Science is the best way to dig out the truth of the natural world, but that doesn’t prevent many people from denying truths that are inconvenient or contrary to their preconceptions or faith.

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U.S. 30, east of Blair, Neb. June, 2011, Iowa DOT

The stunning floods, tornadoes, droughts and heat waves in 2011 caused more Americans to accept global warming — even if climate whizzes are chary of attributing individual weather events to the warming trend.

In the last month, denial of global warming has subsided in the wake of a string of floods, droughts and heat waves, culminating in the “summer in March,” 2012. Although Americans’ attitudes toward warming ebb and flow, on April 17, a Yale University poll reported that 69 percent think global warming is affecting the weather in the United States.

In the same month, however, a Discovery Channel series called “Frozen Planet” attracted ire when scientists noted that it documented massive melting at the poles, but ignored the “why?” question. Scientists have said for decades that polar warming would be an early sign of global warming.

In the recent past, this phenomenon of “denialism” has also appeared in doubts about issues that have long been settled in the scientific community, such as whether:

An April conference at the University of Wisconsin-Madison delved into the origin and development of denialism. Is a refusal to face facts growing more common? Are there better ways to explain how the world works?

Denial in the brain

Scientists, by training, are professional skeptics, but if after decades of debate 97 percent of them accept the link between greenhouse gases and global warming, why are so many unconvinced? “The theory is that if we tell people what we know, they will change,” says Arthur Lupia, a professor of political science at the University of Michigan, but that ignores how people really listen and make decisions.

Speaking to a high-level gathering of science journalists in Madison, Lupia said the problem does not reside with the audience. “The problem is us. Our expectations aren’t consistent with how humans react to information, what they will listen to, or what they will remember. People don’t pay attention, or they don’t remember what we said or what we intend them to remember.”

To change an opinion, you must first attract and then hold the audience’s attention, but attention wanders all the time. No matter how important you think your message is, Lupia says, “Biology does not change its rules … about when people will think about things that challenge them. … If I am saying something abstract, that does not connect to your core aspirations,” you may be more interested in counting tiles on the ceiling.

Can you hear me now?

To communicate with a general audience, Lupia says, “You have to make it close, concrete, immediate. I understand the joy of telling the whole story about climate, but there are some audiences that can’t handle it; in their reality, it’s not the most immediate thing. They might be more receptive if you make the conversation about pollution, energy security or energy costs.”

Information is filtered by attention and ideology, Lupia concludes. “Learning is always an away game. All the real action occurs in the audience’s heads,” he says.

Reasoning: Logical or “motivated”?

Ideally, science adheres to logical reasoning: the conclusion must be true if the premises are true.

But psychologists say it’s common to see “motivated reasoning,” the tendency to fit new information into existing attitudes.

Making a judgment or decision can often involve a “fundamental tension between believing what you want and believing what you have to believe based on the information in front of you,” says Peter Ditto, professor of psychology and social behavior at the University of California-Irvine.

“There is overwhelming evidence” that hopes, fears and social connections affect our judgments, Ditto adds, “but it’s not just that we believe whatever we want. I want to be taller, but I don’t believe that because the data won’t let me.”

Since processing information and making judgments have major emotional components, the standards for evidence are skewed in favor of reinforcing our preconceptions. We are more skeptical about ideas that are new, or that conflict with our thoughts and opinions, Ditto contends.

Over the course of evolution, bad events — but not beneficial ones — forced our ancestors to focus on whether to fight or flee. “People are the same way about information,” says Ditto.

The social element in motivated reasoning surfaced in a 1950s experiment, when six people convinced a seventh, the only real subject, that two lines were equally long. One line was clearly shorter than the other, Ditto says, “But six of them are confederates, and a substantial number of [subjects] go with the obviously wrong answer. That’s the power of having other people who believe as you do. It’s much easier to believe something that does not comport with reality if a whole bunch of others” hold the same erroneous belief.

History of denialism

Although denial of global warming and the erroneous link between vaccines and autism both originated in the 1990s, the organized rejection of evolution dates to the 1920s, when some American Christian fundamentalists promoted creationism — a Biblical explanation for the diversity of life on Earth.

In a 2009 survey, 87 percent of scientists, but only 32 percent of all Americans, agreed that organisms have evolved over time through natural processes. Thirty-one percent of Americans thought humans and other living things “have existed in the present form since the beginning of time.”

Scientists and other Americans certainly have a different understanding of how organisms change through time!

Scientist data and general public data from Pew Research Center for the People & the Press surveys, May-June 2009. For question wording, see survey toplines. Numbers may not sum to 100 due to rounding. Reprinted from Pew Research Center’s Forum on Religion & Public Life.

Much of the attention to the issue comes from battles over teaching of evolution or creationism in public schools, but there is “a lot of misunderstanding,” about the anti-evolution movement in the United States, says Ronald Numbers, a professor of the history of science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and longtime student of the movement.

Although creationism is commonly considered a backlash against science, “Virtually nobody in the movement [in the 1920s] thought of themselves as anti-scientific,” Numbers says. “They were denying the scientific status of evolution.”

The dictionary defines science as “organized, certain knowledge about nature, and they said, ‘Nothing is certain about evolution, nobody has seen it.’”

During the 1970s, primarily in response to court decisions, creationism morphed into “creation science” or “scientific creationism,” Numbers says. “The anti-evolutionists realized that evolution had a great deal of scientific support … so their approach was that they, too, were scientific.”

Unlike most anti-evolutionists in the 1920s, the new creationists used a literal interpretation of the Bible to date creation to less than 10,000 years ago. But this created a problem, Numbers says, since according to the Bible, on the sixth day, “God created the animals and Adam named them all.”

No way Adam could rattle off the more than 1 million names of the modern species so quickly, but Numbers notes that the Bible refers to “kinds,” not “species.” If those “kinds” — created in Eden and saved on Noah’s ark — were equivalent to taxonomic families, they could have evolved into the profusion modern species.

“So creationists can accept evolution within the family, and all the evidence for speciation is welcome, because in only about 4,300 years since the flood, they have to have evolution of all the species,” says Numbers. “It’s evolution in fast-forward,” but only among closely related species.”

Even if “kind” equals family, anti-evolutionists exempt humans from this reasoning, allowing them to reject human descent from apes — our fellow hominids.

“It’s strange, I know,” says Numbers. “They are anti-evolution, but most of the evidence evolutionists use against them, they are happy to embrace! One thing that has not been true for 50 years, but lingers in the popular mind, is that creationists deny all forms of evolution.”

The manual of denialism?

Evolutionary biologists regard evolution through natural selection as the organizing principle of biology. Yet for 30 or 40 years, surveys have shown a substantial fraction of Americans, even a majority, who do not “believe in” evolution, Sean Carroll, vice-president for science education at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute, told the denial conference.

Carroll, who like many biologists is aghast at the effort to squeeze evolution into a biblical straitjacket, says, “The denial of evolution was my introduction to denialism.”

ENLARGE

American Museum of National History

In 1954, children got a “Polio Pioneer” card, and a piece of candy after getting a jab of polio vaccine.

Typically, biologists have approached the evolution debate by amassing evidence, but “it’s never been about the data,” maintains Carroll, who is also a professor of genetics at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “And if it’s not about the data, what are we talking about?”

An earlier example of denialism occurred in the 1950s, after Jonas Salk developed the polio vaccine, a breakthrough that halted a dreaded, paralyzing disease.

Many chiropractors, Carroll found, opposed vaccines since they negated the central premise of chiropractic — that all disease results from misalignment of the vertebrae. “It shocked me. They actively opposed, disputed the efficacy of the polio vaccine. The opposed the March of Dimes, and federal and state efforts to get everybody vaccinated.”

Five hallmarks of denialism

The opposition continued — even after the polio epidemic tapered off as a result of the mass vaccination that started in 1955, says Carroll. And he identifies the tactics used then as a “playbook” of science denial that is echoed in more recent struggles over evolution, vaccines and global warming:

We just don’t agree!

Add it up, and the theme is this: The science must not be allowed to endanger a key philosophy, Carroll says.

But the cost of denialism is high, Carroll maintains. “It’s difficult, as an evolutionary biologist, to realize that half the county is deaf to anything you have to say, especially if the story you have to tell is about a magnificent achievement, understanding the complex relationship of living things on the planet, the deep history of our species.”

To reach young people, Howard Hughes has begun producing and giving away a series of videos on evolution called The making of the fittest.

Go to links for videos

Howard Hughes Medical Institute

To bring science to the masses, Hughes has produced videos on evolution; this one describes how cold-water fish evolved “anti-freeze” genes.

The idea is to engage in storytelling — to help people understand and remember facts by putting them into a narrative framework, Carroll says. As a professor, he’s seen the power of a story. “When I got lost, off-topic, and students see me years later, they say they still remember some of those stories, and I know they don’t remember any of the genetics. Stories count.”

Time (dis)honored tactics

Naomi Oreskes, a professor of history and science studies at the University of California at San Diego, has written about the “merchants of doubt.”

The message, she says, is simple: The facts are not all in. We need to hold judgment until the scientists agree.

This kind of corrosive doubt — in the face of scientific certainty — is “very depressing” if you “believe that knowledge is power,” Oreskes says. “Knowledge is not powerful enough — an ideology is more powerful still. It’s about ideas, not facts.”

During the last half-century, she says, “Political powers are willing to attack rational truths, and those who deliver them.”

There is also money at stake in many of the issues, especially in the case of climate change, which threatens the fossil-fuel industry.

Car exhaust from eutrophication&hypoxia; smoky butt from Raul Lieberwirth

What do these have in common? Many companies in the oil and tobacco industries have sown seeds of doubt about the long-term effects of their products.

The model for such campaigns, Oreskes said, came from the tobacco industry in the 1960s. Facing growing evidence linking their profitable product to lung cancer, the industry settled on a strategy of promoting “Questions, manifested in a memorable maxim: “Doubt is our product.”

And for decades, doubt helped big tobacco deride and deny a tidal wave of evidence that cigarettes cause lung and heart disease.

December, 2011, Pew Research Center for the People & the Press.

After the crazy weather of the past year, pollsters have seen a bump in the number of Americans seeing “solid evidence” for global warming.

The same strategy, Oreskes says, was adapted to undermine “nuclear winter” (the discovery that huge clouds of ash and dust released during nuclear war could freeze and starve the planet), the dangers of the insecticide DDT, acid rain caused by power-plant pollution, the ozone hole, and global warming.

