Many animals would tell us fascinating stories about their behaviors and marvelous abilities if only we could understand their language. As a result of years of research, many outstanding features of different animals have been discovered by scientists and these findings have formed the basis for numerous inventions. The Pacific golden plover (or the kolea, as it is called in Hawaii) is one such animal that is created with amazing abilities, like conserving huge amounts of energy with incredible techniques.

The Pacific golden plover is a migratory bird. The mother and father birds leave their nests in Alaska when their chicks are only a few months old, and return to Hawaii where they are originally from. Chicks by then have not yet learned how to fly [1]. After spending the summer in Northwest Alaska [2], when the winter comes chicks take off en route to the Hawaiian island where their parents are and where they have never been before. Considering that the distance is 4500 km (~2800 miles), this journey seems almost impossible for such a small bird, which, unlike many birds capable of trans-oceanic migrations, cannot swim, soar, or glide and weighs approximately 130 grams (~4.6 ounces).

Flying over the Pacific Ocean all the way from Alaska, the most extreme point of North America, to the island of Hawaii, the golden plover does not have a chance to land even for a short time to gather energy. The bird absolutely cannot fall under 130 grams either, because under this weight it would not have the energy needed for the remaining distance, which would be the end for the bird. To complicate matters even more, the Pacific golden plover loses 0.6% of its body weight every hour that it flies non-stop. There are two significant problems in this long journey; the fact that it cannot gain energy during its flight, and the problem of navigation. Not knowing which direction to fly in the vast ocean, or flying in the wrong direction for a short time, means an inevitable death for the bird.

The information we have obtained about this bird’s amazing ability to conserve energy journey is amazing. The flight time is 88 hours, or three days and four nights. For comparison, a modern Airbus A380 or Boeing 777-200LR can only fly about 18 hours without refueling [3]. During the flight, the Pacific golden plover flaps its wings 250,000 times, setting another record. “Imagine” says Dr. Oscar Wally Johnson from Montana State University “that flight you made from L.A. to Honolulu – only without the plane” [4].

Observations that have been made during the bird’s flight help us to understand how it overcomes these challenges [5]. The birds prepare for their journey by eating a lot and gaining a lot of weight in a short time. An average golden plover weighs roughly 130 grams and gains 70 grams of more weight, more than half of its body weight, during this intense eating period. Imagine a person that weighs 176 pounds (80 kg) gaining 100 pounds (45 kg) more to become 125 kg (275 pounds) in two weeks. The bird would normally lose 0.6% of its weight every hour it flies without a rest, and at the end of 88 hours it would remain only 117.8 g. As mentioned above, should the bird fall below its regular weight of 130 grams, it would be too exhausted to complete the journey. As soon as the bird runs out of energy, it would still have more than 497 miles (800 km) left before it reaches its destination. So, how is this problem solved?

If we want to save money on long car drives, then we set our cruise control to 110 km/h (~68 m/h) and drive at a constant speed. The bird does just that, and flies the whole distance at a constant and optimal speed of 51 km/h (~ 32 m/h) [6]. Flying slower than this speed would increase the amount of “fuel” that would be consumed, and flying faster would increase the energy consumption due to air resistance. Pacific golden plovers also fly in a “V” formation where the foremost birds flap their wings thus generating airflow that allows the birds in the rear of the formation to not have to use their wings in order to conserve energy [7]. Birds that are tired in front of the formation change their position with the ones who have had some rest at the back. Thus, they save about 23% of their energy and reach their destination of Hawaii while being slightly overweight. This excess weight is not stored in vain; it is estimated that more energy will be consumed in the case of bad weather conditions. During their flight, it is possible that the air could be foggy, cloudy, very sunny, or even rainy and windy, in which case their energy consumption can increase.

How does this bird determine the direction it should go? Imagine that this bird flies in absolute darkness for three nights without getting lost despite the fact that even a small deviation from their path could cause a huge deviation in the long run and cost the bird a fortune. They keep their flight formation and reach their destination despite all kinds of difficult conditions, including rain at night. With the help of a compass miraculously placed in the brains and eyes of these birds [8], they follow the magnetic field lines of the earth at a certain angle, adjust their position and follow their paths without facing any surprises [9]. Some scientists believe that the magnetic field map of the world is recorded in the eyes of migratory birds.

Migratory birds can also use the sun to correct their flight path. This difficult journey is successfully completed with the immigration program embedded into their genetic code by the Almighty Creator.

With their excellent energy saving and navigation features, the Pacific golden plover, a migratory bird species that has been doing this long-distance journey for thousands of years, provides us with very important lessons that can lead us to deep contemplation.

 “Have they never considered the birds above them, flying in lines with wings they spread out and fold in? Nothing holds them up except the All-Merciful. He indeed sees everything very well.” Mulk 67:19

References

1. If animals could talk-Wenn Tiere reden könnten Werder Gitt, K.-H.Vanheiden
2. https://academic.oup.com/auk/article-abstract/100/3/607/5185692
3. https://de.statista.com/statistik/daten/studie/232416/umfrage/reichweite-der-airbus-modelle/
4. https://hanahou.com/7.6/flight-of-the-navigators
5. https://www.nabu.de/tiere-und-pflanzen/aktionen-und-projekte/birdwatch/index.html
6. Peter F. Major, Lawrence M. Dill: The three-dimensional structure of airborne bird flocks. In: Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology Band 4, Nr. 2, 1978, S. 111–122.
7. Cutts, J. Speakman: Energy savings in formation flight of pink-footed geese. In: J. theor. Biol. Band 189, Nr. 1, 1994, S. 251–261.
8. https://www.weltderphysik.de/thema/hinter-den-dingen/wie-finden-zugvoegel-den-weg/
9. https://www.spektrum.de/frage/orientierung-wie-finden-zugvoegel-ihren-weg/1425607

Flies have two wings that are capable of moving independently from each other; these wings go back and forth on a single axis during flight. Technically, the unequal angles of the wings to the abdominal region could have prevented flight. Yet in the case of flies, this abnormal situation is not a hindrance and results in a harmonious wing stroke.

Let’s bring our palms together over our head and then lower them near our legs. How many times can we make this movement in a second? Let’s say two, three, or maybe four times if we are really quick. Flies have the ability to stroke their wings hundreds of times in just a second. There are benefits associated with this series of movements. The surface of the wings and the rear section of the head are equipped with sensitive hairs that are in charge of registering air currents and mechanical pressures and conducting relevant flight data to the brain. The unwanted effects of air currents towards the body surface and wings during the flight are detected via these hairs that house receptors. Thus, the wings are controlled according to the signals arriving from the brain. Therefore, a fly can feel an air curtain (like an insect screen) against it instantly and often times flies away. Sometimes, they also stroke their wings hundreds of times per second to avoid the negative effects of air resistance on the wings. Without these receptors and serial wing movements, the air current would stick to the wing’s surface and would not let the fly, well, fly.

