No. 201
Nature Shows the Way, - the way God, as Creator, cares for His world, with ingenious provision for living creatures: most of all for man, to whom He is both Father God and Saviour. One of the provisions He has made is the means by which insects sense the invisible: and by it find their way about.
We're all bathed in a sea of radiation. Some of it we can see: we call it light. But most of it's invisible -and unfelt. What we see is a very narrow band of light and colour, with short waves, about a ten-millionth of a millimetre long. And beyond that, on one side, are the mile-long radio waves that we tune in to with aerials and receivers: and, on the other, the very short ultra-violet waves that only some insects can see. But, close to visible light, is the great band of infra-red waves that we know very little about. They're shed on to the earth night and day, by moon and sun. And they're thought to provide a sort of invisible sight for insects.
Now, it's well known that scent molecules attract insects and guide them to their mates. They travel on the air, and are detected, chemically, by the insect’s antennae. But it's now thought that they may work in another way also: that both the insect's warm body and the scent molecules themselves may act like tiny radio beacons, giving out infra-red waves that play an important part in directing insects.
To pick up waves from the air you need an antennae, or aerials. For gathering in the long radio waves, our own receiving sets have long metal antennae. Insects have antennae also- but much smaller. Could it be that they gather in the short infra red rays from scent molecules? Covering these insect antennae are delicate sensors of various sorts - spines and pits. It's thought that they probably act as detectors - like the tuned circuits in our radio receivers, to pick out the signals the waves carry.
What would insects use these signals for? First for attraction - to lure a male insect to his mate. To do this, the female moth gives off scent molecules. It's thought that these molecules are made to vibrate by the flood of infra-red waves that bathe our earth. They then send out their own particular "colour" of infra-red waves, in a very narrow wave-band. The male can pick them up with the tiny aerials on his antennae, half a mile away. They tell him that he's on the right scent, and his mate is waiting. From the length of the wave, he knows how far away she is. Then there are other waves - and other sensors - for navigation. When a female moth is ready for mating, she sits in one spot, and vibrates her wings. The action of the muscles heats her body - and it gives off infra-red waves, in a broad band. The fast movement of her wings "chops" the waves so that they give out a signal, like the blinking lamp of a lighthouse. It's just right for direction finding- and so is the tiny circle of directional antennae with which the male moth is thought to monitor it.
To find our way home to God, we have to tune-in to the invisible. We know even less about how God speaks to us than we know about the invisible waves that guide insects to their goal. But He does speak. And He does guide. He sent us His Son to show us the way to God -the way of forgiveness and love. It draws us to Him; for it shows Him to be a Father who cares. But we have to tune-in. Faith is the antenna that enables us to tune-in to God, and receive His truth into our lives. We have to believe that God is all He says He is - a loving Father who sent His Son into the world to die for us. That belief will open the channels of love between Him and us.
Radiation;light;wavelength;scent;direction;moth;tuning
Episode No.202
Nature Shows the Way - the way God has made provision, creatively and ingeniously, for all living things: most of all for man, to whom He is both Creator and Father God. Few creatures live farther from the source of things than the animals of the ocean depths- no light, no fresh air, little warmth, little food. So much the more ingenious is God's provision for their existence in the dark abyss.
Light is the source of all life energy. In the clearest water- that of the Sargossa Sea -it disappears, to the human eye, at about 500 feet. Yet animals live thousands of feet below the surface. Here, the temperature drops to little above zero, and light loses its colour -first the red and orange, then the yellow and green. Bright red animals look only a deep blue-black at these remote depths. How then, do the animals see, or find their way about?
Many of them have huge eyes, with large pupils to let in as much light as possible. The retina has a great many rods- light sensitive cells that detect the merest glimmer of light: but no colour. The eyes are tubular, like a telescope: and directed upwards, towards the light. They're set side-by-side to give stereoscopic vision for the better judgement of distance: and they have two retinas for easier focusing. But, at the greatest depths, where there’s no light at all, fish have no eyes at all, or very small ones. Some have the rays of their fins extended into long probes, for feeling their way about the ocean floor. Others have the lateral line sense organs - these echo-ranging, scales that give fish their strange ability to feel out ahead - developed to such a sensitive degree that they can detect the very breathing movements of the animals that serve them for food. And some have their own living lanterns to light the depths. There's a fish in the Southern Oceans with two small searchlights that cast a beam far enough ahead to enable it to capture krill; and a deep-sea hermit crab that finds its way through the light of a luminous sea-anemone it carries with it.
But even more important than sight is food. Where the light doesn't penetrate, green plants can't grow, and no food is produced. But it's relayed to the abyss from the light and life above. Rich supplies of plankton grow in the sunlit surface waters - and a food chain extends all the way down to the animals in the abyss. Big Mouths, fish that live in the bone-chilling cold and gloomy darkness at 9,000 feet, are specially built to take advantage of the rare pickings that come their way - right at the end of the food-chain. One way or another, all are fed.
