janesotherstuff

[janesotherstuff]

WEIRD BIRDS; Kākāpō

It ain’t easy being green

I’m not sure who decided this strange and clumsy ground dweller was a suitable design for a bird, but whoever it was sure had a sense of humour.

The Kakapo is a member of the parrot family - his name means ‘night parrot’ in Maori - and can be found slowly bumbling along the forest floors of New Zealand.

Looking much like the wise but terribly deaf gardener for a stately home in Kent, the poor nocturnal Kakapo is on the critically endangered list, with numbers hovering around a shockingly scant 125 individuals in the wild, making it one of the rarest birds in the world. This is partly due to some genius in the 1880s who decided to release stoats into the forest to help reduce rabbit and rat populations. Unfortunately the stoats didn’t get the memo which said “Oh, but don’t touch the Kakapos, we’d quite like to keep those.” And so the poor birds suffered a significant loss at the hands of this furry hit squad. Did I mention that they can’t fly? Yes, they have to walk everywhere.

Because Kakapos were living predator-free for thousands of years on their little island, they were able to evolve the attributes which make them so unique; being flightless, slow and incredibly tame having never known enemies, and therefore, not knowing how to be afraid. Their misfortune began only once the carnivores were introduced. The poor things really stood no chance. And trying to save them has proven a bit of a rollercoaster over the years.

Photo by New Zealand Birds Online

In 1894 a very insightful naturalist named Richard Henry saw that Kakapo numbers were in decline, so over a period of fourteen years he started to move them to their own non-weasel inhabited island where they remained predator free for a while. Frustratingly, the sneaky mustelids somehow found their way over and wiped out the Kakapos there too. Several similar attempts were made to isolate the birds in order to keep them safe, but every time predators managed to invade. It must have been an incredibly frustrating experience.

Nowadays however, the wonderful Kakapo Recovery organisation in New Zealand keeps an eye out for our unlucky friends. They were set up in 1989 order to help recover and maintain the remaining birds, and they still do an amazing job today. The staff at the organisation help the Kakapos by keeping predators away, supplying food supplements and keeping a close eye on each and every bird. Their careful and painstaking research, endless patience and pure dedication have ensured that the Kakapos at least have a chance now.

If you’d like to donate to their cause, find our more or adopt a Kakapo of your very own you can do so on their website, here.

Sterling work guys, well done.

[janesotherstuff]

The dunnock

Religiously sinful; debauchery in the hedgerow

Dunnocks; I’m sure you’ve seen these guys hopping about in your garden, and I expect you thought they were sparrows. You’d be forgiven for thinking this, considering what they look like and that their other common name is ‘hedge sparrow’. They are brown and grey inconspicuous little birds which often go unnoticed in the garden, but are actually not closely related to sparrows themselves. However, these seemingly plain LBJs (little brown jobs) may look boring, but they hide a bit of a naughty secret. But I’ll get to that in a bit.

Britain’s love for nature really blossomed during the nineteenth century, with scientists like Charles Darwin paving the way for how we view the natural world today. It became a popular hobby amongst amateurs too, and one such amateur was an Irish priest named Reverend Francis Orpen Morris. Morris spent much of his adult life in Yorkshire and became the Deacon of Dewsbury in 1834. He was what was known as a ‘parish-naturalist’, a title given to clergymen who would study the natural world and science as an extension of their religious beliefs. Morris came from a family of nature lovers (and clergymen), so it is unsurprising that he continued these trends into his own life.

Giant muttonchops were a legal requirement in the clergy/naturalist world. True story.

He published several books in his lifetime including A Natural History of the Nests and Eggs of British Birds and A History of British Butterflies which were followed by A History of Birds by the mid 1800s (I bet they’re a ripping yarn). He regarded birds to be of high moral standing, and the dunnock in particular was ‘humble in behaviour, drab and sober in its dress’, one from which we humans could certainly learn a thing or two, he undoubtedly thought. After studying these modest birds a while, he announced that they mated for life. Whilst this is certainly true for many birds, it turns out to be spectacularly untrue for dunnocks. Allow me to explain.