The tactics were to “challenge the evidence, claim the science is not settled, cherry-pick the data, to demand balance from journalists and threaten to sue if they don’t,” says Oreskes.

Changing the climate change story

The basic physics of global warming have been known for 100 years, Oreskes said. Scientists started exploring the subject with early computerized climate models in the 1980s.

In 1992, Oreskes said, the first President George Bush, “Called for concrete action to protect the planet. We had political leadership that committed us to doing something, yet we never did take the concrete steps that Bush called for. It’s a story about political challenges, selling uncertainty, about science in the age of denial.”

The doubters, funded by the oil industry, included some prominent Cold-War physicists who had been advocates for Ronald Reagan’s anti-missile defense system. “They said the science was unsettled, that it would be premature to act,” says Oreskes, who was intrigued to find that one of those physicists, Frederick Seitz, had been a consultant to the R.J. Reynolds tobacco company.

In 1998, Seitz organized a petition against the Kyoto Protocol, the first international agreement to control greenhouse gases.

Seitz and his fellow doubters, Oreskes says, “Found a new enemy: environmental extremism. You see anxiety about environmentalists as socialists, using climate change as a lever to effect social or economic change.”

What began with a handful of people with roots in the Cold War has since spread to “a range of free-market think tanks, including the Cato Institute and the American Enterprise Institute,” Oreskes says.

The arguments against the settled scientific debate over warming, she adds, “are not just different interpretation of the data; that’s a normal part of scientific life. This is not about normal scientific claims. These are the scientific equivalent of saying Belgium invaded Germany during World War I.”

Why deny? Because it works, Oreskes implies. Almost 25 years after the scorching summer of 1988 brought global warming into the public sphere, the United States has yet to get serious about controlling greenhouse gases.

“We ignore the facts of nature at our peril,” says Oreskes. “Ignoring them is not going to make them go away.”

Microsoft’s April 9 deal to spend $1.3 million apiece on 800 patents from AOL was another skirmish in the patent wars that have engaged the technosphere. Just last summer, we watched a blizzard of headlines, lawsuits, and billion-dollar bills:

We wonder: Is this a situation that only a patent lawyer could love, or are these purchases and lawsuits the inevitable price of progress in our high-tech world? Are they the inevitable outgrowth of a venerable system that, for all its flaws, is still better than nothing?

Patents are licenses to exclusively make and market an invention that are inscribed in the U.S. Constitution. The concept is simple — and ridden with inherent conflict. If you invent a small device (a “midget widget”) that is new, useful, and “not obvious” to people skilled in the art of widgetry — your widget can be protected by a U.S. patent.

If I make or sell a widget that uses your invention (that “infringes on your patent”), you can sue me for damages, and a court may order me to close my widget-works.

So far, my invention has benefited me, my employees and customers, but when the patent (which must explain the inner workings of my midget widget) expires after 20 years, it becomes available to anybody.
And so (in theory) patents stimulate innovation and progress by conferring a short-term monopoly in return for short- and long-term social and economic benefits.

But what sounds good on paper can hide complexities that only a patent lawyer could love:

“Greasing the wheels of innovation” or “throwing sand in the gearbox”?

It’s not hard to find claims that the patent system is “broken,” and nobody disputes that “bad patents” have been issued for innovations that are obvious, inane or unworkable.

Patent battles are nearly as old as the U.S. patent system: Eli Whitney spent years in court trying to enforce his patent against infringers who cobbled together homemade cotton gins. His “victory” came just one year before the patent expired.

Lawyer-letters about patent infringement are a dreaded fact of life in technology industries, but no matter who wins, patent battles transfer money from the buyers of phones and computers to patent lawyers.

The pace of U.S. patent awards has picked up to about 200,000 per year, and some with a dog in the fight say the system does protect the rights of inventors.

The sentiment is not universal.

Adam Jaffe, an economist at Brandeis University, co-wrote a book on the patent system² that refers to a “broken patent system” in the subtitle. Jaffe says patents cut both ways. “Patents are important in fostering innovation, because 99.9 percent of the time, inventing something is just the first step. You require a significant investment … to get something from the invention stage to actual production, and unless you are independently wealthy, you need someone who is hoping to make money to take you through the development stage.”

And that “someone” may view a strong patent as your most valuable asset.

Software and high-tech patents?

Innovation “is a very complicated process,” Jaffe adds. “In most cases multiple ideas are interacting. In the extreme case, in software and high technology, people say a product might invoke 100,000 patents. It can get very messy.”

When the United States started issuing large numbers of software patents in the 1990s, the inexperienced patent examiners issued many dubious patents. Although the examinations have gotten more stringent, some still think software should be exempt, or patented under different standards.

Searching for competing inventions in software, for example, is comparatively difficult, and the search is the basis of the patent examination.

In most cases, says Tim Berners-Lee, a commentator on tech issues, software developers don’t bother doing thorough patent searches, which, he maintains, could require more patent lawyers than exist on earth.

Trolling for profits?

Although patent disputes are nothing new, they have been systematized by “patent trolls” — companies that own, defend and license a library of patents. Depending on your point of view, trolls are:

NPR covered a prominent case of trolling, complete with shadowy, unoccupied offices.

But even if trolls can be a barricade to innovation, “in practice it will be very difficult to change the rules in such a way as to prevent that,” says Jaffe. Would you allow infringement suits only from those who are moving a patented idea toward the market? “Say I’ve got an invention and am looking for a company that has the resources to bring it to market… and someone else comes along and steals the idea. Are you saying I can’t sue because I am not on the market?”

As with many parts of the patent system, finding faults is easier than fixing flaws, he indicates. “I don’t disagree that in a sense people are abusing the system by amassing piles of patents, but it’s naïve to think you can tweak the system to shut that down.”

First-to-file, or first to invent?

The America Invents Act, signed into law September, 2011, made what former commissioner of the Patents and Trademark Office Robert Stoll calls “the most revolutionary change in patent law in 60 years.”
The changes start with the basis for obtaining a U.S. patent. Previously, you had to prove that you were the first to invent something; now you must be the first inventor to file.

“First-to-file” will make life simpler, Stoll told an audience at the University of Wisconsin-Madison in April, by deleting disputes about who made the invention first. “First-to-file provides more certainty to the system, and reduces the ugly interference cases that don’t provide much benefit to the United States.” (An interference proceeding now determines whether someone made the invention before the patent applicant.)

“First-to-file really favors large companies that have sufficient resources to get to the patent office first,” argues Carl Gulbrandsen, managing director of the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation (WARF), the private, not-for-profit technology transfer arm of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, “and it disadvantages independent inventors and universities. I expect filing costs will go up.”

Got an app for that patent?

Here’s the snag: When you invent a molecule that could make a tire last forever, you may not know right away if it’s worth filing a patent application. Under first-to-invent, you could wait as much as one year to file.

Filing a patent can cost tens of thousands of dollars, which is money you could better spend on research that might show that your invention is solid — or as evanescent as a rainbow.

But under first-to-file, you lose if an inventor in Berlin or Tokyo files an app before you have time to decide. “AIA has weakened the grace period and the ability of independent inventors to test out the invention, and appropriately get financing to help with filing,” says Gulbrandsen.

Gulbrandsen also charges that the new law contains, “So many undefined terms that they will be litigating it for 15 years. They have essentially thrown out 100 years of case law; it’s a full employment act for lawyers.”

Winnowing the chaff — or weakening the patent system?

Although interference proceedings are now history, Gulbrandsen says AIA contains too many new ways to challenge patents. “There used to be two principal ways to attack a U.S. patent, and that made them strong. Now there are literally nine ways, and that weakens them overall. For a university, this will mean increased expense [for defending existing patents], and many of them won’t be able to bear that.”

Since its founding in 1925, WARF has contributed $1.24 billion to UW-Madison as royalties from more than 2,300 patents for inventions by university researchers. It has become a significant source of income to the university’s researchers and a model for other university patent offices.

A strong patent system has benefited the United States, says Gulbrandsen. “It’s necessary for innovation, and the last thing you want to do, if you want to create jobs, is to weaken the patent system, and that is exactly what we have done” with AIA.

But Jaffe, although no fan of the patent system, sees a benefit in these after-the-fact challenges, since “the vast majority” of the 200,000 U.S. patents granted each year are trivial (like that baling-wire-and-chewing-gum flying machine). Because the patent office must judge a flood of applications with limited resources, “It cannot do an exhaustive analysis, and it would be crazy to invest the resources to get it right every time.”

Under the new system, after the initial patent examination culls the obvious chaff, Jaffe says, competing inventors could contest a wobbly patent. Now, he says, “You have the opportunity, at least in theory, to go to the patent office and say, ‘This wasn’t really novel.’”

Although it’s easy to criticize the patent office, Jaffe says it has more expertise than the federal courts, the final resting place for most patent disputes.

Who benefits, who gets hurt?

In the ideal world — where patents are perfectly drawn — innovation wins. “I equate patents and innovation,” says Gulbrandsen. But despite its promising moniker, the America Invents Act “makes it more difficult for the inventor to raise the funds necessary to bring the invention to market. One of the best tools an entrepreneur or a startup has to raise money is a patent. It gives some assurance to investors that if they provide the funding, they will be able to recover it and get a return. The patent gives you the right to exclude others. Weakening the patent system increases the risk for investors, and that’s bad for inventors.”

University technology-transfer offices are going to suffer, says Gulbrandsen, who directs one of the oldest and largest in the nation, since many of them must wait to file a patent until they have found a business that wants to pay for filing and license the patent. “Although WARF is an exception, under first-to-file, you don’t have time to find a licensee, and so most universities tech-transfer offices will drop out.”

Individual inventors, Gulbrandsen notes, seldom have a patent lawyer on retainer.

Still, too much protection stifles innovation, says Jaffe, who says the system requires balance. “I don’t think first-to-file changes a lot. The rest of the world has been on that for a long time. There are going to be impacts in both directions, but in most cases, first-to-invent is just a source of conflict, because it’s harder to establish. This just simplifies things and reduces controversy, which is a very good thing.”

As farmers north of the equator get ready to plant their seeds, we’ve started wondering about agriculture before Columbus. Conventional wisdom says Native Americans were mostly hunters and gatherers. When they did farm, their slash-and-burn techniques exhausted the soil, forcing them to clear new fields.

Although Native Americans domesticated corn, tomatoes and potatoes, their farms were generally unproductive, and most of their plant food came from gathering tubers, greens, berries and shoots.

