Archaeologists have been able to identify and confirm the existence of historic remains buried in Mexican rainforest from existing geological survey data. Postgraduate researcher Luke Auld-Thomas, a PhD student at Tulane university discovered a Mayan settlement roughly the size of Edinburgh when he applied archaeological analytical techniques to an environmental study carried out a few years ago.
Using a combination of laser pulses and radar technology, known as “lidar”, experts can reveal buildings and other structures buried in otherwise impenetrable jungle. In his investigation, Auld-Thomas identified a reservoir and buildings that may have accommodated thirty to fifty thousand citizens at the peak of its era, believed to be between 750 and 850 AD. For now the site is known as Valeriana, after a nearby lagoon off the Yucatan peninsula.
The discovery of a site on the scale of Calakmul poses more questions than it answers. The extent of Mayan settlements combined with their inaccessibility, coupled with a lack of accessible contemporary records makes them a mystery to modern researchers.
Researchers have discovered that horses have a more extensive repertoire of facial expressions than previously thought. There are even some signals that are aimed at other species, such as ear movements. Visit the University of Portsmouth for more details. The project covered a wider range of situations than previously attempted, going beyond human-generated contexts. Some of the horses’ facial repertoire echo similar expressions recorded ith primates.
Recently, there has been a slew of posts about horses on this blog with more discussion than explanation. Some of you may remember that the narrative line in this blog goes back to prehistory, when humanity was sheltering from an ice age climate alongside a number of species that we now work with very closely, such as horses and cows, not forgetting companion creatures, such as cats and dogs. During the ice ages, we didn’t get to choose a place to shelter, we just piled in and got by as best we could. At one end of the spectrum, living in one place by choice can be called domestication, at the other end it can be purgatory. Everybody brings something different to the party: night vision; accurate identification of wild fungi; encyclopaedic knowledge of next year’s runners in the Grand National; whatever. For centuries, the norm has been anthropocentric and horses are expected to fit in with some pretty unimaginative stereotypes. An animal that goes down the gallops most days with Grand National runners would form a view of its rivals fast enough, but it will take humans an eternity to tune into this idea, let alone think of asking for an explanation. Horses just get it. They can see a problem when it’s still just a dot on the horizon.
Humanity, on the other hand, will get shirty and go to war rather than sit down and talk through a problem. At the beginning of the 20th century, the industrial world slaughtered thousands of men and horses for no good reason. Sending mounted troops to shut down machine gun nests just made it worse. For centuries, horses have worked alongside the toiling masses, dragging felled tree trunks to waiting lorries; towing delivery vans; hauling lifeboats to safer launching sites; all manner of heavy work. One hundred years ago, horses used to fill in the gaps in delivery systems, the fabled final mile.
Back then, equidae had a role to play, but things are different now. Somewhere in the economy, a landslip buried the past, imposing a new order and rewriting history. Some of it is as simple as a shift in meaning, take the transition from “load” to “payload”. Anyone can carry a load, even a horse, but it takes precision technology to deliver a payload. Interestingly, however, horsepower is still going strong for the power output of motorised vehicles. During the transition from livestock to automotive innovation, retaining horsepower for comparisons identified some of the advantages of the second wave commercial vehicles. By the mid 1920s, the transition was a fait accompli, in the absence of any additional sources of brood mares. The continuity and availability of four or even three-year olds was held back by a preference for keeping brood mares for riding until their general fitness declined, as does their ability to keep up with the fashionable demand for a rapid high-stepping gait.
The Korean island of Jeju is special: once upon a time, seaweed growing around the island used to feed grazing abalone populations. These were fished by the Haenyeo, free diving fisherwomen, who used to earn enough from their activity to be able to feed their families.
Haenyeo swim and fish underwater without breathing apparatus.
Alas, today this natural balance is rapidly becoming a distant memory. Many of the surviving Haenyeo are over 70, and while they are bathed in the reflected glory of a bygone age, the Korean government is working with the governing body on Jeju to bring through a generation of ecologically aware free divers to keep the fishery alive. The Guardian covered the story here.
These would-be successors face a number of problems: the abundant crops of seaweed on Jeju are no longer as extensive as they used to be, and as the seasons pass, abalone catches continue to decline. Some of the future Haenyeo are concerned because when they listen to the older fishers speak in public about what they do, they leave out details that really matter and paint a misleading picture of what is happening in the once thriving waters off Jeju. This is unfortunate, since the memories of Jejeu’s former glory days have been fed to Unesco by the autonomous province’s government. It was subsequently added to Unesco’s list of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, as an object lesson in sustainability. What matters, though, is to break the logjam and get a recovery plan established while there is still a fishery to rescue. Fortunately for the inhabitants of Jeju, there are citizen scientists and environmentalists preparing to channel public goodwill into an NGO that will assess what can be recovered.