Is it a fly or a plane?

We sometimes witness comparisons between the flight specifications of planes and flies. However, it is a great injustice to the fly to be put in the same basket as a plane. The products of modern technology, such as a plane, are invented after drawing inspiration from the meaningful skills of animals like a fly. It is not possible to build planes with a wing width smaller than 15 centimeters; there are disadvantages to wings smaller than that in terms of generating lift. On the other hand, flies have much smaller and more fragile wing structures (relative to their bodies) and can maintain their flight in a perfect fashion. When a fly extends its rear legs, covered with hairs designed especially for cleaning the wings, and sweeps them over its wings, doesn’t this suggest a fly is more impressive than a plane?

It challenges mountaineers!

A fly challenges mountain climbers by easily moving on the four walls and ceiling of a room – and even on slippery surfaces like glass. What is its secret?

Its ability to stand or walk on the ceiling without being defeated by gravity is possible via some of its organs. The final sections of fly’s legs are like hooks and the tip of this hook is equipped with suction pads. When flies touch a surface, a sticky fluid is secreted from the suction pads. Flies can remain suspended on the ceiling with the help of this fluid. When it approaches the ceiling, extends its legs to the front and flips towards the opposite direction of its approach, it sticks to the ceiling on its abdomen.

The grand architecture in the eye of the fly

Can you complete a jigsaw puzzle of 8000 pieces in a second without any missing pieces? It seems impossible, but let’s accept that you have. Can you fit this puzzle into an area that’s just a couple of square millimeters? It’s not possible for a man of intelligence to pass this test. However, the fly completes this miraculous task every time it uses its eyes in our rooms. We are unaware of the fact that the fly, which draws patterns of colors under the sun light, has such amazing eyes. Its eye is created to contain nearly 8000 ommatidium, which function almost as small eyes. Different areas can be seen via each ommatidium and once images are put together in the brain, the whole picture forms. Through these tiny eyes, shaped as hexagons that resemble honey combs, a fly can see as close as 2 mm – and can even see behind its body! Because of the wise hexagonal design, the ommatidia are placed in the most economical way possible; there are no missing spaces which could cause a lack of clarity. The optical speed of a fly’s eye is nearly 4-10 times faster than the human eye. Flies can see the ultraviolet section of the light spectrum and this allows them to evade predators easily in dim environments. Every time a fly uses its eyes, it’s as if it gives the message, “Look at how miraculously I’ve been created. Do you think that my creation could have been in vain?” Such complexity is an inspiration to scientists as they try to develop new technologies.

One of the features of flies that surprises scientists most is the way they use a neural network of a very limited number of neurons to perform so many complex movements. Biologist Michael Dickinson expresses his astonishment as to how a neural system of such small scale can accomplish all of these features.

Do not ever kill a fly!

Flies consume plenty of energy during flight. A regular supply of oxygen is needed to compensate for the energy they use. Air is inhaled via a constriction of the abdominal muscles when the fly lands on a surface. However, during the flight, air enters via the serial movements of the wings. Air that enters through the openings of the chitin layer surrounding the fly is transported to cells via small channels.

Flies locate their food via their smell receptors. Thus, a fly in the air easily lands on the food source that it detects. The taste organ detects whether the food is an ideal source or not. Usually, their choices of food are human foods, waste remains, and dirt. There are two tubes located in the mouth of the house fly. It sucks liquid food with one of the tubes; saliva containing enzymes is secreted on the food source with the other hose so that digestion is facilitated. A fly secretes plenty of saliva in order to liquefy the solid foods it prefers.

Flies that use dirt and waste as a nutritional source are considered as disease contracting pests. However, this is a major fallacy. Flies are actually the health officers of the ecosystem. They turn microorganisms ineffective as they take in their food; the digestive enzymes that they carry play role in completing this important task. Due to this important task, it should be remembered that killing a fly is very unfortunate. Great scholar, Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, notes that flies are assigned to terminate unhealthy microorganisms and materials.

Scientists led by Prof. Andy Beattie have noticed that flies are resistant to all kinds of dirt, including from meat and manure. He said that these organisms should be super resistant to infections, otherwise they could not survive and that our work to gain antibiotics from them has been partially successful. In fact, studies focused on obtaining antibiotics from flies started in the past century. English and Swedish scientists isolated certain antibiotics from flies in 1930 and 1947. Efforts to isolate antibiotics from flies continue today.

Reproduction in black flies!

Black flies reproduce quickly. In suitable humidity and temperature, eggs start to hatch in just 10 hours. Larvae feed on liquid materials, though they need bacteria living on solid food to convert it into liquid form. Therefore, an acid is secreted inside the digestive track of the fly that can terminate most of the bacteria. Thus, the insect becomes free of bacteria, ready to fly. One fly can lay more than 100 eggs at one time and between 600 and 1000 in their lifetime. They can lay eggs again after just three days.

When looking at the information we have, it’s clear that flies are acrobatic flight masters with mind blowing features. We should abandon the negativity towards flies and contemplate the perfection of creation by considering their many remarkable skills – and working to discover even more secrets about them.

Mosquitoes like climates with high humidity and rainfall. While a single raindrop can weigh 50 times as much as a mosquito, how can mosquitos fly and survive under what seems to be a devastating weather condition for them? Andrew Dickerson and co-workers at Georgia Institute of Technology examined the effects of falling raindrops on the flying mosquitoes using high-speed video capture and found that rain does no damage to flying mosquitoes. Upon impact with mosquitoes, the raindrops do not splash and scatter but they merely deform and hold together. This was calculated to be due to the small diameter and the velocity of the drop. On the other hand, given the relatively small mass of the mosquito, the drop does not significantly alter its speed. A partial hit on the mosquito by the falling drop causes the mosquito to rotate around its flight path. Mosquitoes were found to easily recover and resume their flight immediately after the impact. In the case of a direct hit by a raindrop, the mosquitoes were still able to literally separate themselves from the drop after traveling with the drop for a while without lethal damage and resume flight. The researchers further analyzed the impact force of the raindrops on the mosquitoes and found the direct impact to exert around 80 times the gravitational force. This is an extremely high force for larger organisms however, for mosquitoes with a very strong exoskeleton, this turned out to be a minor fraction of 1500 X g, which the researchers tested the mosquitoes and found them to be still able to fly! The outstanding resilience of such a small organism already inspired scientists to start designing very small robots that may serve as airborne search-and-rescue vehicles. But scientists are still very much limited by the basic factor of how small they can go.

What exactly happened in AD 774?

