Category Archives: Fun

Unlikely Ink?

oak galls
Oak Galls, Andricus kollari (I believe this particular tree is a Californian coastal scrub oak, Quercus dumosa.)(photo:Tim Jones)

A good few Zoonomian posts are based on things or events I just happen to stumble onto.  And that’s certainly the case with these oak galls I snapped on a trail walk this week.

These hard woody growths, about 1.5 inches across, are induced by insects interfering with the oak plant’s bio-chemistry.

Typically a wasp, like Neuroterus albipes in the photo, lays an egg on an oak twig, along with chemicals that react with the plant’s hormones to trigger growth of the gall, making both a home and ready meal for the wasp grub.   On occasion, secondary parasites of other species may join the ‘host’ grub after the gall has formed.  It looks from the multiple holes like that’s what’s happened here.

wasp
Gall Wasp (Wikicommons)

Historically, oak galls have been useful to humans as a main ingredient of Iron Gall Ink, in common use from before the middle ages to Victorian times.   I made iron gall ink as a kid, which probably explains why I got so excited when I saw these.  And while I’ll concede the skill is probably not a 21st century essential, making the stuff is quite satisfying.

So if you’re up for a little kitchen science, you will need: a handful of oak galls, some ferrous sulphate and, optionally if you want the ink to have a good consistency, some Gum Arabic.

The chemistry begins when the crushed galls are mixed with water, causing the tannin, or gallo-tannic acid COOH.C6H2(OH)2O.COC6H2(OH)3 in them to form gallic acid C6(COOH)H(OH)3H.  Adding hydrated ferrous sulphate FeSO4, 7 H2O  to this forms the ink, a soluble ferrous tannate complex.

As regards procedure, you should get a workable product by smashing up 5 or 6 oak galls and boiling them down to about a 1/4 pint in water and filtering the liquid through a cloth or handkerchief; then dissolve about a teaspoon of ferrous sulphate in a shot-glass sized measure, and mix the two together.  Instant medieval ink.   For a much more thorough and professional approach, see this article from the Conservation Division of the Library of Congress.  BTW – ferrous sulphate can be bought in art shops, garden supply stores, and some health stores – you want iron(II)sulphate, FeSO4 – not anything else.

Ferrous Sulphate (Wikicommons)

The advantage iron gall ink brought over previous inks was its permanence. Because ferrous tannate is water soluble, the ink soaks into the paper, where the ferrous tannate oxidises to insoluble – and darker – ferric tannate, which is now trapped in the fabric of the paper.  Various refinements are seen in recipes, such as the addition of extra acid, maybe as vinegar, to keep the ink from oxidising in the pot, as it were.  A drawback of iron gall inks is their corrosive action, sometimes only apparent over a long period, and in extreme cases resulting in writing literally dropping out of the paper.

Despite the corrosion issues, many famous documents were written in iron gall ink, including the dead sea scrolls (the black ink that is; the red ink is cinnabar, or mercuric sulphide HgS), and the Constitution of the United States.

The Dead Sea Scrolls are written in iron gall ink (Wikicommons)

The Perfect Mathematician

Think I’ve stumbled upon what is fundamentally wrong with UK STEM policy, at least for the Maths bit.  We’re not raising mathematicians correctly.

In ‘The First Men in the Moon‘, H.G. Wells shares with us how the Selenite moon people got it right – over a century ago:

“If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill.  His brain grows, or at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him only so much as is necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and display of his faculty, his one interest in its application, his sole society with other specialists in his own line. His brain grows continually larger, at least so far as the portions engaging in mathematics are concerned; they bulge ever larger and seem to suck all life and vigour from the rest of his frame. His limbs shrivel, his heart and digestive organs diminish, his insect face is hidden under its bulging contours. His voice becomes a mere stridulation for the stating of formula; he seems deaf to all but properly enunciated problems. The faculty of laughter, save for the sudden discovery of some paradox, is lost to him; his deepest emotion is the evolution of a novel computation.  And so he attains his end.”

How would you ‘Break the Eerie Silence’ ?

Update 15th March – I’ve posted the top 50 winning messages HERE.

Update 13th March – Competition results. For those of you checking back for the 12th March winning messages, they don’t seem to have appeared yet.  Another eerie silence if you like. Watch this space.

It’s been a spacey couple of weeks here at Zoonomian.   What with the Royal Society’s meeting on astrobiology and the search for extra-terrestrial life (SETI), rapping ET-style, and a return to the Buck Rogers era.   And we’re not finished yet.

eerie silence jacket image

You might remember one of the speakers at the Royal Society event was physicist Paul Davies, who also has a new book coming out, The Eerie Silence: Are we alone in the Universe?.

I’ll be writing a full review of Eerie Silence in due course, but meantime you might want to take part in what looks like a fun competition, launched today by publishers Penguin UK together with National Science and Engineering Week.

They’re asking the question:

Is there anybody out there? What would you say if you could send a message into space?

Would you say hello, ask the meaning of life, share an insight or just complain about the weather?

As the organisers say, this is a rare opportunity to beam up to  5000 messages into space to celebrate the 50th anniversary of SETI, the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, which is the subject of Davies’s book.