When a female dunnock is ready to mate, she will find her chosen male and hide away in a hedgerow with him. Once they have mated, and when Mr Dunnock is not looking, she will sneak off and copulate with other males as well. But if he finds out that she has indeed been unfaithful, he will get upset, slam the door, and encourage her to give up the sperm deposited by the intruder. She will do so, and then let Mr Dunnock mate with her once more (make-up sex). Pizza and cigarettes after probs.

“I’m going to need to confiscate this, Madam”

It sounds confusing, but there is a very simple, very smart reason the females act in this odd and saucy way. During the nesting season, all birds who have mated will help to feed the young. By mating with two males, the female ensures that both of them will help her to feed and raise the chicks. Mr Dunnock, by making sure that only his sperm is used, guarantees that the offspring will all be his. Bit-on-the-side male remains none the wiser that he has been duped out of fatherhood, and so continues to offer help with feeding the young. Smart, eh?

“He’s just a friend, I swear!”

So, it seems that dunnocks, although outwardly faithful, are actually rather indifferent towards their nuptials. Or maybe they’re just into the retro, communal style of raising kids. Who knew such illicit liaisons were happening right under your hedge? It’s like an episode of a trashy soap out there! Dunnocks certainly aren’t the gleaming beacon of loyalty that Reverend Morris once declared them to be. I wonder what he would say to these shocking conclusions if he were around today...

[janesotherstuff]

The UK train saga

A hair raising experience

Now, before I begin I want to make it clear that I have really tried not to rant too much in this post. I know the level of rage that the words ‘train travel' incites in the general public, myself included, but please try to contain your excitement. This is a respectable blog.   

Taking train journeys in the UK - something I do fairly often - can be a testing experience. The bad encounters are many; the prices, the punctuality, the general hair-raising frustration and of course there are always the dreaded toilets (I don't want to talk about those). I am also not going to be talking politics here, because there isn’t enough space on the internet, so, for now, lets start with the food trolley, because it seems as good a place to start as any. 

I don't know whose idea having a refreshments trolley on trains was, but when he thought it up I reckon he must have had a good laugh about it with his mates afterwards. I am sure you must know what I am talking about here; those squeaky wheeled, awkward, cumbersome metal things, loaded with sandwiches, tiny bottles of alcohol, tea and coffee which only just fit through the isle of the train. If you have any luggage or appendages sticking out even a fraction into the isle when it comes through, you will be reminded sharply of this as the trolley goes by (my dog’s tail once found out the hard way). And woe betide anyone who wants to try and get past the trolley whilst it is in the middle of the carriage. Oh no, Sir, you will just have to wait until those 75 coffees have been served. 

These guys get it.

Every train trip I take, I always end up buying a cup of tea when the trolley passes through my carriage. I don't know what compels me to do this because train tea, without fail, always tastes awful. When did making a cup of tea become so difficult? It seems that just because we are on a train, making a brew suddenly becomes incredibly troublesome. Is there a special area at the tea factory where they use floor scrapings to fill train-tea bags? My guess is yes, they do. Actually, I have noticed that some tea bags used on trains have a special foil attachments that you can bend over the lip of the cup to stop it from sloshing around, but these tea bags are always so rammed with leaves they provide absolutely no movement for a decent brewing period anyway, regardless of wether it can move or not. They look more like miniature pillows, and not the soft kind. Where’s a pyramid bag when you need one? I am considering bringing my own tea bags on trains with me in the future, which I think will give me a decent head start towards being middle aged, but at least I will leave the train refreshed and pleased and rather than annoyed and skint. 

Because not only does it taste terrible, it also costs an arm and a leg. What makes me part with eye-watering sums of money for tea that tastes like grouting mixture is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it is simply my routine, or that if I pretend hard enough I will have normal tasting tea, or maybe I do it to take my mind off the fact that I can usually see something resembling sick on the floor. If you ever buy anything from a refreshments trolley you will always find yourself stuttering in shock at how much it costs. Outwardly, of course, your British politeness urges you to pay the ridiculous fees, but internally you are thinking “I’m going to have to remortgage the house.” I usually console myself for having just paid £3 for my tea buy buying an unnecessarily large bag of salt & vinegar crisps for £5. Such is life. 

Smug bastard.