But as we learned at a series of talks at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, this picture needs editing:

The provision of permaculture

Until the 1960s, the government of Canada enforced assimilation of First Nation children at boarding schools that banned ancestral languages and practices. The goal was to homogenize Canada’s population, but suppressing culture also squelched knowledge of the traditional methods for raising and gathering food.

When the police boats arrived in British Columbia in the 1930s, to take children to boarding schools, Adam Dick (tribal name Kwaxsistalla) escaped, and went to live in secluded locations with his grandparents for about a decade.

Dick, a member of the Kwakwaka’wakw (formerly Kwakiutl) tribe, has become a link to a vanishing past. “His people have learned from him, they all benefit from his teaching,” says Nancy Turner, in the School of Environmental Studies at the University of Victoria (Canada).

Turner, who has spent a career studying indigenous agriculture, says knowing what to look for is key to understanding native agriculture on the coast of British Columbia. “They used perennial cultivation. ‘Keep it living’ was part of their philosophy, and it shows the way they value other life. A lot of perennial plants were being cultivated, but outsiders saw this as random plucking.”

People in the First Nations of British Columbia ate 35 species of roots, 25 greens, berries, even the inner bark of some trees, Turner says.

Overall, coastal people used 250 species of plants for food, tea, fuel, construction, fiber, canoes, dye and glue, Turner says.

When the natives harvested bark and wood from a living tree, they took what they needed without killing the tree. “They believed trees have sentient life, and called these ‘begged from’ trees,” Turner says. “‘We have come to beg a piece of you today.’”

“Gardens” in the water

The same attitude of “stewardship and caring” also applied to aquatic food, Turner says, especially the all-important salmon. “The salmon streams were carefully tended, and even cleaned. If the stream changed course, Adam and the others were taught by the elders to transplant [salmon] eggs to the new stream channel.”

Similarly, she says, people moved rocks to “create the most productive clam beds on the coast.”

Courtesy Nancy Turner.

Small plots of springbank clover (Trifolium wormskioldii), about to blossom in British Columbia produced “immense quantities” of roots that were “regarded as indispensable to good health,” says Turner. In this permaculture, the harvesters replanted segments of the roots for another crop.

This was more like farming and harvesting than hunting-and-gathering, Turner insists. But the colonists, more interested in survival and profit than the people they were displacing, “were blind to these practices. They had in mind Mr. McGregor’s garden, with a fence and rows you can harvest. They looked at these things, but they did not see them.”

Restoring the foods

Most cultures give a central role to the production, preparation and consumption of food. What happens when the land that grew traditional foods is drowned by dams?

That’s the conundrum facing Linda Different Cloud Jones, an activist and student from the Lakota Sioux Nation. “The loss of biodiversity is the greatest challenge on traditional lands,” she told an audience in March at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, “and the loss of one culturally important species has significant impact.”

The Lakota people “are stereotyped as the people of the plains,” says Jones, “but we are also people of the river, or were a people of the river, until, in the 1950s and ’60s, when dams built in the Pick-Sloan project changed the way of life for the Lakota forever.”

Standing Rock, the Lakota reservation, is sandwiched between the Dakotas, and borders the Missouri River. “Overnight, hundreds of thousands of acres of native land was underwater,” said Jones. “All the plant and animal species in the riparian cottonwood forest were gone.”

The underground seedpods of the hog peanut (AKA mouse bean), were collected by prairie voles. These small mammals, which the Lakota called “mice,” cached the big seeds underground.

Lakota women found the caches with a stick and removed the seeds, Jones said, but “They always left a gift, dry berries, animal fat or corn. They would sing, ‘You have helped sustain my children during this coming winter, and we will not let your children go hungry.’ Their song echoed from the trees, and it seriously breaks my heart that my young children will never see that.”

A sustainable yield?

The song revealed that “an entire world view and behavior went along with this one plant species,” Jones said, and both suffered when dams flooded the forest. “We haven’t eaten these for 50 or 60 years. With the death of this one plant was the death of a little piece of our culture.”

The hog peanut was part of a larger cycle, Jones says. In spring, “We would tap box elder maples for syrup, then collect biscuit root, wild strawberries, currants, juneberries, cattail shoots, and acorns in December. Nothing was ripe at exactly the same time. When the plants are no longer there, the cycle is broken.”

Jones, a Ph.D. student at Montana State University, is attempting to grow the hog peanut as a form of “ecocultural restoration.” “Research for the sake of research was not what I wanted to do,” she says. “I wanted to change the world for my people, to make their lives better.”

Millions of people made a living for thousands of years in the New World, she says. “Everyone always thought that when European people colonized the Americas, they were coming into a pristine place, but we were managing the landscape for thousands of years.”

Iroquois corn

Corn is an indisputable triumph of Native American agriculture. The plant, domesticated thousands of years ago in Mexico and Central America, was a staple of the American diet and is now the largest crop in the world (global production in 2009 was 819 million metric tons).

Although natives also invented the highly productive “three sisters” companion-cropping technique, their agricultural prowess has been underestimated, says Jane Mt. Pleasant, an associate professor of horticulture at Cornell University.

Although the Native Americans had transformed a weed into the phenomenally productive crop maize, “There are claims by scholars, archeologists, geographers and historians that native agriculture was predominantly shifting cultivation… largely marginal, not too productive,” Mt. Pleasant says.

In “shifting cultivation” (a politically correct locution for “slash and burn”), farmers move to new plots as they exhaust their soil. According to this logic, native farmers in North America “sowed the seeds of their own destruction through environmental degradation,” says Mt. Pleasant, who directs the American Indian Program at Cornell.

But Mt. Pleasant says this is bunk. Rather, she contends that:

The soil should be the starting point for understanding agriculture, says Mt. Pleasant. While many soils on the Eastern Seaboard are not great, large parts of upstate New York had good soil that still supports productive farms.

About 300 years ago, the Iroquois Confederacy, a union of five (later six) tribes, lived in the area, and evidence for their farm productivity comes, ironically, from armies that sought to destroy them. “The quantity of corn which we found in store in this place, and destroyed by fire is incredible,” wrote the governor of New France in 1687.²

The French attacked the Iroquois, who were allied with France’s great enemy, Great Britain.

Slash ‘n burn, or sustainable agriculture?

Then in 1779, a soldier sent by General George Washington reported that his unit had destroyed at least 200 acres of Iroquois corn and beans that was “the best I ever saw.”

“This was not backyard gardening, not primitive farming,” Mt. Pleasant says. “They were dynamic, producing farmers on really good soils.”

In modern tests of corn varieties believed to resemble those grown by the Senecas, one of the Iroquois tribes, Mt. Pleasant got yields of 2,500 to 3,000 pounds per acre (45 to 54 bushels per acre or 2,800 to 3,400 kilograms per hectare).

This was far above the 500 kilograms per hectare of wheat grown in Europe.

Turner calculated that the Iroquois could support roughly three times as many people on an acre as contemporaneous Europeans could with their wheat crops.

Part of the advantage, she says, comes from maize’s inherent productivity. But observers have long wondered how this production could have occurred with neither plow nor draft animals, usually deemed the hallmarks of agricultural progress.

Plows, however, are now viewed as mixed blessing by many soil scientists. Although they prepare a good seedbed and bury weeds, they expose soil to the air, which encourages oxidation of humus, the organic content that supports essential microorganisms.

Although, after plowing, the humus briefly releases a burst of nitrogen, the depletion of organic matter and increased erosion continue for decades.

And thus on balance, Mt. Pleasant says the lack of the plow was an advantage, because planting with hand tools saves soil organic matter.

“If you are not tilling, and start with good soil, you are not going to lose fertility,” Mt. Pleasant says. “The system is stable as long as the crop yields are moderate and there is no plowing.”

But without plowing, there was no need for slash and burn.

Overall, Mt. Pleasant says, the new data provide a “quite different” perspective on agriculture. “Who were the primitive farmers? This is sustainable agriculture at its highest level.”

Rethinking agriculture

This type of revelation changes our view of the origin of agriculture, says Eve Emshwiller, an assistant professor of botany at UW-Madison who organized the seminar on native agriculture and who studies oca, a root crop grown in the Andes. “We have always talked about hunter-gatherers as if one day they were gathering food and noticed a plant growing from seed and thought, ‘We could gather seeds and start farming,’ as if this brilliant idea happened all of a sudden.”

Aside from historical curiosity, why worry about how native Americans grew their crops? One reason is the growing interest in sustainable agriculture, says Emshwiller. As agriculture faces the challenge of feeding more people without further damaging soil and water, older traditions could contribute.

Looking at other ways to grow and gather food will broaden our perspective, Emshwiller says. “There were a lot of people who were not considered agriculturalists, who were [supposedly] just gathering from the wild. But if you really understand what they were doing, there is not a sharp line between gathering and farming. There is a huge continuum of ways that people manage resources and get more from them.”

Iraq resents American drones that monitor outside the U.S. embassy in Baghdad. Iran is delighted to capture a high-tech U.S. drone. And the United States plans more drone purchases even amid slowing growth of the military budget.

As remote-control airplanes get cheaper and better, drones seem to be everywhere:

And it turns out that drones are ideal for watching wildlife: rabbits, sea lions, gulls and a range of elusive or inaccessible species.

Counting the mini-bunnies

Researchers in Idaho have used drones to track the pygmy rabbit, a hand-size mammal that eats sagebrush. The rabbit, a “species of concern” in Idaho, is already extinct in neighboring Washington State.

Pygmy rabbits are reclusive, spending much of their time inside burrows, says Jennifer Forbey, an assistant professor of biology at Boise State University. Forbey, along with Janet Rachlow at the University of Idaho, the U.S. Geological Survey, and Washington State University, is using used military drones called Ravens to explore how habitat factors like cover, forage quality and temperature affect rabbit populations.

The Ravens are small, and able to carry only one of these instruments at a time:

The drone can cover the entire two-kilometer square site in about three hours, but its gadgetry sees neither rabbits nor their burrows. Because the drone noise would scare the rabbits back into their burrows, the plane does not work when the bunnies are likely to be active.

To find the animals, Forbey says, “We have to walk for days and days, to identify where the rabbits are. We hike around, looking for fresh fecal pellets, fresh digging, fresh clipping on plants.”

But the data on forage quality, combined with tried-and true shoe-leather counting, shows that the rabbits are discriminating eaters. “They are specialized to sagebrush, but not all [sagebrush] plants are created equal, some types are more palatable, and also provide better cover for them,” Forbey says.

It’s possible that in winter drones could get a better picture of rabbit activity by looking for tracks in the snow.

