Let this be the year of...

Acting: Let our actions speak, let our words give them wings Warming: Of our hearts, not of our planet Thawing: Of cold wars, not of our polar ice caps Rising: Of movements for sustainable living, not of ocean levels War: Against poaching, pollution and militarism Seeing and believing: May we be able to tell the fake greens from the real ones Welcome, 2009! And may you bring days of hope and light and nights of rest and healing.

Environmental criminals

Via The Guardian, I chanced upon this interesting list of the ten men most wanted by the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). Their crimes range from illegally importing polluting vehicles into the US to dumping contaminated grain into the ocean, in addition to releasing harmful effluents. Most of these men are on the run, and living outside the US. If we in India were to arrest our environmental criminals, we'd have no place in our jails to accommodate them. But then again, how about the average US citizen who eats more than his share, wastes more than he is allowed, drives more than she needs to, or uses more paper and plastic and water and electricity than her counterpart in any third-world country can afford? Look at it just in terms of food consumption. A TIME magazine feature based on the book Hungry Planet - What the World Eats by photographer Peter Menzel and writer Faith D'Aluisio illustrates just how much food is consumed by the average first world family. In the US, especially, this consists of so much packaged and shrink-wrapped foodstuff compared with other regions where food is locally grown and harvested. Are those people criminals, or just consumers? Can the world cope with this immense waste? More so, can it come to terms with the bad eating habits that the US is forking out to the world through its chains of Pizza Huts, McDonalds, its cartons of Gatorade and Lays crisps, and its cultural exports? So, is the EPA even concerned about the global corporations headquartered in the US and listed in the US stock markets that are openly allowed to do business around the world, profiteering from encouraging lifestyles that are, if anything, wholesomely unsustainable? Are they criminals or just business concerns? Either way, what's the frikking difference?

Encounter: The insectivorous Pitcher Plant

Imagine a non-vegetarian plant. One that gets tired of humdrum photosynthesis and craves to munch on bugs once in a way. It actually gets so bored that it yawns, and along comes an unsuspecting insect. And... burp! Well, that's the culprit in your picture. Looks tame, doesn't it? I have always wanted to keep a pitcher plant, and perhaps that's the reason why this specimen of Nepenthes at the Botanical Garden in Yercaud is kept, like a bad-tempered animal, behind a mesh-walled cage. So I didn't nick any pitcher plants from there, and nobody was at the office to tell me how I could keep one at home. Next time, perhaps. Originally a resident of the northeastern hills, this plant was obviously an exotic. And that may explain the maximum security accorded to it. The 'pitcher' is actually a modified leaf blade. The bright colours attract insects. Those hard to persuade by first appearances are lured by a gummy honey-like substance secreted at the surface of the lid. Once drawn in by the plant's charms one way or another, the insect is doomed. The inner walls of the pitcher are slippery, and the struggling prey slowly falls down. The inner walls also secrete an enzyme that can digest protein. If Ram Gopal Varma had some imagination, he'd be making a movie on insectivorous plants. But he seems to be interested in hotels lately. M Night Shyamalan, then? Maybe, maybe not. Were Hitchcock alive, I could imagine a sequel to The Birds titled, in the same eerie lettering, 'The Plants'. That would have been one hell of a motion pitcher!

Researchers teach birds: 'Be afraid, be very afraid'

Do all birds possess an instinct to flee predators? Or is this behaviour a result of conditioning? Research on some island birds has shown their inability to recognise mammalian predators. This may offer an explanation into how native species in island ecosystems that have evolved in the absence of mammalian predators may have hastened their extinction. Case in point: the Dodo on Mauritius. Although the bird was large and ungainly with few escape tricks, it may have also been unfamiliar with danger and this may have made it, figuratively speaking, a sitting duck for the rats and dogs and cats that arrived with the first sailors. The presence of this trait in island birds could adversely impact reintroduction programmes of threatened native bird species. Returning these birds into their predator-infested habitats is fraught with peril at the outset. 'Be afraid, be very afraid' is the survival mantra that researchers are now teaching birds. And how? By attempting to mix birds from predator-free areas with birds who know how to recognise predators in an enclosure. Researchers hope that the fearless birds would learn the fear response from their conditioned friends. PhysOrg has more Technorati Tags: conditioning, bird behaviour, research, fear, predator

Soil replenishment secrets from ancient conservationists

As someone said, if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. The last place to look for solutions is probably right where the problem lies.

PhysOrg reports on how the early inhabitants of the Amazon basin boosted crop productivity by enriching their fields with biochar.

