(Note: I drafted this post on Tuesday, February 5 so it is slightly outdated.)
It has snowed in Seattle and the whole city has shut down. For the last two days, the schools and universities have been officially closed, the busses have been on their “snow route” and people (including me) have been penguin-waddling along the ice-ridden sidewalks.
Thank you, shoes, for having a grip on snow, ice, and reality.
So while the extreme colds of the Polar Vortex in the Midwest of the US seem to have passed, and the snow in Seattle is slowly starting to melt, I thought I’d check in on the snowiest and coldest places. I told you some time ago that Seattle is not the rainiest city in the US. Nor is it the snowiest, or the coldest. But which city is?
The “UDub” entrance was a prime position for your snowy Instagram pic. (People omitted)
The top three snowiest (major) cities in the US, based on data from 1981 to 2010,* are Rochester (NY), Buffalo (NY), and Cleveland (OH) respectively with 252.7, 240.5 and 173.0 cm of yearly snowfall on average. You don’t get that in inches, sorry you imperials. Seattle averages on a meager 17.3 cm.** However, US cities get practically no snow at all compared to Aomori City in Japan, where an average of 8 meters of snow falls every year (presumably based on data from 1953 to 2016).
If we take a look at coldest cities in the US, Fairbanks (AL, as you’d never have guessed), Grand Forks (ND) and Williston (also ND) make up the top three with -27.2, -19.5 and -17.7°C respectively. In fact, this morning my colleague walked in on high heels, on which I commented: “How do you do that in the ice?” Her reply was simply that she was from North Dakota, she’s used to it.
By the way, Fargo (ND) comes in on number four, deserving an honorable mention because of the awesome movie. And series. Well, I’ve only seen season one, but that was great.
The coldest inhabited place on Earth is considered to be Oymyakon, Russia (-50°C on average, a temperature I can’t even fathom). On Antartica, the coldest ever temperature to be measured was -92°C (even less fathomable).
And apparently, the coldest place in our solar system might not even that far away. The permanently shadowed craters at the moon’s south pole have shown a minimum temperature of -238.3°C, colder than some of the temperatures measured on the surface of Pluto. However, we have yet to measure temperatures at the polar, always shadowy regions of other planets, so it is possible that the Dark Side of the Moon is not the coldest place in our corner of the universe after all.
Anyway, I’m not complaining about living in a mild climate (at least not at this very moment), because it allows me to go on some really nice walks even in February. Last weekend, I walked on the apparently iconic Seattle viaduct, which is going to be demolished. I’m not attached enough, nor a proper Seattelite, to have an opinion on the demolition, but it was pretty cool to walk through the new tunnel (that opened two days later), the old tunnel (that will be filled in) and the viaduct.
Last chance to walk in the new tunnel because soon it will be filled with traffic jams.Okay, the view was pretty nice.Exhibit B.
* So I should point out that this might have shifted a little in the last 9 years.
** From Seattle’s Wikipedia page, it’s unclear over which time range this was measured.
I have a track record of falling asleep in inconvenient locations. Basically, if I’m sat down and not actively doing a physical or mental activity, I will doze off.
I fall asleep in the car – fortunately only when in the passenger seat. I fall asleep on the bus and on the train – often resulting in neck pain for the following days. I fall asleep during short plane trips, though not really during long ones – apparently trying to actually fall asleep counts as one of those mental activities that keep me awake.
A snap my “friends” once took of me dozing on a bus. I’m just glad they didn’t draw stuff on my face.
And I fall asleep during lectures and seminars.
I remember it starting in maybe my third year of undergrad, though probably I’ve been caught dozing during classes before [I distinctly remember seeing photographic proof for this, but I can’t find it anymore, so I guess that means it never happened]. To the hilarity of my classmates, and to my own horror and embarrassment, I was not able to stay awake.
Where to sit in class. Conclusion: it doesn’t matter, I’ll fall asleep anyway.
I was reminded of this recently when I attended the local grad seminar. The guy next to me was either accidentally prodding me just when I was dozing off, or was helpfully trying to nudge me awake. I still don’t know which one of the two it was, but because we never exchanged so much as a glance once the seminar was over, I presume it was just all an accidental coincidence. Or a coincidental accident.
I want to point out to everybody who as ever talked at me, that me falling asleep during a talk is not necessarily related to the amount of sleep I’d had, nor a reflection of the quality of the presentation (well, partially, I will elaborate on that in a minute*).
At some point, I even asked for help from a therapist. Her tips to stay awake included: wearing a rubber band on my arm to flick myself with (apparently, the acute pain would give me a short surge of adrenaline), eat something during class (but apples are kind of loud to chew on), or doodle.