To actually see rabbits from the air without frightening them, Forbey suggests a back-to-the-future approach — perhaps lighter than air craft.

“We are trying to develop some other platforms, maybe blimps, that could stay static over burrows to get infra-red video of rabbits without making noise.”

Although airborne surveys have begun, they are a help but not a panacea, says Forbey. “Not much is known about pygmy rabbits. They are cryptic. You have to spend the time walking the habitat.”

Gulls in Spain

Black-headed gulls nest in large colonies, and like many colonial birds, monitoring from the ground is difficult, and viewing from conventional aircraft can be expensive and confusing.

Pick up a battery-powered, radio-controlled model airplane, and the picture changes, says Francesc Sarda, at the Center for Forestry Technology of Catalunya, in Spain. When the drone flies over at an altitude of 30 to 40 meters, “The gulls hear it, but they don’t identify it as predator, don’t know what kind of element it is, and so they do not care about it.”

In a 2010 study,¹ Sarda equipped the plane with a still camera, pointing straight down. A video camera in the “cockpit” broadcast a live feed to a laptop on the ground, where the “pilot” operated controls.

The plane is “easy to fly, many people do it for hobby,” says Sarda, and it’s affordable — at just 1,400 Euros for the plane and the equipment. Depending on wind, the plane can stay aloft for 15 to 20 minutes, but batteries are cheap, and easily replaced before the next flight.

Water birds often nest in dense colonies, and can be difficult to study. Those that nest on cliffs can be observed from the side. On flat land, wildlife biologists may have to walk through the colony, but “If there are thousands of birds, it’s very difficult to count,” Sarda says.

Encounters with human counters can also annoy the birds, he adds. “In our case, they will fly away, even if there are chicks or eggs on the nest. You have to be very careful.”

The drone sidesteps this problem, he says. “You can do your count, and repeat your sampling” after a week or a month, to assess changes.

Laws about low-level flight are much less stringent in Spain than in the United States, Sarda says, and the system is “very cheap, compared with manned aircraft. You can use it yourself, whenever you want.”

See the sea lion

Sea lions and the fishing industry are squaring off in the Gulf of Alaska, where a rapid population decline of Stellar sea lions has been blamed on a scarcity of the fish they eat. But studying these fearsome and elusive creatures is difficult and data are sketchy, says Greg Walker, who manages the unmanned aircraft program at the University of Alaska. “The sea lion is an endangered species, and it’s affecting the fishery, but the science behind it is pretty spotty. The sea lions that have been monitored are healthy, not starving.”

Fishing restrictions are costly to the industry, and Walker observes that boats are catching more fish in the same amount of time, which suggests no scarcity of prey. “Their technology is no better than it was five years ago, and if they are catching more fish, maybe there are more fish” in the Gulf, he says.

Currently, sea lions are counted by looking at “haulouts,” rocky locations along the shore where these mammals mate and give birth, but the Aleutian Islands are hardly an ideal place to fly, Walker says. Airports can be hundreds of miles apart, and weather predictions cannot accurately say if clouds will block the view, wasting time and money.

Last June, Walker and his colleagues launched a drone from a fishing boat standing offshore. After a 12-mile flight, the drone flew over the colony, without causing obvious disturbance, and obtained video and photos clearly showing the sea lions.

Ironically, the same restrictions on fishing that were enacted to protect the sea lion have made fishing boats scarce. “We started working with a fishing cooperative; would fly off their boat while they were fishing, since they were going to be in the area anyway,” says Walker. “But closing the fishery has meant fewer fishing boats in the area,” and the lack of convenient launch pads could raise the price of drone-based monitoring.

If cost can be contained, larger surveys are possible, Walker says. “We will try to survey more of the island coastline, not just the historic haulouts. We want to know, is this a real population decline, or are they just in another part of the habitat? If you are always looking at the same street address, when someone moves down the street,” you may think they are dead, he notes. “Maybe a more consistent survey would find more of the sea lions.”

Eventually, if he can round up a bigger drone, Walker would like to use synthetic aperture radar, which can see through clouds, and could sidestep, finally, the cloud problem. But he also hopes the drones can fly at 500 feet, beneath many clouds. Flying that low is dangerous for manned aircraft, but that concern does not apply to disposable drones.

Having proved the concept of drone-powered surveillance of the sea lions, Walker and associates are planning to begin a three-week campaign in March.

Stop us from droning on!

Drones have a broad range of advantages compared to other ways of studying the environment. We’ve already mentioned how they can get access to awkward locations without bugging the animals.

Flying low and slow, drones can also identify and measure invasive weeds or many other types of ecological dislocation.

H. Franklin Percival, program leader for unmanned airplane research at the University of Florida, says safety is a critical motivation for using drones. “Low-level manned aircraft is the leading cause of workplace mortality for wildlife biologists. Wildlife biologists do this kind of thing all the time, studying salmon nesting, alligators in Florida, seals in Alaska, there’s a lot of low-level stuff.”

In 2010, a pilot and two biologists died in a helicopter crash while studying salmon nesting on the Selway River in Idaho. “That drives the interest [in drones] now,” says Percival. Before nesting, salmon fan away sand and gravel on the river bottom, “and we can see these from the air.”

FAA blues

In the United States, a major limitation on scientific use of drones comes from the Federal Aviation Administration, which is, rightly, worried about collisions between piloted planes and drones. Currently, the FAA requires that the pilot or a spotter be a licensed pilot, and limits a drone’s range and altitude to avoid danger. Those restrictions raise both the cost and bureaucratic rigmarole, and ecologists and the unmanned airplane industry are hoping for a change.

On Feb. 6, the Senate sent legislation to the President requiring FAA action on the issue within three years, USA Today reports.

If the concern is safety, new, more relaxed standards seem most appropriate to drones that fly short distances at low altitude.

If the FAA redrafts regulations to maintain safety while allowing more civilian use of drones, Forbey of Boise State expects ecologists to be lining up for unmanned aircraft. “This integration of technology with ecology and conservation is really exciting. I think what these planes provide is a spatial level that you can’t get from satellite, and can’t get from being on the ground. Both in terms of the area they can cover, and the type of data they offer, they fill a gap.”

Let a thousand drones bloom

Robot planes and the associated technology of cameras, communications and GPS-based recording of location are moving ahead even as the FAA promulgates regulations. At the University of Florida, Percival, who has directed the development of five generations of a robot plane called Nova, says drones should be designed according to the scientific goal. “What are the data required? Can it deliver that kind of data, and can you do the appropriate statistics to give reliable information? The airplane should be built around your question.”

As drones with ever more sophisticated sensors return a growing quantity of data, Percival favors automating data-processing to spit out reliable data that can be manipulated statistically. “To estimate the number of nesting birds in a pelican colony, we want to differentiate the components in the imagery with a computer as opposed to some guy’s eyeballs.”

Photos show a lot, but they do not automatically reflect reality, Percival says. “Just because we can see well does not mean the numbers are as precise, as accurate, as we’d like.”

We approach the Cave of the Mounds, a landmark (so to speak) in Southwest Wisconsin, along a walkway painted with fossils and markings that start at the Ordovician era (450 million years ago), when the limestone beneath our feet was deposited as a rain of sea shells on an ocean floor. Finally, at the cave’s entry, the asphalt calendar enters the last million years, when the cave started to be excavated by flows of acidic water.

The geological markings under our feet are one indication that the cave-men and -women who operate this site are intent on linking past and present, above- and below-ground.

Cave of the Mounds was discovered in 1939 by workers blasting in a limestone quarry on one of the highest spots in southern Wisconsin. Today, it is a tourist destination with a message — a cool, underground mecca, strategically illuminated, where tour guides leave the nettlesome lectures above ground, and offer easy-to-digest science along the cave’s alleyways.

The above ground section of the site features resurrected prairies and oak savannas, but the main attraction is the stalactites hanging over stalagmites, flowstone, the fossils embedded in ancient limestone, and the rare opportunity to see geology at work as you observe the earth from the inside out.

Aftermath of a flood unparalleled

What caused the huge erosion features, ancient shorelines, and scoured potholes in the “channeled scablands” in Eastern Washington state? In 1923, J. Harlen Bretz coined that ominous moniker and proposed that the features had been created by a gigantic flood.

During this time, geology was ruled by a “uniformitarianism” dogma, which highlighted gradual processes like deposition and erosion, and discounted the power of sudden events like floods (and perhaps even earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanoes).

Skeptics demanded to know the source of all that water in an arid region, and Bretz had a reputation as a kook. Then, geologists gradually realized that the ice-age flood had originated to the east, in glacial Lake Missoula, which had been plugged by the lobe of a glacier emanating from Canada.

In the 1950s, the idea that this huge lake had eaten through an ice dam and then coursed downstream with phenomenal power started gaining acceptance, and in 1979, Bretz, age 96, received the highest award from Geological Society of American for solving this great Earth riddle. Today, scientists believe the floods may have recurred every few years or decades as the ice age was waning, around 14,000 years ago.

The evidence for the floods comes in all sizes. Alternating stacks of coarse gravel and fine sand show gravel left by flood currents under sand left by slower water when the floods receded. A dry river bed called the Grand Coulee, in Eastern Washington, was gouged by the astonishing flow of uncorked glacial melt water. The periodic cascades that shaped Dry Falls, now in Sun Lakes State Park are considered the largest known waterfalls in Earth’s history.

The unbearable whiteness of being

The world’s largest field of gypsum dunes, at White Sands National Monument in south-central New Mexico, could arouse anybody’s inner drywaller, as gypsum is the mineral basis for both drywall and plaster. But here, where 275 square miles of gypsum dunes have built a hot, severe and scorchingly beautiful landscape, there’s not a sheet of drywall in sight.

Set aside as a national monument by President Herbert Hoover in 1933, the dunes trace their origin to vast deposits of hydrated calcium sulfate — gypsum — that were laid down on an ancient lake a quarter-billion years ago. After a geological uplift, they were exposed roughly 10 million years ago, and eventually moved to the present site in a geologic eye-blink — the last 7,000 years.

Mammoth tracks have been seen in the dunes, but they could get buried with time: Some dunes are moving 30 feet a year, as the wind piles them up on the windward side and gravity avalanches them down the lee.

The gypsum dunes are said to be the largest in the world, but what’s most amazing is not the geology, but the evolutionary adaptations life has used to survive these harsh conditions. At least seven species of animals, including three lizards, that are closely related to darker varieties living in the surrounding desert have turned white for camouflage in this bleached world. (The drywalling lizard or the plastering mouse must be here somewhere!)

