Science Writers Writing Science

My ultimate destination on the weekend was the place you see above, Marquis Hall at the University of Saskatchewan. In three days, I spent twenty hours in this room, absorbing much-needed writing skills. And eating, for it is in this room that an endless supply of some of the best muffins and worst coffee I’ve ever encountered were served. Overall, it was a comfortable venue with well-managed acoustics and well-spoken participants.

I knew no one here, except the fellow who helped me and my wheelchair get around the campus. Gerhard Maier is a good friend, and both the city of Saskatoon and this meeting were of some interest to him. Gerhard is a science writer, having published African Dinosaurs Unearthed. His book is an in-depth chronicle of the century-old discovery of the biggest dino dig in Africa. Without Gerhard’s help and the excellent work of the organizers at the Canadian Science Writer’s Association I probably would not be here. The organization had brewed up an irresistible roster of speakers and topics. We would hear Jay Ingram, a tireless science communicator who once hosted CBC’s Quirks and Quarks and Discovery Channel’s Daily Planet. Also, from Brooklyn via Skype, we learned how to latch on to news trends by one of the proprietors of Mashable. There were various panels – food security, critical thinking, clear writing – which included about 50 scientists and panelists. There were tours on the South Saskatchewan River, and in the University of Saskatchewan’s dairy research centre, vaccine centre, and the Canadian Light Source synchrotron, Canada’s brightest light, which is used to decipher RNA code among many other things. There was much more, of course. Lunch speakers, more tours, and some obscure thing called “networking” which I couldn’t figure out very well.

I had joined the science writer’s organization less than a year ago. I have spent the past couple of years trying to learn how to communicate science, but it has been a haphazard education. I picked up a few good writing books (Steven Pinker’s Sense of Style, for example) and I read articles and blogs about writing whenever I could. I had heard that incessant writing builds skill, so I try to publish a blog piece every week at this site and at my geophysics blog, The Mountain Mystery. The idea that becoming a writer requires a lot of practice was confirmed by some grizzled reporters at the conference. I also gleaned some clever tools to help me write more clearly. Science writing for a general audience, for example, should be similar to story-telling in a conversational tone. Try to avoid high-falutin words like apiarist when beekeeper says the same thing in a simpler way. Emotional appeal, humour, and personal perspectives are encouraged when conveying science messages. Analogs are useful tools but caution should be exercised to be certain they are accurate enough. (One example is the now discredited and over-used analogy of the atom drawn and explained as if it were a miniature solar system. It isn’t.)

It was a great conference, but don’t expect this blog to suddenly blossom into a phenomenal work of art with well-written witty tales about beekeeping. I will try, but I don’t anticipate miracles will happen. Not for a few days, anyway.

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Saskatchewan’s University

The doors that led to my geophysics career.

The doors that led to my geophysics career.

Today, I am at the University of Saskatchewan. I am here to attend the 44th annual conference of the Canadian Science Writer’s Association.  I hope to learn to be a better writer (maybe this Bad Beekeeping Blog will become less of an invidious palaver). But I am also here – at the U of S – to visit my alma mater, the campus where I earned my geophysics badge 25 years ago. I had not seen the campus in 20 years. The last time I was here, I was interviewing science graduates and trying to entice them with promises of fun, games, and money at a company I worked for in Calgary. That was 20 years ago. The intervening years were busy: I was diagnosed with motor neuron disorder, I married, had two more children (they are now 8 and 13), and I built a honey farm near Calgary, then sold it. I also traveled at least once to Chile, Vietnam, Peru, Croatia, Hungary, England, Ireland, and nine other countries. But I had not come back to the university. Until today.

I met two of my favourite profs. Jim Merriam, my geophysics mentor, and Chary Rangacharyulu, my main physics professor. Both became heads of their respective departments while I was away. Surprisingly, they both recognized me, though I’m afraid that I changed much more than either of them. My 25 years out of school were rough, and it shows. But these gentlemen – and other professors I met today – looked like they had just finished a lecture they taught me and my mates in 1991. We chatted about the school, their lives and families. It was a great visit. I met others who remembered me at the school, too, though many of my associates had retired. We are aging.

usask2nobelsThe University of Saskatchewan is a beautiful campus. There are gorgeous trees, expansive green stretches, and most of the buildings here are constructed from sandstone blocks – many of them chiseled a hundred years ago from local rock. The school may seem obscure to you because it sits in a small city in the middle of a big province in a big country. You would be surprised to discover that two Nobel Laureates did their research here. The school has North America’s finest veterinarian college and has produced oodles of ag-scientists and geologists.