It turned out that multitasking did help – a bit. For a little while. But even with elaborate note-taking, which wasn’t my forte – there are countless examples of lecture notes starting out optimistically during the first 15 minutes of class and then trailing off into nonsense and eventually just blank lines – and reading things on my phone – it always seemed a bit rude even though I was literally not paying full attention in order to pay more attention, nothing really worked. The few occasions where I remember staying awake, I either basically wrote a complete comedy set (needless to say, I actually didn’t pay attention to the speaker) or it was because the professor giving the lecture was exceptionally engaging to listen to.
And I really mean exceptionally engaging. Seriously, my demands are unreasonably high. That specific professor taught beginner quantum mechanics to a bunch of quasi-engineers. He just oozed interest in his subject, had just the right amount of quirkiness, and didn’t rely on powerpoint presentations. His classes were all chalk and blackboard. Not that chalk is a requirement for an engaging talk, but the fact that I had to take notes at the same speed as he was teaching, probably helped me stay alert. And awake.
Nevertheless, it seems that a lot of public speaking events in the scientific world, whether it’s lectures or conference talks, are notoriously sleep-inducing.
And the subject of many, many jokes.
While I realize my requirements for a talk that would keep me awake are unrealistic (I’ve been in talks that I genuinely found really interesting and still fell asleep), and I am in no way – I repeat: in no way – an expert in public speaking, I do have some suggestions on how to make your (scientific) talk just that tad more engaging**:
Tip number one – Be interested in what you are talking about. I know, that sounds really obvious, but the number of times you get the impression that the speaker doesn’t really believe in the things they are saying happens more than it should. I know that when I had to give talks about things I didn’t really care about, I definitely went into drone mode. I’m sorry for anybody who had to sit through that.
No, not this kind of drone. It would’ve been awesome if I’d literally turned into a drone. That would’ve woken people up.
Tip number two – Tell a story. Things are a lot more interesting to listen to if they have a beginning, a middle and an end. And some evil villain you had to fight (which could be a protocol that just wouldn’t go right, or that bug in your code, or your lack of general motivation). The Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science gives workshops on using the power of narrative in scientific communication. You can still do the intro – methods – results – conclusion thing, just make it more of a story. Also, while you’re at it: be honest. If that experiment took months to get right, it’s okay to say so. Everyone in science has been through some kind of struggle to get data, but most people only show the shiny, polished end results. Every time someone showed some intermediate (failed) results in a talk, it’s gotten some laughs.
Tip number three – Experiment. Figure out what works for you. When I’ve had to give talks as a student for classes or during group meetings, which are generally all safe, I’ve treated it as an experiment. I’ve tried different presentation programs. I’ve tried not adding any text on my slides. The latter experiment failed miserably; I completely forgot what I was supposed to talk about, but luckily there was it was not a very important talk and the audience were all people I knew. Don’t try something completely new for your thesis talk, obviously; use “casual” presentations for experimentation.
“And this slide shows – uhm – random squiggles.” ***
Tip number four – Present a lot. Take every opportunity to practice. Try different types of settings. The only way to gain more confidence in presenting is to actually do it. I know, it sucks, but repetition actually works.
Tip number five – Be you. Add some personality to your talk. If you like to tell jokes, make a joke. If you enjoy adding a meme or two, just to it. Whatever floats your boat. The best talk I ever gave (in my *humble* opinion) involved me singing some songs about cancer and forces. At an actual conference. Obviously, the setting allowed for it, and I checked with the organizers first, but the response I got was overwhelming and a definite confidence boost. I took a risk to put some “me” in the talk, and it paid off.
Tip number six – This one is the most important one, I think. Keep it simple. Imagine you have to give the talk to a bunch of middle-schoolers. You want it to be engaging, you want your research to sound cool, you don’t want to overdo it with jargon and acronyms and walls of text. Even if your audience isn’t actually a bunch of 12-year-olds, this still applies. Be engaging, don’t overcomplicate things, and tell your audience why your research matters! The same rule counts in writing, actually. You can check what “grade” your writing style is for on this site, for example, what I’ve written here is about at great eight (I’m glad, it would have been embarrassing if I didn’t adhere to my own rule!)
We don’t all have to be excellent public speakers. But we can all at least try to not be awful speakers, and we can definitely try to not be sleep-inducing speakers. Well, except if I’m in the audience, then it’s all futile.
* Not sure if it actually will be in a minute, it all depends on your reading speed. ** This list is in no way to be considered a guide on how to make a good presentation. There are plenty of those on the internet (usually they come down to: don’t put too much info in your talk, don’t use too much text – pictures speak louder than words, repeat your take-home message – maximum three main points, and some more things to that effect). *** This picture, however, shows my excellent photoshop skills!