Researchers in Nagoya University of Japan have recently discovered a cosmic mystery when they were analyzing the growth rings of two cedar trees that are as old as 1200 years. All trees are known to incorporate particles from the atmosphere during photosynthesis. Carbon-14 (C14), one of the exceptional elements in the atmosphere, is generally formed by massive solar flares or by supernovae and it is present in very low percentages. Interestingly, researchers found that the cedar tree ring produced during the growth season of AD 774 had about 1.2% more C14 than in the previous years, that is about 20-times more than the usual range of 0.05%. These results indicate that some cosmic event during AD 774 generated a major influx of radiation leading an excessive amount of C14. Only a massive supernova explosion might have been strong enough to create this much radiation. However, if this was a supernova, we should either be able to catch the traces with modern telescopes, or find historic documents reporting this extraordinary cosmic event. But, we simply have no record of anything unusual happening in our skies in that period. Alternatively, a massive solar flare might have created such a radiation. In fact, 13th-century English chronicler Roger of Wendover mentions a cosmic event that could possibly be a solar flare. However, a flare with that magnitude would have been the biggest solar flare ever recorded by our sun and probably would have destroyed the Earth’s protective ozone layer leading to disastrous ecological consequences. Thus, the flare hypothesis seems also unlikely. By now, scientists are only positive that some very energetic event occurred in 774. But what exactly was it? Frankly, their guess is as good as ours.

Katharine, “Kadriye,” Branning was one of the passengers on a Turkish Airlines flight to New York on September 9, 2011, a flight which could not reach its destination that inauspicious day. Taken from her book Yes, I Would Love another Glass of Tea: An American Woman’s Letters to Turkey, the following is one of her imaginary letters to Lady Mary Montagu who lived in Turkey three centuries ago.

Unbelievably, about an hour out, the Kaptan came back on the intercom and stated in Turkish that we needed to return to Istanbul yet again. The entire cabin groaned and grumbled, and I began to doubt that I would ever get home that day. Only this time, his voice sounded odd, and he said, very vaguely, that we needed to return because “All American airspace has been closed.” I was immediately seized with panic, for I knew that something very, very terrible must have happened, for American airspace has never been closed in our entire history.

You certainly survived some dangerous scrapes on your travels, both on route to Turkey and on the return trip home to London. In one of your early letters, you relate a hair-raising crossing of the Alps, where your carriage almost plummeted over the precipice into the Elbe. The hazards of snow and Tartars awaited you at every turn on the road after that, and your boat almost capsized during your Channel crossing on your return home. I would like to relate to you the story of a difficult travel experience I had, one of an eventful return to my homeland after a stay in Turkey.

This trip started out on a warm and crisp late summer morning in Istanbul. It was the last day of a glorious voyage to eastern Turkey, where I saw some of the wildest beauty known to man: from the white snowy peak of Noah’s Mount Ararat to the deep cobalt blue of Lake Van and to the intense dark emerald green of the Kaçkar Mountains. It was a day when I felt particularly blessed because I had been lucky enough to witness such stunning examples of nature, God’s most loving gift to man. It was a day with a crystal clear sapphire sky and bright sun. It was the morning of September 11, 2001.

The return trip home announced itself like so many others before it. I traveled the familiar road to the airport filled with an infinite sadness to be leaving Turkey at the end of an intense time of learning, joyful play and living history, mixed with anticipation of the happiness of being reunited with loved ones at home. Candy, halvah, bonjuk blue bead trinkets, lokum, and Turkish coffee were purchased in the duty-free shop; and the last copies of the newspaper Hürriyet were tucked into my carry-on bag. As I passed through the first, second, and third security checkpoints, I commented to myself how thorough these Turks were when it came to ensuring security in this often volatile point of the world. I felt safe.

There was a delay of almost 2 hours before we could leave, due to the proverbial and mysterious “engine problems.” Finally we took off, but after only one hour out in flight, the pilot (“Kaptan”) came on the intercom to tell us that we needed to head back to Istanbul because the pesky problem was apparently still not cleared up. The stewardesses stored away the food service carts, seatbelts were fastened, and we returned, deplaned, and waited another two hours in the same embarkment area. A Turkish Airlines (THY) employee finally announced that a new plane had been found and that we would be heading out shortly. Once again, off we took, convinced that surely this time, all problems were behind us.

Unbelievably, about an hour out, the Kaptan came back on the intercom and stated in Turkish that we needed to return to Istanbul yet again. The entire cabin groaned and grumbled, and I began to doubt that I would ever get home that day. Only this time, his voice sounded odd, and he said, very vaguely, that we needed to return because “All American airspace has been closed.” I was immediately seized with panic, for I knew that something very, very terrible must have happened, for American airspace has never been closed in our entire history.

About a half an hour later, the Kaptan came back on, still in Turkish, and said that it looked like the problem was that a “big building in New York City has suffered some kind of attack.” And then I knew in the pit of my stomach what that “big building” had to be: it could be none other than the one I see day and night from my window of my apartment, standing like a sentinel for the whole world to see: the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. And I knew somehow that the assault was not a mere accident, but had to have been a terrorist attack.

At last the plane landed back in Istanbul. The cabin hostess made an intercom message requesting that everyone remain in their seats. The Kaptan came on and gave a message in Turkish, and then made another one in English so that the few Americans on the plane would be able to finally understand what was going on. He spoke very clearly and slowly, not because his command of English was weak, but because he was searching for the right words to communicate his message as gently and carefully as possible. In a voice obviously trembling with emotion, he said: “Dear Ladies and Gentlemen. I must inform you of some very sad news. There has been a terrorist attack on the big building in New York City, the World Trade Center. It is very, very bad, and many people have been hurt. To all the American people on this plane, I want to say I am so so sorry for you and your country today.” And then we heard him sob. To hear that sob made me realize how intense it must have been for him, an ever-gracious Turkish host, to announce that news to us, his “guests” in his aircraft home. The Kaptan must have felt devastated that a plane, object of his livelihood, had been used as an instrument of destruction. He was surely heartbroken, too, because he already knew the terrorists were fellow Muslims. His soft sob made the imagined bang of the crash in my ears all the more loud, and the whole incident became very real for me, although at the time, I had no idea that the Towers were to fall and that the terrorists were allegedly Muslims.

Because of those engine problems, we had been saved the fate of so many others who were flying home to America that day. Instead of being stranded, the few Americans on that Turkish Airlines flight that day had the great fortune, in the midst of all the ensuing chaos, to be returned to a country that would open its arms and take care of them.

