Largest population of “rare penguins” discovered in Antarctica

Borowicz et al. Multi-modal survey of Adélie penguin mega-colonies reveals the Danger Islands as a seabird hotspot. Scientific Reports, March 2018.

Scientists recently discovered a supercolony of 1.5 million Adélie penguins off the Antarctic Peninsula, which have lived undisturbed for nearly 60 years. An observation in 2014 revealed a substantial amount of penguin droppings on Antarctica’s Danger Islands in NASA imagery of the area. The guano stains in the islands indicated that there must be a big colony of undiscovered penguins in the area. In 2015, groups of scientists from multiple institutions combined their efforts to begin to explore the scene. With the help of a drone, the expedition discovered an estimated 1.5 million penguins nesting in the area. The group of nine rocky islands, which lie off the northern tip nearest South America in the northwest Weddell Sea, housed the third- and fourth-largest Adelie penguin colonies in the world.

Adélie penguin numbers have dropped by about 70% in recent decades. Scientists argue that this sharp decline was caused by global warming, which has resulted in large amounts of sea ice to melt. These findings suggest that the eastern side of the Antarctic Peninsula is likely to remain more stable under climate change than the western Antarctic Peninsula. Adélies are one of five penguin species that live in and around the Antarctic continent. A medium-sized penguin, they grow to about 70 centimeters tall, and weigh 3-6 kg. The Adélie are carnivores that feed on shrimp-like creatures called krill. Most scientists agree that the most surprising and incredible thing in this discovery seems to be that, in this day and age, something so big could have been overlooked for so long. It is difficult and treacherous to get to the Danger Islands to do surveys because of the heavy ice that covers the Islands during most of the year. It is for these reasons that the supercolony went under the radar for so long.

Smartphones and tablet lights before bedtime keeps children awake

Lameese D. Sensitivity of the circadian system to evening bright light in preschool-age children. Physiological Reports, March 2018.

Electronics usage amongst preschoolers has been rapidly expanding within recent years, and concerned parents are trying to understand the ramifications for their young ones. A recent study showed that exposing kids to bright light including smartphones or tablets can alter their sleeping habits. For the study, researchers measured levels of melatonin, the principal hormone that regulates sleep, in a group of 10 children ranging from ages 3 to 5. The children were first put on a regular sleep schedule for five nights, with researchers monitoring their saliva to measure their melatonin levels. Then, on the sixth and seventh day, the kids slept in lower-light conditions.

Except that for an hour before bedtime, the preschoolers were exposed to bright light, playing on a table emitting 1,000 lux of light, which is approximately equal to the brightness of a bright room to replicate the effects of using a smartphone or tablet. The researchers then measured the children’s melatonin levels again and discovered that their levels had dropped by almost 90 percent and the effects persisted even 50 minutes later after the children returned to lower- light conditions.

A similar study previously performed on adults showed that a one-hour light stimulus of 10,000 lux (10 times that of the current study) suppressed melatonin levels by only 39 percent in adults. Since children have larger pupils and their lenses are more transparent, they are thought to be more susceptible to dysregulation of sleep and the circadian clock. Therefore, for preschoolers, this increased sensitivity to light may not only lead to trouble falling asleep one night, but also to chronic problems feeling sleepy at bedtime. Since melatonin also plays crucial roles in other bodily processes including regulation of temperature, blood pressure, and glucose metabolism, the effects of light at night exposure can definitely go beyond sleep. Studies alarmingly showed that use of electronic media among young children has tripled since 2011. One thing is very clear that parents and clinicians should make informed decisions on children’s light exposure before bedtime.

Lies spread much faster than truths

Soroush V. et al. The spread of true and false news online. Science, March 2018.

A new study demonstrated how easy it is for rumors to spread online along with how simple it is for social media to disburse these falsehoods. Researchers analyzed 126,000 tweet cascades in Twitter between 2006 and 2017 containing rumors and reached the following conclusions:

– It takes true stories about six times as long to reach 1,500 people as it does for false stories to reach the same number of people.

– Falsehoods are 70% more likely to be retweeted than truths.

– Falsehoods reach a cascade depth of 10 retweets about 20 times faster than facts.

– Twitter bots amplified true stories as much as they amplified false ones suggesting that humans, not robots, are more likely to spread falsehoods.