It’s no big secret that I think penguins are pretty cool. So I want to tell you some of my favorite penguin factoids. To be honest, mostly because lists are pretty easy to do (dixit the lazy blogger) and I did most of the research for this while tweeting for the Science For Progress RoCur (lazy blogger, remember?). Anyway, despite my evident laziness, penguins are actually awesome, and here are some reasons why:
Factoid number one:
Penguins have an amazing sense of style. They always look like they’re dressed for a party, rockin’ the tux look.
No one can chill and look fly at the same time! (By Liz Climo)
Factoid dos:
There are 26 “types” of penguins (due to the fact that a lot of types are geographically isolated from each other, it is not clear how many species there are). The largest type of penguin is the Emperor penguin (Aptenodytes forsteri – extra fact: Emperor penguins are the only bird species that never set foot on land!) The smallest penguins are little penguins (who would have guessed), including Eudyptula minor minor, in case you want to emphasize how tiny they are.
My favoritepenguin, however, is the Macaroni penguin because they have the best. featherdo. ever. They kind of look like Einstein had a hair-coloring accident but decided to go out in a tux anyway. They get their name from 18th-century English men who wore feather-adorned hats that were known as “Macaronis”.
That’s all. I just wanted to show this picture of Peter Dinklage holding a penguin clutch.
Factoid n°4:
Most penguin species are pretty good parents. Often, both parents take turns incubating the eggs. In some species, daycares are organized so some birds can go hunting while others take care of the fluffs.
This penguin is so much better than you. (Not sure about the original source)
While on parenthood, there are a number of examples of same-sex penguin couples taking very good care of penguin babies. Makes me wonder if they occur in nature. Perhaps they occur but don’t last when the couple realizes they can’t have any eggs. The examples are anecdotal in zoos, where the couple either gets an egg from the handlers or goes stealing eggs. Anyhow, there are plenty of examples from all over the world, including New York, Edinburgh, Sydney, and Denmark.
Factoid #5:
Walking like a penguin is a pretty efficient way to walk on ice without falling on your butt. And I’m a walking hazard without the ice. Also, my butt is higher up and has fewer feathers for cushioning. (#TMI)
Actual graphic used to tell people how to walk on ice.
I’ll leave you with this amazing video of a brave little Adélie penguin that went viral a few weeks ago:
Shoutout to my follower @drpenguinone for obvious reasons.
Edit: I’ve added links to this amazing video because I can and it’s hilarious.
For some obscure, unknown, mysterious reason, most things in nature are right-handed. I don’t mean that most people prefer writing, eating and doing other activities that require some dexterity with their right hand – although the word dexterity does seem needlessly biased towards the approximately 90% of the population that is right-handed. No, I am talking about right-handed helices.
A helix is an object having a three-dimensional shape like that of a wire wound uniformly in a single layer around a cylinder or cone, as in a corkscrew or spiral staircase**. What makes a helix right-handed, depends on whether the structure twists clockwise when you are looking at the structure from the top, and looking at the direction of the twist moving away from you.
Always use toys to explain concepts.
Another way of looking at it is by using the right-hand-rule – I am not sure this is its official (or even unofficial) name, but if you are like me and need to make an “L” with your hands to figure out which way is left, hand-based rules come in handy. Point your right thumb up and twist your hand upwards in the direction your other fingers are pointing, et voila: right-handed helix.
Pictures make more sense than words. This picture is worth 23 words.
Apparently, nature has decided that twisting right is the right way to twist. Proof for this is the structure of many macromolecules. For example, DNA, which is a double helix, is a right-handed double helix. The interactions that cause the structure to twist, happen to favor right-handed twisting. I should mention that left-handed DNA does exist, but it is are very rare and/or produced experimentally. Helical protein structures, such as alpha-helices, are also typically right-handed, and so is actin, a type of cytoskeletal filament.
Even on larger scales, nature prefers what turns right. Snail shells coil to the right. Most of the time. In fact, the rare case of a snail with a left-coiled shell resulted in a love triangle fit for Hollywood***.
Us humans, ever the inventors, have copied nature’s propensity to right-handedness in our hardware. Most screws have right-handed threads, leading to the handy mnemonic Righty Tighty, Lefty Loosey****. This is because most people are right-handed (about 90%, did you know?) and it’s just easier to screw that way*.
Left-handed screws do exist though, for special applications. No, not for exclusive use by lefties, but for situations where a right-handed screw would loosen over time, or cause extra stresses to occur in a system. For example, left bicycle pedals have a reverse (i.e. left-handed) thread because otherwise, the pedal would start unscrewing while cycling. Certain parts in airplanes have reverse threads, and so do types of machinery with rotary blades.