My guess is that the trolley people are probably trained in the same place as the people who decide on ticket prices. The ones who deem it a reasonable request for you to hand over your life savings for a ticket to Manchester. I swear I once heard the trolley man and the ticket guy laughing behind the door:   

"Ha ha! Those suckers will pay anything for this tea which I scraped off my shoe earlier!" 

"I know! And that guy in coach D paid £789 for a single to Woking! What a loser!" 

I’m not going to talk about ticket prices though because I fear I may lose myself in that rage I mentioned earlier. So instead, let us move on and discuss trains Oop North. I don't know if you have ever experienced catching a train in the north of England, but if not, may I suggest that you do so, as it will provide you with hours of cryptic puzzle solving, several brisk exercise sessions and dozens of exciting and hilarious stories to pass on to the grandchildren involving the wrong tickets and missed trains. It’s a hoot.

I sometimes head up north to visit my friends in the small Yorkshire village of Slaithwaite (pronounced 'Slawit', don't ask me why) and getting up there is almost always a nerve fraying experience. Once I am on the train from Kings Cross in London, all descends into chaos as I become aware that I will need to change trains three times, all at different stations to the last time I visited. On one particular trip a few years ago, upon leaving a train I wasn't sure where I needed to go next, so I asked a kind looking lady in uniform;

"Excuse me, I need to get a Slaithwaite, do you know where I need to go?"

"Aye, you'll need to get a train heading north to Wakefield Kirkgate and change to Leeds, then get yer Slaithwaite train from there. Make sure you've got the right ticket because South Pennines express tickets are the only ones permitted on that route. Oh, and just so you know, that train will arrive, then go back the way it came for no reason and suddenly you'll be in Wakefield Westgate. Don't worry, this is normal. From Leeds you'll need to cross the station to get the train to Huddersfield which will leave either 4 hours, or 20 seconds after your train arrives. At Huddersield change to platform 4B and get the train to Slaithwaite. It's only every other train though, so watch the boards to check or you'll end up in Southern Spain. Oh and by the way, make sure you get off at Westfield Wakegate, NOT Wakefield Westgate, ok? Everyone gets that wrong."

"Do they really?” I replied with shrill alarm. "I can't think why! You'd have to be an idiot not to understand this! Ha ha ha!” (I didn't really, because I was too busy trying not to have a panic attack.)

"And you'd best be quick about it because your train leaves in 15 seconds from platform fifty eight."

“OK!!" I said in a high pitched shriek as I checked my watch, "What platform are we on now?"

“One. Have a good journey."

Do you see what we are up against? Alas, this is the way the trains work in this country, and I don’t see it changing any time soon. I could complain about this until the cows come home (incidentally, what it time is that?) but I will need to save up some bitching space for Royal Mail at some point. 

It could be worse.

Whenever I get exasperated about our trains, I close my eyes and just thank Jebus I don’t have to deal with the trains in India on a regular basis. The system over here is a beacon of punctuality compared with theirs. I know this because I once waited 7 hours for a train to arrive in Agra, and I probably could have walked there in that time. 

But that is another blog post entirely. I’m off to make a cup of tea.

[janesotherstuff]

WEIRD BIRDS; Secretarybird

This is one bold eagle...

Looking like a confused eagle who suddenly found himself at the circus, was told to put on stilts, a ridiculous wig and make-up, the Secretarybird is something of a curiosity in many ways.

Although they look like they might belong to the stalk or crane family, Secretarybirds are actually birds of prey, related to falcons, eagles and hawks. They live in Africa where they use their supermodel legs to trample upon unsuspecting mice and lizards in the long grass. Their rather studious name is thought to have been derived from the fetching crest of quill-like feathers atop their head, giving them the appearance of a secretary with a pen behind his ear. Research has yet to be done on wether their grammar is any good though.

Those incredibly long legs - which are covered in hard scales to protect from venomous snakes bites - often allow the bird to stand up to four feet in height. They are formidable hunters and spend more time on the ground than they do in the air. They use their keen raptor eyesight to find prey, as well as their hearing to listen for rustlings in the grass. They then jump to heights of up to five feet in order to come crashing down upon the poor snake who just thought he’d go out for a stroll.

