Yesterday, fellow-science blogger Sarah Dowdey issued a challenge: If she tried to blog about trees all week and I tried to blog about bugs, which of us would get sick of it first? This scientific game of chicken continues today as she blogs about an African bagpipe forest and I discuss the U.S. government's plans for the nation's insects.
Yes, we all saw the video of President Obama killing a fly on national television, but might he have also just squished a high-level government agent? According to Katie Drummond over at Wired's Danger Room blog, the Pentagon is giving serious consideration to fitting insect larvae with chemical weapon-sniffing gadgetry.
I actually own a wooden clarinet, but I hadn't even heard of the African blackwood tree, also known as mpingo, until I read this article in National Geographic News. The slow-growing, dark-colored tree is used to make woodwinds and bagpipes. Turns out, it's also about to make life a little better for two Tanzanian villages.
It might turn into Tree Week here on the Science Stuff Blog, since I keep finding such neat articles about trees. (My excellent co-blogger Robert Lamb seems to be on more of a Bug Week trajectory between his posts on bed bug pheromones and "The Fly.")
According to Inhabitat, the Bronx Grand Concourse is about to play host to the summer-long "Tree Museum," an oral history of the 4.5-mile boulevard's oldest residents. Each of the project's 100 trees will feature placards listing a phone number and a personalized extension. Call the number and the tree will tell you about itself, the neighborhood or the local ecology (as voiced by folks who grew up with the trees).
Artist Katie Holten dreamed up the project by envisioning the Grand Concourse as it would have looked 100 years ago: no buildings, no cars, but still some of the same trees.
Indeed, what better way to ward off pesky bed bugs than to crush them up and coat yourself in their juices? It may sound like a tactic from a Guillermo del Toro film (seriously, he's used this in at least two separate films), but according to Discovery Channel News, it's actually the basis of a new tactic from entomologists at Ohio State University.
Nelson's Column, the famous center point of London's Trafalgar Square, is usually surrounded by museums, crowds and, until recently, hoards of pigeons. But for one week in mid-November, it will be ringed by the stumps of enormous African trees in a shocking display of environmental art.
While artist Angela Palmer compares the stark exhibit to images of a post-World War I landscape, the installation highlights the present, not the past. According to BBC News, the gnarled roots and abbreviated stumps are meant to call attention to tropical deforestation, one of the biggest causes of man-made greenhouse gases. If that's not enough to drive the point home, green laser beams will shine into the night sky, marking the trees' phantom canopies.
Although the trees in the exhibit are not actually victims of deforestation (Palmer sourced all of the stumps from naturally fallen trees), they hail from Ghana, a country that's suffered heavily from illegal logging.
In David Cronenberg's 1986 film "The Fly," brilliant scientist Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum) accidently splices his genes with a housefly stowaway. But what about all the foreign DNA that would have existed in Brundle's internal microbes?
How much does unappealing language hold back messages about global warming, um, I mean the "deteriorating atmosphere?" That's what the nonprofit PR firm ecoAmerica set out to study. Its findings suggested that no, people don't want to hear about "global warming," or even "climate change" -- it makes them freeze up and think about Al Gore -- but they wouldn't mind listening to a few value-focused "talking points."
Although the ecoAmerica study was just released yesterday, it's already been around the block a few times. About a month ago, a summary meant for government officials and environmental leaders was accidentally e-mailed to several news outlets, including the New York Times.
More recently, Grist reported on the document, which focuses on nearly every environmental buzzword out there.
As my fellow science blogger and periodic table enthusiast Allison Loudermilk is out on maternity leave, I'll have to be the one to blog about the latest development in the bagging and tagging of elements. We have a new one, folks -- a super heavy, man-made metal with the temporary title of 112 or "ununbium," which is Latin for 1-1-2.
The U.S. Federal Trade Commission (FTC) cracked down on three companies Tuesday for making "false and unsubstantiated claims" that their products were biodegradable. According to Green Inc., the companies, which included Kmart, Tender and Dyna-E International, had mislabeled products like plates, moist wipes and the intriguingly titled "compressed dry towels."
Initially, this seems like a case of an FTC crackdown on greenwashing of the outright lies variety -- something along the lines of blatant misrepresentation (i.e., you call it Styrofoam, we'll call it biodegradable!). But it turns out to be a little more complex than that. At least one company -- Kmart -- believed its vendor's claim that plates from the American Fare brand were really biodegradable.
The FTC's problem is that while an object might be biodegradable in theory, it's not going anywhere if it's disposed of in the traditional ways: landfills, incinerators or recycling facilities.
No seriously, I'm fine -- as is my car and (presumably) my cat. But this is just the sort of claim you might hear a lot of in the future if researchers at Charles University in Prague are really onto something.
