The annotated budak

  sole scowl 
  Originally uploaded by budak.

It's said that the eyes are the window to the sole. Certainly they betray the presence of this rather large tongue sole (Cynoglossidae) buried in very shallow water at Chek Jawa's sand bank. Also known as tonguefishes, these are some of the most highly derived members of the flatfish order with their caudal fins having become confluent with the dorsal and anal fins to form a seamless organ of sinuous propulsion. Some species in the deep sea thrive in conditions that are literally hot and hellish. This specimen seems to be dextral (lying on its left side with eyes on the right), but my ichthylogical references (Nelson 2006) state that cynoglossids are sinistral. Am I missing something here?

A wildfilms crew member (Alvin I think) discovered this flatfish trying to make itself scarce. Its body was buried beneath the fine substrate with only the beady eyes and a toothy slit of a jaw visible at closer inspection. To prevent it from being inadvertently stepped upon and further flattened by stomping ducks, we prodded it with our ducks and sought to give the creature its minute of documentary infamy.

As it happened, this sole had its dancing shoes on and performed a lively jiggle in response to our gentle pokes. Maybe it was hoping to be called up to take part in some reality tv show. When this prospect faded, its little jaws snapped busily, muttering soleful curses to the effect of condemning us to a life without sex and seafood for seventeen generations. It then quickly proceeded to rebury itself alive in the futile hope that its grumpy grimace would ground us into small decapods or other bite-sized invertebrates on which it feeds. This was one unhappy sole.

Leaves of (sea)grass

  halophila beccari 
  Originally uploaded by budak.

I have no song for myself anymore, and this is probably apparent to those who come across my taciturn duck be it on daybreak jaunts or shoreline prowlings at dusk.

There seems no hope of escape or respite from this isle of shrinking horizons and diminishing returns save a few short hours of utter loss and loneliness now and then in pursuit of creatures who share a fate only slightly more futile than that of their observers and oppressors. Where else can one turn to find a place, a cranny, a veritable hole in the rock of modern ages before it is chipped away in the name of pecuniary spirits that turn private values and personal joys into provisionary expressions of public prosperity?

For now, the meadows of seagrass dance their daily minuet, a gravitational pas de deux of unequal strengths. Together, the sun and the satellite engage in a long range tug of war that threatens their subjects with dessication as well as the delight of a decapodal dinner. The incoming waters come with an entourage of eager feeders and a legion of minute organisms which live to eat and be eaten. The anemones, sea pens, tubeworms, crabs, seastars, sand dollars, bivalves and barnacles that find shelter amidst the vascular stems take a calculated risk and brave their pelagic foes for an opportunity to feast on a bounty of free-swimming biota. When the sea recedes, a second shift of scourers take their turn to seek sustenance from those unfortunate enough (such as this still-pulsating jellyfish) to be stranded by the banks and exposed to raptorial eyes and tearing talons. Those who can, like this finger sole with a toothy scowl, flatten themselves under a cover of fine silicon, hoping to elude the great-billed herons and swooping Haliaetus while awaiting the secure embrace of the deep blue brown depths.

The seagrasses themselves hold fast to their roots. In these shallow, submerged plains of fine substrate, they form a soft bedrock of living cells, a three-dimensional assembly of cleavages that support life for beasts as small as buttons and as big as cows. In some locations, though not Chek Jawa off the eastern edge of Pulau Ubin, meadows of giant Enhalus acoroides taper over the flats like a salty serengeti. Chek Jawa's broad lagoon harbours instead finer leaved species. Tiny rosettes of Halophila beccarii cling to the baking mud, their speckled blades and slender petioles barely an inch across. Entire patches probably perished in the leaden footsteps of clumsy ducks on their way to sample populations of their cogeneric cousins. Paddle-leaved Halophila ovalis and fern-like Halophila spinulosa share the bay with miniature reeds of needles (Halodule uninervis) and ribbons (Cymodocea rotundata) that bask in the sun's electromagnetic spectrum, synthesising sugars and starches from dissolved bicarbonates, helping in their modest way to capture and coalesce the clouds of carbon dioxide that men expel and choke on.    

