Fibonacci or Maybe It's Just Really Random?

A bee colony is headed by a queen who near the beginning of her life mated with a number of male drones.  The spermatozoa are then stored by the queen and she uses it throughout her lifespan to fertilise eggs.  She has the ability to decide which sperm (from which drone) to use to fertilise the egg, or not fertilize it at all.  Unfertilized eggs grow into drones – a male clone of the queen – who will then hopefully go out of the hive and mate with other newly hatched queens and pass on her genetics to that hive.  If ever I believed that there was someone/thing behind all this and ultimately in control – some God type figure – it is in the next bit.  These drone bees have no father (because they’re born from an unfertilised egg) although they do have a mother (the queen that laid the egg).  That mother queen has two parents (because it’s female) – a drone and a queen – and the next generation will be three great grandparents (two queens and one drone), and the next (great great grandparents) will be five individuals – three queens and two drones.  So on and so forth.  So the actual number of individual bees in each generation is this: 1 (the current male drone bee); 1 (queen); 2 (drone, queen); 3 (queen, queen, drone); 5 (drone, queen, drone, queen, queen); 8 (queen, drone, queen, queen, drone, queen, drone, queen).  The sequence being 1,1,2,3,5,8 and on and on and on.  The sum of the two lower numbers always make up the next number in the sequence.  In maths this sequence is named after its discoverer, Fibonacci, and can be found

throughout nature such as in the shape of the leaves on a stem or the arrangements of a pinecone, to the curves seen in shells or the shape of a hurricane.  This seems to be some type of signature of life on Earth – and has been used as an argument for the existence of God (although I don’t know which one) as it points towards chaos not being as chaotic as you would think.

Harry, my wife and I spent some time over Christmas with my sister and her family.  My niece was there with her partner, who had brought his brother along – someone I (nor Harry) had ever met before.  I don’t know if he was pre-briefed on Harry but this guy (we’ll call him Josh) was great with him.  Harry was asking about his tattoos, pulling his beard, jumping on his lap.  Harry’s nine years old – getting a bit too big for this type of play, but Josh took it on the chin.  It was Christmas after all and Harry was the only child in the room.  Well done, Josh.  It’s appreciated.  You should think about having kids of your own – you’re a natural.  It’s good for Harry to meet new people – and play with them.

But it made me think – that’s not Fibonacci is it?  This doesn’t adhere to nature’s code.  My niece meets a guy, this guy has a brother, this brother gets on really well with Harry.  Doesn’t that say that this random meeting of people and whether we get on or not, has all to do with chaos and nothing to do with formulae?  Measuring and classifying Harry’s autism is something I’ve been asked to do in the past: “Just how autistic is Harry?”  It’s impossible to say with such a range of characteristics, but it doesn’t matter to us – the people he loves or the new people he meets.  He generally makes a good impression with those people who take the time to interact with him, but not always – some people he just doesn’t like.  No matter how hard they try.  All this chaos and at the end of it we have a nine year old boy with autism, who had a great Christmas, played with some new people and brought joy and love into lots of peoples’ lives.

 

Go figure that out Fibonacci (Fibonacci died some time in the 13th century).

Merry Christmas

Occasionally my life doesn’t involve bees or autism.  It’s good for everyone involved – we all get a break from one another and then come back more loving and committed than we were before.

‘Tis the season and all that.  A few years ago I went drinking during the festive season with people from work.  I don’t drink very often, but Christmas is probably the one time I do let rip.  I took the train home and when I got to my stop I decided to walk to a take-away and get some food.  It’s not busy (it’s not very late – I’m a lightweight) but there are a couple of teenage girls in there, drunk and talking loudly to each other.  One has just split up with her boyfriend and the other is telling her that she’ll do a lot better without him.  The friend grows quiet, maybe tired after giving the newly single buddy all this support.  She’s talking about going to London and getting a job, being famous and becoming a millionaire.  The supportive friend is now silent.  And then the aspiring millionaire starts talking about “now her modelling career is taking off” and that seems to be the last straw for the friend -

Blaydon Carpets

“Joanne, give it a rest will you.  You’re the face of Blaydon Carpets, not f****** Kate Moss”.  I couldn’t hold in my amusement and start laughing.  At first they just look at me, but then they start shouting and swearing at me, making threats.  I continue to laugh – too drunk to realise it could get nasty.  After a minute or so the guy who runs the place throws the two out – without whatever food they were waiting to be served.  I’m still laughing when I get my chips and leave.  I can see the two down the road – fortunately walking in the opposite direction in which I need to go.  I’ve had ten minutes to eat my chips and stop laughing by the time I get home.  Only it’s not ten minutes, because when I get to the street where I live I start to feel the Christmas spirit, so decide to take photos of all my neighbours’ Christmas lights.  I get home, go to bed.  The next morning I awake and look at my phone, just to see about 20 pictures I’ve taken, all with my thumb over the lens.