Someone who works on the Arts and Sciences Scholarship Committee at the University of Saskatchewan told me that they had received a nice grant a few years ago. (I was not told the source of the money.) It was to be used for a scholarship open to any student, in any area of study, unless the recipient was a bad beekeeper. The university committee realized at once that the bad beekeeper was me. They likely thought it was quite funny, as do I. I knew that a few people from among the Saskatchewan bee community were wary of my success. I never thought they would immortalize me in such a charming way. I’ll have to learn more about this so I can contribute to that fund myself.

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The Long Road to Saskatoon

I am heading off to Saskatoon today. It has been 20 years since I was last there. Rather shameful delay, actually, since I earned my geophysics badge in Saskatoon and was treated really well by all the professors at the University of Saskatchewan. (In other words, none of them failed me.) I should have not waited twenty years to return for a visit, but it is an eight-hour drive from my home in Calgary. That makes it too far to drive, yet too close to fly. So, I just don’t go there. However, with the help of a good friend, I finally drove up to the city named for a bright blue low-hanging fruit. The route between the two cities is a rather monotonous trail. Lots of wheat and canola. And hundreds of ranches with alfalfa and clover – great nectar sources that make the area one of the best in the world for honey production. Today’s blog posting is simply a few pictures from the drive.

Not all of Alberta’s energy is sucked from the ground.

Youngstown, Alberta. There is another Youngstown (in Ohio) not far from
my childhood home in Pennsylvania. (I have heard it is also losing population.)

Saskatchewan in Sight

 

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Pure Sweet Honey and the ALS Run

Left, my son Daniel and my wife Eszter – Daniel is giving Calgary Mayor Nenshi his runner’s T-Shirt.
Right, Co-ordinator Jane tries to defend the mayor from an apparent Star Wars attacker.

Once again, our friends at Pure Sweet Honey Farm have made a wonderful contribution to Calgary’s ALS fundraiser – a walk/run/roll called Betty’s Run. Here is a great big THANK YOU to Willi and Stan at Pure Sweet. They help this organization a lot. The money raised each year by the ALS Society in Calgary helps with all sorts of equipment and aids to daily living for victims of the disease. Contributions to the society also supports research. It is all appreciated so much!

For all my readers and friends (Man, there are a lot of you!), I’ll do my annual quality-of-life update. I’m OK. My type of ALS is really, really slow. Diagnosed 14 years ago, but I can still walk a little, still drive my van, still write my blogs, and still do my geophysics. The quality-of-life department includes family and friends and they have all been a great support. Thank you!

Left, Stan and I with Helen (sporting rabbit ears)
Right, Back side of Mayor Nenshi’s T-shirt. Can you spot the Pure Sweet Honey label?
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Your Dead Bees are in the Mail

Canadian Queen – photo by Stephen Bennett, Calgary

 

Well, this is pretty sad. Canada Post killed some bees. Queen bees are in short supply in Canada. Because of our late springs and short seasons, most queen bees are imported from warmer climates – Hawaii, New Zealand, and Chile are prime sources. These are used to replace colonies that have died over winter or to increase a beekeeper’s number of hives. It would be great if Canadian beekeepers raised queens and sold them to other beekeepers, but Canadian beekeepers sell fewer than one-tenth of the 300,000 or so imported queens used here each year. The rest arrive from far away. Beekeepers order the queens months in advance, send full payment in advance, and wait for the overworked and harried queen-producers to send the queens during the Canadian spring. The queens are fragile – they can’t survive in a parcel for long. So, when a batch of them go missing, it is a rather tough problem.