Visiting the Sands? Ponder a trip to Trinity, the site of the first test of the atomic bomb.

Science museums: Try the trifecta!

The Windy City boasts not just one, but three cool science destinations, all next door to each other on the Museum Campus along the shore of Lake Michigan.

To explore some of the world’s biological and cultural wonders, spend the day at the Field Museum of Natural History, a collision of anthropology, botany, geology, paleontology and zoology. The permanent exhibits include the DNA Discovery Center, a journey through four billion years of earthly life, and Sue, the largest (and most expensive?) complete skeleton of the ferocious T. rex. Among the temporary exhibits was a recent one on the horse and its deep relationship with humans (an exhibit that particularly excited one horse-crazy Why Filer).

If your palate is whetted for a wetter world, walk to the Shedd Aquarium to explore underwater life from the Amazon, the Caribbean and both poles. Green sea turtles, beluga whales, moray eels, piranhas and penguins will be among your hosts.

If otherworldly science is more your thing, visit the Adler Planetarium. Chat about the stars with real space scientists at their Space Visualization Laboratory, or just sit back and watch the star show. Adler’s centerpiece is the Doane Observatory, the largest publicly accessible telescope in the Chicago vicinity. While you can only peer through the lens after dark, this could make for a great conclusion to your trip.

Discover a life aquatic

An Australian freshwater crocodile grows in Baltimore. Seriously. The National Aquarium Baltimore boasts more than 660 species of fish, birds, amphibians, reptiles and mammals, totaling around 16,500 marine creatures.

In addition to its rich marine menagerie, the aquarium has a collection of special exhibits and interactive oceanic enjoyment. See the world through a dolphin’s eyes at Our Ocean Planet, a show that teaches visitors about dolphins and the connections between people and their seafaring friends. Or soak in ocean sensations with a movie at the 4-D Immersion Theater, where you can experience sea life in multiple dimensions, including the smell and feel of (simulated) mist and wind. Or take an expert-led tour, including behind-the-scenes peek of the sharks’ quarters.

The aquarium is also a center for conservation. For example, its Marine Animal Rescue Program tracks the progress of rescued animals after release. Other conservation projects include restoring wetlands and investigating the impacts of mercury on the marine food chain. After all, protecting the life that sustains the ocean ecosystem benefits everyone—not just aquarium visitors.

An excursion exotic to Melville

What’s more breathtaking than seeing the world’s largest animals in the wild? Whale watching puts you up close and personal with these magnificent marine mammals. Since the 1950s, in a 180° turnaround from Herman Melville’s day, people have been flocking by the boatloads to glimpse whales doing what they do rather than to kill them.

Both the U.S. east and west coasts have whales to watch, though you must catch them in the right season during their migration. There’s no guarantee, but on the western seaboard, you could spot orcas and gray whales. The east is home to the right, fin and sei whales. Humpbacks, minkes, and blue whales troll both coastlines.

Several cetaceans (a scientific category including whales, dolphins and porpoises) are endangered, including the North Atlantic right, blue, fin, sei and gray whales. In any case, marine mammals are heavily protected by law, so whale watching should be done with professionals who obey the rules.

Celebrating, protecting southern nature

With more than 500 full-time employees and an annual budget exceeding $30-million, Audubon Nature Institute sounds more like a business than a private, non-profit organization dedicated to explaining and preserving the wonders of nature with a Cajun flavor. The group operates a zoo, aquarium and assorted parks in and around New Orleans. The Aquarium of the Americas focuses on the Caribbean, Amazon, Gulf of Mexico (complete with oil-drilling replica) and Mississippi River.

A primate exhibit in the Audubon Zoo shows dozens of our opposable-thumbed relatives. Its 360 species of animals include a jaguar shown in a replica Amazon jungle. The “Embraceable Zoo” is devoted to full-contact animal admiration, and you can also eyeball, if not pet, a prickly Indian crested porcupine. Audubon maintains two locations that focus on captive breeding and survival of endangered species; these are closed to the public, but we expect to see you at the new insectarium, located in the old Federal customs house, for the beetle races on Sept. 3.

North Carolina: decapitation capitol

Every summer, vacationers flock to North Carolina’s coast for a beach getaway. But beach vacations would have been a hard sell early in the 18th century, as the coast was the stomping grounds of the South’s most feared pirate, Edward Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard.

Nowadays, the area is proud of its sordid past, attracting pirate-curious tourists and archaeologists alike. In 1996, Blackbeard’s biggest and final ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, was found off the coast of Beaufort, where it had been hiding for more than 270 years. While the dives did not uncover much treasure, archaeologists estimate the wreckage holds up to 750,000 artifacts, some of which are displayed at Beaufort’s North Carolina Maritime Museum.

Blackbeard is a primary local industry. Ocracoke Island, a favored Blackbeard anchorage, was where he met his fate at the hands of what he mocked as a rabble of “cowardly puppies.” Bath has the legendary ball of light, presumed to be Blackbeard’s ghostly severed head.

So why watch Johnny Depp impersonate a pirate at the multiplex when you can check out the history of this famous scoundrel? Like we said, this old, dead, head-free pirate is a godsend for small business…

Tar is my name. Fossils are my fame

If you’re stuck for a scientific sojourn in Southern California, head for the pits. Since long before there was a Los Angeles, the La Brea Tar Pits have been an oozing, 3-D flypaper for animals, now with that all-too-trendy urban accent. Asphalt, we learn, is not just good for roads, but also for trapping live animals and preserving their fossils. Since their first description in a scientific publication in 1875, the pits have produced prodigious prizes for paleontology. The onsite Page Museum houses more than 650 species of plants and animals, all removed from the black goo, and dating back 11,000 to 50,000 years.

The tar pits were a graveyard for thousands of carnivores, including the dire wolf, coyote and saber-toothed cat, and a smaller number of herbivores, including mammoth and bison. In an effort to transcend the “heroic” era of paleontology and flesh out (if we can put it that way) a comprehensive picture of life in the era of ice, researchers have recently shifted their focus to fossils of plants and smaller animals, including millipedes, 31 species of mollusks, and 25 species of beetles.

Listen hard: Hear the galaxies?

Love big? Dig distant, mysterious and unfathomably old? At the Very Large Array, in western New Mexico, you can gawk at 27 giant antennas used by astronomers to “listen” to radio signals from the universe. When you’re done rubber-necking the hardware, check out exhibits at the visitor center.

Then climb an observation tower to get another view of the world’s premier radio telescope zoo. Notice how every single antenna has silently and inexorably changed its orientation, and is now pointing to another invisible spot in the heavens? You are looking at visual proof of our planet’s normally insensible rotation.

It takes a lot of work, and some hefty equipment, to pry loose the secrets of the universe, and here, the scale of the operation is written across the desert. Since 1980, the VLA has, alone or in tandem with other telescopes, been collecting the astrophysical evidence for the formation and destruction of stars and galaxies. The new “enhanced VLA” can “hear” three times as many radio bandwidths as the VLA and is 10 times more sensitive. How sensitive is that? They say it could hear a cellphone calling from Jupiter…

Go under cover in the capital city

Explore life under cover (and the technology that allows a spy to hide in plain sight) at the International Spy Museum, the only public museum of its kind in the United States. With the largest public collection of international espionage artifacts, the museum provides a unique global perspective of this covert profession — said to be the second oldest — and how it has shaped the past and present.

Before you start your mission, you are challenged to adopt a secret identity. As you snoop about, you’ll discover the Secret History of History, which highlights the influence of spies through the ages; gadgets and stories of espionage during the American Civil War, World War II, and Cold War; and a gallery of spy technology. You can even see if you have what it takes to be an agent in the Operation Spy interactive experience, in which you must find a missing nuclear trigger before it ends up in the wrong hands. Just don’t blow your cover!

Visit the “Boneyard”

Warplanes go to the desert to die, and there, for a fee, you can tour thousands of mothballed fighters, bombers and helicopters at the 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Center. Bus tours run from the Pima Air and Space Museum, on the outskirts of Tucson, Ariz. With more than 4,200 planes, the “boneyard” is the ultimate in aerial combat nostalgia.

Some of these planes will be scrapped, others may be sold or salvaged for parts, or pressed back into service during future wars. Seldom celebrated, but perhaps more important from a technological point of view, the site also stores 350,000 tools used to make these machines, including, we presume, the one-of-a-kind tools and dies used to shape jet engines, wings and fuselages.

Ogling killing machines may seem macabre, but then, if you are a U.S. taxpayer, you’ve already paid for this stuff… might as well check it out, and witness how the technology of aerial warfare has changed over the decades!

Edison’s Garden of Invention

In 1887, after he had patented the first practical electric light bulb, mega-inventor Thomas Edison invented an inventor’s playground in West Orange, N.J., just outside Manhattan. Edison stocked the lab with every resource needed to crank out movie cameras and projectors, teletypes, recording and playback devices, batteries and countless other electric gadgets for the fast-modernizing nation.

With labs focusing on chemistry and physics, and with shops devoted to woodworking and metal-working, Edison could concentrate on his strong points: cranking out ideas and masterminding publicity stunts that helped ensure his commercial success. During World War I, 10,000 people cranked out electrical devices for the military at the factories clustered around the lab. Edison worked at the West Orange lab until his death in 1931.

Think of Edison as primarily an inventor? Then you have to wonder how his name wound up on the companies selling electricity to New York and Chicago. God may have made the Garden of Eden, but Thomas Edison made the garden of invention in north Jersey, and it awaits your visit.

– David J. Tenenbaum & Jenny Seifert

Wondrous weevils sport super screw!

In animal appendages, some joints resemble hinges. Others, like your hip, are unmistakably akin to the ball-and-socket joint, another mechanical mainstay.

Now, scientists have found a biological screw in a type of beetle called a weevil. Obliquely described as having “rotational movement combined with a single-axis translation,” the new screw-and-nut assembly was first seen in a weevil from New Guinea, says entomologist Alexander Riedel.

The discovery of the first biological screw-and-nut assembly emerged from an exploration of the weevil’s characteristic defense mechanism, says Riedel, an entomologist and curator who specializes in weevil classification at the State Museum of Natural History in Karlsruhe, Germany.

Two things weevils have in common are small size – the Trigonopterus oblongus under study was about 4 millimeters long – and legs that fold under the body. “We wanted to look at their particular defense mechanism,” says Riedel, “to know how it works.”