The right way to screw… *****
To conclude, screwing right isn’t always the right way to screw. More importantly, I sincerely apologize for making you read whatever just happened to my brain. I must have a screw loose.
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* Phrasing!
** Definition taken directly from the Google results to “what is a heliz” because I am unable to type four words correctly.
*** I was going to say “fit for Disney,” but I feel like love triangles are not sappy enough. While we’re on the topic of rare animals finding their true mate, a story about a rare frog finding love hit the news this week.
**** I obviously am not able to remember things without help.
The inspiration for this post came from a number of conversations; including with T. about airplane parts, S. about the lonely snail, and A. about left-handedness (I think, might have dreamt that one). Also potentially inspired by a certain famous person saying something about “And then they turn left, it’s always left.” (It’s not.)
Today*, obviously right after I had finished my home-cooked lunch, my labmates and I discovered some free leftover pizza in the kitchen area. While it’s a given that most people love pizza, it is even truer that academics love pizza. And mathematicians, a special breed of academics, are no exception. Their love for pizza is so pronounced that they named a mathematical theorem after it: the pizza theorem.
The pizza theorem states that if you cut a disk in a number of pieces that is divisible by for and greater than or equal to 8, you get two areas of equal size by alternating the slices of the disk. In other words: the sum of the areas of the odd-numbered sectors equals the sum of the areas of the even-numbered sectors.
If you cut a pizza like this, I will get very mad.
What it means is this: if you slice a pizza into a certain number of slices, and that number is 8, 12, 16 or 20 (other multiples of 4 are also possible, but let’s be honest, that gets pretty difficult to cut a pizza into more than 20 pieces), two people will end up eating exactly the same amount of pizza by eating alternating slices. The slicing does not have to go exactly through the center of the pizza (that’s kind of hard to do precisely), as long as all cuts go through the same point.
Here it is in shouty colors. Colors always make everything so much clearer.
The pizza-inspired math does not end there. Apparently, you can prove that if a pizza is divided unevenly, the diner who gets the most pizza actually gets the least crust – a 6-year-old’s dream!
Here’s another: a pizza sliced according to the pizza theorem can be shared equally among n/4 people (with n the number of slices). So 8 pieces can be shared equally among 2 people. 12 slices can be shared between either 2 or 3 people. 16 slices between 4 people, and 20 between 5. Good to remember for those pizza parties!
Pizza=Math!
Okay, I’ll leave you with some pizza facts:
An approximate total area of 100 acres of pizza is eaten in the US every year. That’s about 120 football fields (the standard method of size measurements). That means that if the whole of the US was covered in pizza, it would take 2.43 million years to eat it all, considering the eating rate remained constant.
Depending on how you define a “pizza”, the origin of pizza might not be Italian! Ancient Greeks and Egyptians were flatbreads topped with olive oil and spices. So kind of like pizza? (Nah, not really.)
Another math-pizza-merger is called the lazy caterer’s sequence, a sequence that counts the maximum pieces of pizza you can obtain by a given number of straight slices.
In 2001, which was mostly a Pizza Hut publication stunt, the first pizza was delivered to outer space. Cosmonaut Yuri Usachov was the lucky recipient.
The first computer-ordered pizza was delivered in 1974. Not through the internet though; the Artifical Language Laboratory at Michigan State was testing out its “speaking computer”.
If you thought the fancy pizza dough spinning and throwing was just a tourist attraction, you’re not entirely right. It’s actually the best way to create a uniform disk of dough.
Obviously, I had a slice of free pizza. You might have heard of a dessert stomach, but I also have a pizza stomach. (There was also free cake later in the day, to satisfy that dessert stomach).
You might have noticed how I’m a low-key (*ahem*) LEGO fan, but only if you’ve really been paying attention, and it has been quite a while since I went on a Lego-nerd rant (hm, not really).
Anyway, this 86-year-old company, named for the Danish words for “play well” (“leg” and “godt”), is not only known for its iconic building block but also for its iconic minifigure:
Decomposed LEGO figure. Image from (1)
Unlike the building block, which has remained the same for decades (in fact, a current block will still click with a 60-year-old one), the minifigure has gone through some major changes. Between 1975 and 2010, there have been at least 3655 different minifigures, and in 2000 there was an estimated total of over four billion mini Lego people! Actually, according to some predictions, the total number of minifigures will surpass that of humans next week!