The study unexpectedly found that a false rumor cascade was more likely to begin with a new, unverified account with a small number of followers. False rumors are also found to contain more novelty and frequently expressed words associated with disgust and surprise. It is no surprise that people do not trust social media platforms. Seven in ten people asked by a marketing firm (2018 Edelman Trust Barometer) this year said they worry about fake news being used as a weapon. “Media” is the least trusted institution in 28 global markets the firm surveyed. But it seems that in a world where fake news dominates, real news is valued more. Overall trust in journalism and journalists increased by 5% and 12%, respectively, despite the population losing trust in social media. At the same time, however, 59% of respondents said that it is getting harder to tell whether a piece of news comes from a legitimate source or not.

You see, Auntie Kristina (that’s what a girl with manners should call her) was a friend of my family. She had visited us more times than I could count, but I had never been allowed to visit her, because her husband was unwell (and, I thought, probably couldn’t stand noise). They had no relatives in town. Their only daughter had married and moved to a distant city. So they lived alone in our small town, where everyone else had been there since Adam. It seemed to me that as outsiders they really appreciated the friendship of my parents. Also my father would fix any electrical appliance that broke in their house, free of charge. I guess Auntie Kristina and her husband loved my father like the son they had never had.

Auntie Kristina had the strangest ability to mend clothing like no one else could. She could patch a hole or sew a tear so that it was no longer there, as long as you had extra fabric. You couldn’t detect where a patch had been, even with my grandpa’s glasses on. Ask my mom if you don’t believe me.

So, I was ready to sprint toward her house when my teacher delivered her final instruction. “Be careful. Don’t drop the trousers anywhere. They are very expensive. And,”-that’s when my heart froze-“tell her these are your father’s trousers.”

You might have asked why, but I didn’t. I knew the reason. Auntie Kristina had stopped doing this kind of work for quite some time now. She had turned down such requests lately because the job put a strain on her aging eyes. But there was only one person she wouldn’t turn down: a dear friend asking a favor. And that was my father. If you wonder how my teacher knew that, then I suppose you’ve never lived in a small town full of gossip.

Yes. I knew it was a lie, but after having had this same neurotic teacher for 3 years, a teacher who had pulled my hair in first grade for writing crooked letters, I knew better than to say no.

I lowered my head and dragged myself out of the school. As I watched my shadow slide over the stones on the dusty road, I tried to think of a way out. The first scenario that played in my head was telling Auntie Kristina the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“Auntie, my teacher sent me with a pair of trousers which have two holes, one big and one small on the left leg. These trousers belong to my teacher’s brother-in-law, who is our ambassador in some far away country and who burned them accidentally during a reception. (No, I am not making anything up. I overheard my teacher talking to her assistant during recess.) Since these trousers are far too expensive to throw away and since it is very, very important that the representative of our glorious country doesn’t go around with holes in his trousers, would you kindly repair them, please?”

She would politely decline and I wouldn’t blame her. Why strain one’s eyes to save the fancy pants of a careless diplomat?! However, this kind of answer would spell disaster for me. I abandoned this scenario and switched to the next.

I would go to her house; pretend I had knocked till my knuckles hurt, then turn back to tell my teacher that the seamstress wasn’t home. My teacher would believe me because: number one, I hadn’t lied before, and number two, she believed that the child who could lie to her had not yet been born. (She told us this herself, but if you can keep a secret, I will tell you-she is wrong. Two of my friends lied to her once, and they didn’t even flinch when faced with her lie-detecting stare.)

Anyhow, I would try, if it would end my misery. Yet, I knew like two plus two equals four that she would send me again the next day and then the next until I found the seamstress home. Chances are she would send another envoy with me after the second attempt. Then, I would have to convert that classmate into an accomplice, which was about as easy as swallowing a bull.

As I swallowed my saliva and wiped my sweaty forehead I realized that I had arrived at Auntie’s house. Standing in front of her door with my fist raised to knock, I couldn’t think of a way out of this dilemma: Shall I lie to my teacher or to Auntie Kristina? To tell the truth, the first seemed a lesser wrong but with greater consequences. I would have the same teacher for another two whole years.

I knocked twice, wishing hard that Auntie Kristina had moved to another city without letting anyone know, or had gone to see her daughter long enough for his Corpus Diplomaticus to go back to that far-away country. Have I told you that I am not that lucky? Well it’s time you knew.

Auntie Kristina opened the door with a big smile that made me blush to the tip of my ears.

