Issue 3: April 2018

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DOODLE ISSUE ISSUE 3

April 2018

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“As environmental thinkers, activists, and supporters we cannot afford to close ourselves off from the communities around us. “ page 6

And the “Most Boring Animal” Award goes to...

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BRANCHING OUT: REOCCURRING ARTICLES

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Weird Creature Spotlight, Annie Stevens

BUDDING MINDS: POETRY & CREATIVE WRITING

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Collection of Short Ramblings, Morgan Beatey Walk Alone, Rabindranath Tagore Untitled Poem, Rabindranath Tagore Clarity, Morgan Beatey Masterpiece, Shourjya Majumder

GETTING TO THE ROOTS: CAMPUS & ENVIRONMENTAL NEWS

10 Beyond University Hill, Morgan Beatey

SILLY SAPS: SATIRE & LAUGHS

12 “Most Boring Animal Award”, Liam Connolly 14 Changes in the Spring, Jordan Jessamy 15 Crossword, Noelle Stevens

Meet The Staff

Editor: Morgan Beatey Co-editor: Hailey Smalley Layout Editor: Lauren Perry Chief Financial Officer: Noelle Stevens Secretary: Jordan Jessamy

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Editing Team: Annie Stevens, Shourja Majumder,

Rehgan Shepardson-Machold, and Jacob Chesser Layout Team: Morgan Beatey and Lauren Perry

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Weird Creature Spotlight

by Annie Stevens

In this issue, we’ll be diving into the deep sea to look at an extreme case of sexual dimorphism.

The deep sea is home to plenty of weird and wonderful creatures, including the unique group of fish known as anglerfish. Anglerfish are probably best-known for the fleshy, often bioluminescent lures on their heads, called esca. The telltale eerie glow of the esca is the result of a symbiotic relationship between anglerfish and bacteria. What’s not as well-known is the fact that all anglerfish with these organs are females; the lure is used not only to draw in prey, but also to attract males.

Several species of anglerfish, including those in the family Ceratiidae, aptly known as “sea devils,” have a means of reproduction that stands out for how purely outlandish it is, even among the many grotesque, bizarre mating habits in the animal kingdom.

Neither males nor females possess fully-developed gonads, and they overcome this rather large obstacle through the wonders of

parabiotic reproduction, meaning that the male lives in or on the female. As is oft-seen in nature, the male gets the short end of the stick here, as his only purpose upon birth is to find a female and allow her to reproduce. In many species, males don’t even have fully-developed jaws or digestive systems, meaning that if they don’t find a female they rapidly face the prospect of death. If a male sea devil is lucky enough to find a female, however, he attaches to her body and lives the rest of his life there.

From here, however, things don’t exactly get better for the

hapless male anglerfish. He is doomed to live the rest of his life with all of his body atrophying away except for his testicles, which grow exponentially as everything else decays. In the end, he exists as simply a literal sperm bank attached to the female so that she can reproduce.

So, next time you stand on the beach and admire the beauty of the ocean, just remember that somewhere out there below the waves, a male anglerfish is metamorphosing into a giant pair of testes for his mate. And if that isn’t beautiful, I don’t know what is.

Male anglerfish

Female anglerfish mynatureplace.org

Branching OUT Reoccurring Articles

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Collection of Short Ramblings

by Morgan Beatey

Tire Marks I can still recall the first time I hit an animal with my car. It was late summer, and I had been on my way to band practice after a short break for lunch. My victim, a snake, had been warming itself on the sun-kissed asphalt of the road, unaware of the fate waiting to befall it. In the small town I come from it isn’t often you find room to swerve. Most roads consist of two lanes with no shoulders, and the thick yellow lines that carve their centers are more than just a recommendation.

Unlike the city, it isn’t buildings or pedestrians you have to worry about. If you swerve, you’re likely to hit another car or a farmer’s tractor or wind up in a ditch or tangled around a tree. My situation had been no different; I didn’t swerve.