When we stepped off the plane and came into the airport terminal, there stood in front of us a platoon of people of all kinds, lined up in total silence. The entire airport staff had gathered there to wait for us: some were officers dressed in suits and ties, some wore THY service uniforms and ties, some were baggage handlers in their grey tunics; there were the char women in their pink aprons standing attention next to their cleaning carts, police officers with their thick black leather belts, food service attendants in their white paper hats, security clerks in their black blazers, and so many others in a blur of colors and clothes. It seemed as if the full airport had come forth to form this very human wall to surround us with their protection. After that point everything became a slow motion blur, as if I were about to faint or as if I were underwater, with people moving towards us but no sounds coming from their mouths. But I do remember clearly all the hands coming forth – those famous magic Turkish hands that appear whenever there is a need – taking us by the elbow and guiding us to the baggage claim area. I do not recall what was said to me at this point; all I remember were their eyes – and it was the sadness that I saw in those eyes that made me realize the gravity of the situation. I distinctly remember, however, a grey-haired, handsome man in a charcoal suit with a walkie-talkie in his hand, who came up to me. In perfect English he said, “Please do not worry, you are being taken care of. We will be taking you by a van to a nearby hotel to stay. It is very beautiful and nice, do not worry. You will stay there for the time it takes for things to normalize and for you to go home again. Do not worry. We will take care of you. But know that when you go into your room and turn on the television, you will see images of a brutality never before seen, and that you will be very upset. There will be someone at a table in the lobby, a health worker, who will be there for you to speak with if it all becomes too much for you. Good luck and God bless you.” And to this day I can still see the sharp dark features of the unshaven face of the skinny man in a ragged black suit coat who stuck out his hand to whisk away my suitcase and to load it in the van for me.

When the few Americans on that flight arrived at the hotel, we were ushered to our rooms with the hushed consideration usually reserved for funeral services. After I entered that room, in that indeed very beautiful hotel, sat down on the edge of the bed and saw those images on the television screen, I knew that the grey-haired man had not exaggerated. I learned of the story of the “attack on the big building in New York.” I learned that it was done in the name of Allah, the most Merciful and the most Compassionate.

I stayed there for a week, unable to get personal news of the tragedy, with only the droning reports of CNN and those never-ending images of the impact of the crash played over and over as if one time was not enough to gouge it in your memory forever. Was my husband safe? Was my assistant, who crossed under the Towers every morning on her commute in from New Jersey, lying flattened under the tonnage? How was everyone in my downtown neighborhood, now closed off from the world, coping with the tragedy? Over and over again as I saw those images of that hole ripped in the sky, I felt as if a hole had been ripped in my heart. When I saw those crushed beams, I felt as if my own bones had been crushed. I clearly remember the next morning when I went out of the hotel to get some air, there fluttering in front of me on a giant flagpole was the Turkish flag – its red color symbolizing the blood of its own fallen – at half mast. It was then that I understood that this tragedy was not one that had just struck my city, but it was affecting the entire world as well.

One night that week when I couldn’t sleep I got up to write a letter. I did not know exactly to whom I should address it, but I just felt that writing a letter would help me in that moment of stress, for putting emotions to paper seemed the only possible outlet for my grief, as the shock of it all had pushed my tears way down deep inside of me. At least for that moment in time, I could control something in the world: the flow of words onto paper in my own proper universe.

One morning about eight days later, the hotel staff called to say that we were to be ready to leave in an hour: the US airspace had opened and that we were being sent home. We were to be picked up at the hotel by a special THY van and taken to the airport.

Before leaving, I went to the front desk of the hotel to ask what I owed them for all the expenses I had incurred staying there: the luxurious room, the breakfasts, the vain phone calls, and faxes home. I did not know the protocol of such a situation, but I wanted to make sure I had taken care of everything. The young woman at the front desk just looked at me, bowed her head, and whispered, “You owe us nothing.” I could not bear to look at her, overwhelmed by the hotel’s charity, the intensity of this tragic event and my incapacity to thank her for the role she played in my well-being. I could not speak but handed to her the envelope with the letter I had written on that night I was unable to sleep. She looked at the addressee, visibly moved, and then back at me, and quietly said “Thank you.” And it was only then that my tears started to fall, as if all the immeasurable solace and tender consideration provided over the past week made the horror of the event suddenly too much to keep inside.

We piled in the busses and arrived at a still-hushed airport and boarded the flight to New York City, mirroring the same steps of a week prior. No one talked much on that 11-hour flight home: everyone was either too frightened to be in the cursed skies, in one of these apparatus now associated with an instrument of mass destruction, or quite simply because we were all apprehensive about what we would find once at home. The city I found when I arrived that night was as quiet as the plane. The former glorious view onto the World Trade Center from my Greenwich Village apartment was now filled with a billowing, yellow-grey cloud, glowing in the day from the sun reflecting off all its dust and in the evening from the giant high-intensity lights set up at the site. The furnishings of my home were covered, that day and for many months to come, with the pulverized dust of those fallen Twin Towers and the ashes of its 3,000 victims. Each day as I cleaned it away, day after day for months, I ceremoniously repeated prayers and recited Scripture for all of those innocent souls reduced to the dust I was wiping away.

New York City healed, the United States healed, and I healed. We are still living the consequences of that ignominious event up to this day, some small, some large, some local, some international. In many ways, I wonder if the recovery from that day was for me harder than most Americans. Although I personally suffered no loss of life in the crash, I still felt a tremendous loss to my city and in my faith in my fellow man. I felt betrayed by Islam, this faith that had earned a special respect in my heart; I felt betrayed that several fanatics of this religion I considered so pure and so noble had tarnished it beyond apparent forgiveness. I could not believe that the Islam I knew, through my studies, through my life shared with Muslims, through the many Muslims I had met in Turkey, those who believed in a God, the most merciful, the most compassionate – could be anything like those who had done this act. When I saw the dangerous turn my grief was taking – veering towards doubt, bitterness, and deception – I knew it had to stop. It was then that I made a vow. I perhaps could not control the outcome of all the events in the world, I reasoned, but I could control my immediate sphere, the orbit around me that I influence. It is said that perhaps everything in life happens in order to help us live. And so from the horror of that day, I told myself that I needed to recommit my efforts to support understanding between people and religions and that I needed to continue more than ever my dedication to fostering cross-cultural relations. It made me realize that if a person like me, who had such respect for Islam, was feeling such negative emotions against Muslims, what must the average American be thinking? I needed now to be a bridge-builder more than ever.

The Turkish part of my 9/11 story has one last chapter. About five months after the incident, I returned to work after my lunch break one day, and the front desk receptionist handed me a very large wooden box. A THY envelope with my name on it taped to it. The letter was from the New York director of Turkish Airlines, extending his wishes for my well-being and telling me that he desired to offer this token of appreciation on behalf of the THY staff for my letter, the one I had addressed “to Turkish Airlines and the People of the Republic of Turkey” and left at that hotel desk months before and which had finally come into his hands. It was inconceivable to believe that after all that had already been done emotionally and materially for me, that the warm arms of the Turks were continuing to surround me with compassion and goodness.