Want to ride a zebra like Tanya Roberts in "Sheena, Queen of the Jungle?" Well, a little genetics stands in the way of that, and a team of scientists claim to have discovered the very genes responsible.
Air pollution isn't good for any of us, but it's especially bad for children and babies. So bad in fact, that economists Michael Greenstone and Kenneth Chay set out to study the correlation between infant mortality and air quality. Their paper, "Air Quality, Infant Mortality, and the Clean Air Act of 1970" compared the reduction of total suspended particulates (TSPs) with changes in infant mortality in parts of the United States. Because the TSP count fell more in some U.S. counties than in others, the researchers were able to use the difference as a variable, and draw a connection between infant health and particulate matter.
They found that 1,300 fewer American infants died in 1972 than if the Clean Air Act had not existed -- a change that worked out to a 0.5 percent decline in infant mortality per 1 percent decline in TSPs.
The Economist wanted to see if the global recession -- and the likely drop in urban air pollution -- has had a similar effect on infant mortality.
I recently wrote about the self-proclaimed "Wild Girl," a woman foraging for wild food (not just Dumpster-diving) in Portland, Ore. She made it to day six before succumbing to Thai food and energy bars -- turns out late May is slim pickings in Portland. But if her stint eating weeds cultivated a taste for dandelion greens and nettles, she won't necessarily have to go through the hassle of finding them herself anymore.
There's just something terrifyingly iconic (and awesome) about the notion of establishing a solid, manmade tether between the surface of our planet and an orbital satellite. But what if the space elevators aren't so much composed of futuristic nanotubes, but are more like towering, inflatable bouncy castles?
I like beer. I'm also a fan of a glass of red wine or of something froofy and sparkling in the summer, but having been pregnant for the last, um, eternity, what I've really missed is a frosty cold Sweetwater 420 extra pale ale from Atlanta's little hometown brewery. Or maybe a Sierra Nevada pale ale. Ooh, or a cool, golden hefeweizen with a slice of lemon drifting lazily on top.
You guys know we're a curious bunch here at HowStuffWorks.com. Just the other day the moon-moon question was gnawing at staff writer Jessika Toothman. Normally she fixates on stuff like the smallest pigs in the world, so I did a little digging on her behalf.
The idea of a moon's moon (not to be confused with a man's man) has a few strikes against it.
I love a good post-apocalyptic tale, regardless of artistic integrity. I grew up watching "Thundarr the Barbarian" and "The Road Warrior," and while I eventually moved on to admire the likes of "The Road" and Jack Vance's "Tales of the Dying Earth," I'd probably still enjoy a viewing of "Cherry 2000."
So the other day I checked out science-fiction blog i09 to read the latest on Denzel Washington's upcoming post-apocalyptic romp "Book of Eli." What did I find? News that the movie would feature Denzel wandering the wastes in search of a place to charge up his iPod.
I discussed just such a scenario in the article last summer in the article "Can you power an iPod with an onion?" so I'm thrilled to see this perplexing quandary make its way to the big screen.
Georgia is bug country. Whether we're battling Argentine ants, the small black creatures that swarm en masse out of cracks, or expertly throwing a flip-flop at the roach skittering across the wall, the war between bugs and Southerners is no joke. Which is why it's puzzling to me that anyone would keep an insect for a pet, especially one that's as long as my index finger.
With the Vatican going solar and the Popemobile potentially going electric, it makes sense that Benedictine nuns have also started investing in energy efficiency. The nuns of the Conventus of Our Lady of Consolation have just moved into their new home -- a 4.7 million pound ($7.4 million) eco-convent in England's North York Moors national park.
According to the Guardian (via Inhabitat), the new building is constructed from local materials and features solar-powered hot water heaters, a green roof covered in sedums to attract animals and regulate the building's temperature, a wood-chip boiler and a rainwater collection system to flush the toilets. If such eco-amenities seem too standard, the reedbed sewage system is sure to impress: Outgoing sewage from the monastery filters through a reedbed where it's processed by anaerobic digestion and flows into the ground.
The nuns had occupied their former home, the lovely yet inefficient Victorian Stanbrook Abbey, for 171 years.
Would you be scared if you knew that the aircraft you were flying in had been struck by lightning? Most of us would, whether we're frequent fliers who flash our platinum status or white-knuckled armrest grippers who've only flown once to visit grandma in Florida.
The thing is, we shouldn't be scared. Not really. Because lightning strikes are ridiculously common. According to a fascinating article from AP, lightning strikes occur daily on passenger planes. If you're flying in the Northern Hemisphere or near the equator, the plane that's ferrying you to broker your business deal is an even likelier target because thunderstorms like to congregate there. Lightning also seems to favor those puddle jumpers used in commuter flights for the same reason.
Now that I've scared the bejesus out of you, let me sound the voice of reason.