Introducing Euclid

One of the things I was doing last week instead of writing here was writing elsewhere and taking care of some details for Science Besieged, the nascent online project of Ars Hermeneutica. There are a couple of things I might point out.

First, Science Besieged has a new mascot: meet Euclid, the crow. I was working on a small annual report for Ars when I realized that the Sun Project had a graphic for a logo, but Science Besieged did not, and it would look unbalanced in the report. So, I thought to take a few minutes or so to do something about it. Weeks later, I have.

I had intended for some time to use an animal mascot. I had also for some time been thinking about using a platypus, which animal I find very appealing. Alas, Isaac and some other did not find the platypus appealing for some reason, despite the cool electrical-field sensors that the platypus has in its bill.

So, I challenged Isaac to suggest a better animal, and he suggested the crow. As he said that science writer David Quammen had said, crows are really "too smart for their own good". (He actually said quite a few additional and amusing things — see the link above for an online version of his essay "Has Success Spoiled The Crow? The Puzzling Case File on the World's Smartest Bird".)

The time elapsed between deciding on the crow — the American Crow, to be specific — and having a graphic was spent with an artist friend of ours named Faith who agreed to draw a crow for us to use. She did with reasonable dispatch, and I finally got it scanned and such so that we could have a usable graphic.

That's all taken care of finally, and the Science Besieged website now sports its new badge that features Euclid. You can read more about him and our reasons for choosing the crow at the link above.

Second, I also had some books to finish reading and, consequently, two new book notes to write for Science Besieged, too. For some reason I felt like writing more than usual about these two books: Bright Earth, by Philip Ball (which I've mentioned previously), and The Red Queen, by Matt Ridley.

Now, when it comes to writing I need to get to work on some short fiction. I'm woefully behind even my own slow production and need to catch up some. Fortunately, I think I have several ideas that have reached a reasonable maturity.

Posted on January 30, 2007 at 01.12 by jns · Permalink
In: All, Books, Writing

6 Responses

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  1. Written by chris
    on Tuesday, 30 January 2007 at 01.47
    Permalink

    did you know that one of the highways in canada that runs across the continental divide is the Crowsnest Pass highway? (the TransCanada runs through the Rogers pass, but this is important enough)

    I wonder if Euclid has been making any pocket money on the side?
    check out this and this, from both sides of the alberta/bc border.

    I understand that in Moscow, everyone has a crow story, of the wily birds who outsmart many other life-forms.

  2. Written by jns
    on Tuesday, 30 January 2007 at 14.33
    Permalink

    Moonlighting on Euclid's part seems a distinct possibility, given how easily bored he can get. However, since it all helps spread our message, I can't begrudge him a few extra bits of grain.

  3. Written by Bill Morrison
    on Tuesday, 30 January 2007 at 23.57
    Permalink

    A Canadian poet named Wilson McDonald (or Macdonald) published a delightful collection of poems in the 1950s, called "Caw Caw ballads," all anthropomorphizing crows in a delightful and satirical way. The only reason I know this is that the poet visited the Stratford (Ontario) Teachers College when my brother was a student there, and my brother had a signed copy of the book. One I remember (sort of):
    A poor old crow, who was hungry and lean,
    from farmer Brown stole one white bean.

    [The result was that the crows took him to court and sent him to jail — this verse I don't remember]

    A rich old crow who was fat and sleek
    from farmer Brown stole a peck of wheat.
    Aha, cried the crows, he has political bent,
    and sent him to Caw Caw Parliament.

    I have watched ravens (a larger version of the crow found in northern Canada, where they are sometimes known as "Yukon turkeys", stealing food from a dog. One would swoop down and tease the dog, who would leave his food dish and chase the crow. The crow's mate, meanwhile, would fly in and help him/herself to the dog's dinner. Then they'd switch roles, so both dined well and the dog went hungry.

  4. Written by jns
    on Wednesday, 31 January 2007 at 01.10
    Permalink

    That's interesting, Bill, and provokes a bit more research, of course. Now I know that Wilson MacDonald (1880-1967) was born in Cheapside, Ontario, where he is commemorated by this plaque (from "Historical Plaques of Haldimand-Norfolk") in a museum on Rainham Rd. (Co. Rd. 3):

    WILSON PUGSLEY MACDONALD (1880-1967)

    Wilson MacDonald, born here at Cheapside, established his reputation as a poet with the publication in 1926, of "Out of the Wilderness", a collection of poems which received wide acclaim. This success followed many years of struggling for recognition and been preceded by two anthologies, "The Song of the Prairie Land" (1916) and "The Miracle Songs of Jesus" (1920";. Among his many later works are "A Flagon of Beauty" and "Caw Caw Ballads". Although he wrote both satirical and religious poetry, he was primarily a lyric poet whose concern for unspoiled nature led to a strong condemnation of industrialization, urbanization and other aspects of modern life. He was buried in St. Luke's Cemetery, Vienna, Ontario.

    Erected by the Archaeological and Historic Sites Board,
    Department of Public Records and Archives of Ontario

    Here is one other poem from Caw-Caw Ballads that I found. One commenter that I read said that MacDonald's shorter verses "approached perfection", but it's not clear that this is one of those shorter ones:

    Some crows were poor
    And some crows which
    Had saved up corn
    Were idle and rich.

    And these idle crows
    With loud acclaim
    Cried: “All good crows
    Should learn some game.”

    But they couldn’t agree
    Which game was best
    Till they found a pill
    On the green earth’s breast.

    Then they dressed some birds
    In caddies’ clothes;
    But the game of golf
    Didn’t please the crows,

    Till a gay crow saw
    One day by a sewer
    A half-used bottle
    Of Jonathan Dewar.

    And after one drink
    He drove that pill
    Far over the brink
    Of a three-mile hill.

    And it passed on its way
    Through a farmer’s son;
    And the gay crow cried:
    “That’s a hole in one.”

  5. Written by S.W. Anderson
    on Wednesday, 31 January 2007 at 04.15
    Permalink

    As a kid I went on a class trip to the Bronx Zoo. There was a famous talking crow there, hanging around a statue of Alice (in Wonderland), getting handouts from the crowd and uttering an occasional word, to the visitors' delight.

    Some years back, I more than once enjoyed some time with Old Crow. Not a bad companion, if one's in the mood.

    More recently, a flock of crows that hangs out in my neighborhood periodically usually make such a racket that I just wish they would go away.

    I trust your Euclid is better behaved and not one to tell you, "Never more."

  6. Written by Bill Morrison
    on Wednesday, 31 January 2007 at 11.29
    Permalink

    Somehow I don't think McDonald meant by "gay" what you think he did!

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