Inside of that giant box, encased beautifully in an elegant walnut and glass frame, was a large, oval plaque in silver. On this plaque, inscribed in fine cursive calligraphy, was the iconic message “Maþallah” which translates as “how beautifully God created” and is used by Turks to mean “may God protect you from all evil.”

Yes, Turkey – this magnificent and most generous of nations – has shown me that I must never doubt the infinite goodness of my fellow man.

Sincerely,

Birds, class Aves, are the only animals that have feathers. Aves is a large, highly diverse class with 8,600 species of water birds, songbirds, and birds of prey, including huge flightless runners, deep divers, and migratory species that travel thousands of miles each year. Although most birds have similar body structures, taxonomists, those who classify and name things such as animals and plants in groups, use variations in bone structure, muscles, and internal organs to distinguish one order from another. Variations in the shape and structure of the bills, wings, tails, and feet are also useful for classification and identification. Birds inhabit a wide variety of habitats and can be found on all the continents, most islands, and even on the open sea. They also have a wide range of size. The largest birds are the ostriches of Africa, up to 2m tall and weighing 136kg, and the great condors of the Americas, with wingspreads of up to 3m. The smallest known bird is Helena’s humming bird of Cuba, less than 6cm long and weighing less than 4g.

The skeleton system of birds is highly adapted for flight. In spite of its low weight, a bird’s skeleton is extremely strong. Hollow and fused bones are the two main bone types. Most bones` being hollow lessens overall body weight making flight more efficient. The skeleton of a bird is much lighter than any other kind of warm-blooded animal. However, this is achieved at a cost, and the skull of a bird is thin and susceptible to fracturing. Further lightening of the bird`s head has also been made possible by the absence of teeth. The other noticeable feature of a bird’s skull is the size of the eye sockets, to house the large eyes. This is probably because vision is a bird’s most crucial sense. The skeletal structure of the wing is relatively constant among the different species, but the actual shape of the feathers can be quite variable, depending on the flying capabilities of the species concerned. To provide effective thrust, the bones in the wing move together. As the bird’s wing beats downwards, special bones prevent its chest from being crushed. The thrust of the wing articulates with the scapula on each side of the body. The corocaid and the wishbone also provide reinforcement. The chest cavity is reinforced by the unusual structure of the ribs. The ribs have projections, known as incinerate process, which are directed backwards, overlapping each other. These help to provide support, especially in diving birds. In cross section, the wings are honeycombed. During flight, this lightens the load on the pectoral muscles which, attached to the keel of the sternum, may account for half of the birds body weight.

Flight is one of the most outstanding characteristics of birds. A bird’s body is adapted to meet the two major requirements for flight, which are low weight and high power. Unlike other vertebrates a bird has a skeleton that is very light in relation to body size, e.g. a pigeon’s skeleton accounts for only 4.4 per cent of its body weight. Birds have a compact, streamlined body, and the fusion of many of the bones gives the body the rigidity needed for flying. A birds wing bone is thin and hollow, with criss-cross reinforcements on the inside which provide support while adding little weight. Besides the unusual structure of bones, it is the presence of feathers that distinguishes birds from all other creatures that have conquered flight. Feathers are made of dead cells, and become dehydrated and are exceedingly light. Thus, they can be large and form the flight surface of the wings and tail without weighing much and without being susceptible to water or heat loss. Along with keeping a birds body warm, feathers function for flight. The long overlapping contour feathers streamline the body. These feathers form the wings and much of the tail. Wings made of contour feathers have much surface area and little weight. They are well adapted for fanning the air and for gliding on air currents.

The flight of birds is one of the most beautiful and wonderful things in nature. The make and arrangement of their feathers and bones, and their stream-lined shapes, from beak to tail, are instances of purposive adaptation. They soar with outstretched wings; they dart with folded wings. Their upward and downward mobility, as well as their stability in the air, and when they rest on their feet, have given many ideas to man in the science and art of aeronautics, But who taught or gave to birds this wonderful adaptation? None but God, Whose infinite Mercy provides for every creature just those conditions which are best adapted for its life. This is stated in a verse in the Qur’an (Mulk, 67.19):

Do they not observe the birds above them, spreading their wings and folding them in? None can uphold them except (God) Most Gracious: truly it is He that watches over all things. 

Flying techniques depend on the principles of aerodynamics. Reducing air pressure and friction against the body requires perfect aerodynamic structure. Up to recent times, a rain drop was accepted as the most perfect aerodynamic shape. However, the shape of a bird’s body is now accepted as the most perfect, and aircraft are designed according to the aerodynamic structure of birds. Compared with birds, the latest aircraft are still clumsier and have less agility than birds. Moreover, hypoxia, which is a deficiency of oxygen and results in drowsiness, mental fugitive, headache, and sometimes euphoria, affects pilots severely and can cause them to lose their consciousness on flying upward. But this is not a hindrance for birds because the air between their feathers, their bodies and wings is absorbing and reducing air pressure, Along with this ability, there are some movements which birds can do easily, such as turning sharply, doing somersaults, steep ascents and descents, whereas manmade flying machines face some serious risks in attempting the same movements. Birds can also glide for long periods without beating their wings while aeroplanes cannot sustain flight with stopped engines. Vertical take off and landing is something many flying animals such as bees and birds have been able to do for millions of years. The structure of birds has inspired engineers to design specific modifications in recent models of aircraft, such as the F-14, F-18, and M1G-25, It is true that producing an aircraft requires complex skills and knowledge, improved steadily over a long time. But is it not marvellous that birds have been demonstrating perfect flight for millions of years?

Birds have become adapted to a variety of environments, and various species have very different types of beaks, feet, wings, tails, and behavioural patterns. Although all birds must eat frequently (because they do not store much and yet must maintain a very high metabolic rate), their choice of food varies widely among species-seeds, fruits, worms, molluscs, rodents, rabbits, fish, snakes, lizards, even dead animals. The shape of the bills reflects the birds feeding habits. For example, nectar-feeders have narrow, pointed bills; finches, which consume large quantities of seed, have short, stout bills; and birds that eat insects and berries have a non-specific bill shape and so on.

Birds also lack teeth and this probably reduces body weight for flight. Instead of teeth, their mouths are modified into bills. In addition to this modification, birds have another adaptation for digesting food. A bird swallows small bits of gravel, which act as teeth in the gizzard, mechanically breaking down food. An interesting feature of the bird’s digestive system is the crop, an expanded, sack-like portion of the digestive tract below the oesophagus, in which food is temporarily stored, and where food such as hard seeds is softened with mucus. As a storage organ, the crop allows the bird to feed rapidly and to store large amounts of food. The bird also produces a white secretion, sometimes called crop milk’, which is rich in proteins and fats, and birds use this secretion to feed their young. Birds (except for the ostrich) do not possess a bladder, and so the uric acid passes directly, through the uretors, to the cloaca. After reabsorbing water back into the bird’s body, uric acid is excreted in the form of a semi-solid, whitish concentrate.