Canada Post lost one hundred queens! They all died. The most probable cause of the deaths of these insects was heat exhaustion, the result of being confined without proper ventilation and air circulation. It’s also possible they simply ran out of food, though the shippers would have likely provided enough honey or supplements to last a couple of week. The really sad twist to this story is that these queens were not coming from the other side of the world. This bunch of queens was raised in Canada – out in the eastern townships of Quebec. They were only being mailed as far as Montreal. Canada Post found the parcel after five days – the (now dead) queens and their attendant bees were in a warehouse instead of in the beekeeper’s hands. The post office is willing to refund the $200 freight they had charged. But they are not willing to pay the thousands of dollars that the post’s negligence cost the beekeepers who ordered the queens, even though they admitted internal miscommunication had caused the loss. However, Canada Post wrote to the beekeeper and said, “We sincerely apologize for the results of this experience.” They are very, very sorry.

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Teaching the Bees to Speak

“I keep the Welsh language alive through bees,” Welsh beekeeper Wil Griffiths told a Financial Times reporter. This could be a huge scientific break-through. Around the world, linguists have been alarmed with the rapid loss of many of the world’s 6,000 languages. They expect half of those languages will suffer an unspeakable future by the end of this century. The Welsh language could be among them.

Teaching bees to speak might stop that decline. Already, bees communicate to each other through their fancy dances and they communicate to us through their angry buzzes. Maybe they can learn Welsh. Unless, of course, Mr Griffiths means something else when he talks about keeping his language alive through bees. You can check out the whole story here. Maybe you will find an interesting story about a bee club in Wales that holds its meetings in Welsh (instead of English) in order to keep the endangered language alive. “Pob lwc iddynt!” as my Welsh neighbour used to say when he heard about something that was going to be hard to do.

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The Ultimate Bee Beard

 

 Perhaps “National Cover Yourself in Bees Day” is underway in China. This 55-year-old beekeeper (seen smoking, center of the pictures) from Shandong Province was assisted in growing the ultimate bee beard by a team wearing army camouflage fatigues. His helpers can be seen shoveling honey bees over the beekeeper (literally – watch for the shovel near the end of this video). The beekeeper set a new record – 1,100,000 bees, weighing 110 kilograms (about 250 pounds), cover the man as he seems to bear a cross in the last scene of the film. It took an hour to pile on the bees. The insects were probably not hurt, but would have been rather confused. To keep them on the beekeeper and not on the Chinese Army, the beekeeper had “dozens of queens” strapped to his clothing. When not performing stunts, the million plus bees can normally be found foraging for nectar and pollen.

 

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Dandy Season

Dandelions make their grand appearance

A few weeks ago, I wrote that spring had arrived and pollen (plus a little nectar) was coming into the hives – mostly from willow and crocus. I also wrote that the main spring flow here in western Canada (along the Rocky Mountain foothills) is from the lowly dandelion, and it doesn’t reach peak bloom until around May 25th. After I posted those words, the weather turned startlingly warm (it set a record high) and masses of dandelions started to open three weeks early. So, I figured that I got my guess wrong (wouldn’t be the first time). Then it snowed. We had a week of cold weather. Now, finally, on May 25th, the dandelions are making their grand appearance.

In much of North America, the despised dandelion is the beekeeper’s best spring-time friend. Rather than sprinkling the lawn with Ortho® Weed-B-Gon MAX® Weed Killer For Lawns, the beekeeper is more likely to collect dandelion seeds and quietly spread them by helicopter at night. It’s a communing with nature sort of thing.

The battle between lovers and haters of dandelions got me wondering about when and how people got so uptight about their lawns. By people, I mean mostly northern Europeans and their cultural descendants in North America, Australia, and New Zealand. The rest of the world is a bit more relaxed about the state of their greens. For example, over the years, I have spent several months in central Europe. Flower baskets and public gardens are everywhere. But yards around family homes tend to be left a bit natural. A bit ragged. Grass may reach knees while dandelions and their associates live safe comfortable lives. It’s different further north – our word for lawn comes from an Old French word (launde) which means barrens or heath. A dead place – or at least a place of little vitality.