So if you’re an autism parent what do you take from this?  Well, take a break once in a while.  Do something typical people do.  Go get drunk, go to the cinema, take the wife for lunch.  You’ll feel better for it – we’re not saints.  And if you’re a beekeeper – don’t mess with bees after you’ve had a drink.  They’ll likely kick your butt.

Merry Christmas.

Bananas

A few years ago I saw a Youtube video which showed the correct way to open a banana.  It’s fair to say that it wasn’t exactly a life-affirming event, but it did shave a few seconds off the time it takes – those seconds add up and who knows, when I’m on my deathbed I might get to do that one extra thing because of all the banana time I’ve saved.  I eat a lot of bananas – I love bananas.  So much so, that when my wife bought a dehydrator so as to preserve summer berries to be used over the winter, when she was looking what else to dehydrate she came across bananas, their high content of potassium and how this can be concentrated through dehydration.  Potassium makes for great fertilizer and my banana skins are now being put to a better use than ending up in a landfill.

Bananas came up again this week when I read about a beekeeping myth that feeding bananas to your bees will aid them in overcoming any possible disease or parasite they encounter over the winter months: “…potassium in bananas will help the bees flex their wings, and the gases released from ripe bananas will kill pathogenic spores. A similar posting on Facebook claims bananas will kill Nosema, varroa, and chalkbrood, and a link on Twitter claims your bees will live up to nine times longer on a winter diet of bananas.”  Rusty, the blog author, went on to debunk the myth.  I’d never heard it before, but it never surprises me what some people, sometimes beekeepers for many decades, can believe the oddest theories.  Don’t get me started on lay lines.  The subject came up again when The Bush Bee Man did a Q+A a few days ago - he hadn't heard about bananas either (or rather using them on bees), so it's not just me.

I think the problem is that if we don’t understand something, we think up ever fanciful explanations to help the human mind understand why/how something is happening.  It’s the same with autism.  I’ve heard multiple theories as to the causes of autism (vaccines being the famous one) and multiple hypotheses as to how autism can be cured, or the symptoms of the condition reduced (from gluten free diets, to simply beating the autism out of them).  The truth is, if we care enough, we cling onto hope that someday an answer will be found and our children will turn neurotypical overnight.  Lorenzo’s parent found their oil, after all.

I’m all for research, and I know as many researchers in the field melittology as I do autism.  I’m happy to listen to your theories, but I won’t be buying a surfeit of bananas any time soon.    

Unwanted Visitors

We’re selling the house.  Or I should say, we’re trying to sell the house – it’s been on the market for two years.  There are regular viewings and a number of offers have been made, but we haven’t got the price we’re asking for.  We’re not in a hurry.  I think the main issue is that it’s an unusual house – we like quirky and odd, but most people don’t.  They see it and like the idea and then go and buy a characterless box on a new-build estate.  There are regular viewings and Harry has gotten used to seeing people he doesn’t know traipsing through his kingdom.  There is the occasional problem when people bring their kids with them and naturally they look at his toys (read: dinosaurs) or make a comment about a poster on the wall.  Or one time when they were wearing a t-shirt that he liked and he stared at them none-stop for 30 minutes.  We love him dearly, but he’s no salesman.

It made me think about how the bees deal with visitors to their hives.  It’s been a bad year for wasps.  Or a good year for them, but a bad year for anyone who doesn’t like wasps.  Even at the beginning of the year wasps were in the hive – I’d pull off the super and there’d be at least a couple in there somewhere, feasting on nectar.  There’d be some argy bargy at the entrance of the hive, but once inside the wasps would be left alone – it being too much hassle for the bees to through them out.  A strong hive can defend itself, but a strong hive doesn’t need to go to war to conserve the resources a couple of wasps will finch off them. 

But not all hives are strong – sometimes purposely.  Beekeepers use mini-nucs to raise new queens.  This is a small hive, probably made up of just a couple of hundred bees (usually a cup full) that are used to tend to a queen cell.  The benefit is that fewer resources are taken away from the hive, but the downside is they can’t really defend themselves.  This year my mini-nuc was a disaster.  Wasps quickly found its location, although I made their life as difficult as I could the mini-nuc couldn’t defend itself – its reserves were plundered and the bees were left with nothing.  The queen hatched, but the colony absconded – it wouldn’t have lasted long on its own, but it thought its chances better than staying put.

After the initial argy bargy, Harry usually lets the people get on doing what they want.  He knows what they’re going to do and knows the path of least resistance is to let them get on with it and then they’ll leave.  I hope that means we’re a strong hive.