And I trust Randall Munroe’s math… Image from (2)
The first minifigure (1975) didn’t even have any moving parts. It wasn’t until three years later, when the familiar yellow smiley-faced figure came out (your friendly neighborhood cop), that the arms and legs could be moved:
1978 guy (right) says: “Hands up!” 1975 guy (left) says nothing, for he has no face. Image from (3)
This was also when the Lego minifigure hand shape was developed. It is very useful for holding Lego-things. However, is very inefficient when you’re trying to be sarcastic…
Throughout the years, the figures have gotten increasingly more complex. It started with the hair (early male minifigures wore hats until the hairpiece was designed in 1979), then the accessories arrived. Hats, bags, hand-held weapons, … the whole shebang. In the meantime, the outfits got more detailed. When licensed playsets started taking off near the turn of the millennium (the first Star Wars series hit the shelves in 1999), a whole franchise originated which would include books, video games, and animation films. More series soon followed, including Harry Potter, Batman, LOTR, … the list is endless. And while the outfits and accessories became more elaborate, the faces became more – well – emotional?
Initially, there was only the blank smile. Now, Lego minifigure faces encompass all the emotions. According to a 2013 paper, there are six main types of facial expressions: disdain, confidence, concern, fear, happiness, and anger.
Scorny, Gutsy, Worry, Scaredy, Happy, and Grumpy. Dopey has gone missing. Image from (1)
Happy and angry faces are the most common, with the relative proportion of happy faces decreasing over time. In short, with an increasing emotional range, Lego minifigures seem to be getting more “human.” Soon, they’ll have Myers–Briggs personality types!
Over But for now, we’ll have to do with two-faced police officers…
Over time, Hollywood movies have gotten increasingly less black and white (I do not mean the colors), with multi-dimensional characters, heroes with a dark side or villains that seem relatable, and it seems that the Lego minifigures are following suit.
In any case, Lego might be over 80 years old, and the minifigures over 40, but no matter how old you are, you are never too old to play, build or tinker with Lego!
Adult Valerie admiring the Lego store window. (Photo by Lale)
An article popped up on my radar recently that caught my attention about some researchers in the UK that had performed a study looking at the foreign language skills of people after a drink or two. This interested me for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s a scientific publication about alcohol and I have to admit that always spikes my interest (but not my drink). Second of all, after spending almost a year in France (2) on an exchange program, I have experienced firsthand how my (self-perceived) language skills improve after increasing my blood alcohol percentage. However, these experiences were not only anecdotal, but also purely subjective, so I was naturally buzzed when I read that there could be a scientific basis to my observations.
And now we start the selection of general stock pictures of beer.
What’s this scientific basis you’re talking about?
In the study, the researchers measured the self-rated and observer-rated verbal skills of native German speakers who had recently started learning Dutch (3) after drinking a little bit of alcohol (or none for the control group). Basically, they recorded a number of conversations between the Dutch-speaking Germans and a blinded experimenter before and after having a drink: vodka-lemonade for the test subjects and water for the control. These recordings were then rated by native Dutch speakers. The participants were also asked to rate their own verbal skills.
Participants who had had a glass of Russian Water were rated significantly higher by the Dutch native speakers, specifically with regards to their pronunciation. Surprisingly, and against the whole principle of Dutch courage – strength or confidence gained from drinking alcohol, – there was no effect on the self-rating.
This means that the improved pronunciation cannot really be an effect of improved self-confidence, as the self-rating would change in that case. I should remember this next time I have a science stand-up comedy thing. Usually, I adhere to the rule of “no drinking before a gig” because I’ve been told that drinks make you think you’re funnier, while in reality, you are probably less funny. But perhaps my fear of becoming overconfident is completely unsubstantiated? (4)
Anyway, a possible explanation for the results is decreased language anxiety, which is the feeling of nervousness felt by someone using a second or foreign language (also known by the name xenoglossophobia, a word that already just makes me anxious as it is). Basically, when speaking a foreign language, a lot of people are scared of making mistakes or sounding stupid, making them overthink everything they want to say and eventually resulting in a strained conversation. With a bit of alcohol, there is less overthinking et voilà, better pronunciation and more fluid speaking.
Oh, I obviously have to point out that this study was conducted with low amounts of alcohol consumption. Don’t try downing half a bottle of vodka before speaking a foreign language because that will most likely result in slurred speech and a headache the day after, at the least.
Oh look another generic beer stock photo.
This almost sounds too good to be true…
As with a lot of scientific research, there are a few caveats in the study, because that’s how science works… For one, it was conducted on native German speakers who learned Dutch as a second language which means that – if we also disregard the sample size issues – the results might only be valid for German speakers who have learned Dutch, and invalid for any other combination of native-foreign language speakers. The researchers also didn’t look at whether the subjects suddenly became better at speaking their own language after a drink; perhaps a little bit of alcohol just improves verbal skills in any language?