“Hello Auntie! My parents send their regards to you. My father’s trousers need some repairs.” My voice trembled like I was begging for food. “Some extra fabric is in the bag.” I handed the bag to her with shaky hands. As soon as Auntie saw the shiny, high quality pants she looked at me over her spectacles, perplexed. She inspected the holes and fell silent. The longer the silence lasted, the hotter my face got. Auntie Kristina, who probably knew how many fillings my father had in his mouth, could quite easily guess that my father, a modest electrician, would more likely land on the moon than own those fancy trousers. I lowered my head and waited for a shame-on-you slap but instead I got:

“O.K. Come and pick them up tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? I was worried. I will have to go through all this again my mind protested.

“Yes, “she said. “I don’t have time today.”

“Tell your parents I said hi,” she reminded me. I nodded. You would expect me to take a deep breath once she closed the door, right? Instead I felt like I was choking and there was only one way for my lungs to get air: let the tears that were knotted in my throat flow. And I did. I didn’t care who might be watching. I hated my teacher. I detested her mindless brother-in-law. I loathed pant-burning cigars. I hated myself. I was a bad girl. I was a liar. I continued to cry to my heart’s content, until my eyes were dry and I could breathe again.

The next day my teacher’s face brightened up when she examined the repaired trousers.

“Unbelievable!” she exclaimed. “One thousand witnesses are needed to prove that there was a hole in these pants.” She turned to me with a smile and said, “Well done.” Her praise, rare as rain in the desert, didn’t make me at all happy this time. In fact, it inflamed my guilt which was burning holes inside me. All I could do was to wait for the flame to die out.

Three weeks later, when the fire of my guilt had somewhat subdued, something happened that blew the ashes away and exposed the embers. It was the day of my older sister’s wedding. As I was busying myself, getting into everybody’s way, I heard Auntie Kristina’s voice greet my father. I jumped out of my skin and hid behind my bedroom door. Peaking through the keyhole, I saw her hand Mom a wrapped gift for my sister. Only for a split of a second did she scrutinize the outfit my father had on. Although it was his best gray suit, it stood a hundred light-years away from those fancy trousers.

She smiled at him and proceeded to the sitting room. She sat on the sofa exchanging pleasantries with both my parents while her coffee was being made. I glued my ear to the wall so that I could hear and started to reconstruct the puzzle of their conversation from what I could hear. When she asked where I was, suddenly finding a hiding place was more urgent than hearing what she had to say next. If I knew one thing about my mother, who stuck to the rules of manners like no other, it was that she would be looking for me in no time. It is considered rude for children to not greet guests, especially when the guests deigned to ask about them. I wasn’t mistaken. Mom rushed into my bedroom calling my name. I was sweating in my closet, hiding among racks of clothes. Did Auntie tell? Is Mom angry? Am I in trouble? I wondered. I could sense she was annoyed and impatient. Somebody called Mom from the kitchen with urgency so she stopped looking for me. I stayed inside until I heard Mom thank Auntie for coming and say goodbye.

I couldn’t spend my whole life inside a closet, so finally I decided I had to come out. On my way to the front yard, Mom called: “There you are! Here, take this. It’s from Auntie Kristina. She said you are a good girl,” Mom related with satisfaction. I don’t know why, but parents are really happy when their children are praised. “Isn’t she a nice lady?” Mom asked. Without waiting for my answer she hurried to greet another guest standing at the door. My mom had placed a bag of candies in my hand. My eyes welled up, but I pushed the tears to the corners. Something that felt good was happening inside me. The holes of emptiness were being patched. My soul was being mended.

“Yes,” I whispered to myself. “She is a nice lady, and the best seamstress of all.”

Mirkena Ozer is pursuing MA in women studies at the University of Georgia, Atlanta.

“No, my dear, I cannot see God. No one can see Him,” was her mother’s reply.

Unsatisfied with this answer, the girl then approached her father for confirmation. “Can you give me a photo of God, papa?” she asked, waiting to see her father laugh at her innocence.

“Why do you need one, my dear?” her father inquired; she then asked her next question. “Can you see Him, Papa?

“No, my child, we cannot see Him. We just know that He’s kind and Merciful.”

The girl now looked for her grandfather, who had once told her “God is the Most Beautiful.” Her Grandpa always had comforting answers for her strange and wonderful questions. “Grandpa, will you tell me the truth about something?”

“I will never tell you a lie, my child.” Her grandfather’s words reassured her that she could always trust him. “Can you see God, Grandpa? Mama and Papa cannot see Him.”

“I see nothing but God, my child,” her grandfather answered with a sincere smile on his serene face.

Pervisha Khan is a student of B.s Hons. Mass Communication at Lahore College for Women University , Pakistan.