Secretarybirds have been much admired over the years by native Africans due to their useful abilities as pest control. They feature prominently on South Africa’s coat of Arms, as well as being the national emblem of Sudan. They are sometimes referred to by locals as the ‘Devil’s Horse’ (rude) and due to this superstition they have mostly been left alone.

The South African coat of arms - text at the bottom translates ‘please keep snakes inside at all times’

But as times modernise and superstitions wane, the birds are now, sadly, listed by the IUCN as vulnerable, with populations in decline due to habitat loss, especially the grasslands in which they hunt.

Secretarybirds prove that nature doesn’t always have a blueprint for a species, because clearly none of the other falcons in the world were in the queue on the day they were handing out long legs and interesting hair. 

But I think they’re rather special. Even their latin name Sagittarius serpentarius conjures up a confusing mix of characters; a centaur with a bow and arrow plus a snake. They are basically falcons on stilts with terrible makeup skills, named after someone who can use a typewriter, half horse, half man with a bit of snake thrown in for good measure. 

Oh also, they make this noise:

The Secretarybird; bewildering, but delightful nonetheless.

[janesotherstuff]

WEIRD BIRDS; Western Parotia

Aliens have landed

“Right, I’m leaving the planet. We are being attacked by UFOs. Goodbye.”

Dramatic, but I see your point. This is the Western Parotia, one of 41 species of bird of paradise, and they are found only in a very specific mountain region of New Guinea. Like his cousin the Superb Bird of Paradise, I had to include the Parotia in the ‘weird birds’ part of my blog because you have to see them to believe they are real, and you can do that by watching the video at the end of this post.

The females of this species are somewhat dull in appearance - as is often the case with birds - sporting brown back feathers and a pretty striped front plumage and blue eyes. The males in comparison are resplendent in a flamboyant, shiny black onsie (not unlike Elvis), also with bright blue eyes (...like Elvis) and dance moves like... well, Elvis. He might as well have flashing lights too.

But what makes these birds weird is in fact those Elvis dance moves. Take a look at the picture below. Males look like this while performing their mating dance, and boy do they know how to dance. They use their iridescent chest feathers as a shield to catch the light - and any nearby females’ attention - whilst hopping about on the forest floor, shaking their heads from side to side and bobbing their antennae up and down. The result is a mad flying saucer-shaped ballerina, obviously what passes for sexy in Parotia-land.

And if a female Parotia happens to be passing, she surely won’t be able to resist. I know I wouldn’t. You can’t knock them for effort. As with all these manic courting displays, the female uses it to decide wether he will make a good father for her chicks. It’s like X-factor for wildlife.

In certain parts of the world, animals have evolved in very distinctive ways and New Guinea is a wonderful example of this diversity. Considering the island covers only 0.5% of Earth’s landmass, it is astonishing that it holds between 5-10% of the total species on the entire planet. Think about that for a second. That’s the same amount of wildlife found in the USA or Australia, and those places are massive. That’s like if everyone in the UK (62 million of us) all piled into to Hackney. The place is so full you can’t move for animals, like Ikea on a Sunday afternoon. Or like Hackney...

You’ll notice a lot of the birds in this blog come from that region, and there is a reason for that. Over millennia the islands have shifted and moved, undergone countless changes in temperature and weather, and as a result can boast flora and fauna to rival that of much bigger areas like the rainforests of Brazil. In fact, it is so large and specific in its biological distinctiveness, it could almost be considered a continent all its very own. But I won’t go on about that. You can read more from the WWF here.

So this is what goes on in remote forests far away from human life. Birds have their own Saturday night entertainment where the boys dress up in sequins, sing and do a little dance whilst the females judge their skills and decide if they are manly enough for them.

As mentioned earlier, I suspect you will probably need video evidence that something like this actually exists. So here it is. This dance inspired a lot of the Bee Gees early work. True story.

[janesotherstuff]

WEIRD BIRDS; Eclectus parrots

Women are from Venus, Eclectus parrots are from god-knows-where

Lots of bird species have males and females which look so different from one another, it is hard to imagine they even belong to the same social group. But when you see male and female Eclectus parrots sitting side by side, you would be entirely forgiven for thinking they were from different planets. I actually wonder if the birds don’t have to remind themselves of this when they spot a member of the opposite sex wandering along a branch. Indeed, when these parrots were first observed in the wild they were thought to be two distinct species.

