The Magnificent Milkweed

Is that an oxymoronic title? I think not. Ascleplias syriaca has an undeserved common name—the Common Milkweed is uncommon in many respects and certainly is not weedy in stature. And after taking a close look at a few of this plant’s intricate structural adaptations, I have to say the adjective “magnificent” is not an overstatement.

That bit of purple prose comes after another trip to the Celery Farm to chronicle the milkweed flowering and fruiting cycle. Right now, the Phair’s Pond milkweed patch is in its flowering prime. The globular floral umbels are doing what they are designed to do—attracting pollinators and ensuring the transfer of unique pollen packets from male to female floral parts.

The pollinators are mainly honeybees. That is comforting to see, what with all the stories going around about mysterious colony collapse and empty beehives. The bees buzzing around the milkweed patch seem active and healthy—active enough that successful photography was a challenge for this amateur. I’ll share some of my less than spectacular results in future posts.

What is it about the Common Milkweed that excites me every time I visit the patch? In a word—everything! A few future posts will be devoted to some specifics about the structure, functions, biochemistry and symbiotic relationships that make this plant so special. Meanwhile, spend some time staring at the unique and intelligently designed flower structure—and the downright beauty you can see in the photograph. (Click on it to enlarge it.)

Cute and Cuddly

In the last post, I wasn’t kind to the snapping turtle for its non-cute and cuddly attributes. So this time, let’s go for the C&C Cottontail Rabbit. (Click on the picture to fully appreciate this guy.)

In my frequent trips to the Celery Farm Natural Area, usually in search of weeds and bugs to photograph, this guy or one of his buddies nearly always greets me somewhere along the meadow or pond trail. Usually, I have the wrong lens on my camera—a macro lens suited for flower and bug photography. But today, I had switched to a big howitzer, because one of the flowers to be photographed was about ten feet into a poison ivy patch.

On my hike back to the car, the “Meadow Supervisor,” as I call him, confronted me on the path and posed without even a nose twitch for a few portraits.

The cottontail is everything the snapper isn’t—furry instead of scaly, land-loving instead of aquatic (except for laying eggs), herbivorous instead of carnivorous (mostly), and cute instead of, well, handsome, in a reptilian sort of way.

The main occupation of cottontails (besides greeting visitors) is grazing on almost any plants they find tasty—all day long. It’s a relaxed sort of existence except for watching out for predators, of which there are many candidates in the Celery Farm—hawks, fox, coyotes (?). The snappers, meanwhile, are cruising the pond, snapping up fish, ducklings and most anything that moves.

A surprising finding, however, is that a stomach content analysis of snapping turtles reveals up to fifty percent plant material, a reminder that before the sad events of Genesis 3, everybody ate plant material exclusively. Predation was not a factor and there was no scavenging because there were no dead things to scavenge. It wasn’t until after the Flood that God permitted people to eat meat (Gen 9:3), probably because the Curse and subsequent degradation of soil and plant nutritional content would have made an exclusively vegetarian diet increasingly insufficient.

How we got from bunnies to Biblical truth may have been confusing—but that’s what we do here (both heading for Biblical truth and trying to confuse :-)

If you don’t understand Genesis 3, you don’t really understand anything.

Crossing Paths with Snappers

Snapping turtles are not cute and cuddly—that goes without saying. The photo proves the point. (Click on the photo to enlarge it.) This one, photographed at a safe? distance (about 3 feet), raised up her hind quarters and snapped her jaws, a sign that she was not pleased at being approached. After all, she was about the business of finding a suitable spot to dig a hole in which to deposit a clutch of eggs. It’s that time of year. In fact, at the Celery Farm Natural Area there were scores of turtles seen along the paths and in nearby yards doing their reproductive duty—laying enough eggs to at least maintain the population status quo, if not to increase it.

This means laying lots of eggs, because there are lots of egg-loving critters around to dig them up for breakfast the morning after they are laid. Raccoons and skunks are particularly partial to Egg McSnapper when in season.

Of course, those of naturalistic mind-set would say that this is all part of nature’s way of maintaining its balance. And we would agree. An overpopulation of snapping turtles devouring ducklings and biting the feet off of adult swimming birds would certainly throw ecosystems out of balance. (We would rather not think too long about what we do to hens—stealing their eggs every morning so they will keep laying more until they wear themselves out and are shipped off for “other purposes”).