Birds often build up high concentrations in their bodies because they consume salty foods or sea water and lose water through evaporation in the urine and feces. To rid themselves of this excess salt, these animals have salt glands, special secretary organs near the eye or in the tongue that remove excess salt from the blood and secrete it in a solution of tear-like drops. Sensors in the wall of a bird’s heart apparently monitor the osmotic pressure of the blood and send nerve signals to the brain that trigger activation of the salt glands. Thus, the animal can drink sea water and yet, by excreting some of the water and all the salts, achieve a net water gain. This is an adaptive mechanism that helps to maintain a light body weight.

Birds have a well-developed nervous system with a brain. They rely heavily on vision; their eyes are proportionately larger than those of other vertebrates. Hearing is also well developed, in striking contrast to most animals, birds have developed the voice. The spoken word in human speech is different from the means of communication which birds have between each other. But no man can doubt that they have means of communication with each other, if he only observes the orderly flight of migratory birds which live in communities. This is also stated in the sacred book, Qur’an (al-Naml. 27.16):

And Solomon was David’s heir. He said: ‘O ye people! We have been taught the speech of Birds, and on us has been bestowed (a little) of all things.’ this is indeed Grace manifest (from God.)

Most birds have short simple calls that signal danger, or that influence feeding, flocking, or interaction between parent and young. Songs are usually more complex than calls and are performed mainly by males; they are related to reproduction, attracting and keeping a mate, claiming and defending territory.

Birds have a special system of air sacs that make fresh air almost continuously available to the sites of gas exchange. This provides the animal with the large quantities of oxygen needed for long distance, high- altitude flights — even a flight over Mt. Everest. A bird’s many air sacs also lower the body weight relative to its size. Air sacs lying between certain flight muscles are squeezed and relaxed on each stroke of the wing and this helps increase the amount of air during inhalation and exhalation. The faster the bird flies, the more rapid is the circulation of air through the lungs.

The paired lungs are relatively small and nine or more hollow air sacs are attached to the lungs and fill much of the body cavity. They are like balloons that lighten the body and serve as reservoirs for air that will later be needed. Experiments show that air flows continuously during both inhalation and exhalation, in one direction through the lungs, and the air is renewed during each inspiration. Therefore, oxygen and carbon dioxide exchange occurs in the lungs’ air capillaries during both inhalation and exhalation. The direction of blood flow in the lungs is opposite to the that of air flow through the parabrocni, tiny, thin-walled ducts in the lungs. This counter current flow increases the amount of oxygen that enters the blood.

This system enables birds to do the intense work of flying, even at high altitudes, and still maintain a high body temperature. Interestingly enough, rapid breathing also contributes to such a high performance; a Venezuela hummingbird, the sparkling violet ear, breathes 330 times per minute at sea level and 380 times per minute at high altitudes. This is a very high heart beat such as no other warm-blooded animal can accomplish.

The very effective respiratory and circulatory systems provide enough oxygen to the cells to permit a high metabolic rate. This is another important adaptation of birds: the maintenance of a high and constant body temperature in spite of changes in the external environment. High metabolic rate is necessary for the tremendous muscular activity required for flying. Some of the heat generated by metabolic activities is used to maintain a constant body temperature (between 35 and 42 degrees C) which permits birds to remain active in cold climates. Birds are among very few animals able to maintain a constant body temperature. Though birds are sometimes called warm-blooded, the preferred term is homeothermic.

One of the most interesting types of behaviour in birds is migration. Migration is the instinctive movement of animals, usually between their wintering grounds and their breeding grounds. Migration provides birds a better chance of surviving. By instinct, migrating birds make their long journeys each year to reach more favourable habitats. Some birds, such as the golden plover and arctic tern, fly from Alaska to Patagonia, South America, and back each year, flying 25,000km en route.

Migration is probably set in by several external stimuli, such as temperature and length of daylight. It is also triggered by the secretion of hormones. For many species the direction of migration is probably based on such factors as the bird’s observation of the sun and stars and even by the earth’s magnetic field. Few modern biological discoveries have been more surprising than the finding, in the 1970s, that bird’s, bacteria, and perhaps many other types of organisms orient their bodies to the earth’s magnetic field, How such animals can have acquired this magnificent ability is a question yet to be answered. How can living things perceive a force as elusive as magnetism?

Many birds and at least one mammal-the porpoise-have a small number of tiny crystals of magnetite (a form of iron oxide) in tissues near the brain. Likewise, magnetobacteria, have magnetite crystals in their cytoplasm and swim toward or away from the poles of an applied magnetic field. How some higher organisms use magnetic particles to sense the direction of the lines of magnetic force generated by the earth’s core remains a subject of research. One hypothesis suggests that the crystals in, for example, a pigeons head, function like tiny compass needless, and mechanoreceptors might detect their relative movement. Other work indicates that in the rat, changes in magnetic yield can alter enzyme activity and levels of melatonin in the pineal gland. Still other work suggests that regularly arrayed layers (also present in pineal glands) undergo certain changes as the head and eyes move relative to the earth’s magnetic field. They could allow the animal to sense magnetic fields, but not by a mechanoreceptor mechanism. Whatever the mechanisms, homing, migration and many other directional animal behaviours depend on detecting magnetic fields.

Birds with their perfect features are wonders in nature to be marvelled at as such. All creation, both animate and inanimate, celebrates Gods praise and bears witness to His power, wisdom and goodness. We can aspire to true knowledge of God through observing the wonders in nature. However, this is possible only if people do not insist on their positivistic viewpoint and see the direct manifestations of God’s Names in His creation:

The seven heavens and the earth, and all beings therein, declare His glory: There is not a thing but celebrates His praise. And yet you understand not how they declare His glory! Truly, He is Off-Forbearing,’ Most Forgiving! (Bani Israll. 17.44)

You would indeed have a lot to calculate before taking off: What is the most economical flight speed of your aircraft, and how does it vary with winds, flight altitude, and the extra weight of fuel reserves? Perhaps the gliding performance of your aircraft is good enough to permit you to travel some distances by soaring in up- draughts, with the engine off. It may even be economical to make detours in order to stay over regions with strong up-draughts. Would it be favourable to bring along large fuel reserves and fly non-stop for long distances without refuelling, or to travel by numerous short flights, saving transport costs for extra fuel? To solve that problem, you have to know about possible refuelling stations along your route, about petrol prices, landing fees, and the time delay you will face by landing at a particular site.