A part of me had hoped the snake was nothing more than tire trimmings. It wasn’t – and it didn’t move. I had done well until that point. I slowed for squirrels, stopped for birds, and generally did an all-around job of making sure my tires weren’t the ones making furry, abstract art on the roads. But no, that trend had to end. I can’t tell you how many animals have tried to commit suicide by jumping in front of my car since. It’s like they know.

Gully In the summers, when I’m in New York and not surrounded by the foothills of my southern home, I take to exploring the creek, partially hidden by the woods, that delves under the one lane road behind my parents’ lake house.

Jagged stone and rich soil cover its embankments in a testament to nature’s shaping force. The waterfalls that flow over and through them are what call to me, natural in their formation.

They freeze in the winter, these waterfalls. Their water seeming so hard, so brittle, it’s almost as if it were glass. Sometimes I wonder if it might crack at the slightest touch, but I’ve never run with my curiosity, so I do not know. In the summer, however, the creek is bi-polar. It shifts between running fast and smooth to trickling with an ebbing flow. The rain determines these states, I know, but a part of me likes to imagine that the creek is capable of its own decisions, that the gully is alive in its own, inanimate way.

Budding MINDS

Poetry and Creative Writing

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Walk Alone

Original Poem by Rabindranath Tagore Translation: Avik Chatterjee Acknowledgement: Ms. Sarah Llop-Holton If no one look your way; If unto your call asleep are all if no one look your way; Walk alone your rightful path steadfast, come what may.

Walk alone, walk alone, walk alone, steadfast, all the way.

If none have words to say; When need is dire, dark the gyre if none have words to say; If fear turns the face, robs the voice makes all glance away; If none have words to say; Free and bold speak clear your mind alone, on such a day.

If none do stay around; As troubles deepen, pathways steepen if none do stay around; If as dangers hound and threats surround all turn homeward bound; If none do stay around; Walk barefoot your thorny route bloodied though the ground.

If all do bar their gate; On night of storm, alone forlorn if all do bar their gate; If as heavens howl, thunders growl you are left unto your fate; If all do bar their gate; Blaze forth as one with lightning fire a beacon, Incarnate.

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Untitled

Original Poem By: Rabindranath Tagore Translation: Avik Chatterjee Acknowledgement: Ms. Sarah Llop-Holton

My endarkened country, from those you negate, words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

Those whom you deny equal status, yet decry, helpless neighbors barred out your iron gate; Words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

When you recoil from touch, Goddess withdraws as much; Yet when She lifts Her hand and famine stalks the land, you will divide food from a common plate; Else words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

Where you thrust away and cast aside your own strength flies, in exile to abide.

Crushed underfoot, one with the dust and root, descend you yet, share, endure their state; Else words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

Each body once climbed over, pulls you lower; Each abandoned in mad rush, makes you slower.

Whose hopes are blighted, dreams and futures slighted, grave barriers to your wellness, multiplicate; Words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

A dozen centuries of scorn, in endless storm, blind you to what’s Divine in human form.

Yet drop your eyes, try if you can surmise, why God chose among the humblest to Incarnate; Else words of equal woe shall spell your fate.

The Reaper on your doorstep, paused mid-stride, paints curse most dire on your pageant of pride.

If you neglect to call, raise up, and embrace all, remain bound around in walls of sullen hate; In Death and Ashes shall be one your fate.

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Clarity

by Morgan Beatey

Clarity, I think, is the name of the game. Or perhaps not, for it seems lost amidst the nuances of our society – flashy headlines, half-truths, and biases ever-striving for our attention, claiming ownership to the truth, and presenting the picture as a fragment rather than a whole despite our insistence (for) otherwise – and muddled in its own perception.

We claim to seek the truth, to yearn for its embrace and factuality; yet, I find doubt in our ability to discern truth from the lies and illusions we enshroud ourselves in. Technology and innovation may have paved the way for modern success, but I fear we have lost something of equal, if not more, value in its wake: Connectivity.

To the land, to ourselves, and to the organisms around us.