Here's the whole story:

Ancient soil replenishment technique helps in battle against global warming from PhysOrg.com

Former inhabitants of the Amazon Basin enriched their fields with charred organic materials - biochar - and transformed one of the earth's most infertile soils into one of the most productive. These early conservationists disappeared 500 years ago, but centuries later, their soil is still rich in organic matter and nutrients. Now, scientists, environmental groups and policymakers forging the next world climate agreement see biochar not only as an important tool for replenishing soils, but as a powerful tool for combating global warming.

[...]

Technorati Tags: soil replenishment, soil conservation, amazon basin, biochar, global warming

Greater Mekong: 10 years, 1068 new species discovered

For over ten years, researchers have toiled away in the Greater Mekong region, uncovering its secrets. A WWF report describes the region as the "richest waterway for biodiversity on the planet, fostering more species per unit area than the Amazon". Quantitatively speaking, in number of species, that's 20,000 plants, 1,200 birds, 800 reptiles and amphibians, 430 mammals and at least 1,300 fish. Of these, the new discoveries include 519 plants, 279 fish, 88 frogs, 88 spiders, 46 lizards, 22 snakes, 15 mammals, 4 birds, 4 turtles, 2 salamanders and a toad. And to imagine that most of them lay unknown to science until a decade ago. This funky chap (above) is the Dragon Millipede (Desmoxytes purpurosea), and it has a bodily function that will greatly interest terrorist groups. Our pink friend secretes cyanide, and if you have the guts to pop one of these bubblegum-coloured critters and chew well, you will soon be history. And this tempting resident of the Garden of Eden (above) is the Gumprecht's green pitviper (Trimeresurus gumprechti). The yellow spots are the eyes, and the dark pits below them are used as heat-sensing devices. Much meaner than meets the eye, the Burmese Spitting Cobra (Naja mandalayensis) (below), discovered in 2000, is another venomous customer. Among the new species of birds is this Naung Mung Scimitar Babbler (Jabouilleia naungmungensis) (above). The Woolly Bat (above), the Laotian Rock Rat (below), and the Annamite Striped Rabbit (bottom) are the most intriguing mammalian finds. The rock rat, believed to have been extinct for millions of years, was found in a local food market! WWF has more

Can crows become extinct?

Crows are among the hardiest of our planet's birds. Most species of corvids, a group that includes choughs, jays, treepies, magpies and nutcrackers, are intelligent, adaptable and aggressive. They dominate their environment and make the most of available resources. Of all corvids, crows are particularly fascinating. They are extremely vocal with a range of calls, and they are facile at employing cunning and opportunism to hunt and forage. They are mostly gregarious and take great advantage of strength in numbers. It is not uncommon to see crows using tools or mobbing birds much larger than themselves, such as eagles, into abandoning their kills. In most places they frequent, they are also numerous. In cities, garbage disposal in open landfills and streetside litters have kept crow numbers more than healthy. An overpopulation of crows is injurious to other species, particularly those birds that are vulnerable as prey species. The resulting ecological imbalance can be disastrous. In Singapore, crows are so hated that they are frequently culled. So, then, can crows actually become extinct? That question has been answered. At least one species of crow is already extinct in the wild. The last wild 'Alala or Hawaiian Crow (Corvus hawaiiensis) was recorded in 2002. A few individuals survive among captive populations and an optimistic reintroduction plan is underway. The species was once abundant in the montane habitats of the Hawaiian islands but disease, chiefly the West Nile Virus carried by migratory shorebirds and introduced species, is believed to have wiped them out. Shooting by farmers, predation and competition for habitat by introduced species had also contributed to its decline. Image: Hawaiian Crow (Corvus hawaiiensis). Source: Wikipedia