Also, there is some proof that people of alcohol having a placebo effect, for example, people drinking non-alcoholic beer thinking they are getting drunk without actually consuming alcohol (5). This alcohol expectancy effect could have biased the study because the difference between vodka-lemonade and water is pretty obvious, which makes me (and the researchers, who to their credit have pointed out the limitations of their study) wonder what the results would have been if the study participants had been blinded to whether there was alcohol in their drink or not (6).
And yet another foamy beer stock photo.
Final thoughts?
Well, there you go, having a little bit of alcohol might actually make you better at speaking a foreign language. Maybe it actually helps you in the learning process. But for now, I just feel like grabbing a beer. And then maybe speak some French.
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(1) This translates to – pardon my French if I may misuse that phrase – “I speak French really well when I’m drunk.” I’ve also just experienced how much a pain it is to type French on a qwerty keyboard and will refrain from doing so from now on.
(2) #HumbleBrag. Well, more like a #NotSoHumbleBrag.
(3) They titled their paper “Dutch courage? Effects of acute alcohol consumption on self-ratings and observer ratings of foreign language skills” which is pretty punny.
(4) I haven’t tested this and don’t plan to. Drink responsibly people.
(5) I definitely do not just know this from a Freaks and Geeks episode *ahem*
(6) I don’t know how hard this is to do; I for one would like to think that I’d be able to tell if a drink is alcoholic or not but on the other hand, I have had hard cider.
Don’t worry, I won’t get all creepy on you, I just thought* I’d write a #FunFactoids post about crows…
1. A group of crows is called “a murder”
(Ah, the title makes so much sense now!)
Since you’ve probably heard about a murder of crows, I’ll hit you with some other strange groups-of-animal names. Have you ever encountered a cauldron of bats? Or a tower of giraffes? You better get your business straight when you run into a business of ferrets, and pray you never run into a mob of kangaroos. That conspiracy of lemurs is most definitely going to conspire against you, and I hope your not afraid of storms because there is a thunder of hippopotamuses on its way. Okay, I am getting carried away, you can probably just click here and read through the list yourself so I can get back to this murder…
This crow’s got murder on his mind. And arson.
2. How to recognize a crow: if you see a black bird and it’s larger than a pigeon, it’s a crow. Well, it might be a raven. This is not helpful.
Recognizing birds can be tricky. Not all black, menacing birds are crows, though there are some tricks you can use to recognize one. Crows are black (duh). If the bird you’ve spotted** is smaller than a pigeon, you are probably not looking at a crow but at a blackbird (Turdus merula), though only if you’re in Eurasia.
To tell a crow from a raven, check if they have any murderous friends with them; ravens typically travel in pairs while crows like to be in large groups. Their tail also has a slightly different shape (wedge vs fan respectively). The best clue – probably – is to listen: the raven will often be heard reciting Edgar Allen Poe Poems.
In all seriousness, the names crow and raven are actually arbitrary, not very scientific, and region-specific. In America, the common raven (Corvus corax) refers to a pretty large bird that sounds super croaky, travels with only one other friend, and looks like it’s a familiar to some witch. The smaller black bird, and the topic of this blog, would be the Americal Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) and they like other tunes…
Crows are secreatly tune-connaiseurs.
3. Crows are songbirds
Depending on your taste of music – maybe you do enjoy the raw voice of a heavy smoker – it might not seem obvious that birds of the Corvus genus are part of the Passeri suborder, also known as songbirds. I learned today that the classification “songbird” is not based on the quality of a bird’s tune, but on their anatomy. Songbirds have a syrinx – or song box – which is a specific bony organ in the windpipe of a bird and causes vibrations when air passes through, causing vocalization. Not all songbirds actually sing, let alone sing melodically. In any case, crows are wonderful singers (ahem).
4. Crows are very social animals and have a strong sense of family
Young crows have often been seen helping take care of their younger siblings, by defending the nest from predators or finding food for their lil’ bros and sisters. In addition, crows show some pretty strange behavior when a crow dies, congregating in masses (or as one might say, in murders) around the dead animal but never touching it, seemingly holding some kind of funeral.
They also like grouping together for other reasons, like throwing crow parties (I’ve heard they’re #lit) or just to hang out and laugh about how weird humans are.
Don’t choke on your coffee, crow.
5. Crows are super smart, perhaps smarter than you***
Some types of crows have brains that are proportionally bigger than human brains: their brain accounts for ~ 2.7% of a crow’s overall weight, compared to ~1.9% brain-to-body mass in humans. Though (proportional) brain size is not directly an indication of intelligence, there are several examples of how crows are pretty nifty.
For example, crows are known to build tools to help them get to their food, including making prods, poles, scoops, and hooks out of leaves and twigs. Researchers actually think that the crow’s beak has evolved to its shape (sharper and straighter than one would expect for their diet) to better hold and use tools.
