Why it’s called ascorbic acid

Recently I came across this fascinating discussion of the mystery that scurvy posed: a painful and ultimately fatal disease for which the cause was unknown. Was it caused by bacteria? Something in food? Food preservation processes? Overwork? It was a major issue for sailors in the British Royal Navy, including Captain Scott:

Scott and Scurvy

But what makes this an especially captivating story is not how the cause was found, but instead how it was subsequently LOST, impacting many people’s lives for the worse, before being rediscovered. Go read the link above to find out more!

While reading it myself, I came across the word “antiscorbutic” to describe a property of lemons – that they could help prevent scurvy. Anti-scorbutic. Theories even developed that some foods could be “scorbutic” – actively causing scurvy.

And in the end when vitamin C was isolated and demonstrated to conclusively eradicate scurvy (which we now conceive of rather circularly as a lack of vitamin C), it now makes perfect sense that it should also go by the name ascorbic acid: an acid that prevents scurvy. Nice!

Also of interest: the reason we suffer when we don’t ingest enough vitamin C is that our bodies can’t produce it internally but it’s needed for a variety of life maintenance procedures. It turns out that humans are in the minority on this: most animals can manufacture their own vitamin C. We, and guinea pigs and bats and a few others, cannot.

Modern day logging sports

Today I got to observe a Logging Sports Competition hosted by the Oregon State University Forestry Club. I had noticed the logging sports arena at Peavy Arboretum during a hike there and was eager to come back and see it in action!

The first event was buck sawing, in which each contestant had to push and pull a “peg and raker cross-cut saw” to slice through a log. Some make it look easy, and others showed how hard it was! Both of these folks were aces:

Next was the “choker race”, in which contestants had to carry a choker (a flexible cable apparently used for hauling large logs) with them through an obstacle course. They had to scramble/leap over a massive downed log (6′ in diameter), then find and unhook their choker from another 4′ log, then climb over a pile of 3 logs, then jump over a low beam, then trace their way back and reattach the choker around the 4′ diameter log.

Then teams competed in the pulp toss, where they alternated throwing logs back and forth (as with horseshoes, but so much heavier). The teams each had one lumberjack and one lumberjill :)

Next was a chainsaw event (with chaps, safety goggles, and earplugs, but no gloves (?)). And then was the horizontal chopping event, wow! The precision and efficacy of these axe blows were very impressive. Yes, they are chopping right between their feet.

Amusingly, I recently watched an episode of Little House on the Prairie (“Founder’s Day”, 1975) in which they had the same wood-chopping competition!

The final event I watched was the axe throw – I’m amazed that this is even possible, to hurl an axe end-over-end and have it stick into a wood target 20 feet away.

Overall I was impressed by the difficulty of these challenges and the skills displayed. I wish I could have seen birling (log rolling) too!

How Phoenix got its name

Recently I discovered how Phoenix, Arizona, got its name. In ancient times, people living in the area dug a bunch of canals (135 miles of them!) to direct water from the Salt River to the plains where they were growing crops. In 1867, the area was colonized by white settlers who also dug canals and named the town Swilling’s Mill (after founder Jack Swilling). Darrell Duppa suggested the name Phoenix, “inasmuch as the new town would spring from the ruins of a former civilization.” I think this is pretty cool – a recognition (however subtle) that history didn’t begin when white pioneers reached an area.

Meet the camelopard

So… there’s a faint northern constellation called Camelopardalis. It is so named because someone thought it looked kind of like a giraffe. Which was known as a kamelopardalis, or a camel-leopard, in Greek – because come on guys, it has a long camel-like neck and it also has spots! This cracks me up! :) Words are awesome!

Surprisingly, even English-speaking folks used “camelopard” in medieval times (pr. kuh-MEH-luh-pard).

Of course then I had to wonder why we started calling it “giraffe”. Apparently “giraffe” derives from the Arabic word “zar?fah” (fast-walker). So that one’s pretty good, but not nearly as descriptive. I say, bring back the camelopard! Who’s with me?

Do I have sentient squirrels?

Last year, I bought some solar-powered garden lights and put them along my driveway to make it easier (and more welcoming) to follow the driveway to my house. I was very pleased with the little spots of light marking the edge of the driveway. Then I kept finding two of them knocked over… with scrape/gnawing marks on them. The top part of one disappeared entirely. These had plastic tops, and maybe weren’t as durable, but it was weird to have a piece just disappear. What animal would want it? But what human would take just the top of one light? The two affected lights were under a tree, and squirrels maybe jumped onto them? My best hypothesis was that the squirrels thought they were some kind of bird feeder and hoped there were seeds inside the glass. I finally relocated them to the front of the house and bought metal ones to replace along the driveway. Neither set has suffered further attacks.

Recently I was doing some yard work, and I found the missing top, buried in leaves! But it just raised more questions. Because something spent some serious time and effort extracting just the solar panel. See below an undamaged top (left) and the one I found (right):

You can click to enlarge. It looks like dedicated… gnawing, to me. A human would have used a tool – or just taken the whole top with them (why dig out the solar panel and then leave the shell?).

The back side is equally weird, with the rechargeable battery and its cover removed. A human would have opened the cover with their fingers. Instead, whatever took this battery dug/gnawed it out.

This no longer looks like someone thought it was a bird feeder.

So I’m standing here with this chewed-up solar light and I’m wondering just what kind of squirrel is hungry for this technology. Or am I living next to the rats of NIMH? Help?

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