Using a microscopic counterpart to CT scanning, German researchers snapped electron micrographs of the weevil’s trochanter (“screw”) and (ROLLOVER) coxa (“nut”).”

Image © Science/AAAS

It’s all in the scan, man!

Given the small size, the scientists relied on a kind of micro CT scan driven by X-rays from a synchrotron, “We realized there is a very nice screw joint,” Riedel says, “We’ve had this information for some time, but while talking with a herpetologist colleague, we realized there is no other case in the whole animal kingdom, in all of biology, with a similar screw joint.”

The nut-and-screw are located at one of three major joints in the beetle’s leg; when the leg is retracted, the screw tightens in the nut, which remains stationary, Riedel says. Overall, the screw and nut would be able to turn 345 ° although the leg itself does not move that much.

A (good) turn of the screw!

“The weevils, or snout beetles, have been known from ancient times,” says Riedel. “There are grain weevils and lots of other species, including the boll weevil [a cotton pest]. Many other species are not pests … and so are of no particular interest to humans, which is why nobody knows much about them.”

Why does every weevil species that that Riedel examined have such a mechanism? Weevils, which spend a lot of time climbing on vegetation, apparently evolved from beetles that usually walk on a flat surface or underneath bark, Riedel says. “If a weevil is sitting on the edge of a leaf and wants to walk on a small twig, it’s essential that it can grip under its body, and this motion goes very nicely with this screw joint. A ground [walking] beetle would have great difficulty walking in similar conditions.”

The screw joint now joins the hinge, ball-and-socket and saddle joint as fundamental technologies invented by evolution, Riedel says. Historians of technology have long wondered about the origin of the incredibly useful screw, and it turns out that screws and nuts were in their flour bins all along – but only visible to those who happened to have a handy synchrotron!

– David J. Tenenbaum

On March 11, a catastrophic earthquake — one of the four largest in the past century — struck in the ocean east of Japan, sending a colossal tsunami against the shore. By March 21, the toll of dead and missing, mainly from the tsunami, was estimated at 22,000.

As Japan confronted what Emperor Akihito called the worst crisis since World War II, we began to hear that the six-reactor complex at the Fukushima Daiichi plant, located directly in the tsunami’s path, had lost electrical power. The emergency generators also failed, apparently due to water damage to them or their fuel supply.

As we focus on the nuclear disaster at Fukushima, we emphasize that as of now, the tsunami itself is the far larger human tragedy. But like the tsunami itself, the nuclear disaster may portend further problems in other places, and is likely to affect a trend toward greater use of nuclear power around the world.

Not cool

Immediately, the arrow of trouble aimed at the most ominous type of nuclear accident: loss of cooling. Fission — splitting of radioactive elements that powers nuclear reactors — can stop when reactor operators flip a switch to insert control rods to absorb neutrons. This stops the chain reaction — the divison of uranium atoms that releases neutrons that split other atoms and generate heat — which is the whole point of building nuclear reactors to boil water and drive turbines.

But once the fission reactions cease, decay heat continues to be released from the unstable atoms that remain after fission, and it is this heat that must be removed by a cooling system after shutdown.

Past accidents have shown that decay heat can build up in seconds; and significant damage to the fuel and potentially reactor equipment can occur within minutes. The danger of such a “meltdown” is a major reason why nuclear designers and engineers focus so much effort on cooling the reactor core.

In the beginning, there was Three Mile Island

Japan, target of the only two atomic bombs used in war, is hardly the first nation to confront a “loss of coolant” emergency at a reactor. That happened on March 28, 1979, in the United States, where Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island (TMI) reactor #2 began a partial melt-down.

Much later, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission concluded that the accident “was caused by a combination of personnel error, design deficiencies, and component failures.” As hundreds of alarms buzzed in the control room, operators, lacking a direct measurement of the water level inside the reactor, made a bad situation worse, the reactor went at least partly dry, and a large percentage of the fuel melted.

It’s safe to say the public reaction verged on panic as a bubble of explosive hydrogen built up inside the plant and evacuations were ordered.

The slow, dangerous removal of fuel revealed massive heating and damage inside the reactor. According to the book, “TMI 25 Years Later”¹: “A large portion of the core melted and flowed into the lower vessel. Most of the core experienced temperatures of at least 1727° C, with certain parts reaching 2527°C.”

At these temperatures, the essential containment vessel can weaken and fail.

TMI, the above book concluded, neared a complete a meltdown. “No one can say for sure, but some experts say that had the accident continued for another 20 to 45 minutes, the [reactor] vessel would have heated up and the metal would have lost its strength, leading to a rupture,” preventing further cooling and allowing superheated fuel to melt through the reactor vessel and enter – and likely exit — the reactor building.

From there, it’s impossible to speculate how widely the radiation would have spread, the authors wrote, but this is what is called the China Syndrome — a runaway load of reactor fuel melting its way down into the earth. Oddly, “China Syndrome” – the movie — was released 12 days before the TMI meltdown.

TMI #2 has since undergone a major cleanup. Intact and damaged fuel has been moved to storage at Idaho National Engineering Laboratory. Reactor #1 is operating normally, and final removal of the destroyed #2 awaits the decommissioning of its companion.

According to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission: “Estimates are that the average dose to about 2 million people in the area was only about 1 millirem. To put this into context, exposure from a chest X-ray is about 6 millirem.”

Nevertheless, the alarm over TMI sent the U.S. nuclear industry into a tailspin.

 

The meltdown of TMI was the death knell for growth in American nuclear industry — the spate of plants licensed during the 1980s had all been planned or under construction by 1979. Rollover to see a comparison of present dependence on nuclear energy.

Graph 1: U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Graph 2: International Atomic Energy Association

Chernobyl – the unmitigated disaster

The Lord Voldemort of nuclear accidents started on April 26, 1986, when Chernobyl reactor #4 exploded, burned and melted down in a spectacular fire that spewed an estimated 50 tons of radioactive fuel over a swath of Eastern Europe. Unlike TMI (and the imperiled Japanese reactors) Chernobyl had no vessel to contain its fuel, and a giant fire – consuming the estimated 800 tons of graphite used to slow neutrons in the reactor — burned for more than a week as brave crews tried to damp it with sand, boron and lead.

Chernobyl was located in a part of the Soviet Union that is now in Ukraine.

The meltdown produced some of the worst radiation injuries in history, and hundreds of thousands were force-evacuated from an “exclusion zone” — roughly 30 kilometers in radius — around the smoking, radioactive hulk of #4.

Within months, the cooling reactor was hastily wrapped in a giant concrete “sarcophagus” (stone coffin) to contain further radiation. But the sarcophagus is leaking, says Leon West, a professor of mechanical engineering at the University of Arkansas, who has 40 years of experience in nuclear physics, radiation protection and nuclear engineering. “Chernobyl is still open and is still a threat to the local environment.”
“Construction has already begun on the New Safe Confinement,” says photographer Michael Foster Rothbart, who lived 12 miles from the exclusion zone between 2007 and 2009, “and although it keeps falling behind schedule, target finish date is 2013.”

Japan: Facing Three Mile Island or Chernobyl?

By March 21, 10 days after the tsunami, the owners of the Fukushima power plant reported that it had reconnected electric power to all six reactors. The disaster seems headed toward resolution, says Jeff Geuther, who manages a research reactor at Kansas State University. “My understanding is that the fuel [in the three recently operating reactors and the three spent-fuel pools at other reactors] is all under water. The radiation dose has been falling at the plant, an indication that water level has increased in the spent fuel pools.”

Although it’s not clear how much fuel has melted, Geuther says, “It’s fairly clear that the cladding [a thin sheathing on the fuel rods], at a minimum, had some damage. Iodine and cesium have been detected offsite; these are fission products that would be typically be trapped inside the cladding.”

By March 23, the utility reported that the lights were on in the control room of reactor #3, but work had not yet begun on monitoring equipment and reactor cooling pumps in the three reactors that were operating before the quake. By March 24, smoke was rising from several reactors, three plant employees were being treated for radiation exposure, and the zone of concern about radiation in drinking water had been expanded. The local populace remains under evacuation.

Near-term progress in stabilizing the Fukushima plant will be measured by

A near miss?

Two positive factors helped what looks like a near-miss at Fukushima. First, those reactors (unlike Chernobyl) had thick steel containment vessels, which, despite some reports of damage, seemed to hold up reasonably well.

Second, also unlike Chernobyl, Fukushima used water, not combustible graphite, to slow neutrons.

On the other hand, Fukushima faced systemic difficulties due to the precipitating natural disasters: After the epochal earthquake-towering tsunami sequence shut the reactors down, the electric grid died, killing the emergency cooling pumps.

Then the emergency diesel generators failed, and without cooling, the reactors quickly overheated. But with roads out and the nation tending to survivors and victims of the tsunami, the nuclear emergency festered for days, through a series of explosions, fires, bursts of radiation, and evacuations of plant workers.

At one point, just 50 workers were on hand to deal with multiple emergencies at several reactors and pools of spent fuel. The desperation was on display when helicopters tried to dump buckets of water into the fuel pools and fire trucks sprayed cooling water through explosion-blasted walls.

How many broken reactors?

Despite early fears that Fukushima was mimicking Chernobyl, it seems rather to be headed toward the less malignant TMI precedent, says West. “A big leak [like Fukushima] is not like the open-air nuclear bonfire of Chernobyl that spewed radioactive materials into the upper atmosphere. The extent of the release of radiation and the continuing difficulties with cooling of reactors and spent fuel has clearly put the Daiichi site at the TMI stage.”

As radioactive particles cross the Pacific on the jet streams, “California, Oregon, and Washington should start reporting measurable traces of radioactive materials in air samples,” says West, “but for the United States, this should be more like a Chinese test of a nuclear weapon and of no health consequence.”

Radiation has already been detected on milk and green vegetables near the reactor, and now in drinking water in Tokyo. “The Japanese will need to monitor and control agriculture products to minimize the risk to public health,” says West. “This will be similar to efforts in the United States during the 1950′s, when the U.S. was detonating nuclear weapons in Nevada,” and farmers were prohibited from selling milk for four days afterwards.

Japanese meltdowns, American reverbs

As Japan evacuated neighbors from the Fukushima plant, the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) advised American citizens in Japan to move at least 50 miles away. That’s much further than specified American evacuation plans, notes Vicki Bier, a professor of industrial engineering at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “If the NRC is concerned up to 50 miles in Japan, that certainly calls into question emergency planning here, which is limited to 10 miles.”