The males are a lively lime green with blue wing tips and a bright yellow-orange beak, while the females, whose plumage is a variety of plush burgundies and reds mixed with bright purples, have black beaks. This extreme colour variation between sexes is known as sexual dimorphism. It’s pretty rare for birds of the same species to look this different, and its purpose is quite complicated. Allow me to explain. Eclectus parrots live - like so many of the birds in this blog - in the lush rainforests of New Guinea and surrounding areas. An evolutionary ecologist named Rob Heinsohn spent a lot of time sitting in trees and following these birds to see what they got up to. He also wondered why their colours were so different, and here is what he discovered.

When it comes to nesting time, the female finds herself a hollow in a tree where she stays, brooding her eggs until they hatch. During this time, the male will go and collect food for her. But she won’t just accept food from one male, oh no. She will have several suitors coming to the nest, often at the same time. I know, it’s outrageous. Rob was curious to see how far the males travelled when they foraged, so he decided to follow them in a small aeroplane (because why wouldn’t you have one of those lying around the rainforest?) to see what they got up to. He found that they often flew distances of up to 40 miles to get food. ‘Awww! What a sweet, caring husband that bird is!’ you might think. But hold your horses for one cotton pickin’ minute, because Rob also observed that the males made sneaky visits to other nesting females on their little escapades away from the wife! The scandal! So they’re both at it when the cat’s away! Such loose morals from both parties. I wonder if they have been reading too much Jackie Collins.

But this is all done with serious intentions. Females want to make sure they are well fed, and they do this by letting all the males mate with them in exchange for food. The females are well looked after, and males get to sire the next generation. It’s win-win. 

So what’s up with the colours? Well, when the males fly out to collect food, they spend a lot of time in the open, so being green gives them excellent camouflage against the forest canopy - they need to be able to hide. Females on the other hand, need to be seen - by the males, as well as other females who might be looking for a tree hollow of their own - so their vibrant red and purple colouring stands out like a flag against the tree, as if to say “I’m here! Come feed me!” or “This tree is mine, BACK OFF, lady!”

So there we have it. Dress codes are important, especially when your love life is this complicated.

[janesotherstuff]

Ada Lovelace

  The Mother of Motherboards

On this International Women’s day, March 8th 2016, I have written this post about Ada Lovelace, a very important figure in the history of science and technology. You may not have heard of her, but you need to learn about her. Read on, dear viewer.

Augusta Ada King, Countess of Lovelace aka Augusta Ada Byron aka Ada Lovelace (plus probably 50 other names) was an English mathematician and writer. She was born on the 10th December, 1815 and was the only legitimate child of the well known and much loved poet Lord Byron and his wife Anne Isabella. All of Byron's other children were born out of wedlock, which is perhaps not that shocking when you know just what he used to get up to. As you may remember, Lord Byron brought us classics such as 'Don Juan' and 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage'

*blank stares*

Let's move on.

Not long after Ada was born, Isabella decided she’d had quite enough of Lord Byron's aristocratic excesses, so she left him, taking baby Ada with her. From an early age, Ada developed a keen interest in maths and the sciences. This was encouraged by her mother who always remained bitter with Lord Byron as she didn't want Ada to turn out to be a creative, floaty, useless artist like him. Heaven forbid. Nevertheless, Ada took an interest in her father’s life despite her mother’s scorn towards him, which remained even after his death, because grudges hath no sell-by date.

Lord Byron; Smarmy git

In her later years, and in a nod to Lord Byron's creativity Ada would come to refer to her methods as "poetical science”, which I think is rather sweet. Her mother, I’m sure, would have thought not. 

Lovelace is chiefly known for her work on Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine, an early version of a mechanical general-purpose computer. Her notes on the engine include what is recognised as the first algorithm intended to be carried out by a machine. Whilst translating notes about the machine written in French, her interest was sparked and she returned the notes with extensive and important observations of her own, which provided invaluable information for Babbage’s progress. Because of this, she is often described as the world's first computer programmer. Being a brilliant mathematician, she also helped Babbage with his formulas and on occasion she helped to correct the errors in his equations, also making her the first computer debugger!

