous Australian “crocodile hunter”, got the venomous spine right through his heart while swimming above a stingray like this to film it; he was killed almost instantly…

Hopeless

The Dutch queen makes the Netherlands-Belgium round trip by airplane! I thought Europe was trying to spell the States a lesson in CO2-reduction??

Trainspotting

Since I live and work in the same city, I refuse to buy a car. Good old bikey gets me everywhere I want and often faster than a car could do. Provided with a couple of professional bike bags, I can easily take 30kg home from the store. Until I turn 26, I’m entitled to the youth subscription of De Lijn (Buzzy Pazz, to which my home town Nieuwpoort kindly offers 50% reduction, so for 75 euro I can take any bus or tram in Flanders for a whole year), and compared to fuel rates (not to mention maintenance of a car), a Go-Pass or weekend tickets on the train are dirt cheap. Every now and then, however, I like to vent my spleen on Belgian public transport, so here we go:

Sunday evening. Although the week-end has been Mediterranean, if not Caribbean, and ALL hotels at the coast were fully booked, De Lijn refuses to switch to summer schedule (every ten minutes) for coastal trams bringing tourists back to the four coastal railway stations. Result: each fifteen minutes, two trams were needed => a lot of confusion with slow, elderly people; still fully packed trams; and definitely at least 35 degrees on the tram, and a 10 minutes delay – 1 hour instead of 50 minutes from Nieuwpoort-Bad to Oostende-station, a 20 km trip! Yep, a bike easily beats this snail’s pace. 10 minutes late also means seeing the connecting train leave just as you arrive. The train leaving thirty minutes later had another 30 minutes delay due to a rupture of the electrical wires near Brussel. The train to Antwerpen was the first one leaving (in time) to Gent, but a lot of passengers didn’t realize this as no announcements were made.

Monday evening. I need to make a round trip Gent – Leuven. Like a good citizen should, I checked the online news bulletin board one hour prior to departure to check whether the rupture has been fixed: “All problems should be cleared by 2 p.m.”, was the last relevant message at 5 p.m., so at 6.50 I head down to the railway station, in an optimistic mood. Although the intercity to Eupen was announced 30 minutes in delay on platform 10 (thus supposed to leave within 2 minutes while it hadn’t arrived yet), the IC to Tongeren 4 minutes later, with largely the same trajectory, was announced on time (!) on the same platform (!). Mistrusting the communications, I take the first train arriving on platform 10, the one to Eupen. Once out of Gent, it slows down to about 20 km/h and an announcement is made that all trains are experiencing severe delays due to a second (!) rupture of the wires. At least, that’s what I understood from the French announcement. The conductor’s ability to say anything in Dutch beyond his memorized formulas was well below acceptable standards. Arrival at Leuven: 45 minutes late compared to the normal hour. The train itself was actually 75 minutes late.
Taking the train back was even more of a disaster: no-one, including railway station staff, knew what platform the train to Gent would arrive at. When a last announcement was made (and I helped some foreign passengers by translating, since the information on the screens was total crap), I double-checked with an officer to make sure this was an IC directly going to Brussels and Gent. “Yes, sure, of course!”. So 15 minutes later than normal ( = 45 minutes delay for this particular train), we leave. A conductor comes and asks me to present my ticket, with no comment or expectations whatsoever. Once in Brussel, we are stopped at the south station for 25 minutes, after which the decision is announced to stop at every village between Brussel and Gent (12!!!), to pick up blocked passengers. After leaving in Leuven with 15 minutes delay and riding for 2.45 minutes, I arrive at 1.45 a.m. in Gent.

The NMBS can be truly proud of their hi-tech crisis management and state-of-the-art communication skills in 2006. The conductor definitely knew about the oncoming problems. Still asking to pay is in my opinion a pure and unmistakable sort of fraud. The objective was to offer a way of transport competitive to cars? Try being competitive to biking in the first place!

Open minded

Everyone accusing the Islam of being a rusty medieval religion should read something about the Baha’i: the youngest world religion originated from Sji’ism, proving that there is perhaps more evolution going on in Islam than in Christianity. I read about it in a magazine for veggy (friendly) people (because of the Baha’i recommendation to eat vegetarian), and it immediately hit me that this religion is far above Christianity agreeing with most of our modern western values (sadly except, as always, (homo)sexuality and relationships, although they are pleading tolerance and understanding towards everyone).
What I appreciate in this religion: it regards all known gods (Allah, Jahweh, God,…) as the same and only one, sending out different prophets with slightly different messages following particular needs and conditions in different parts of the world (personally I don’t believe there is a god, but if there has to be one, surely this is the only way to look at him/her/it). Bahaists believe in a united future without religious violence. They are very down-to-earth and open minded, pleading equality among all people and fitting religion within science.

What I don’t appreciate in this religion: the (Islamic) prohibition on alcohol. How could one celebrate the first summer evening properly without the option to heavily abuse G&T’s on the Graslei??

Also, I’m thinking about joining a nature photography group, called Lek, from the Swedish word “lek” meaning “game” or “mating”, although the group tells me that, naturally, their name is based on the second meaning. Sounds promising, and I guess a picture of a spawning Nudibranch in Wimereux (northern France) will do to buy my way in.