cryptic female choice and prolonged mating in the Eucalyptus Snout-Beetle, Gonipterus scutellatus (Coleoptera, Curculionidae) Abstract.

The Eucalyptus weevil, Gonipterus scutellatus, shows a complex copulation behaviour whose duration is extremely variable, from less than one hour to more than two days. We tested different hypotheses that could explain the adaptive significance of prolonged copulations. Male genitalia is unable to reach to the interior of the espermatheca of the female, where the sperm of previous matings are stored, so prolonged copulation does not function to remove rivals’ sperm. Neither the duration of the copulation nor the volume of the ejaculate were affected by the density of rivals, nor was there a significant relationship between copulation duration and volume of sperm ejaculated. The percentage of eggs fertilized by the second male to copulate with a female is very variable, even among different clutches of the same female. These results suggest, by a process of elimination, that prolonged copulation in G. scutellatuby is cryptic female choice.

Cryptic female choice and prolonged mating in the Eucalyptus Snout-Beetle, Gonipterus scutellatus (Coleoptera, Curculionidae) Serena Santolamazza Carbone and Adolfo Cordero Rivera Departamento de Ecoloxía e Bioloxía Animal, Universidade de Vigo, Campus Universitario, Spain

posted by bluematrix at 11/29/04 08:35 | link | comments

i have a leather daytimer that i use to hold my life together in some semblence of organization. during the expensive seminars (which the company i work for paid for, twice actually) one of the exercises was to write a personal mission statement.

being the free thinking kind of guy i was, i initially scoffed at this silly corporate notion, before taking a shot at it. below is what still resides in my black book that i take everywhere, as well as the question i designed to ask myself if i was unsure of whether or not i should do something.

"Is the action enjoyable or will it lead to something I enjoy?"

and my personal mission statement...

"I, Tim ____, in order that i may continue to grow as a human being and enjoy my life to its fullest potential, do hereby swear to do my best to uphold the following priniciples:

- seek balance
- enjoy the sowing, as well as the reaping
- be creative in all aspects of my life
- exercise regularly and never take my health for granted
- work to keep the relationships i value strong
- stay close to water and music
- help others advance
- stay positive, open, and honest
- commit random acts of kindness
- embrace change and do not stagnate
- do not speak badly of others
- always strive to see others paradigms and give people the benefit of the doubt
- avoid boasting
- become proficient at one new thing a year
- treat every day as the precious thing it is
- try new things
- listen more, write more (writing crystallizes thoughts)
- strive to advance spiritually and intellectually
- laugh with the grand comedian
- make money my servant, not my master
- utilize the value of interdependancy
- double check my work

posted by bluematrix at 11/23/04 09:22 | link | comments (2)

its nice to have friends who send you gems like this...

tuning in the 'happy' in every moment:

'thus ye may find in thy mental and spiritual self, ye can make thyself just as happy or just as miserable as ye like. how miserable do you want to be?'

'only music may span that space between the finite and the infinite....music may be the means of arousing and awakening the best of hope, the best of desire, the best in the heart and soul of those who will and do listen.  is not music the universal language, both for those who would give praise and those who are sorry in their hearts and souls? is it not a means, a manner of universal expression?  thus may the greater hope come.'

'the purpose in life, then, is not the gratifying of appetites nor of any selfish desires, but it is that the entity, the soul, may make the earth, where the soul finds its consciousness, a better place in which to live.'

'music should be a part of each soul's development.' ---edgar cayce

enjoy the day!

posted by bluematrix at 11/18/04 18:15 | link | comments (3)

a philosophical question...

life without passion is drab. to view life with the wonder of a child is a gift. as i get older i find i don't get as excited about things as i used to. and i miss it, the zest for living, the thing the french call joie de vivre - joy of life. without it life takes on a certain numbness.

yet the eastern religions i study and admire ask us to work towards achieving a sense of calm serenity, the bliss of the sage. i know the value of, and strive towards, balance in my life. but balance by definition is an equalization. as i get nearer to centeredness i feel like my life is running through audio compressor (a device that flattens the peaks and brings up the lows in a recording signal). and while i really don't miss the low lows too much, i long for the high highs, and they are few and far between these days.

part of the reason for this has to be tolerance thresholds - something highly stimulating at first is not near as stimulating the 50th time.