Naturally (or super-naturally) we, in this blog, try to think beyond the naturalistic, materialistic worldview and ask the question, “is this really natural?” The answer is, "of course it is—in the post-Genesis 3, fallen, sin-cursed, Romans 8:22 cosmos". And we have to live with that fact until Romans 8:21 is fulfilled. But it was not that way “in the beginning”, before the tragic event recorded in Genesis 3 and its life-and biosphere-changing consequences.

That should be enough scripture to look up and provide much food for thought, over a delicious Egg McMuffin breakfast. Have a good day.

A Fascinating Shrub

I don’t know what it is about the Highbush Cranberry (Viburnum trilobum) that captures my attention in a special way. Probably it has to do with the maple-like leaf form. It looks like a maple, yet it’s not a maple—what maple would produce flowers like these? And it is the floral inflorescences that are the most fascinating feature of this shrub. A crown of large florets surrounds a disk of much smaller ones (shown here before the buds have opened), producing a unique doily-like effect. (Click on the picture to enlarge it.)

What kind of DNA programming or developmental hormone distribution must be involved to produce two differently sized flowers in the same arrangement? Plant development is a mind-boggling concept to begin with, and this example has me once again praising the Creator and His seemingly infinite bag of design tricks.

By the way, the Highbush Cranberry is not a cranberry--Ocean Spray would not give it a second look. It does produce red berries, which I suppose reminded someone of the boggy plant. Such is the confusion caused by common names. That's why the contribution of the man whose 3ooth birthday we celebrate tomorrow is so important. That's right, it's the birthday of Carolus Linnaeus, the father of our system of classification and binomial nomenclature--who was a fine Christian and creationist.

Aliens

Ecology is a fascinating area of biology, especially in the sin-cursed biosphere (the only one we have ever known). Plants and animals--as well as members of the other kingdoms--get adapted to a particular environment and establish relationships with all the species with which they live, for better or worse. Then someone imports a species from another region, or even another continent, and lets it escape--and a whole ecosystem gets thrown out of whack.

Such is the case with the pictured species, Alliaria petiolata, the infamous Garlic Mustard. Imported from Europe in the 19th century as a culinary and medicinal herb, it escaped (as most imported species seem to do) and has spread across at least two-thirds of the US. It looks harmless enough, but its secret weapons are deadly, not to humans, but to the plant life around it. It crowds out native species, especially the spring woodland wildflowers--and that is only the visible effect of this very prolific invader. Its more insidious attack takes place underground, where its roots exude chemicals that have a deadly effect on a group of organisms we seldom hear of but which are vital to a host of forest tree species. The victims are the mycorrhizal fungi, which form symbiotic relationships with the roots of trees and are essential for their nutrition. So it's not just the pretty spring flowers that suffer, but grown forest trees like oaks and maples.

In other words, Garlic Mustard, once it gets established, can seriously alter and damage an entire forest ecosystem. And once it is established, it is nearly impossible to eradicate. It grows fast, flowers fast, produces seeds fast--and those seeds can remain viable in the ground for up to five years.

Of course, there has to be a theological lesson in there somewhere--Bioman seldom let's you get by without connecting biology with more important things. In this case, I can easily make an analogy of our invasive alien plant to the insidiousness of sin. Unless it is stamped out early and completely, it can infect every area of our lives, both visible and secret. And the result can be disastrous.

Thank God every day that He has provided a way of escape--a wonderful Savior, who came to save His people from their sins (Matt. 1:21).

Genesis 3 in Action--Even in Swans

As I glanced over last year's posts (when I was a much more active blogger) I reflected on the last item and its prophetic nature. The Genesis 3 predictions unfortunately were fulfilled. By early July, when this picture was taken, only three of the original cygnets remained. This guy seems to be asking why life is so tough. And it got tougher. A few weeks later, the swan family wandered across the street and got trapped in a concrete pool and had to be rescued. The male flew off to a neghboring town, leaving the female to care for her diminishing brood. By the end of the summer, only one cygnet was left. All others had been victims of snapping turtles or disease.

So you see, it is a rough world out there, all the result of sin and the Curse. Indeed, the tragic experience of the swan family was merely a small example of the effects of sin in God's created world. Even His innocent wild creatures suffer because of Man's sin.