Encounter: The Brain Fever bird

As a child, this was one of my three mystery birds (the others were the Red-wattled Lapwing and the Indian Cuckoo). Near Palakkad, in northeastern Kerala, where I spent most of my summer vacations, moonlit nights and rainy afternoons would reverberate with the unending call of this bird. My grandparents told me the bird was crying out: 'Kezhekku edha? Kezhekku edha?' ('Where's the east, where's the east?'). But the bird behind the call remained a mystery. Sometimes, I would run out in the middle of a meal when I heard its call from the mango trees behind my grandfather's house. Usually, I saw nothing but a shadowy shape flitting away, with the call trailing behind it. I was about 14 when I had my first chance encounter with the Brainfever Bird. It had just rained in the afternoon. I was strolling through the newly sown paddy fields looking for Sparrow Larks when I saw a greyish bird flapping weakly above my head. The paddy fields were like a clearing between two groves. The bird took its time covering the distance and entered the grove ahead of me. It was an acacia grove and the only purpose it really served was to provide solitude to clandestine lovers and liquor bootleggers. Of course, the kids were told that it was full of wild boar and therefore dangerous. Alone, with a pair of binoculars, I entered the grove. I didn't come across any clandestine lovers, bootleggers or wild boar. There were no other birds in that grove except some jungle crows and yellow-billed babblers. The calls grew louder and they came from everywhere. There was more than one bird. I followed the calls for about 15 minutes and wandered right to the end of the grove. Then I saw it, clinging to a casuarina tree and calling. This was it - the mystery brainfever bird. And a few hundred feet ahead of it, on another tree, was another individual. And then a third broke into song above my head. The acacia grove was teeming with them. Since, I have seen Common Hawk-Cuckoos (Cuculus varius) very often. They kept me up all night at Auroville, and then again up at Didana in the Garhwal Himalaya. This picture came out of a trip to BR Hills, when Sandy shot the guy as he pretended not to notice. Mimicking a shikra or some such hawk, it had sailed off the canopy and perched on an outlying bough. I could imagine what was on the mind of the sahib who christened this bird as he lay in bed, tormented by malaria and humidity, listening the Common Hawk-cuckoo scream 'Brain fever, brain fever' in febrile crescendo. Its call, performed ad nauseam, can drive the most patient birdwatcher mad. Look at me! Photograph: © Sandeep Somasekharan. Used with permission.

When Bangalore winters were cold

A winters day In a deep and dark December - Simon & Garfunkel, I am a rock It's been a long, long time since my teeth have chattered in Bangalore. While the reason for that may be partly due to my accumulated reserves of adipose (I always tell anybody who asks that I'm fattening up for the winter), there's no denying the fact that Bangalore's winters are anything but cold anymore. As a child, I loved winter because it was the only time of the year when my breath floated out like fog. This time round, I waited and waited till winter showed itself, then took a break and reappeared looking washed out. Most days don't even pass my 'exhale test'. January was the month that school reopened after the Christmas holidays. I would walk 2 km from what was not yet known as BTM Layout to a bus stop in Jayanagar 9th Block every day at 6:45 AM to catch a bus that left at 7:20. I would chuckle at how the local people wrapped themselves silly in mufflers and monkey-caps instead of enjoying the cold, which was about 14 degrees at its coldest. The fog, in particular, was most enjoyable. I loved fumbling about in it, playing guessing games with the shapes of morning walkers, dogs, newspaperboys and flower-sellers. One day, when I was much older, I was cycling to the gym at 5:30 AM in dense fog. I hit something on the road and toppled over. As I gathered myself, I felt a hot blast of breath on my face and stared into the surprised eyes of a large but benign cow. There was one morning, in January 1993, when I was out birding near Maddur in southern Karnataka. Our group of 15 spent the night in a farmer's house. Next door, the farmer's oversexed ram brayed and bleated gruffly all night while his chickens kept up an insomniac clucking. And I kept thinking I could hear the silkworm caterpillars in their wicker baskets munching away at their mulberry leaves. Somewhere around 2 AM, I felt like a piddle. I remember climbing out of my sleeping bag and trudging towards the door with stiff limbs and standing there under the stars listening to my water trickle away. Also, most of all, I remember the sudden sensation of penetrating cold invading my body when I had compromised a bladderful of body heat. I shivered and shuddered for an hour before I was able to get back to sleep. And in the morning, my jaw had frozen stiff and made an embarrassing clicking noise when I opened it. Along with a lancinating pain that made me grimace. We met more birders that morning, and all those who were introduced to me did a double-take at the grimace and sound effects. It was only around 11 AM that the sun thawed me out. Our high-rises, vacant green lungs and traffic exhaust have taken the chill out of winter. Only 25 years ago, I'd play outside in the afternoon under a gentle hazy sun. Not so, anymore. I worry when my little daughter gets beads of sweat on her brow when I wrap her up. Will there come a time when Bangalore will have no winter to call its own?