A problem the NGO has identified is that although previous generations of Haenyeo may have been aware of the early signs of environmental damage, they lacked the confidence and a scientific framework that would have given weight to their argument. Faced with the prospect of being put down by “real” scientists, not surprisingly, in the past many Haenyeo chose to stay silent.
A 69-year old Haenyeo whose adult daughter has decided to become a citizen scientist was heartbroken to learn that her daughter’s career move would involve becoming a Haenyeo. “I wanted her to have a proper job like joining the civil service,” she told journalists at The Guardian. “We older women don’t want our daughters to be Haenyeo.”
The end of the 19th century was a time of profound change for the world’s industrial centres. Without realising the consequences for the future, humankind had started to dismantle relationships with the natural world that went back thousands of years. Progress in the mechanisation of industries that spanned entire continents led to the wholesale dumping of old ways of working: new technology was the answer, now what was the question?
For urban populations, the twentieth century brought a degree of hardship and new expectations. Rural populations faced a different set of challenges, notably how to produce more food with fewer people. Technology could be scaled up, but the results had to be deliverable. The English countryside was filled with agricultural investments in steam tractors. Huge, lumbering engines were trampling the face of the earth. The assumption was that new technology would break down old barriers, bringing with it untold wealth. Technology was declaring war on nature.
There was a pressing need to prove that the country could deliver in every sense of the word. Bringing food into towns faced a number of constraints: neither the carrying power nor the feed requirements for draft animals were extendable. Keeping more horses in built-up areas of Victorian London or any other major city was not an option, while the addition of yet more horses coming into town from the suburbs just increased the volume of dung to manage. On the other side of the channel, Parisians took a very different view of horse dung, regarding it as a measure of commercial success and prestige for the most heavily affected quartiers. On the basis of passing horses alone (who would be so indiscreet as to dream of asking what the passengers might be doing?) the Moulin Rouge and parts of Montmartre were knee-deep in earthly riches.
The graph above gives a 60-year narrative: the first 20 years are significant for present purposes. During the prewar years, Britain was home to about 20 motor manufacturers capable of turning out sturdy tractor units, mid-to-long-range lorries or personnel carriers. By the mid-1930s there were close on 40 such firms, including a handful of US manufacturers running British-based assembly lines to serve the embryonic UK road haulage market. There were commercial variants on existing automobile offerings, such as the 7 cwt Model T Ford delivery van, or the General Motors group with its Bedford and Commer ranges.
Road haulage was so new in those days that commercial vehicles and lorries were in short supply. When vehicle registration started for trucks and vans, there were only 4000 in the country. By 1914 there 18,000. The British economy started to struggle and registered truck numbers dropped. During the hostilities, the War Office bought thousands of specialist vehicles to keep the army moving. Once the war was over, thousands of potential commercial motors were sold off cheaply through army surplus outlets. While researching this post I came across a figure of around 6000 disposals. Since motor manufacturers sold the War Office upwards of 20,000 vehicles collectively, they weren’t complaining. Besides, all these motors transferred their paperwork to Civvy Street.
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One purchase the British Army hung on to was a track-laying tractor bought in 1910. Top brass acquired four Hornsby track-laying tractors to carry out extensive trials in the long-running search for a battlefield heavyweight. They’ve still got one of them at the Tank Museum — and it still runs!
This diagram from a US army manual issued in 1916 shows the standard loading for a pack animal.
It is time to review how draft animals are connected to their loads. The simplest example would be a pack horse or a mule, in the days when mule trains carried clay to pottery workshops. The Devon clay that was transported this way earned the name of ball clay, since it was shaped into large balls and carried in a double bag carried on the animal’s back, where a saddle might otherwise have gone. Pack animals are often quite light, enabling them to cross rugged terrain, where roads were not available. It is important to keep a regularly updated note of a draft animal’s weight, taking care not to expect them to carry more than 15-20% of their current weight.
Take a half ton horse, hitch it up to loaded lighter, and you’re off!
Carts redistribute a load, but slowing down or stopping can be more demanding, particularly when going downhill. The most efficient means of transport, particularly for heavy consignments such as building supplies, is the canal barge. This can be hauled by a (large) single horse, even when loaded with several tonnes of goods.
Tofu is soya’s answer to cheese: soya milk is cooked and coagulates, producing a range of curds of varying solidity and texture. Like cheese, tofu is a fragile product that requires gentle handling and a clean working environment. Global sales of tofu already top $3 USD billion a year and the market is predicted to grow by between 3% and 5% within the next few years.