Paul Davies
Paul Davies

So get your thinking cap on, make your message funny, thoughtful or wise and do something extraordinary.

The best 50 messages, as chosen by a judging committee, will be posted at the Penguin website and also here on Zoonomian on 12 March, the first day of National Science and Engineering Week 2010 and in the national media. Winning entrants’ names and home location, only, may be credited at the foot of each message. In addition, the 50 winning entrants will each receive a copy of “The Eerie Silence: Are we Alone in the Universe?” by Paul Davies.

To send a message of no more than 40 words, simply go to www.penguin.co.uk/eeriesilence and enter your message.

Entries  will be accepted between 8th – 28th February 2010.

Winners notified on 3 March and the 50 winning entries will go public on 12 March 2010. For full details and Terms and Conditions, see the website.

Science Celebs Quizz

Stop for a moment worrying about the state of UK science funding, global warming, the vet’s bill, or whatever; and see how many of these ‘science celebs’ (plus sympathisers) you know. Click once to enlarge the pic, then click the button to flip the pic and see if you identified the person/place correctly.

scicelebs
To play, CLICK HERE (opens flash gallery).

The pics were taken by me and fellow conspirator in science tourism Sven Klinge at various lectures, events, places around the country – and indeed the world.  Lots more to come.  If you have an interesting and original sci-celeb picture of your own, I’d be happy to add it to the collection with due credit.

Sprinting is Good for the Heart (but not so good for the planet)

Inevitably, spring cleaning and winnowing of the paper archives throws up blasts from the past – often in the form of faded, pre-digital-age photographs.   They waft the embers of dormant memories.

Triumph Dolomite Sprint - first commercial 16v motor car
Triumph Dolomite Sprint – first production car with a 16v engine

This memory concerns a charity drive I made with my brother 19 years ago in support of the British Heart Foundation.  The Round Britain Reliability Run involved a group of car enthusiasts loyal to the Triumph brand, driving non-stop (save for pit-stop style re-fueling and the occasional sandwich break) around the UK. That’s a distance of about 2000 miles in something like 40 hours, taking a route from London to John O’Groats to Lands End, and back to London.

The Route
The Route

A number of thoughts struck me, looking at the photo of our ride – a 1981 Triumph Dolomite Sprint; but two in particular.

Firstly,  nobody in 1990 had heard of global warming, so all were oblivious to the carbon footprint of the event or any incongruity with the charitable tone of the challenge (not that heart health and global warming are directly related).

Secondly, this was a reliability run; part of the perverse thrill lay in not knowing with any certainty your vehicle would  hack the 2000 miles round trip. Alright, some of these cars were from the 1950’s, but mechanical reliability – even into the ’70s and ’80s – did not compare to today’s standards.  The Sprint in particular was prone to engine overheating – a defect which, when it occurred, could be ameliorated by driving with the heaters full on and the windows open.

Club Triumph Round Britain Beer Mug
Reward!

And guess what?  They are still running these events – every two years.  What’s more, the Club Triumph Round Britain Reliability Run has from last year been carbon neutral.  The carbon impact in terms of off-setting equivalent has been calculated at £10 per car – which is duly charged to the drivers.  The beneficiary charity  seems to change with each event, but an impressive total of  £270,000 has been generated for various causes since 1990.

I never repeated this sort of stunt.  For starters, all the Triumphs in our family wore out or were sold off (we had six over the years).  And I moved on to more mature transport related pastimes, like throwing bags of flour out of aeroplanes (the science and technology of flour bombing is a post for another day).

Anyhow, a few more of these blast from the past photos were  loosed along with this one from the box file of history so, if you’re really unlucky, there could be further posts in Zoonomian’s nostalgia category :-).

Faces

Richard Wiseman has just blogged on how some people see faces in inanimate objects.  Check out the blog here, but first, what about this.

Make my Day
Make my Day

Richard would explain this in terms of psychology and interpretation.  But it’s clear this gate guardian of my (then) fiances’s flat in San Francisco is keen-eyed, shod, armed – and DANGEROUS.

Natural Shrinkage

Back to the (more) serious stuff soon.  But to finish the apple story, how scary is this?

Scary
Scary

Hot on the heels of the Amazing Shrinking Head, I’ve dug this out of the archives.  Taken last year at Hampton Court Palace,  it’s an apple that has naturally dried out after someone stuck it on a spiked  fence.  With skin this time, there seems to be a natural predilection to eye-holes, and maybe a trace of nose?   (BenGoldacreDisclaimer – warning, one example does not constitute a scientifically, statistically significant, sample. Great Metro copy though).

But non significant
But not significant

The Amazing Shrunken Head

Here’s something you can be getting on with when you should be working etc.

Get that shrinking feeling
Getting a shrinking feeling?

It’s actually a little experiment the missus has been running right under my nose. And a fine demonstration it is too, of the scientific principle of  ‘DEHYDRATION’.

I’m sure you’ve already figured it out.  Peel an ordinary apple, carve a face on it, put it in the fridge.  Two weeks later – Mr Evil Applehead.

Enjoy!