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The phrase “peeping Tom” has been around for a long time, to describe a voyeur, someone who spies on other people, particularly for sexual gratification. Why do we always say Tom? Why not peeping Oliver, or peeping Hubert? Or, to be fair, why not peeping Jennifer? It’s always poor Tom. Well, we need to look at some history to understand this seemingly unfair judgement of the Toms of the world. It all starts with Lady Godiva, who lived in the 11th century. A noblewoman, she was the wife of Leofric, Earl of Mercia. Mercia was one of three kingdoms founded when Anglo-Saxons settled in Sub-Roman Britain, now known as the English Midlands. Lady Godiva was a patron of several churches and monasteries. In the 13th century (and possibly earlier), a legend emerged, in which Lady Godiva rode naked on a horse through the streets of the city of Coventry. According to the story, Lady Godiva pitied the people of Coventry, who were suffering because of her husband’s harsh taxation. She repeatedly asked her husband to lower his taxes, but he refused. Finally, to get her to stop pestering him, he said he would lower the taxes if she would remove all her clothing and ride a horse through the streets of Coventry naked. She decided to do it, but not before ordering all people to shut their windows and stay indoors. She rode through the city, covered only by her long hair. In later versions of the legend, starting in the 1700s, people added an interesting detail: a tailor named Tom, who was the only person in the city who peeked at her through his window to see her naked. Most versions of the story have Tom abruptly being killed or struck blind for this misbehavior (either by the local townspeople or by divine intervention). Most historians do not consider this story to have much truth to it, and numerous versions have evolved over the centuries. The idea of adding Tom the peeping tailor to the story probably originated in verbal stories in the area of Coventry, and it didn’t show up in literature until the late 1700s. Although Tom probably didn’t really exist, his deed has become part of our culture. Voyeurism is a punishable offense in many countries, usually a misdemeanor with a fine, which is nothing compared to Tom’s punishment of blindness or death.  Image Credit: Peeping Tom - Midjourney 7
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I'd like to introduce you to Dumb Dude. Dumb Dude is an eastern wild turkey. Specifically, a tom (a mature male). Here is Dumb Dude in all his glory, strutting for the ladies. Impressive, don't you think? Dumb Dude likes to hang around our property because this is apparently a good place to hook up with mates. Such as the hen in the second photo, which happens to be the hen he was strutting for when I took these photos. There's a bit of a story behind Dumb Dude's unusual name. You see, this tom turkey is obsessed with my truck. Well, what he is actually obsessed with is his own reflection in the side of my truck. I don't mean he's slightly curious... he is obsessed. He will spend hours at a time standing in our gravel parking area and pecking at his reflection in the glossy black paint. I kid you not... hours. I can go out there and chase him off, but he'll come back within minutes. Each time he pecks the truck, it leaves a slight mark on the paint, but I discovered these marks buff out easily, so I stopped worrying about it. Now there are hundreds of marks. Maybe thousands. And still, Dumb Dude enjoys this odd hobby of pecking at himself. Well, the scientific explanation is that tom turkeys are naturally aggressive toward other toms in the spring when they tussle with each other (or their reflection) for the right to claim the hens. But seriously... hours at a time, pecking his own reflection? Hence, Trish named this bird Dumb Dude.   This is one of those silly questions people ask as a joke, such as “Can you daydream at night?” or “Can a short person talk down to a taller person?” or “Can crop circles be square?” But I think this question is worth considering. Seriously, what happens to sound when you travel at the speed of sound? First, what exactly is the speed of sound? This is how fast sound waves—vibrations, in other words—travel through a particular medium. The speed is different depending on the medium. For example, sound travels 4.4 times faster through water than through air. And with air, the speed depends on the air’s temperature and composition. At 68º F (20º C), sound travels at about 767 miles per hour (1,235 km/hr). So, we’ll use 767 mph as a standard for this discussion. When we hear something, our brain is interpreting compressive waves that hit our eardrums. If you were capable of running away from those waves faster than the waves travel, then you wouldn’t be able to hear any sounds coming from behind you because you would be outrunning them. If you were running into waves coming at you from in front, you would be able to hear those. The thing is, no one can run at 767 mph. In fact, if you were in a jet going that fast and you stuck your head out the window, the effects of the air hitting your head would be devastating. You simply cannot move that fast in the atmosphere without