"For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now." (Romans 8:22 NASB)

By the way, no swans nested at the Celery Farm this year. A pair visited early in the season but (wisely) decided not to stay. This was fortunate, because the "flood of the century" would surely have overwhelmed even the most secure nest they could have built.

Bloggeration CPR

Almost a year…

Let’s face it, when I go into a blogging slump, I really go all the way. Just a week shy of a year of blog passivity is next thing to a near death experience. So let’s make an attempt at CPR.

Looking back at the past two years of posts, I see that the subject matter has ranged from New Jersey bears to Intelligent Design debates to musings about PETA to thoughts about Darwinism and Darwin the man—some serious stuff, some just fun.

Now I can’t promise that this entry will be a sign of revival—it may be a last gasp. Time will tell.

Watching Swans, Photographers and Other Species

Excitement abounds at the Celery Farm Natural Area (Allendale, NJ) in the months of April and May. It’s migration season for warblers and just about everything else, so a video called “Birders Gone Wild” could easily be produced. An expert birder can easily spot (by sight and/or sound) a dozen or more warblers and scores of other species in one morning’s hike around the mile-plus perimeter of the preserve. My yield is usually embarrassingly smaller, but I enjoy the walk anyway.

This year is unique, however, because a pair of Mute Swans has chosen the Celery Farm’s lake for residency and nesting. And they graciously—one might even say miraculously--built their nest directly in front of one of the observation platforms, allowing visitors a perfect view of nest-building, egg-laying and young-rearing activities.

And activity there is. Two heavy rainfalls had both swan parents making emergency repairs as they tried to raise the nest and the eggs therein above water level. The work paid off, and their seven eggs are hatching this week. Photographers are crowding the platform to record the parents and cygnets in action—and to ooh and ah at each appearance of the babies from under the mother’s breast.

From my perspective, watching and listening to the birders, photographers and other types is almost as fascinating as watching and photographing the swans. Classifying the flock into various species of birders, photogs and hybrids thereof, as well as an occasional ecologist, zoo employee on maternity leave, or harried father with his accompanying horde, is a fun exercise in taxonomy and human behavior.

The photographers just want to get the shot and complain incessantly about bad light or an infernal protruding twig in the nest that threatens to spoil every shot.

The serious birders take a passing interest in the swans—they would rather snag warblers for their spring migration lists.

The cynics—not exactly rare birds themselves—opine that the snapping turtles are going to snag most of the cygnets once they hit the water. (Which is probably true, but that other breed, the kindergarten teacher, is repulsed by the thought.)

Then there was the ecologist-cynic hybrid who wrote to the local newspaper, complaining that we shouldn’t be happy about the presence of the Mute Swan, since it is an invasive alien species that will take over and wreak havoc on the ecology of the preserve.

It takes all kinds.

As for me, I can see a little of each of the described species in myself—which is why I need the Savior! As a Christian, I must look at every experience—even swan and people-watching—from a biblical perspective. So what am I to make of the whole Celery Farm scene?

First, I am overjoyed that a small patch of God’s creation has been preserved and thankful for the people who helped save it from development. That took perseverance by not a few people and the cooperation of local officials to make it happen in the face of intense pressure from real estate developers. For that, everyone, both Christian and unbeliever alike should be thankful.

Second, I am aware that the 107-acre bit of nature is a tiny piece of God’s fallen creation. It teems with examples of God’s creative handiwork—and the effects of that creation’s fall into sin and the resultant curse of the land. Evidence of intelligent design and irreducible complexity abound in every animal and plant and in the ecological relationships among them. But at every turn in the path there loom decay, deformity, disease, parasitism, predation and death—all unnatural phenomena, inimical to God’s perfect original sinless creation. Only by seeing both of these realities side by side and simultaneously can I have a balanced view and attitude toward the natural world.

When the snapping turtles snap and the swan family suffers loss—a realistic possibility—I will weep at the loss of God’s creatures because death is not natural; it is an enemy and the result of sin entering the world. But I will also know that in the end God will ultimately be glorified. I know that one death, that of the Lord Jesus Christ, conquered death in a very real sense. His death and resurrection actually accomplished the salvation of a particular group of people: His people, His sheep, His church, His elect. And in the end, there will be a resurrection of all, the believer to glorious eternal life, the unbeliever to eternal separation and woe. And there will be a “better than ever” version of God’s original “very good” creation for all believers to enjoy as we sing praises to our Lord and Savior.