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If history is written by the victors, should we blame industry for excluding our ancestral connections to the land from our books – from ourselves? I may be biased and blunt and wrong in saying this, but when have I ever cared for propriety? What we seem to strive towards these days is villainization. As a society, we are averse to admitting to personal faults – it is, after all, an arduous task; one very few succeed in – and thus, find ourselves searching for a scapegoat more often than we care to admit.

There is always a catalyst, a reason. How can it ever be our fault when the blame is transferred onto something, or someone, else at almost every turn?

Should passing the blame become a New Age rite of passage, I’ll find myself content to remain in the past. I’m tired of making excuses.

Will Rogers is the owner of one of my favorite quotes. In his words, “we can’t all be heroes, because somebody has to sit on the curb and applaud when they go by.”

It’s a rather humbling thought; unfortunately, so many people are obsessed with being right.

In this obsession the truth has been muddled; clarity has been smeared. In favor of presenting ourselves in a golden light, we have lost sight of the teachings of our past. Innovation is good and grand, but I can’t help but feel that the loss of our connection to the natural world is too steep a price to pay in its stead.

I might be wrong, but don’t we all entitle ourselves to our opinions?

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photo by Giorgos Mountrakis

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Masterpiece

by Shourjya Majumder

Draw

Draw a picture

White space is your friend

Who doesn’t criticize, doesn’t scowl The brush begins its walk

8 steps up, 11 steps across

Twirling, running, climbing Never looking back

It runs across the oceans, bringing to life the reefs, the waves, the dolphins It twirls through the forest, saving the monkeys, birds, and butterflies It climbs every mountain to see the other side, where it will find....

Find a way to erase man’s mistakes and start anew Find a way to shade in the gaps in our knowledge

And reflect the rays of the sun throughout the paper Forward, Backward, Left, and Right The brush stops in the center

Where it remains absolutely still, a small light Extending a large ray of hope Across the page

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Beyond University Hill

by Morgan Beatey

Despite spending two years of relative seclusion within the bubble known as University Hill, I am proud to say that I, non-socially-adventurous ESF student no.135, ventured into the city of Syracuse not once, but twice this past semester to interact with members of the outlying community. Admittedly, I would not have done so if it weren’t for a class assignment; however, I now know why my professor required of us what she did.

Syracuse is a busy place crawling with numerous peoples, values, and beliefs. Sometimes these proponents work together; sometimes they compete. At the end of the day, however, these aspects are what make the city, the city. Tomorrow’s Neighborhoods Today, the organization I became partially involved with over the course of the semester, seeks to improve Syracuse by working directly with the various neighborhoods that make it whole.

Given the city’s size, there are eight neighborhoods – or sectors as they are otherwise referred to – in total: Downtown, Eastside, Eastwood, Lakefront, Northside, Southside, the Valley, and Westside. Of these, I attended monthly meetings hosted by the Valley and Northside neighborhoods in March and April of this year respectively. University Hill, where myself and many of my peers are located, is part of the Eastside.

Sitting in those meetings and listening to the stories and grievances of those who call this city home – not for a few months or however-many-years it takes them to graduate, but year-round for as long as they desire – came with a few revelations. Foremost was the existence of a larger disconnect between university students and the city in which they study than I had originally thought. The issues being brought to my attention – yearly beautification projects, the place-

ment of speed readers, trash and litter problems on the Northside, a change in DPW management, locations for free electronic recycling (and the push for better recycling by those not on our campus) – were ones I had not heard of prior.

As environmental thinkers, activists, and supporters we cannot afford to close ourselves off from the communities around us. If we cannot make improvements in and aid the city in which we study, how do we expect to make lasting changes in the world?

Involvement and communication are key; without them, innovation loses footing. We alone are not enough to fix the problems facing our planet. This is a team effort. Becoming more involved with the city of Syracuse is only one step.