Crows have also been seen taking advantage of passing cars to crack open nuts, and they don’t even jaywalk in the process*****. They wait for a red light, place the nut on the road, get out of the way by the time the light turns green and go get the nut during the next red light.
If that wasn’t impressive enough, crows can remember the faces of people that have annoyed them in the past. They even tell their murder-friends, and all gang up to caw at their enemies. They definitely hold a grudge and pass it on to the next generations. Better give them the respect they deserve, or you’ll never be safe.
You should listen, rabbit, or you’ll be haunted by murderous caws for the rest of your life.
And so, that concludes the oh-so-original-list-format blog on crow factoids. By the way, she (I) wrote “murder” exactly 10 times.
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Sources: Webcomics shown here are from falseknees.com who does these really quirky comics about various birds. Factoids loosely based on this article, Wikipedia, and sort of random google searches – lazy referencing 101.
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*This thought has nothing to do with recently having watched The Vile Village, an episode of A Series of Unfortunate Events, which takes place in VFD – Village of Fowl Devotees. Basically, a village of weirdos that have a weird devotion to crows. No, the inspiration for this post should be credited to A., who is giving me a ton of ideas of stuff to blog about, almost annoyingly so.
** Out of context this sentence fragment sounds like a 1950s guide for approaching a lady.
*** I in no way am implying that you, my dear reader, or not smart! Also, thank you for being super awesome and reading my blog and please keep reading and I’m sorry if I have offended you in any way and you personally are definitely a lot smarter than a dumb little crow!****
**** No offense meant to crows. In case any of them are reading. (Footnote-within-a-footnote, how Prachett of me).
***** Eeeey, check out that bird joke. It’s especially good because jays are part of the Corvus/crow family!
A lot of scientists are on Twitter these days. They tweet about their published work, about their life in the lab, and about the struggles of being in science.
However, it seems that a lot of the scientists are tweeting to each other. While this is not necessarily a bad thing (and a quite effective way to get a bunch of introverts to talk to each other), it clashes a little bit with the idea of Twitter being a medium for science outreach.
If you are a scientist on Twitter, you might be asking yourself: How can I communicate my research in a way that will interest different people/groups? And not just the people I’m already talking to at conferences.
Lucky for you, there is an actual science to “how do I get my tweet retweeted?”
You might be on a grant that stipulates things like “… to get relevant exposure and make the fruit of your work broadly available, outreach activities are a must.” You probably get some guidelines that are pretty “duh”: think about your core message; who is your target audience; how can you make your research catchy, concise and accurate? But how to actually do all these things, you might ask.
It is important to remember that one size does not fit all (it never does!).
Especially when using social media as an outreach tool, it can be easily forgotten that people process information in different ways, so it is important to match your communication to your target audience. One way to look at this from a social psychology perspective, in which some people process information heuristically, and other more systematically.
Very briefly, heuristically refers to the person primarily focussing on the superficial aspects of the message, while systematically refers to the person thinking carefully and deliberately about the content of the message.
And while you might think that your research is the most interesting thing ever, not everybody else will think the same. And even if they do find it interesting, they might not be able to understand it.
People can’t pay attention to everything. And moreover, you know what you are talking about. You have studied it for years. Other people — however — do not.
So when developing a piece of communication, you need to know two key things about your audience:
Are they cognitively ‘able’ to process the information you want them to?
Are they motivated to pay close attention to what you are telling them?
If the answer to both questions is “yes,” you are dealing with an audience that can process information systematically. If one of the answers is “no,” you have a heuristic audience.
And here’s the stinker. The default audience is “low” in ability (as defined as knowledge about that specific topic, not overall) and “low” in motivation*.
Unless you are speaking to an audience comprising entirely of highly educated people, such as colleagues, experts or policymakers, there will be at least one person in your audience that is not an expert on what you are talking about. And remember that in the case of Twitter, the audience could be everybody.
A lot of research may seem abstract or irrelevant to the general public. If it doesn’t affect them directly, why should they care?
It all comes down to this: most people will be processing anything you try to communicate to them mostly heuristically, or at least at first. You’d be the same, I’m sure. This means that the superficial aspects of whatever you are presenting are very important.
Is it from a credible source? You may dislike putting the Dr in front of your name but it does make you sound a lot more like you know what you’re talking about.
If using graphics/doing a presentation: colors, font, layout, … are all important!
So if you are tweeting about your research, and you want it to reach more people than just your colleagues, there are a few things you should think of:
Establish source credibility: now is your time to “brag” about your degree. You are an expert in your field, it’s okay to say so. It demonstrates both your expertise and your trustworthiness.