Somehow, keeping a barrens around the house has become a middle class pursuit among those of us lucky enough to be middle class members of the world’s wealthier nations. It messes with our minds when stray yellow dots break through the green monotony of the well-tended lawn. Meanwhile, many of us with the nicest yards and the snarkiest sneers for the untidy neighbour are also wondering what is happening to nature’s little pollinators. We bemoan the loss of butterflies and fuzzy bumbling bees, wishing they would drop by to enjoy our neatly manicured lawns. But they seem to be missing.


							
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Elementary Beekeeping

Proof of Sherlock Holmes’s residence

Today is the world’s most famous detective’s birthday. No, not James Bond. Sherlock Holmes, if he ever lived at all, would have been well over 150 years old today. Or, at least, his creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would be – he was born May 22, 1859.

You likely know some of the old Sherlock Holmes stories. With incredible wit, problem-solving skills, tenacity, deduction, and plain old-fashioned stubbornness, the detective solved the most complicated and beguiling mysteries. So what does such a witty, smart, and stubborn person do in retirement? He becomes a beekeeper, of course.

We are told that Holmes retired to the countryside to make his living from bees. The detective never had much money – Watson helped with his rent at 221B Baker Street – so he probably didn’t notice a big drop in income when he became a retired gentleman selling honey at the farm in Sussex Downs. I am thinking he continued wearing tweeds and certainly his pipe would double as a handy smoker. His bees would have worked wildflowers and made batches of dark pungent honey for the master detective.

One wonders why author Sir Doyle chose to outfit Holmes with a hivetool when he could have left him teaching at Scotland Yard, sharing his tricks with future generations of detectives. Doyle seems mum on this. He doesn’t divulge his thoughts, he just retires his star character to a small holding near a small village and he puts him to work keeping bees. Perhaps it was because Holmes was suffering from a touch of rheumatism near the end of his career (according to Doyle) and bee stings have always been rumoured good for stiff joints.

The bees are introduced rather shyly. There are no long passages describing the bees or any misadventures of the detective prowling among the garden hives, harvesting honey. Quite the contrary. Here is the sum total of the bee references in Holmes’s retirement story, His Last Bow, taking place in the first decade of the twentieth century:
Says Watson: “But you have retired, Holmes. We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs.”
Holmes replies: “Exactly, Watson. Here is the fruit of my leisured ease, the magnum opus of my latter years!”
He picked up the volume from the table and read out the whole title, Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen.
Holmes continues:“Alone I wrote it. Behold the fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched the little working gangs as once I watched the criminal world of London.”

Thus we learn that the great Sherlock Holmes had written a practical beekeeping guide in his retirement. If I find a copy, I’ll do a book review for you.

Sherlock Holmes’s retirement house, near Tiger Inn, East Dean, England.

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A Swarm of Biblical Proportions

The headline reads:
Swarm of bees that turned sky over British town black
was like “something out of the bible”

OMG: Straight from the Bible!
Bees blacken the sky over Farnham!

Biblical. That’s the way frightened victims in the English town of Farnham reportedly reacted when their daily ritual of buying nappies and playing snookers in the establishments edging the village square was interrupted by a swarm of bees that “Came from nowhere.” and “Blackened the sky.” If indeed the insects “came from nowhere” then the hand of God was certainly involved. Only God can make an entire swarm of, say, 40,000 bees appear instantly from thin air – as he has done on at least one prior occasion. (I looked it up in my huge Bible Concordance – there was the incident of bees forming in the carcass of a lion.)

Curiously, if you go to the news/gossip site reporting the incident, you will see a 30-second video filmed from an office suite. The camera is pointed outside and – if you look very closely – you will see a few dozen bees dotted around the bright clear blue sky. The sky is not blackened, Armageddon did not happen in Surrey County yesterday.

Not to downplay the horror and distress that a swarm of unexpected bees inflicts upon a village, but swarms are usually very tame. And swarms are quite natural – they are God’s way of fighting colony collapse disorder, so they may actually be ‘biblical’, too. It’s too late to give advice to the Farnhammites of Surrey County, but if a swarm ever blackens your sky, here is what you should do. Be calm. Don’t swing your arms around the air (that’s an invitation to fight). Slowly retreat to the doorway of the Black Swan, or any other place that helps you blend into the scenery. And by all means, stiffen the upper lip and continue with the snookers game.

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