If you wish to learn more about Tomorrow’s Neighborhoods Today (TNT), you can visit its site at: http://www.tomorrowsneighborhoodstoday.org/

Getting to the ROOTS Campus & Environmental News

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“Ye Olde Keep Off the Quad”

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English House Sparrow Wins “Most Boring Animal Award” I Guess

by Liam Connolly

An unsurprising and dull announcement for the winner of the esteemed “Most Boring Animal Award” was made today at the Dull and Boring Convention (DBC). The English Sparrow, a small bird native to England, has won the Most Boring Animal Award for the fifth year in a row.

Seventh year? Honestly who knows. This convention held last year in Dull, Scotland, has never had such a consistent winner in its (Five-year history? Ten-year history?). This year the festival was held in none other than Boring, Oregon; where tens to thirty of its fans eagerly anticipated the mundane sights while waiting outside for the convention to begin. At 9:00 A.M., the convention started and the small gathering of people presented their tickets to the attendant who let them into the motel parking lot where the convention was being held.

At 3:00 P.M. sharp, those who were still left standing and hadn’t succumbed to boredom all poured into the motel conference room to witness the “Boring Awards Ceremony,” Named after Jack Boring the founder.

It’s called the awards ceremony

because that is when the awards are given out. Three judges walked out onto the poorly put together stage and set up a folding table with no tablecloth and three folding chairs to sit in. The three judges; John Doe, Jane Doe and Joe Smith are all uniquely uninteresting in their own special way. They are often playfully referred to as the “judgmental three” by the Boring Things Anonymous community as they are judges and there is three of them.

John Doe loves water, bread and talking to people about his hobbies. His claim to fame is suggesting for all UPS office workers to wear brown uniforms because he wanted his UPS uniform to match his weekend apparel.

Jane Doe enjoys delicious vegetables, vanilla ice cream and seeing what friends are up to on social media. Although they have the same last names, Jane and John Doe are not related; it’s just a boring coincidence.

Silly SAPS

Satire and Laughs

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Joe Smith is an aficionado of all things uninteresting. A mundane author, he’s made several unnoteworthy stories such as The Essence of Watching Paint Dry, Small Talk: Work-Safe Jokes to Crack in the Office and The Captivating History of the Tissue Box. Joe had a rocky start in the boring community, as he was often not allowed to attend conventions due to his original last name being “too interesting.”

Over the course of ten years, he was able to legally change his last name from Zarthagabbleboroxor to Smith, stating afterwards that boring specialists “sighed with great approval” after the transition.

The winner of the Most Boring Animal award was announced at 3:01 P.M. “The judges have decided” mumbled Joe into the microphone, which screeched out of the speakers immediately afterwards hurting the ears of all

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thirty DBC attendees. “Our unanimous decision” stated Jane while rolling her eyes and trying her hardest not to yawn “The winner is…” mumbled Jane again, as her head slipped between her hands and rested on the desk: falling asleep instantly. “The English House Sparrow” stated John, with a voice so monotone and devoid of inflection, it would put textto-speech websites to shame.

The few attendees who were actually paying attention gave a half-hearted hurrah and immediately diverted their eyes to Unedited Footage of Grass Growing (No Timelapse) on the screen setup next to the stage.

A single English sparrow flew in through the window and accepted the award on his species

behalf: “Wow this is unbelievable, I can’t believe this. Where do I even start? First, I’d like to thank mother nature, for giving our species such a boring cardboard coloration so we could blend in with trees.” Someone in the audience nodded but not towards the stage. “I’d also like to thank my mom and my dad, and for British sailors who helped us spread all over the world and outcompete all the beautiful fauna that lived there.” Jane was still asleep, John blew his nose on a napkin. “Lots of fierce competition this year: squirrels, pigeons, woodchucks and freaking sponges. You really have to give credit to sponges though, they’re really good at do-

ing absolutely nothing.” A sponge in the audience blushed at the thought. “But honestly though, I’d like to also thank the academy, my parents and those who choose to live on the safe side of life! Ride safely into the horizon!

Better safe than sorry! Brush your teeth and floss every day!”