Physical attractiveness: though probably more important when communicating in person, do you really want to be remembered as “that slob” or do you want to be remembered as “that scientist”. It shouldn’t matter, but sadly, it does.
Number of claims/pieces of evidence: the more arguments you have to back up your claim, the more you look like you know what you are talking about!
Length of your message: you get 280 characters in a tweet, but you can also create a thread nowadays. Stick to the core message though, if you drift off into the details, people will lose interest.
Logical construction: if you construct your claims logically, then it will be easier for people to follow your train of thought.
Public consensus: do other people agree with you? Have they found data that supports your findings? It all makes what you say more believable.
Visuals: if you use a graphics (or if you are reading this to make better presentations and not just tweets, or to make video-content), pay attention to the colors you use, the fonts (no Comic Sans!), the speed with which the images load (depends on their size)…
Luckily, if you are aiming for an expert audience, the list is a bit shorter (though you will notice some overlap).
In general, the quality of your content is very important.
People will think carefully about what you say or write, so make it convincing. Make sure the claims are backed up by evidence that is both unbiased and extensive. Your claims should be detailed, and supported by other research (citations!). And finally, make sure your claims are logical. Give only the information that is necessary, but all the information that is sufficient to back up your story.
Now, there you go, you know what to do, so get on Twitter and tweet away!
This post is based on the “Strategies for Effective Media Outreach” session by Dr. Nehama Lewis (Board Member, MCAA) at ESOF2018 Toulouse, France
*Source: Petty (1986) “Communication and persuasion: central and peripheral routes to attitude change.” Springer-Verlag, New York.
You can read more about the social psychology that was briefly touched on here:
Since I first gained the use of reason my inclination toward learning has been so violent and strong that neither the scoldings of other people … nor my own reflections … have been able to stop me from following this natural impulse that God gave me. He alone must know why; and He knows too that I have begged him to take away the light of my understanding, leaving only enough for me to keep His law, for anything else is excessive in a woman, according to some people. And others say it is even harmful.
I read this quote in Contact by Carl Sagan. It was written by Juana Inés de la Cruz in her Reply to the Bishop of Puebla in 1691. The Bishop had attacked her scholarly work as being inappropriate for a woman; while he claimed to agree with her views, he didn’t think them appropriate for her sex. Rather than writing, she should devote her life to prayer, an endeavor much more suitable for a woman.
Aargh. 17th century clergymen are just the worst.
We’d better talk about this amazing woman then:
Juana Inés de la Cruz lived in (what was then New Spain but what is now) Mexico in the 17th century and was a self-taught polyglot (my favorite type of inspirational people). She studied scientific thought and philosophy, she was a composer and a poet, all in an age long before women were allowed to do anything involving using their brain.
If we may believe the stories, Juana started teaching herself at a young age by hiding to read her grandfather’s books. She supposedly learned how to read and write Latin at the age of three. At the age of 16 she had asked her mother’s permission to disguise herself as a man so she could study in some avant la lettre version of She’s the Man; but her mom wouldn’t let her so she had to continue to study in secret. But by then, she already knew Latin, Greek, Nahuatl, and accounting – the most important language of them all *ahem*.
In 1669, she became a Hieronymite nun so she could study in freedom – other monasteries were a lot more strict and wouldn’t allow her to pursue her passion for knowledge, philosophy, and writing. As a nun, she would write on the topics of religion, feminism, and love; often criticizing the hypocrisy of men and defending women’s right to education. In Reply to Sister Philotea, she wrote:
Oh, how much harm would be avoided in our country [if women were able to teach women in order to avoid the danger of male teachers in intimate setting with young female students.]
[Such hazards] would be eliminated if there were older women of learning, as Saint Paul desires, and instructions were passed down from one group to another, as in the case with needlework and other traditional activities.
Okay, now I’m imagining needlework maps of our universe. That’d be cool.
Unfortunately, this story has an unhappy ending. According to some sources, rather than being censored by the church, Sister Juana decided to stop writing and sell all her books, musical instruments, and scientific tools. Other sources claim that her belongings were confiscated by the bishop due to her defiance towards the church. Nevertheless, a lot of her writings have gone lost and soon later, in 1695, after caring for other nuns with the plague.
There’s a lot of humdrum about inspirational women, in science or not, nowadays. With a lot of books with inspiring stories, such as Rachel Ignotofsky’s Woman in Science, finding empowering role models has never been easier. And I love it. Showing an as diverse possible range of inspirational historical figures provides everyone with role models than can identify with and aspire to. However, I have noticed that my knowledge of inspirational women is primarily European-based. So this is me trying to change that.
“One can perfectly well philosophize while cooking supper.” – Multitasking 101