The clincher was that Lovelace realised as soon a machine could crunch numbers, there was nothing to stop it from analysing other data in the same way. She said;

"[The Analytical Engine] might act upon other things besides number, were objects found whose mutual fundamental relations could be expressed by those of the abstract science of operations, and which should be also susceptible of adaptations to the action of the operating notation and mechanism of the engine…

   Supposing, for instance, that the fundamental relations of pitched sounds in the science of harmony and of musical composition were susceptible of such expression and adaptations, the engine might compose elaborate and scientific pieces of music of any degree of complexity or extent."

The Analytical Engine; where computers began (after Acorn, obviously)

This incredibly forward way of thinking - as she well knew - was important and useful for the future of modern technology, and Babbage often referred to her as 'The Enchantress of Numbers’. What a charmer.

Sadly though, Ada did not receive the recognition she so deserved, partly because she was a woman, and partly because Babbage’s peers felt that Analytical Engine was not of any significance to the scientific world. Oh, what fools. If only Twitter had been around back then. But thanks to her efforts all that time ago, we are able to develop software and programming to incredible reaches today.

Thankfully, what she left behind is still very much felt all over the world. You can celebrate Ada Lovelace Day on October 14th and there is even a computer programming language still used today which was named after her.  

If you want to see a prototype for The Analytical Engine and you find yourself in London, part of it is quite rightfully displayed in the Science Museum.

“Think you know computers? Bitch, please. I invented that shit.”

Proving that you can get science done no matter how much lace you wear (well, YOLO), Ada truly was a pioneer, and considering she was living in a time when women were pretty much second class citizens, her accomplishments were outstanding. So I hope that whilst you are reading this on your internet browser using a shiny operating system (all of which are programmed software), you will give a little thought to the person who helped make it all possible in the first place.

Those, I think you will agree, are pretty awesome accomplishments for a woman living in the early 1800s.

Happy International women’s Day!

[janesotherstuff]

The Rut

Oh Deer... (sorry)

The red deer is Britain’s largest deer, and in fact our largest land mammal. If you have ever seen one in the flesh I’m sure you will agree that they are truly magnificent beasts. Named for their beautifully thick auburn fur, these deer can be found all over the world. They were once quite rare in the UK, but happily conservation efforts in the 1800’s saw their numbers rise and now they are abundant and thriving once more.

One Autumn a couple of years ago my husband and I decided to visit Richmond park in west London, which is home to many red deer - as well as their smaller cousins, the fallow deer - to watch the seasonal ‘rut’. This occurs during the breeding season, from September to November, and if you have not seen this lively activity first hand, I cannot recommend it enough. It works like this; the stags will spend a long time strutting around trying to impress the females, rounding up as many as they can to create ‘harems’, and then spend the rest of season trying to stop them leaving.

A lot of time is also spent roaring and chasing away competing stags in a frenzied and irate manner. But if an imposter stag decides he is big enough take on the standing male, the two will face off in an aggressive battle of dominance, noisily clashing their antlers head on. They do this to find out which of the two is stronger, and whoever wins will get to either keep, or take over the harem, whilst the other is forced to skulk off empty handed.

The bigger the stag, the older he is and the more females he will usually have. A successful stag is an impressive beast and one not to be trifled with, possessing huge antlers and a thick neck to prove it. They often like to dig the ground with their antlers to adorn themselves with a fetching hat of grass and mud in order to make themselves appear bigger (and possibly more fashionable).

The 80s have nothing on this guy

This typically noisy and boisterous display of dominance and testosterone is often met by the female deer - known as does or hinds - with a certain level of nonchalance, boredom even. You get the distinct impression that they have seen it all before. If deer could roll their eyes, I believe this is what they would be doing. Sometimes when they have had enough, they will try to escape the clutches of their possessive captor and sneak away to see if anything more enticing lies beyond the harem edges. This always sends the stag into agitated hysterics as he bellows and runs after her, trying to keep her from running off. Often when this happens, a couple of the other females will seize the opportunity to tiptoe away while the stag’s attentions are occupied elsewhere, and he will return to his usual duties none the wiser. It’s really quite fun.

Once the rut is over and the deer have successfully mated, the stag’s hard work will have paid off and he can be assured that he will have sired a good number of next year’s young, who will come along between May and July.