On March 16, California Senators Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein asked the NRC to review safety at two California plants located near earthquake faults. “Roughly 424,000 live within 50 miles of the Diablo Canyon and 7.4 million live within 50 miles of San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station,” the senators wrote.

And on Mar. 22, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission agreed to accelerate a safety review at Indian Point, a pair of reactors 30 miles from Manhattan.

Japan: How prepared, in reality?

How did such severe nuclear troubles arise in Japan, where “tsunami” was coined, and which is the world’s leader in earthquake engineering and disaster preparedness?

For starters, the tsunami was much bigger than expected. But we’ve also learned from the Associated Press (on March 24) that Japanese preparations focused on natural disasters.

Was the nuclear emergency made worse because six reactors were at one location? As we saw, radiation vented from one reactor caused the flight of workers trying to tame other reactors. But multiple siting had “always been considered to be a really good idea,” says West. “You have a collection of focused professionals with lots of resources [for example, to fight fires], so if one reactor has difficulties, you could take those excess resources and focus on that situation. … This is the first situation, where [multiple sitings] appears to need to be reexamined.”

Early reports point to a critical design failure at Fukushima, says Bier, an expert on risk assessment at nuclear plants. “They were designing for earthquake and tsunami, but not for this level of damage; you’ve got to give engineers some criteria; they can’t design for anything. They could have designed for what did happen, but they apparently decided it was too unlikely.”

Design: Where are the goalposts?

A specific weakness concerned the emergency diesel generators needed to run the pumps, which apparently were swamped by the tsunami, says Bier. “There is a lot we won’t know for months, but there is reasonable speculation about things that could be done differently at modest cost. You can’t prepare for every eventuality, but probably it would have been possible to get better protection for the diesels in a bunker or on higher ground.”

The systematic disruption and near chaos interfered with tasks like avoiding melt-downs in the pools holding spent fuel, which lack the containment usually found on reactors. As Fukushima proved, accidents can be made worse as effects are compounded: the real-life scenario included a combination of a Japan-record earthquake, massive tsunami damage, regional blackouts and radiation releases.

“The surrounding area was so damaged by earthquake and tsunami that it impeded the emergency response,” says Bier. “We have seen stories about people within the evacuation zone who could not evacuate because the roads are impassable or buildings have collapsed, and they were not sending in rescue teams because the radiation was too high. Certainly it was not anticipated that the damage would be this severe, or the radiation would be too severe to evacuate.”

 

Photo: Japan Red Cross Society

Thousands of Japanese have been evacuated from around the Fukushima Daiichi reactors; masks retard the spread of disease in close quarters. Few experts expect the need for a permanent exclusion zone, like the one in Chernobyl, around Fukushima.

Fukushima: End game

Will the six reactors at Fukushima Daiichi be dismantled, like TMI #2, or wind up inside a Chernobyl-style concrete coffin?

The three reactors that got emergency cooling with sea water are likely finished due to corrosion, not to mention possible explosion damage. “Salt water is a killer,” says Robert Rosner, professor of astronomy, astrophysics and physics at the University of Chicago. Rosner expects these reactors to be taken apart and trucked to long-term storage.

Although the age of the reactors – about 40 years – militates against spending large sums on refurbishment and updating, Japan now faces an electricity shortage, so Rosner expects one or two of the plants to return to service, at least for a while.

West, however, suggests that at least one reactor may wind up encased in concrete. “If I were an engineering manager, I would be looking at the possibility of stabilizing it to deal with all the issues” and then build an outer containment to isolate the reactor but allow service visits.

Credibility at stake

Assessing the long-term impact of Fukushima requires us to look at the technology’s unique place in the popular eye. Whether the nuclear industry likes it or not, nuclear carries plenty of emotional baggage. Nuclear physics produced the mushroom clouds over Hiroshima and Nagasaki long before it was used to make electricity. And because ionizing radiation is invisible, it’s a case where what you don’t know can hurt you.

Nuclear energy also arouses fear because power-plant neighbors cannot control it, says Nathan Hultman, an assistant professor of public policy at the University of Maryland. “A lot of research has looked at why people view risks differently, and both dread and the degree of control in nuclear are nerves that are touched very strongly. We feel safer driving cars than in an airplane, even though statistically, airplanes are much safer, because we feel in control in a car.”

 

Photos: TMI, Cherobyl:Wanrouter.

While TMI today shows the scars of its accident (reactor #2 on left melted down in 1979), Chernobyl’s gravesite (rollover) evokes a much bleaker history and deeper wounds. The thrown-together concrete enclosure may need to be replaced – a hazardous, expensive task.

The Japanese nuclear industry also faces credibility problems, Hultman notes.

“Small nuclear accidents were covered up,” says Hultman. “Often the initial reaction was ‘Everything is just fine, the situation is normal,’ then it came out there was a deeper problem. Now we are in a situation where very bad things are happening, and people are not sure what to believe.”

Hultman adds that these issues are a likely fixture in the coming debate over nuclear power. “Nuclear is not the only way to boil water to generate electricity,” he says, and the discussion of energy sources must be broader than that. “Rather than say, ‘We must have nuclear,’ we need to talk about alternatives as well.”

The Fukushima debacle could further polarize a nuclear debate that was altered by both TMI and Chernobyl, says Hultman. “There is almost a religious division. People who believe it’s good think it will be the answer to all our problems, and people who don’t like it, really really don’t like it.”

An omen for the future?

The Fukushima disaster carries striking ironies. Japan was the only country at the receiving end of atomic bombs, and studies of survivors at Hiroshima and Nagasaki have been the basis for understanding the health effects of low-level radiation.

Historically, the Fukushima disaster occurred as nuclear was gaining so much traction as a low-carbon solution to global warming that some prominent environmentalists had begun to talk nuclear. “This is going to have a big effect on the rebound toward nuclear,” says West, who adds, “We just can’t burn our forests — and coal is an old forest — forever,” due to global warming.

Even technological disasters that loom large in the short run may eventually be seen as lessons, West says. “The crash of a major aircraft … does not mean that air travel should end, it means we need to tighten up our design.”

Rosner, however, suggests that nuclear, with its potential for widespread, long-term contamination, needs to live by different rules. “When you are engineering something where the consequences, if something goes wrong, are devastating, even though the probability is very small, you need to engineer to avoid the devastation. We’ve known how to do that for 50 years, but it was always just a bit too expensive on the front end, so the decision was made: The probability is so low, we are not going to worry about it.”

As deadly American drones work the skies over Afghanistan and Pakistan, we got to wondering how similar remote-control approaches are contributing to science. In science, as in war, leaving the staff behind can slash costs and allow sustained exploration of no-go zones.

Part of the story is propulsion: New science vehicles can travel long distances through the ocean and atmosphere with minimum energy. Brains-on-board also matter: Computers enable these super-sensors to make decisions and work long stretches with little or no back-seat driving.

The result is a lot of science per gallon.

Although the vehicles we’ll look at have scientific purposes, they get major financial and technical support from the Department of Defense, proving that military and peaceful pursuits are inextricably linked in extreme environments.

If you dig the deep ocean, WHOI — the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution on Cape Cod — is a good place to be. The renowned saltwater scientific outfit has a new, deep-water explorer that works without a lifeline.

Meet Sentry, which can take photos and make chemical and geophysical measurements down to 4,500 meters depth, and has worked two high-profile environmental issues: global warming through methane release, and BP’s Deepwater disaster.

Sentry has been used to look for “cold seeps,” regions of the seafloor that release large amounts of methane, says Chris German, WHOI’s chief scientist for deep submergence. “Cold seeps are like the overlooked younger sisters of hydrothermal vents,” the “black smokers” that release superheated fluids and anchor unique ecosystems at the sea floor, usually in mid-ocean.

Cold seeps are located closer to the continents, and “are not as spectacular thermally or geologically, but they do have some of the same chemistry,” says German, “and a lot of the same kinds of animals, even the exact same species.” Cold seeps may explain the distribution of deep-sea organisms around the ocean, he adds. “We want to understand … whether animals are using these locations as stepping stones.”

Most cold seeps were found by accident, but German thought Sentry could detect subtle chemical clues, and last October, he got to test that idea at an underwater landslide off the coast of Norway. The landslide had released pressure on a material called methane hydrate, and a large amount of methane was bubbling from the seafloor mud, creating a “mud volcano.”

Methane is a much more powerful greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide, and given the staggering amount of methane held in methane hydrates, such releases could create a nightmare feedback: warming releases methane, which traps more heat, causing more warming that releases more methane.

Getting engulfed

By prowling around the known cold seep near Norway, German confirmed the detection hypothesis.

Then, the day after Sentry returned to Woods Hole, a real-world opportunity appeared for the new technique.

Biologist Charles Fisher at Penn State was about to embark on a mission into the aftermath of BP’s blowout in the Gulf of Mexico, and he wanted help locating a coral patch to compare to another he’d already located 1,200 meters deep, 11 kilometers southwest of the blowout.

That coral was coated with a brown goop that looked suspiciously like crude oil. Could Sentry locate, for long-term comparison purposes, a similar coral outside the oil plume?

Fisher was part of a National Science Foundation-sponsored “rapid response” cruise to the Gulf, but German was still unpacking. “We’d have two weeks to turn around and get going, and I went to our guys Monday morning and asked, ‘Can you do this?’”

The maintenance crew figured out who would miss what weekend, and they agreed to do it, German says.

Cold seeps and deepwater coral in the Gulf of Mexico are linked, German explains, because the coral live on bare rock, which is often carbonate, and carbonate rock forms at cold seeps when methane is oxidized into carbon dioxide. “So beneath every healthy deep coral, is an active or historic cold seep.”

Suddenly, a theoretically interesting search technique became relevant to the biggest American oil spill in a century.

“Flying” with a map

Based on oil-industry data about the sea bottom, Sentry visited one location southeast of the Macondo well and found no coral. But at the second location, German says, “We hit pay dirt. We flew backward and forward, and found an active cold seep and evidence for tube worms, mussels and coral.”

Ocean-floor research seldom moves so fast, German says, and within hours, he was one of three people to visit the spot in Alvin. “In 36 hours, we went from nothing other than a hunch, to having a topographic map and photos,” German says. “We dove to the sea floor, and there was no mysterious driving around in the dark. Within 15 minutes, we drove to the site because we had a perfect map of where to go.”

In fact, German was holding a fresh, glossy photo of the target, taken less than two days previously.

Sub-terra cognita? Not!