part of it is life experience saturation - or the 'been there done that' phenomenon. there are only so many new genres to experience before you start getting serious overlap.

and part of it seems to be that i am becoming more aware of broad repeating patterns in all things - there are only a handful of basic plots for books or movies or songs, there only so many sexual positions, only so many types of geographic terrain to explore, a finite number of ways to excite the senses, etc.

so my question is this - is possible to have (and sustain over a lifetime) both a childlike wonder and zest for life AND the serenity and balance that life experience brings. passion and serenity seem mutually exclusive.

posted by bluematrix at 11/15/04 22:07 | link | comments (8)

"Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing." -Mother Teresa (1910-97)

posted by bluematrix at 11/14/04 23:58 | link | comments (4)

since i'm out of town for a long weekend i'm going to do something i've never done here before - rerun an old post from almost a year ago. it just called out to me to run it next to my last entry.

it was late, after 2 am. i backed the little black car into the garage and made my way into the house. it was quiet and dark. through the kitchen, i started down the long narrow hall, lit by the tiny blue flat nightlight in the socket low on the wall. my ears still rang from our practice amps earlier, then more from having the stereo turned up on the long drive home. peter gabriel.

the bedroom door on the left was open a crack. kelhan was five. blond hair blue eyes, unlike either his mother or father. in the dim glow of another nightlight, i saw his bed was empty. probably a bad dream and sleeping with his mother. the spare bedroom door was open on the right. i could make out a small figure on the bed. he was sitting up and his eyes were wide, like a scared animal. he watched me as i came into the room lit by the full moon coming through the window.

'kel, it's pretty late, buddy. what are you still doing up?' i said as i reached to pick him up and carry him back to his room. he was light, too light. the doctor said he had lost a pound in the last month. five year olds are not supposed to lose weight. the meds he was on had him wired like some midget speed freak. i remember reading somewhere that baby whales can gain hundreds of pounds a week. i turned on a small lamp and put him on his bed. with his shirt pulled up, i saw his ribs poking through his thin pale skin. earlier in the week i had rented the pianist and i remember the sick feeling i had when i saw the archive photos of the starving jews. the sick feeling returned as i looked at my son.

'dad?'

'what is it buddy?'

'i'm sorry i'm such a bad sleeper.' my chest constricted. my throat tightened. my eyes burned, but i was not going to scare him by letting him see my pain. i faked a smile i thought would work in the low light. i smoothed his hair a bit, a gesture i did often and i hoped was reassuring.

'aww, kel, its ok. wanna know a secret?' a small nod. i leaned forward, 'i'm not a very good sleeper either sometimes.' i gently pushed him back onto his pillow. i had to physically run my hand softly over his face to get him to close his eyes. it didn't work and i repeated the movement. he rolled on his side. i ran my hand over the jutting ribcage. it was so not right. he started to drift off, his body doing these weird little jerks. later, as i rose to leave a little hand shot out to grab my arm. i sat back down on his bed and stroked his back like i often did the cat. finally, i made my way back out into the dark hallway, and leaned my head back against the wall. it was so not right.

(except for being kinda ornery, kelhan is fine now)

posted by bluematrix at 11/11/04 15:34 | link | comments

i don't watch tv much, but last night Bravo had on the 100 scariest moments in movies. It made me think of my scariest moments - this is one right up there. (I know most blog entries are supposed to short - sorry for yet another lengthy one.


Even though i hadn't slept much during the night, the morning started off well. "Tim, it's time to go." she said.

Surprisingly, she had gone along with my desire to name him Rael, a character Peter Gabriel had invented that had made a fairly large impression on me in my youth. On the short drive to St. John's (where there are 1,200 babies born there every month), I felt my choice reinforced when, at 1 am on a commercial radio station, they played Salisbury Hill, a favorite old tune of his. A good sign I thought.

The hospital room was clean and bright. We had a single room - a perk from her being a therapist there. The OBGYN was a small woman from India named Veejay, with a soft voice and dark, gentle eyes. After giving my wife a drug to induce the birthing process, she would check on up on us every few hours as we waited for the contractions to start coming closer together. Misty looked and felt pretty damn uncomfortable and was getting more so by the minute. But Rael was not ready to make his world debut yet. There was little I could do but give her ice chips to suck on and keep her company. Evening came and the only sounds were the tv turned way down and the fetal heartbeat monitor beeping out a steady, strong rhythm.