If you decide to go and watch the stags during their rut, do remember to watch at a safe distance. Males are not afraid to charge at anything they see as a potential threat during this time, which is everything. ALWAYS keep your dog on a lead around the deer - it is with a hand slapped to my forehead that I recall the alarming video of Fenton the dog running off into the sunset after a herd of deer in Richmond Park. Remember, these are wild animals and thus need to be treated with the utmost respect.

Don’t let this be you

But rest assured, this makes a fantastic day out with the family - the rut really is nature in it’s rawest element and one of most exciting natural events you can hope to see right in the heart of the city.

[janesotherstuff]

Atatürk

You Mustafa look at this...

This handsome devil is a man called Atatürk, who is arguably one of the most important leaders and political figures in Turkey’s modern history. 

Allow me to explain.

Mustafa Kemal Atatürk was born in 1881 and was a military leader, revolutionary statesman and all round pretty good bloke. Having graduated from military school at the age of 15, he went on to fight his way through a load of battles for the Ottoman Empire while gradually climbing up the ranks for generally being awesome. He didn’t like the way the Ottoman empire ruled at all so in between fighting battles and sending the enemy packing, he somehow had time to do some epic speeches. He told crowds of people that things could be better for them and that he would make this happen. They believed him, and he did it. Because, frankly, why the heck not? You can't argue with a jawline like that.

Atatürk did a lot of revolutionising during his time on earth. Suffice to say he had a lot on his plate (the furrowed brow says it all). I cannot explain it all because you'll die of old age before I finish, so here is an extremely brief summary of some of it:

By the time WWI came along, the Ottoman Empire was already in decline, but as a military officer he successfully led three Ottoman divisions in the defence of the Dardanelles against the Allied Forces (Italy, England and France). After the war, he led a successful national uprising known as the Turkish War of Independence against the Allied forces and the last Ottoman sultan Mehmed VI, which laid the foundation of the new Turkish State. He wanted to see Turkey become an independent state, a democratic and secular country, on a level with the rest of changing Europe. The people wanted this too and so he created parliament and they elected him as the first President of the Republic of Turkey. The Ottoman Empire was gone and modern day Turkey was born. 

The man loved a good hat

Under his leadership over the next fifteen years thousands of new schools were built, primary education was made free and women were given equal rights. He also lessened the tax handed out to poor folk. Importantly, he also recognised that religion and government should be entirely separate. And in between all this ass-kicking, he still had time to learn German and French to fluidity, obviously.

One of my favourite facts about Mustafa is that he gave people surnames. Yes, you heard. People did not have surnames in Turkey before Mustafa came along. 

He told everyone they could pick a family name of their choice. This only happened in 1932 and it quite astonishing to think that people from only one or two generations ago did not have surnames until this time. My husband (who is Turkish, btw) informs me that people would often just use their occupation or area of residence as a surname. I find this option slightly devoid of inspiration considering you could choose literally any word you wanted. I mean, anything. Why call yourself ‘Brian Fishmonger’ when you can choose something brilliant like ‘Brian One Of The Most Excellent People You'll Ever Meet’ ? 

I am sure I don’t know. Perhaps it was hot on name-day and they couldn't be arsed to wait in line.

The one name which wasn’t allowed to be taken by anybody else was ‘Atatürk’. This name translates as ‘Father of the Turks’ and was given solely to Mustafa Kemal for the rest of his life and beyond. Because, as I may have already mentioned, he was awesome.

Atatürk died in 1938 and his presence is still very much felt across Turkey today. When I visited Turkey earlier this year, I was quite moved to see his face in so many places, often hanging on flags out of people’s windows. As in all politics, of course there were plenty of people who didn't like what Atatürk had done and still don't today. But we'll ignore them and just agree that he was great. 

It is good to know that he is still revered, loved and remembered as Father of the Turks. Let me end here with a quote from the great man; “There are two Mustafa Kemals; One the flesh-and-blood Mustafa Kemal who now stands before you and who will pass away. The other is you, all of you here who will go to the far corners of our land to spread the ideals which must be defended with your lives if necessary. I stand for the nation's dreams, and my life's work is to make them come true.”