And so is the ocean bottom, as people often say, still less familiar than the far side of the moon? German insists that it still is, despite years of research and an increasingly capable flotilla of deep-sea ships. “In December, in the Gulf, I could see at least 10 to 20 oil rigs… but I’m pretty sure, driving across that seafloor a couple of hours offshore from the United States, that nobody ever laid eyes on it before.”

A recent survey of marine biodiversity shows a chain of ignorance stretching across the Pacific, located near regions of extremely high biodiversity near the Philippines and Australia, German says. “In many of those locations, they’re 300 miles square, there have been fewer than 50 biological measurements in the history of the ocean. This is a chain across the South Pacific ocean, the single biggest contiguous ecosystem on the planet, and it has not been studied.”

And that’s the rule, not the exception, German says. “Close to one-half of the planet is at least 3,000 meters deep, and it’s much further away [and deeper] than the Gulf. From satellite altimetry we have an idea where the bumps are on the seabed, but we don’t know what’s going on; we have a vanishingly small idea.”

Deep water may be the sexiest place in oceanography, but long-term studies are also difficult and expensive in shallow waters, especially if they are remote, icy, stormy, or all three. Propellers, the standard way of moving through water, require a lot of energy and quickly drain batteries on artificial fish.

Gliding — think of soaring like a hawk as opposed to flapping like a sparrow — is a much more conservative approach.

And gliding is the MO of Seaglider, a project built by the University of Washington with money from the Office of Naval Research and the National Science Foundation. Using battery power, the glider alters its buoyancy, causing it to rise or fall through the water. By altering its center of gravity and adjusting its fins, the metal fish moves horizontally with minimal amounts of electric current.

How minimal? In 2009, a Seaglider traveled a record 3,050 miles through the North Pacific during a 9-month journey, without the caress of a human hand or an electric transfusion.

Costing “only” about $100,000 apiece, about 60 gliders are working around the globe, says Craig Lee, a principal oceanographer at UW’s Applied Physics Laboratory, recording basics like temperature, salinity, dissolved oxygen and optical characteristics of its surroundings.

In 2008, south of Iceland, gliders and floats studied carbon uptake by phytoplankton — floating plants that bloom in spring and play a major role in the global carbon cycle. The goal was to follow “parcels” of water during the entire bloom — which ends after some weeks when plankton are eaten or sink in the water. Both processes can remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere for long-term storage, and therefore have implications for global warming.

“We were trying to learn what drives the carbon flow,” says Lee. “Nobody had done this before: the Seagliders and the buoys had the persistence, the ability to be there for the entire duration of the bloom. You would have to schedule a ship one year ahead, and … if you got there on time, it would be too expensive to keep the ship out there for the whole bloom.”

If ice is nice, under ice is nicer!

In 2009, a Seaglider spent 51 days in Davis Strait, the frigid water separating Greenland and Baffin Island, traveling more than 450 miles under the ice. The Strait is a chief source of melt-water from the frozen Arctic Ocean.

Climatologists worry that a rush of cold, fresh water through the Strait could alter the warm Gulf Stream and freeze Northern Europe.

Getting measurements from Davis Strait is expensive and dangerous, especially considering how much of it is under ice. But the Seaglider did just fine, says Lee. “This was very exciting, that ability to stay out there for a long time, and the ability to get to places that otherwise would be difficult. In winter in the North Atlantic, nobody wants to be there…”

The fish navigated under the ice using five anchored sonar beacons that created an undersea version of GPS, Lee says. Ten times, using its software, the glider found holes in the ice, poked its nose through them, and phoned home via satellite telephone. “It tries to sense ice by looking at the temperature of the water,” says Lee. “It emits a ping and tries determine whether ice is overhead, and it has a climate map that tells it, for a given position at a given time, is ice likely to be overhead? Using all that information, it decides whether to surface.”

During those famous North Atlantic storms, “It just keeps working, it does just fine, continues to navigate, continues to report. We’ve been in 40-foot seas, with 60- to 80-knot winds, and everybody’s happy, although it takes a little longer to get a phone call through.”

The glider carries a quarter for the phone call, but no Dramamine…

A fruit of the military’s desire to see everything from a safe vantage, Global Hawk is a secretive, high-flying, pilot-free jet that can fly at 60,000 feet for 30 hours, non-stop.

For its occasional forays into peaceful work, Global Hawk carries a large cargo of scientific instruments that can monitor light, pollution, ozone, water vapor, weather, clouds, incoming and outgoing radiation, even particles smaller than 1 millionth of a meter across.

The Hawk, which flew scientific missions from NASA’s Dryden Flight Research Center in California in April, 2010, can also be used for earth observation, such as tracking algal blooms in the ocean, vegetation on land, and various resource issues.

Hawk has tracked pollution from Asia above the North Pacific as it moves toward North America and looked at large-scale atmospheric circulation, which influences weather and the distribution of radiation-blocking high-altitude ozone.

We could not get through to a source at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which plays a role in Hawk’s science, but we grabbed a press release issued after Hawk’s first environmental flight.

According to Paul Newman, an atmospheric scientist from NASA, “The Global Hawk is a revolutionary aircraft for science because of its enormous range and endurance. No other science platform provides this much range and time to sample rapidly evolving atmospheric phenomena. This mission is our first opportunity to demonstrate the unique capabilities of this plane, while gathering atmospheric data in a region that is poorly sampled.”

In their quest for data on the deep, scientists have gotten a trickle of info from sensors attached to deep-diving marine mammals. In November, 2009, the Scripps Institution of Oceanography launched SOLO TREC (Sounding Oceanographic Lagrangrian Observer Thermal RECharging vehicles; glad you asked?), a bobber that can sink 500 meters into the ocean, then return to the surface to report via satellite to scientists who may prefer sipping lattes at a Java Joint to crowding the rail on a topsy-turvy research ship.

Let’s call this Solo, and let’s agree that it’s a strange vessel. Solo can adjust its buoyancy, but lacks propellers and cannot drive laterally, so its location is at the mercy of the currents.

Solo records basic ocean conditions, but the real accomplishment is proving that its power system needs no recharging and could, theoretically, operate more or less forever – or at least until it breaks or barnacles or plants foul the fish up and slow it down.

Solo had already completed 300 dives by March, 2010, and although it sounds like a perpetual motion machine, it actually sucks its energy from the ocean as it rises toward the surface:

According to Yi Chao of the Jet Propulsion Lab, a Solo principal investigator, “This technology to harvest energy from the ocean will have huge implications for how we can measure and monitor the ocean and its influence on climate.”

Funded by NASA and the U.S. Navy, Solo’s technology is also obviously useful for monitoring animals and the movement of ships and submarines.

When plywood came into industrial use a century ago, the criss-crossing layers of wood were glued with a soybean derivative. Then, in the 1930s (long before tofu sprouted in the American diet), strong, synthetic glues, derived from natural gas or oil, started to shoulder aside the soy stuff.

Cheap and water-resistant, these urea formaldehyde glues helped plywood, particle board and similar composite wood products dominate the furniture and building industries.

Formaldehyde was also used in clothing, paint, paper, wall covering and roll insulation.

Many of these products released formaldehyde (CHOH) but inside the average house, the bulk of the exposure came from plywood and its plural planar progeny.

In 1991, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency branded formaldehyde a probable human carcinogen. The compound quickly dissolves in mucus membranes in the nose, throat and lungs, causing irritation and triggering asthma attacks.

Inside the home, formaldehyde can be released from composite wood in furniture, cabinets, sub-floors and wall panels. The notorious FEMA trailers that sparked so many health complaints after Hurricane Katrina were chock-a-block with cheap, formaldehyde-glued structures.

Photo: FEMA

After Hurricane Katrina, “FEMA trailer” residents blamed health problems on formaldehyde released from composite wood products in the trailers. A new soybean-based glue could eliminate these problems after it is adopted more widely by manufacturers of particle board.

Legumes to the rescue!

Although manufacturers have taken steps to reduce formaldehyde releases, a more comprehensive solution could reside in the plant that was originally used to glue plywood — the soybean.

Charles Frihart, a chemist at the U.S. Department of Agriculture Forest Products Laboratory, described the evolution of a soy super glue to the American Chemical Society meeting in Boston yesterday. “Biological materials were used as adhesives until petroleum became very cheap after World War II,” he told us, “and the synthetics displaced agricultural, natural material.”

The soy-story is developing into a key advance for “green chemistry,” the quest to reduce toxic burdens from the factory to the disposal site. Until a few years ago, soy glue was less water-resistant than synthetics, Frihart says. Then, Kaiching Li of Oregon State University discovered how to increase water resistance by “cross-linking” the strands in soy-based adhesive.

More links = more power!

Long ago, cross-linking became the key to converting soft, sticky natural rubber into a useful product. “Rubber was never very useful because it would soften in the heat, until they developed a way to crosslink it,” says Frihart. Charles Goodyear invented vulcanizing, a process for cross-linking rubber, in about 1840, laying the groundwork for the bicycle and then the automobile.

Invention is usually a group activity these days, and Frihart points to cooperation between scientists at the Forest Products Lab and Columbia Forest Products, Inc., which is already making products with soy-based glues.

A key driver for the new glue came from California, which deemed formaldehyde-based glues an indoor health hazard. Before it banned the use of formaldehyde in indoor products, however, California needed to know that an alternative technology was available. Once the cross-linked soy glue was proven to work, the state enacted a low-formaldehyde standard that, in effect, went national. “California is the largest market and people are not going make a separate product for California,” Frihart says.

The cross-linking invention is already reducing indoor formaldehyde at the top of the furniture market, where plywood is used instead of particle board, Frihart says. “More than 50 percent of interior plywood used for cabinets and furniture is now being made with the improved soy-based adhesive.”

Researchers at Forest Products Laboratory in Madison, Wis. test the strength of soy glues: Two rams compress and heat the joint, then clamps at each end of the wooden strips pull until the joint breaks.

Practical for particle board?

Particle board remains the basis for most cheaper furniture, and while some particle board already uses formaldehyde-free glue, “We want to make it better, with higher strength, especially in wet conditions,” Frihart says.

Charles Goodyear did not have to integrate vulcanization into a rubber industry – which barely existed — but today, a new adhesive “has to fit into the way the product is being made commercially,” Frihart says, “and we continue to work on modifying the adhesive to fit better individual plants.”

Frihart says the soy story echoes a larger, but behind-the-scenes evolution in materials. “Because we better understand materials, and how to manipulate them, we keep figuring out ways to make them work better, even if they are not labeled new-and-improved.”

– David J. Tenenbaum