Will never look at birds swimming the same again. (Why Do Ducks Get in a Row?)
Note:
Tag: ducks
Why Do Ducks Get in a Row?
The River Thames is beautiful in early summer, and the stretch just upstream of central London is full of birds: motionless herons watching for fish, bustling moorhens poking around the submerged plants, and watchful flocks of preening swans. But as my canoe club paddles along the river, we’re always looking out for our clear favorites: the mother ducks with a fluffy cluster of ducklings tagging along behind.
When they’re lingering at the shore, it all looks slightly chaotic, with baby birds dawdling and exploring as the mother duck keeps an eye on them. But when it’s time to move on, chaos shifts into order as the ducklings line up behind the adult and the convoy moves off together quickly and in perfect formation. It’s mesmerizing to watch, and it’s not accidental. This is all about saving energy.
Swimming is hard work, because water is dense and slightly viscous. At the surface, a large part of the resistance to movement comes from the waves that are produced behind whatever is moving: its wake. This is the familiar wedge-shaped wave pattern that we see behind ships, canoes and ducks alike, and all of those waves carry energy. If you move along the water surface, those waves are always continually generated and so the swimmer needs to put in enough energy to create them. This energy cost is felt as a resistance to movement. There’s also resistance because the water touching the ship or duck is pulled along too, creating additional drag. Continue reading “Why Do Ducks Get in a Row?”
Walking. With Apophenia.
56° F. Heavy fog.
Daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. 723 consecutive (almost) days. Like in a row.
I’ve finished Amy Liptrot’s book “The Instant.” A book where I wasn’t feeling it, not feeling it, nothing here, time to put this down, wait now, here’s a line, and now two, and then down the chute we go on the luge track. Reminds me of a tweet by Tracie Collier after reading “Bomb Shelter” by Mary Laura Philpott: “She writes in a way that makes me want to hurl my laptop over a cliff.”
Back to Liptrot. Who knew that I had Apophenia. Well, hold on. It’s not even clear that I’m adept at Apophenia. I’m probably better assessed by a psychologist (if I had one), as a lame, half-assed Apopheniac. But we digress. Here’s Liptrot:
“Apophenia is the tendency to find patterns. It can be a disorder but, for me, finding patterns is sustaining. Unbidden, certain objects glow with relevance. I find the moon everywhere. This heart-shaped box contains not just a few shells but all the weeks and conversations and regrets of a friendship. We are meaning-making machines. I use all these little personal myths and totems to hold myself together: things to search for when I’m faced with overwhelming choice and freedom.”
I use all these little totems to (try to) hold myself together. Yep. About right.
I’ve turned right at the Park, walking counterclockwise. Noting that I’m walking counterclockwise. Again. Did you know that you always walk counterclockwise around the park? 723 days, and you walk in the same direction every time.
I keep walking.
Have you ever seen anyone else walking clockwise in the park? Come to think of it I have not. Not one time? Not one time. Maybe because you are a half-assed Apopheniac.
I stop walking. Continue reading “Walking. With Apophenia.”
T.G.I.F.: 23° F feels like 13° F
Monday Morning Wake Up Call
Rain? Wet? Puddles? Bring it on…
DK. Daybreak. November 23, 2020. 7:00 to 7:30 am. 57° F and Rain. Cove Island Park, Stamford CT