Calling 911 in the Maya World

A Maya ruler and his favorite chocolate drink

In the early 8th century A.D., the great Maya city state of Tikal reached the zenith of its sophistication and power. Its kings sipped frothy chocolate and smoked elegant cigars in their chambers, listening to the music of trumpeters and drummers. Its painters rendered brilliant court scenes on vases. Its architects designed pyramidal masterpieces that climbed to the sky. Tikal was the Manhattan of its day.

Over the next century and a half, however, the bloom went off the rose in Tikal.  Its ambitious building program collapsed and its artists ceased to carve inscriptions on stone. Its divine kings vanished and its population thinned to just 20 percent of its peak. Tikal, moreover, was not the only Maya city state to suffer such a dramatic fall from grace. Elsewhere in the Maya world, dozens of other splendid cities crumbled over a span of 300 years ending around A.D. 1050.

Archaeologists have pointed to many reasons for the fall of the classic Maya civilization. The Maya slashed and burned most of their forests. They mined the fertility of their fields and allowed their populations to soar unchecked, straining food supplies. Then they fought wars over prized resources, terrible wars. When climate change finally arrived in the 8th century, in the form of severe, prolonged droughts, many Maya were singularly ill-equipped to weather it.

Just how did the Maya react to this sudden disastrous change in climate?   Continue reading

Us, From Far Away

This is a photograph — meaning, it’s real — taken from 114 million miles away on the far side of the sun.  The brightest little dot in the lower left is the earth.  The less bright dot near it is our moon.  Click on it:  it almost makes you cry. Continue reading

Bug/Blog/Bunfight

I thought I’d made the case against parasitic wasps with evidence and eloquence.  I thought that would be the end of it.  But no:  counter-arguments were made (even if insects did evolve first, Josie, I can still feel superior), gauntlets thrown down, aspersions cast (you think I didn’t notice “delicate flower,” Heather?), and lines drawn in the sand.  I decided I must defend those of us revolted by the moral tendencies of insects.  I began by googling bees.  Before I could find anything about killer bees or maybe the horrors of the hive-mind, I got diverted.

Continue reading

In Defense of Insects

The ladybug, named for the Virgin Mary, is a ravenous beast that can eat several hundred aphids in one day.

Five years ago, I was invited to speak at BugFest, the annual insect extravaganza at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences, about my book, Buzz: The Intimate Bond Between Humans and Insects. One day before the Fest, (which features an arthropod Olympics, butterfly gardening and a “Cafe Insecta”) I was a guest on North Carolina Public Radio’s program The State of Things. Together with my fellow speaker, the museum’s Arthropod Zoo curator Bill Reynolds, I talked about all the benefits insects bring to the world: they pollinate many of our crops, decompose plant and animal matter, eat pests that destroy our harvests, and serve as food for birds, fish, reptiles, frogs, and mammals, including ourselves. (Yes, even the Bible permits the consumption of selected “flying creeping things,” such as locusts and grasshoppers.)

After we had spoken, radio host Melinda Penkava invited callers to add their comments. One by one, each caller asked for advice on how to kill insects and other leggy bugs: mosquitoes, roaches, and ticks. Continue reading

More Parasites, More Ickiness

My apologies to all the delicate flowers out there. But here is a video that will actually make you feel sorry for a vampire bat.  Assassin bugs really do come by their names honestly.

Evolution & Revulsion

Aphids: awwww

I was going about life one day, visiting my step-daughter the entomologist who showed me, in a microscope, a pale green little aphid which was eating a leaf.  Inside the aphid was a tiny parasitic wasp which was eating the aphid.  Through the aphid’s transparent body, I could see the wasp’s buggy little eyes.  I jumped away from the microscope and said, “Ick, ick, ick.”  My step-daughter just shrugged:  “The aphids just go right on eating.  They’re awfully dumb.”

Parasitic wasp: ick, ick, ick

The picture here kindly shows us the process — go ahead, click & blow it up — only not with aphids but with some hapless thing under the tree bark:  #1,  the parasitic wasp taps her antennae on the bark and listens for echos of something underneath; #2, the parasitic wasp drills through the bark; #3, the parasitic wasp drills into the something underneath; #4, the parasitic wasp corrects for the optimal position; #5, she lays her eggs; #6, she continues laying eggs.  Eventually the eggs hatch and the wasp larvae will eat the hapless thing from the inside out.

And here’s the worst part:  Heather and Josie, my co-bloggers who are good and generous people, who dislike violent movies, who think of themselves as kind-hearted, “find parasites of all forms really fascinating,” says Heather.  Josie says she thinks of “parasites as part of the great web of life.”  To them I declare, parasites are not part of any great web of life that I feel I’m part of. Continue reading