Fur trade: When animals die for people

Via PETA: a heart-rending video of animals being skinned alive for their fur If you don't have the stomach for it, here's what the video is about: In China's Hebei province, workers are skinning raccoon dogs alive. PETA claims that over half of the finished fur garments imported for sale in the USA are sourced from China. It's gross, it's nauseating and it's horribly cruel. And it makes me want to step into that video and beat the balls out of those Chinese assholes who are bludgeoning those raccoon dogs and skinning them while they are still twitching. What are those bloodless bastards made of? Do us a good turn and recruit them to fight terrorism instead. I'm certainly not a fan of the philosophies of PETA and CUPA and suchlike animal rights movements that, in my not-so-valuable opinion, cry themselves hoarse for most of the wrong reasons. Their passion for animal rights is misled and most often obstructive to genuine causes, as in the case of urban stray dog control and the eradication of dogs from wildlife sanctuaries (see my earlier post on Sultanpur). But this video, coming from PETA as it does, is genuinely upsetting. Let me put this clearly: I am not against farming animals for food but I am opposed to the hunting of wild animals for food or trade or whatever other purpose they may serve (in this category fall all the reasons the Chinese employ to persecute wildlife). But the fur trade is something else. It is more dangerous than the trade in ivory or the killing of animals for bushmeat or the hunting of tigers and rhinos for their body parts. In terms of severity, it is perhaps surpassed only by whaling. And the primary reason for that is the legitimacy accorded to it. Fur isn't a necessity to anyone other than the Inuit. It's a high-end luxury. And so much cruelty for the luxury and profitability of some people is just plain wrong. And that needs to be fought. Those who can afford fur don't necessarily care where it comes from and how it is made. If the fur trade were like shearing sheep (where the animals remain alive) or extracting leather (where the animals are dead anyway), I wouldn't be writing this post. In the fur trade, ethics and trade pass each other by without mutual recognition. On the one side is a multi-billion dollar industry endorsed by some of the biggest names in the fashion apparel business. On the other, there is the heartless treatment of animals that are killed for their fur. PETA deserves credit for getting this video out to the world. If it doesn't bring up your lunch, I am sure it will make you think twice before you wear fur (when you have the money for it). But then, I also have a word or three for the other causes that PETA supports and encourages. I'm an animal lover, but I am also (in my belief) rational in my choice of chauvinisms. I am indifferent to cats. I love dogs. But I don't like having either of them in wildlife sanctuaries. Because dogs and cats aren't wildlife. They are adjuncts of our so-called human civilization and, much like humans, out of place and dangerous in a wild ecosystem. If left with a choice, I'd risk not keeping a pet than keep it in a way that can negatively impact its surroundings, and itself. I think that is the cause that PETA and CUPA and suchlike should really advocate: As far as possible, leave animals alone. If that cannot be done, interact with them, study them, protect them in order to leave them alone. Farm them ethically. Eat them if you will. But in that case, breed them to be eaten. And breed them in humane and ethical ways. And if they must be killed to be eaten, since meat from an animal or bird that died of natural causes is considered neither palatable nor hygienic, kill them painlessly. But never, never hunt them. That video is a bit of a tummy-turner. It came via email, along with a petition. Since I do not sign online petitions for the reason that I think my contribution to any cause should be in the form of time and effort, this post is warranted. And anyone caught wearing fur must be forced to sit down in front of a giant screen with their eyelids taped open and made to watch this video in slow motion and surround sound.

Encounter: Malabar Whistling Thrush

Sálim Ali didn't call it the Idle Schoolboy for nothing. If, uninitiated, you hear its song in a damp nook of the forest, you may be pardoned for suspecting the presence of spirits, or maybe goat-hoofed Pan playing his merry pipes. The call is eerily like human whistling, so much that it wanders up and down the scale and has a deep, penetrating quality that carries it afar. That said, the Malabar Whistling Thrush (Myophonus horsfieldii) is more often heard than seen. To say it is shy would be an understatement. Most first-time birders are content to catch a glimpse of a dark, crow-like bird in quick, darting flight. Or perhaps skulking away into the undergrowth. But then, Luck sometimes knows how to gift-wrap a Whistling Thrush. I saw my first individual in the Nilgiris. It was perched on a low tree overhanging a stream, and pouring out its song. I have heard it several times since, most memorably one moonlit dawn in Muthodi. And then, once, we saw it briefly in BR Hills. But the best sighting of all produced this picture. Sahastra, Sunita, Sandy and I were driving through BR Hills. I was at the wheel, and we were approaching K Gudi when Sahastra hissed 'Dark bird, dark bird' from the back seat and asked me to stop. Sandy had already got his lens lined up. I switched off the engine and we coasted slowly around the bend. I braked, and the bird emerged from the shrubbery. The bird was closer than any of us have ever seen a Malabar Whistling Thrush. The blue-black spectacle was breathtaking, and behind my head I could hear Sandy clicking away. When we resumed breathing, the bird opened its pink mouth to screech, then scuttled back into the undergrowth. It wasn't a lifer for any of us, yet it was the sighting of a lifetime. Photo: © Sandeep Somasekharan. Used with permission