Which is the optimal route to your destination? Perhaps it pays to follow the Great Circle, or should you make a detour where you can benefit from favourable winds? Of course, you will fly only on days when the weather is as favourable as possible, but which is the best weather? And how can you know which weather condition is most favourable for you? What flight altitude will you prefer under different weather conditions? You must also consider whether and how you will compensate for wind drift, when to fly low along coast-lines and other leading-lines to gain protection from the wind and avoid drift, and how to exploit the winds at high altitudes. And you must also take into account many unpredictable situations that you will face. There are lots of questions and you would spend a long time looking up facts and making calculations before you could arrive at a reasonable strategy for your flight.

Your situation is analogous to that of migrating birds. The migratory strategy of birds, a harmonious mixture of rigid and flexible behaviour to achieve a safe and economical journey which can be affected by a bewildering number of factors, is an astonishing feat – where do they get the skills and capabilities to accomplish it?

There are many animals, not only birds, which migrate on a regular basis. Some examples: Bull elephant seals travel 21,000 km (over 12,000 miles) each year, from California to the Gulf of Alaska, the longest migration of any mammal. Millions of monarch butterflies fly 2,000-3,000 km from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. Grey whales swim 10,000 km from the Arctic Ocean to California and Mexico. In Bracken Cave in Texas 20 million free-tailed bats assemble every summer. All are female. They leave their mates 1500 km to the south in Mexico to come here to give birth to their young. Herring migrate annually and cover over 3,000 km. The bison, the wildebeest, the sockeye salmon, the eel are also known to migrate long distances. But here we will consider the migration of birds – one of the most impressive feats in animal behaviour- across thousands of kilometres of ecological barriers, like oceans, mountains and deserts.

Birds store fat for use as fuel during their migratory flights. They start to do so well before migration starts. Stored fat is the most economical type of fuel in terms of high oxidizing energy per unit mass. Once the animal is in the right condition to migrate, it may need some further environmental cues to initiate the actual migratory movement. A bird may wait for the right weather conditions or at least the disappearance of the wrong ones, such as fog or very strong winds.

In order to locate its goal at a different position on the earth’s surface, an animal must possess certain sensory systems and have certain decision-making programmes in its behaviour. The ability to take up a particular direction with respect to some feature or property of the environment is called orientation’. The orienting animal is rather like a man who possesses a compass and an instruction to proceed in some particular direction. Animals may orient with respect to objects on the earth’s surface, to the sun, to the stars, to the earth’s magnetic field, to the directions of current flow and so on. Further, they may use more than one of these environmental sources of information at any one time, and may use different ones at different times.

Birds may use continuous flapping flight or soaring flight. Migration of soaring birds attracts much attention among bird-watchers because of spectacular concentrations of these migrants at passages with favourable soaring conditions. The migrants make long detours to avoid having to use flapping flight over the sea, and the sites most famous for soaring bird migration in Europe, Falsterbo, Gibraltar and the Bosphorus, are situated at minimal sea crossings. Migrants’ coasting behaviour probably is part of their ‘strategy’ to exploit winds and conserve energy at the same time. Coastal migration occurs mainly under opposed and cross-winds, while migrants usually fly across the coast and depart over the open sea with following winds. Due to differences in friction, winds generally are stronger over the sea than over land. Migrants minimize the headwind force by following the coast, where they can use local topography and vegetation to gain additional protection from the wind. Furthermore, over the sea they will be exposed to wind drift, and under certain cross-winds it is beneficial to follow a coastline, some distance in the direction of their goal, rather than to take a direct route over the sea.

Some birds travel by numerous short flights, each of about three to ten hours duration. Many species depart either by day or by night, whenever weather becomes favourable. Flying with a small load of fat is advantageous, since the labour costs for carrying the extra fat can be high. However, there are also drawbacks involved in migrating by numerous short flights: the birds have to refuel often and find suitable resting sites on their route.

Some species undertake enormous non-stop flights. A regular migration route from North to South America directly over the Western Atlantic Ocean, a distance between 3,000-4,000 km, is used by many species. Just to mention some examples of long, nonstop flights over oceans other than the Atlantic: there are some geese that fly almost 4,000 km across the Pacific Ocean from the Alaska Peninsula to the South Californian coast; two species of New Zealand cuckoos fly about 3,500 km to the Solomon and Samoa islands; passerines, bee-eaters and Amur falcons travel almost 3,000 km of the Indian Ocean between India and East Africa.

Many migrants fly between Europe and Africa across the Mediterranean Sea and the Sahara desert in one single non-stop flight, lasting at least 40 hours in the autumn, when winds are generally favourable, and 60 hours in spring when they are less favourable.

Honey buzzards migrate by cross-country soaring over a distance of 7000 km from Europe to tropical Africa without refuelling. Common buzzards cover a distance of 10000 km between East Europe/West Siberia and South Africa by soaring migration. Many young Manx shear waders, in their autumn flight from Britain to Brazil, cover almost 0,000 km without refuelling. Various water species wintering in South Africa cover the total distance to their high Arctic Eurasian breeding grounds, about 13,000 km, in four or so long flights.

Arctic terns are transglobal travellers on a scale unequalled by any other migrant. Some annually commute between the Northern and Southern pack ice, crossing the equator twice. The round trip must be at least 40,000 km (25,000 miles).

Low temperatures seem not to prevent birds from migrating at high altitudes, The highest migrants over Puerto Rico experience temperatures of about –12 C, and over Switzerland migration is perfectly regular at altitudes with temperatures around -IC to -15 C. In fact, the birds’ capacity to fly under conditions of low temperature and low oxygen pressure is so great as to be hardly credible: On 9 December 1967, a radar controller in Northern Ireland reported an echo at high altitude moving south over the Hebrides. The radar height finder indicated an altitude between 8,000 and 8,500 m. The pilot of an aircraft in the vicinity was asked by radio to make a course deviation to pass near the position of the echo. In doing so, the pilot reported a flock of about 30 swans at just over 8,200 m. The observation probably refers to whopper swans, which are known to migrate, sometimes in the middle of the winter; from Iceland to Britain. At 8,200 m, the temperature was -48 C and very strong northerly tailwinds blew at this altitude.

Although, according to some radar studies, probably 90% of birds travel below 2,000 m, two small flocks close behind each other of curlew-like birds were observed at I 0,000 m above sea level.

These observations, indeed, are extraordinary. One wonders, are such enormous flight altitudes merely exceptional or do some birds regularly migrate that high?

We tend to think of events which happen regularly, as ‘normal’ or ‘ordinary’. But are they really? Very often, we do not realize the dimensions of the events. Hundreds of millions of birds migrate from one place to another. Tens of thousands of birds start to fly together. They fly very long distances together and land and feed together. Many of them have never flown that long, nor been to those places. But still they are able to fight against all the odds and finish their journey How do they know when to start? How do they recognize the landscape? How do they decide which route to take? How do they find their way to their destination? How do they know where they can find food? How come so many birds can act together? How and when did they learn to use the sun and other stars, or the earth’s magnetic field, for navigation? How did they acquire the necessary means in the first place?