Watching and photographing swans with old friends and new acquaintances has been a blessing. My prayer is that more of the whole swan-watching bunch would gain an appreciation of what those big white birds are--magnificently and intelligently designed parts of God's creation that show off both His creative power and His amazing grace in sustaining His sin-cursed cosmos.

Reflected Glory

It is April 1, the only holiday the atheists are allowed to celebrate (Psalm 14:1). And lest I should be considered a fool for not blogging since January, I had better get something up, even if it is something foolish.

Looking at the night sky is NOT foolish (Psalm 19:1). Last night I stared at the Moon for a good while, enjoying a spectacle that particularly declares the glory of our Creator God. It was two nights after the New Moon, so the lighted portion was a mere sliver. But the entire lunar face could be dimly seen, due to “Earthshine,” the phenomenon in which sunlight reflected off Earth reaches the Moon and returns to our eyes.

The fact that we can see this twice-reflected light is evidence of the tremendous amount of light generated by our Sun, which astronomers tell us is only an “average-sized” star. Sunlight must travel 93 million miles to reach Earth, then make a 500,000-mile round trip from Earth to Moon and back. And the amount of light reflected by each body (albedo) is rather small. Earth reflects only 10-50% of light hitting it, depending on cloud cover, and the Moon is an even poorer reflector, with an albedo of a mere 7%. Yet, on a clear night just before or after the New Moon, Earthshine is clearly and eerily seen.

Earthshine is just one more little treat that God gives us periodically to show us His handiwork. Any fool should recognize it as such (Romans 1:20,) but to those living merely under the Sun (Ecclesiastes 1) it is just so much ho-hum astronomy. Only those living “in the Son,” united by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, can truly appreciate the reflected light of the Moon as a picture of God’s glory reflected in His created cosmos.

Long time no blog--now let's hit the books!

I suppose the whole Intelligent Design thing dogged my brain to such an extent that I was incapable of intelligently designing a blog entry for several weeks. So I let the gray matter relax by allowing it to recreate in the less taxing task of reorganizing my library, now that my new bookcases have arrived.

For some time now my library has taken the form of stacks, not in the public library sense of the word, but in the sense of piles—piles in corners, piles under tables, piles in trunks and cartons. So now was the time to un-stack all my wonderful volumes and give them not only breathing room (some have become very musty) but also some sense of organization and dignity.

So up on the shelves they go. What could be easier and quicker?

Not so fast! Am I going to allow the vertical piles to become mere horizontal piles, a heterogeneous olio of randomness? Doing so would make the library little more useful than when it was “stacked.” So how to arrange the volumes? Surely I can’t be expected to put little stickers on the spines with Dewey Decimal System numbers—or Library of Congress designations! And the Soviet system of grouping books by size, while practical for utilization of shelf space, would hardly be useful for my purposes. So let’s just group the books by general subject matter and see what happens.

***********

It is several days later, and I can report that the literary taxonomy job wasn’t too difficult. The books fell into rather natural categories, including:

*Pure Theology—Bibles, reference, book studies, apologetics, church history, prophecy, devotional.
*Pure Science—biology, ecology, physical sciences, medicine, evolution (is this “pure” science?).
*Science, Creation, ID, and Religion—with books on every side of the issue.
*History and Politics.
*Fiction (a very small section—I prefer “verity”).
*Writing and reference
*Autographed books—several by James R. White; several by my former students.
*Books by favorite authors—Francis Schaeffer, Henry Morris, R. C. Sproul, etc.
*Ramsey High School Yearbooks (43!).
*And, of course, “Miscellaneous” (a surprisingly small category).

Several days later? That job should have taken but a few hours! But who can resist becoming reacquainted with old friends. With some books, it took only seconds or minutes to remind myself of their contents and value, but with a few, a glance and skim didn’t satisfy—I had to dig into whole chapters! Books as diverse in philosophy and content as “Consilience” by E. O. Wilson, “Gaia” by J. E. Lovelock, “Future Grace” by John Piper and “Gleanings From the Scriptures” by A. W. Pink all sucked me in and engaged me for a day or two each. Time flies like an arrow (fruit flies like a banana.)

And so it goes. Maybe some book reports will follow. But for now, it’s back to my librarian’s role. Now, under what category should I put “The ACLU vs. America?”