The sparrow flew up to the uncovered folded table and got its award: a lined piece of paper with the words “Most Boring Animal Award, Congratulations!

SQUIRREL” etched on it in marker and flew out the window.

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Changes In The Spring

by Jordan Jessamy

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Welcome back everyone, you are just in time for a wonderful treat! With the return of the spring season, our world undergoes a shift to a new state of existence highlighted by glamorous new sights, aromas, and opportunity. Life takes on a new meaning with the blooming of the flowers and the return of animals that for so long had undergone hibernation. The snow, which has been a persistent companion for us, now begins to fade and expose what has been for so long hidden. However, the most astounding change can be found on our very own campus grounds. With the return of the warmth comes the return of the Eosseff americanus, more commonly known as the American Stumpy.

After spending countless months huddled within their homes, they are finally able to return to the wilds they for so long have been forced to avoid.

Even as I write this, I currently observe one such specimen, in an entirely non-creepy and certainly not stalker-like fashion, from a distance with my binoculars. As it lifts its face to the sun, you can see the life and joy return to it by the renewed sparkle in its eyes. Weary of the paradise it has wandered into, it cautiously exits its domain further; it checks its phone for the weather to make sure that this time spring is truly here to stay because it is aware Mother Nature is indecisive as hell.

Reaffirmed that spring is here to stay, it bounds off with joy in

every step to meet its comrades to do what all stumpies do this time of year.

Upon their aggregation, the changes in their appearance with the change in season becomes only more marked. Gone are their shoes, the foot prisons that weighed them down like anchors for so long. Their bare are feet exposed to feel the Earth they so cherish, and now stomping repeatedly on the annual message from administration that reminds them footwear is still required indoors. Gone are the many layers of clothes, plaid flannels, and jackets; replacing their previously drab outward appearance, rich, vibrant tie-dye colors adorn the stumpies body in mesmerizing patterns.

With the stumpies comes the return migration of many other frequent inhabitants of the campus. On the quad, dogs can be seen with owners and seen reverting all nearby college students, regardless of age, passing by them to an almost primitive mental state enslaved solely by fascination, capable only of illegible squeals and shrieks, and repeating the words, “doggo”, “pupper”, or occasionally “borf” like a lazily made Pokémon. Also, with the return of the stumpies comes the return of an all-too familiar

aroma. Smelling like the elevator in Illick (you know which one), the cemetery grounds neighboring campus once again take on this scent which masks all other odors.

Yes, the Eosseff americanus are a truly remarkable species and a testament to the wonders of the changes that accompany the spring. Such a remarkable group.

Go on little ones, run amok and embrace the world that for so long you were deprived! Go on and embrace the joys of nature and - wait, they’re going back inside… Oh right, it appears the shackles of their classwork duties are still tightly fixed, and still have some time before can be released. Well worry not dear ones, for soon the semester if over! Soon you will be fully liberated to go outdoors and…. wait, no they’re not doing work, just bingeing Netflix and memeing… I suppose there is time for embracing nature later.

Well until next time dear leaders, stay alert! Maybe you will see the changes around us that accompany the spring.

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IT’S ALMOST THE END OF THE...

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Across 3 The beginning of spring, March 20th 4 Art style popularized by Pablo Picasso 5 Birds provide this sound at the strart of spring 6 April 22nd 8 Soft shades of color; an art medium

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composed of powdered pigment April _______ bring May flowers A holiday honoring your maternal parent These bloom annually in Washington D.C. A style of shading characterized by numerous small dots

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Down 1 May 3rd through 9th 2 An element repeated in art, music, or literature that is often the dominant feature; theme 4 Blind _________ 7 Spring is also __________ season 9 The first plants you see after winter; spring ________ 13 Axial or terminal

SILLY SAPS OCTOBER 2016

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How Can You Contribute to

THE KNOTHOLE? • Send your articles, poems, creative writing, or art to esfknothole@gmail.com • Add photographs to the ESF GO App • Join us on Thursdays at 6:30 in Baker 314 for meetings!

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