This vegetable protein is traded around the world, with a particularly strong market in Asia and the Pacific region. As a rule of thumb, industrialised countries trade mainly in tofu that has been processed to store for longer in food markets which are essentially long haul. This more complex operation has more rigorous technical standards, reflected in the pricing structures. Local markets, notably in Asia and the Pacific, work on a smaller scale with a faster turnround of tofu, often selling a tonne a day, with simpler resources.
One of the ways they can save money in Indonesia is to burn recycling waste: an article in Saturday’s Guardian put the cost of a lorryload of plastic waste at $13 – enough for about two days’ production – compared to firewood at $130 for an equivalent load. Research campaign group Ecoton is working round the clock to establish the levels of pollutants concerned. Ecoton has been active in this area of public health since 1996: last year it published a Brand Audit, identifying the country’s biggest polluters.
For some reason there are times and contexts where we do not accept the idea that there should ever be more than one way of defining an activity or a process. There are innumerable ways of defining the same thing in nature: different life forms will literally see things differently. From the outset, we need to distinguish measurements (in a standard unit) from expressions of quality (descriptive). Providing the unit of measurement is agreed explicitly in advance, there is not a lot to go wrong. This is one of the lessons that the development teams for the Hubble deep space telescope learnt the hard way.
The relentless development of machine guns and heavy artillery from the turn of the twentieth century raised the stakes of warfare in previously unimaginable ways. Just as there is a case to argue for a wider interpretation of margins, to reflect a product’s costs and value to the economy, there is also a case to be made for revising the criteria by which these items are judged to be of use. Agriculture brings together a number of inseparable variables just to survive, let alone be profitable, making complex trade-offs on the way. Take animals, for instance.
From conception to weaning successive generations of pigs, producers face a steady pull on their resources. In the case of pigs, there will be little prospect of selling from a new litter until the new arrivals can leave their mothers’ sides and feed independently. Once this milestone has been passed, options will become available for breeders.
Animals that are to be raised for slaughter will have a target slaughter weight, somewhere around 100kg for pigs. Any heavier than that and the earning potential will drop steadily, as more feed is consumed and overheads rise. This brings us to a vital distinction that is easily overlooked. The pig producer will generally earn average money by the standards of the sector if the young animals wean successfully and go on to gain a hundred grams per day for the next six months. The market is front-end loaded and is run like clockwork down to the final 24 hours.
The opposite is true for draft animals, which earn their keep by staying alive and working to whatever age their breed can manage. The lead times are longer, the resources needed are greater and in the early 20th century users like the British army were buying extensively for matched pairs and teams of six and more. It is quite clear that by sending draft animals off to battlefields, their value will be turned into an increasingly expensive remounting cycle of the military’s own making, in which the animals can perish within hours of arriving behind the lines. Even if brood mares are kept away from warfare, the early years of the twentieth century effectively wrote a series of blank cheques for the makers of commercial motors and trucks, to fill the haulage gap caused by modern warfare.
The Linlithgow committee made it clear to anyone who would listen, that there was more to determining a margin than taking procurement costs away from the current asking price. At one level, this is a tenable position, since a simple rule of thumb would refer to the difference between cost price and selling price as the profit or margin. This discussion was taking place in the dawn of radio broadcasting and there was a steady stream of demands for prices and market data to be made available on the new service, which had yet to develop a full set of public service expectations. There is no way of knowing who exactly was keen to learn the latest market data, but it is likely that a high proportion would have had a professional interest in market movements. Linlithgow and his committee members were adamant that: “…a crude comparison of producers’ or wholesale and retail prices would convey little to the consumer…” The end user, paying the full and final price is unlikely to look much further than a crude comparison, price being only one single aspect of a more complex transaction.
The market variables that determine the range of prices asked for a product will reflect, at the very least, a product’s provenance, its grade, (including ripeness or shelf life), as well as the number of outlets or sources which can supply the required quantity on the required date. It is only fair to observe that price and time often form an unholy alliance that pushes prices up dramatically. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, too. The more you know about something, the greater its value and interest becomes. Needless to say, a product can also change on its way to the end user: large primal cuts of meat would be unmanageable in a domestic kitchen and yet they would be a tad cheaper by weight, reflecting the work that will be carried out between a meat trader buying a side of beef and a retail butcher cutting up stewing steak, for instance. Two prices might not be comparable for a host of reasons. In many ways, money is an incredibly blunt instrument when trying to make intelligent distinctions. But Linlithgow would probably have settled for a crude measure of value when faced with some of the alternatives: “We understand, however, that the Ministry has under consideration a proposal to publish regularly comparative index numbers which will indicate the movement of wholesale or retail prices.”
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There is a persistent belief in some quarters that price is an objective measure. This is only tenable in a one-dimensional market, since transactions have multiple dimensions and consequences that last for years.