We often find ourselves in the gloom of despair. Thick darkness closes over us - there's no break in the clouds. But we need to remember that there's sunlight, and life-giving energy above. God is the source of life for man - the Sun of Love, Our Creator and Father God has undertaken to supply all our need if we trust Him. “With all His abundant wealth, through Christ Jesus” Paul said, “My God will supply all your need.” In the economy of God, the supply usually comes through others – as in the food chain of the ocean. And it comes best through the faculty of faith – God’s special provision for enabling man to see in the darkness, where His hand reaches out to meet our need. “You know how to give good gifts to your children” Jesus said. “How much more then will your Father in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him.”
Sargossa;deep sea;fish;retina;lateral line;senses;food chain;supply;
Seeing in Depth
Nature Shows the Way - the way in which God provides for living things, most of all for man. For, beyond supplying our physical needs, He provides the means by which we learn; and adjust to the world around us. And one of the things we have to learn is the art of seeing.
This isn't as simple as it may seem. Our eyes focus an image onto the tiny screen, or retina, that lies at the back of the eye. But it's an image in the form of activated pigment cells and electrical circuits to the brain - and it's upside down: Our minds have to turn it right-side-up; tell us what it represents; how far away the object is; what significance it holds for us - and much more. A newborn child hasn't yet developed a mind of this sort. Indeed, he hasn't even learnt to judge distance; and he has difficulty even in reaching out and touching something he sees. He has to build up, and store in his mind, whole chapters of information before he can learn to see intelligently.
What is this information that we store in the seeing centre of the mind? Some of it's about distance. And this is what gives perspective, bearing, and depth to our seeing. If a friend walks away from us into the distance, we see him growing smaller and smaller. Yet we know he's not really getting smaller. Our minds have learnt to interpret distance in terms of size. Other things help us to judge space. The lens of the eye alters its shape as it follows the retreating form; and the eyeballs turn a little in their sockets. When we move our heads - as we often do to get a "fix" on distant objects - the image of a near object moves more than that of a far-off one. All of these things give us clues about distance.
But the most useful information about space and depth come from the two eyes working together as a team. Each presents us with a slightly different picture - like a pair of binoculars, or the twin cameras that photograph a stereoscopic picture. Our eyes are set, side-by-side, on the front of the head - just for the purpose of giving us this sort of picture. Not so with some birds. A thrush, a blackbird, or a farmyard fowl, searching for a worm's tunnel or for food on the ground, bends its head to the side to peer closely with just one eye at a time. But when it needs to judge distance accurately, in order to pounce on its quarry, it uses both eyes at once. They combine images, to give a picture of the target in depth. This is because things in the foreground or background give slightly different images in either eye. And if the object moves, bits of background and foreground will be seen at a different time by each eye. So the object becomes fixed in space; it stands out, with depth, perspective and profile.
Seeing, then, is a complex process. Seeing in depth is more difficult still. The wires from eye to brain are alive with messages - from object, foreground, background. The brain itself is stored with seeing data from the past. It has to sift, select, discriminate and judge. What we observe has to be set into a framework of ideas – if it’s to achieve any meaning. Jesus said “You have eyes – but you don’t see.” What they saw had little or no meaning because they had little understanding. It’s easy to be confused by today’s world – unless we can get a true bearing on things. There’s only one way to achieve this perspective – by viewing life against the background of Christ’s cross. It alone sets everything into a world of true values – nothing less than the perspective and depth of the divine love the cross portrays. “God loved the world so much that He gave His Son.” This is what really gives life real meaning.
210; Retina; sight; learning to see; perspective; distance; stereo; catching worms; understanding;
The growth of love
Nature Shows the Way - the way from independence to love. Lower animals are often marked by solitariness; higher animals by community in love. They gain from co-operation and the bond that grows between parent and young.
In the spider world, it's very much a case of "every man for himself" - or, more frequently, every female spider for herself. Spiders hunt by stealth, ambush, or snare - each spider in its own tunnel, lair, or web. Most of them would willingly feed on a fellow spider if it should become too familiar. For all that, the spider world is not without its co-operative communities where many combine to build a communal web. And even solitary hunters, like wolf spiders, spend long periods without food in order to care for their egg-sacs. They carry them about with them, sun them; and, when the spiderlings emerge, they're packed ,snugly onto their mother's back and carried with her wherever she goes. Nursery spiders build a protective silken nursery for their young; and even stand guard over it.
Insects are individualists, and care little for one another -or for their young. But here again we have the social insects -bees, ants, and wasps - which nurse their larvae carefully and nurse them in a social creche system. Members of a hive or nest contribute their own work freely - and even give their own lives to the care and defence of the nest.
Fish in general are as cold towards one another, and to their young, as they are to the touch. Most lay their eggs into water -and forget all about them. But the male stickleback is different. He builds a nest for the eggs, and guards them zealously. When the fry hatch, they're shepherded carefully into the nest. Female tilapia do more. They carry their eggs in their own mouths until they hatch, and shelter the young in the same secure retreat when danger threatens.
But it's in birds that we see real tenderness - with the development of the pair-bond as a real part of living. The male woos the female; and together they establish a home territory and a nest, sometimes holding to one another, and to the home site, for life. Established rituals cement the pair-bond. The lyre bird makes a clearing in the forest and uses it as a platform or stage for his performance of song and dance. His soft courting song is a language that draws the hen bird to him; and the beautiful spread of the lyre feathers a courtship dress that seems to weave a spell of friendship between them.