being inside a protective environment like a jet. A streamlined, reinforced jet can withstand the constant impact of all that air. Humans cannot. The air inside of a jet is moving with you, so you can speak to the people around you and hear them normally. This is also true when you are standing in your yard talking to someone—the Earth is orbiting the sun at a speed of 67,000 mph, but you are safely within its bubble of atmosphere, like being in a jet. Interestingly, if your jet is moving faster than the speed of sound, the air in the cabin is moving with the jet, so when you speak toward the front of the jet, your sound waves are moving faster than the speed of sound (but the sound is still only moving at 767 mph relative to the air in the cabin). Weird. If a jet is traveling toward you faster than 767 mph, you cannot hear it approaching because it is outrunning its own sound waves. However, when the jet gets parallel to you, the sound waves will eventually reach your ears. If the jet is high above, it may already be past and out of sight before you hear it because the sound waves also have to travel from the jet’s height all the way to your position on the ground. If the jet is 40,000 feet (7.6 miles) high, the sound takes about 35 seconds to reach you. To answer the original question: a jogger cannot run anywhere near the speed of light. Let’s imagine that you and your jogging partner get in a car that goes faster than sound. No problem—you both are in an enclosed space (like in a jet) and the air inside is moving with you. Okay, let’s imagine that you and your jogging partner get on two motorcycles that can go faster than sound, and you ride beside each other. You would need helmets to protect your heads, of course, and if you tried to yell at your partner, the sound waves would be left behind and your partner would not hear you. However, you could talk using radio headsets inside your helmets because radio waves travel at the speed of light—waaaay faster than 767 mph!  Photo Credit: - Two fast joggers - Midjourney 7 I'm fascinated by flightless birds... I have a novella titled Blue Arrow (it's connected to the Diffusion series). Weird title, huh? Well, there's a hiking trail, called the Blue Arrow trail, in Queensland, Australia that Trish and I first hiked way back in 1995, then again in 2018. At the time of our first hike, there was an amazing bird that roamed the area of the Blue Arrow trail. The bird, a Cassowary, was known to sometimes chase hikers, and locals had named the bird Blue Arrow. The novella's title refers to this cassowary. Let's learn more about cassowaries. The Eastern Turkey is possibly the most impressive bird you’ll see here in Missouri. When you see one, you think, “Cool, a turkey.” But when you lay eyes on a cassowary, you think, “Holy !$*#!, it’s a dinosaur!” (by the way, birds are now officially classified as dinosaurs... I wrote about this a few months ago) The cassowary is the second heaviest bird (the Ostrich is first), and they live in northern Australia, New Guinea, and the surrounding islands. In 1995, when we hiked the Blue Arrow trail, Trish and I searched for Blue Arrow the bird (without success). On another hike not too far from there, we were lucky enough to see our first cassowary. We recorded some video of it. However, though we were both teachers at the time, we could never show that video to our students because Trish, who was holding the video camera, kept exclaiming, “Oh, Sh**! Oh, sh**! It’s a cassowary!” Yeah, it’s that exciting to see one. The first photo isn't the greatest (I had to scan the original 1995 photo), but I wanted to show you the actual cassowary we saw 30 years ago. It came down from the hills to drink water. Cassowaries, which are about five feet tall and weigh up to 130 pounds, have a reputation for being aggressive (although, as is often the case, people’s opinions about this are sometimes exaggerated). When we hiked in areas where cassowaries lived, warning signs were posted at trailheads, and brochures about them were readily available. When Australians describe the dangers of cassowaries, they are fond of using the word “disembowel.” An unpleasant word, by any measure, but a cassowary has very sharp claws on its three dinosaur toes that are capable of doing some serious damage (see the second photo). Especially notice the claw on the right. You should also know this foot is at least at large as my hand. Cassowaries have a large, bony helmet, or casque, growing from the top of the head, but no one is quite sure of its function. Researchers have suggested it is used as a battering ram to protect the head as the bird runs through the thick tropical forest at up to 31 mph (50 kph). However, it seems more likely the casque is used in communication, perhaps as an amplifier or receiver of the cassowary's low-frequency vocalizations. Also, the casque may serve to dissipate body heat in hot weather. Cassowaries can jump 7 feet straight up, and they can swim wide rivers. Impressive birds, huh? During our return trip to northeast Australia in 2018, a hen cassowary and her chick wandered into the courtyard of one of the lodges we stayed at (third photo).    |
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