Her pain started to increase beyond what she imagined it would and she wanted an epidurual, now. The doctor was ready for this decision and came in with the largest needle I'd ever seen and stuck it into her lower spine. (For the hundredth time in the last few weeks, I was thankful of my good fortune for being born a male.) The pain became more tolerable and, exhausted after being in labor for 18 hours, she tried to rest - with little success.

More hours passed and each time Veejay would examine her and declare she still wasn't ready. (But the pain has worsened to the point where she received two more epidurals) I could see the lack of sleep for weeks, the pain, the stress, were all taking its toll on my mate. This is ridiculous, I thought, and considered suggesting the C-section again, but she was adamant in wanting a natural birth.

Finally it was time to begin the final phase and orderlies quickly transformed our cheery hospital room to serious operating room by pulling out all sorts of lights and stirrups and machines from the cabinets around us. It didn't seem long before the tiny doctor was telling Misty to push. She did so, and simultaneously squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. Her body grew taught as she strained, and the beeping of the babies heart rate went through the roof. Veejay waiting at the end of the table reminded me of a catcher waiting for a baseball...and waiting and waiting. She frowned, and my level of concern went up a notch.

"Let's try it again, dear. Now push hard." Veejay said gently in an accent of a language far older than my own. After 22 hours of labor, I wondered just how much strength was left in her. Through tears, she gripped my hand, her grip much weaker this time, and tried again to bring our child into the world. And again the babies heart beat raced wildly and again nothing came out and again everyone in the room slumped a little with disappointment.

Now the doctor leaned over and reached up and into my wife to see if she could figure out by touch what was wrong. In addition to the total exhaustion I saw on Misty's face, I now saw a new emotion - fear. "The baby has the umbilical cord wrapped around it's neck." the doctor said. That would explain things - every time she pushed, she almost strangled him.

Then the thought came. I had never even considered it before, but now it popped full-fledged into my mind - 'What if we lose the baby?' It had taken so long. Two years of tests, and crying, and procedures, and...stop! I shook my head and turned back to my wife. The look in her eyes told me she was thinking the same thing.

The small, gloved hand of the slender woman continued to work unseen inside of Misty's womb. Now fear was leaving and panic was setting in. Misty's eyes grew large. I stroked her sopping wet hair and told her it would all be ok, but neither of us really believed it.

"I think I may have got it." but her voice was unsure. "I know you're tired dear, but you need to push again."

"I don't think I can." she said with her voice cracking and tears streaming down her tired face.

"Yes you can dear, one more time." the calm indian voice came through the thin hospital mask.

She somehow found the strength to push yet again and this time Rael's heartbeat did not go crazy. "I can see his head now dear, you're almost there. You need to push again, hard."

"I CAN'T!" but we both knew she would, because now we had a glimmer of hope. There was no way I could have gone through this ordeal and I looked at my wife in awe as she pushed yet again. And screamed.

And then he was out.

My friends had told me stories of how they had got to cut the cord themselves and how proud that moment was for them - but that was not for me. Veejay quickly cut the cord and a nurse just as quickly wrapped a small blanket around him and brought him over us. Our relief at seeing him was immense but short lived. The nurse led me away from the bed and another nurse wheeled in a cart containing the largest and most frightening collection of stainless steel surgical instruments I had ever seen and Veejay went back to work.

I stood there holding my new son and all I could think of was 'what the hell am I going to do if she dies?' Not 'how cool is this", not 'I can't believe I have a son', just 'what in hell am I going to do if she dies right now?'

She had lost a lot of blood. On and on they worked on her near unconscious body across the room from me. They used every single damn instrument on that cart. My tears fell on my new son as I wondered where I would find the strength if I had to raise him alone. After a while, a nurse gently took him from me to clean him, weigh him, tag him and whatever else they do to newborns.

Finally Veejay put down her instruments and carefully took my wife's legs out of the stirrups and told me she was going to be ok. I walked over to verify that for myself and then was led me out of the room as they wheeled her bed away.

She spent days recovering, and as we ate the bland thanksgiving turkey dinner from the cafeteria in our tiny hospital room with our new healthy son, we both realized just how much we had to be thankful for.

Unbelievably, two years later she overrode my fears (and forgot hers) and bore a second son (with no trouble).

posted by bluematrix at 11/07/04 10:15 | link | comments (5)