There are numerous such questions to ask and very often, it is not easy to find the right answers. When the other migrating animals are taken into account, the questions get more complicated and more challenging Hundreds of millions of animals migrate twice a year covering thousands of kilometres. We must ask questions which start with how and why and not take ‘ordinary’ events for granted.

When a honeybee discovers a new source of honey within about ten metres of the hive, she returns to the hive and regurgitates drops of honey which are eagerly drunk by other bees. Then, in order to indicate the source of the drops they have just drunk, she performs an interesting sequence of movements we call the ‘round dance’. She dances round in a circle, first in one direction, then reversing and going round in the opposite direction, again reversing and so on. During the performance, other bees follow her about, holding their antenna against her abdomen. After the dance, she flies back to the food source, normally a particular flower or group of flowers. The other bees who followed the dance do not fly after her but fly out in all directions. However, fairly soon, a great number of them find the new source. They do so because they have smelt the scent of the flowers that clung to the dancer’s body and so to recognize the right kind of flower. Observing this procedure of the bees’ communication with admiration, Frisch reported that the ‘round dance’ tells the other bees to go out and search in the near neighbourhood of the hive; and the scent on the dancer’s body tells them which flowers to look for. In one experiment, bees informed by a dancer at once found the right flowers in a section of Munich Botanical Gardens where 700 different plant species were blooming.

But honeybees search for food at a greater distance than 10 metres. They have been observed to fly more than 13 km in search of honey. Remembering the average that a honeybee is only about 13 mm long, that 13 km for a bee is the equivalent of about 1,600 km for a human being. It is clear that, even for distances considerably less than 13 km, the round dance would not be much use. If the discoverer of a new food source informed the other bees to go out and search in all directions for over several kilometres, they would never find the flowers. Thus, when a bee finds food at a considerable distance, say over 100 metres from the hive, she returns to the hive, offers the honey she has found, and then performs a different kind of special dance. She dances along in a straight line for a certain distance, wagging her tail vigorously and buzzing away by means of slight vibrations of the muscles that flap her wings in flight. At the end of this wagging run, she stops buzzing and wagging her tail, circles round to one side back to where she started, does another wagging run, circles round to the opposite side, does a third wagging run and so on. This sequence of movements is called ‘tail-wagging dance’. Showing special interest in wagging runs, a number of other bees follow her round. It is known that bees cannot hear sounds in the air, however they can feel the buzzing vibrations through the surface on which the dance is performed. Like the round dance the ‘tail-wagging’ dance tells the followers of the dance that there is food available, and what flowers to look for, from the smell. But it tells them much more than this; it tells them precisely how far away the flowers are, and in exactly what direction. And so, the bees who study the dance can fly with precision to the spot indicated, even at a distance of kilometers, and find the honey-bearing flowers.

The distance to the food is conveyed by the tempo of the dance. A quick-step tempo means a relatively nearby food source, a slow tempo means a more distant one. More precisely as the distance increases, so does the duration of each wagging run. The bees who follow the dance study several wagging runs and then appear to calculate the average duration which they then translate into distance by a mathematical rule.

The ‘tail-wagging dance’ is sometimes done on a horizontal surface just outside the hive. When this happens, the dancer indicates the direction of food by aiming her run in exactly the direction of the food. She can do this if she can see the sun (or the polarized light of the blue sky, which indicates the position of the sun to bees, though not to us). So, actually she is taking up a position in which she sees the sun as the same angle as during her flight to the honey source. The wagging run makes the same angle with the sun on her outward flight did. But the dance is normally performed in the dark inside the hive, on the vertical surface of the honeycomb. Here the angle between the flight path and the sun is translated into the angle between the wagging run and the vertical direction straight upwards.

Another remarkable fact about the bees communication is that if the bee reached her goal (and returned from it) by an L-shaped detour, she uses the angles and lengths of the two sections of flight to calculate the true direction of the goal by straight-line flight, and this is the direction she conveys in her dance, even when she did not this direct route herself.

As for the bees who are following the dance, they are working literally in the dark and can only use touch to find out the angle of the dancer’s wagging run against the vertical. They translate this back into a visual angle with the sun, fly off in this direction for the distance signaled by the wagging run tempo, and look for the flowers of the scent they smelt on the dancer.

So far we have described the language of the Carniolan race of honeybees according to the findings of Frisch. Other races have different ‘dialects’. German, North African, Caucasian, Italian honeybees all indicate distance and direction by much shorter dances than the Carniolans. How the honeybees have learned to communicate with each other is certainly remarkable! However, it is not a true language, because the system used by bees, unlike human languages, cannot generate new combination of structures and symbols to describe novel events. One example of their limitation is that bees appear to have no way of communicating height or depth beyond a few meters. Thus, if you take a bee to a source of food in a place, say 10 metres above ground level, she will return to her hive and try to indicate the food source by means of her dance. Then, the other bees will all fly out in the direction she indicated, but they will never find the source. No matter how near the source is, even if it is just above the hive, the result will be the same.

The latest aircraft are still clumsier than birds and, by comparison with birds, have less agility. Moreover, upward flight affects pilots badly, while birds can do this very easily since the air between their feathers their bodies and wings is absorbing and reducing air pressure. Their mobile tail feathers enable them to turn sharply and even do somersaults. They are capable of steep descent or ascent without the risks aeroplanes face in doing the same. Land birds can fly or glide for long periods as well as land without heating their wings, whereas aeroplanes cannot sustain flight with stopped engines.

An important recent achievement in aircraft technology is vertical take off and landing – something many flying animals such as bees have been able to do for millions of years. Wing design, following the models of wing design in birds, has also been improved recently. The wings of birds follow hundreds of different designs, each with its peculiar advantages. They have many facilities. The most significant ability of birds’ wings is that they can be opened or folded up at will, thus giving flexibility in different flight conditions. This inspired engineers to design some aircraft like the F-14, F-18 and MIG-25 with wings that can be adjusted to some degree. The forward-arrow-angled wing is another projected innovation of recent technology in pursuit of what was given to birds in their creation. The airflow possible between the feathers of birds’ wings which significantly reduces air pressure is also being imitated. The producers of one model of the Boeing-747 have designed thousands of small cavities in the wings: the trials have been successful and the technique has been recommended for adaptation for use in all aircraft.

The scientist and engineer, whose final aim is to attain the flying technique of birds, know full well that they are just at the start of their quest. Birds and other flying animals do not have a consciousness like ours. How is it that they have achieved such a perfect compatibility with the air? It is true that producing an aircraft requires elaborate skills and elaborate knowledge, but is it not marvellous that birds demonstrate perfect flight? How is this? How does the possibility, the very idea, of flight arise?