Earlier in the year, the unseemly and extended deluge that gave warning of future inundations also cast a spell of doom on many of Chek Jawa's denizens. Sponges, echinoderms – starfish and sea cucumbers – as well as cnidarians, in particular the mats of carpet anemones that prey on many and harbour more, came off the worst, melting in the wake of waves of fresh water from a river that had broken its banks and even brokered a bilateral tiff. Many were found uprooted, dying and releasing a palpable aroma of decay as their tissues reaved and ruptured from a fatal breakdown of osmotic balance. Barely two months later, they are still visibly absent, save the tenacious hope of a handful of new pioneers, mere ball-sized babes yet to grow into bin-sized behemoths. But happily, other members of the community appear to have better weathered the foul fresh water and there were even new discoveries to be made.

Remarkably, my duck is a latecomer to Chek Jawa, arriving long after the rubble of a revival that gave this haven a reprieve of sorts. To my unjaded eyes, the descent from the coastal path through the mudflats and onto the blue-green expanse reveals a place unlike any other in this country, where space is meant to be filled and the sea has been browbeaten into a force that must be tamed, trammelled and taken back for the sake of commerce and cost-benefit assessments in favour of prodigal naked apes. Under the watchful gazes of sea eagles that soar in congregations unheard of over the mainland, the fields fade and flicker, crushing any remaining sense of constraint and caginess that one has brought over from the jungle of imperatives that lie but a straits southward. Perhaps its very existence – an oasis of wealth that cannot be counted and giver of joy that bears no tangible fruit – puts it squarely against the credo of current thought that speeds along and preaches the power of population for profit, knowing and caring not how a limited world will sustain the wants of boundless wills.       

Sharks see red

More oceanic sharks are now on the Red List of Threatened Species, according to the World Conservation Union (IUCN), which revealed in a press statement that "even the fastest, widest ranging sharks are threatened by overfishing."

“The qualities of pelagic sharks – fast, powerful, wide ranging – too often lead to a misperception that they are resilient to fishing pressure,” said Sarah Fowler, Co-Chair of the IUCN SSC Shark Specialist Group (SSG). “This week, leading shark scientists from around the world highlighted the vulnerability of these species to overfishing and concluded that several species are now Threatened with extinction on a global scale.”

The IUCN Red List is the world's most authoritative guide to the status of biological diversity. The latest assessment followed a workshop convened by the IUCN Shark Specialist Group as part of a process to assess all 1,200 species of sharks, skates, rays, and chimaeras by the end of 2007.

Globally Vulnerable sharks include all three species of thresher sharks, which have spectacular scythe-like upper tail lobes as long as their bodies, which are thought to aid in stunning prey fish. The shortfin mako had its threat status heightened from Near Threatened in 2000 to Vulnerable at present. This species is a favourite target for commercial and recreational fishermen.

The streamlined blue shark remains in the Near Threatened category, hanging between its worldwide abundance (thanks to its relatively high fecundity) and status as the most heavily fished pelagic shark. While not regarded as Threatened on a global scale, populations in the North Atlantic have fallen by 50-70% in recent years.

The pelagic porbeagle shark was declared globally Threatened in a 2005 assessment and has been proposed by the European Union for listing under the United Nations Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). This species, along with mako sharks, face considerable fishing pressure in the Mediterranean that have led to their classification as Critical Endangered for that region, according to IUCN shark experts

Meanwhile, scalloped hammerhead sharks, a favourite of Asian connoisseurs of tasteless soups, had their status heightened from Near Threatened to Endangered. Many in these parts, it seems, are much happier clinging onto mindless traditions that decimate both marine and terrestrial species from facai moss and abalones to reef fish and turtles for the sake of unfounded therapeutics and the simply stupid reason that the names of certain animals have an auspicious ring to them.

The only cheer came from the pelagic stingray, populations of which were found to be stable, if not increasing.

While caught incidentally by high seas tuna and swordfish fisheries, pelagic sharks are increasingly targeted for their meat as well as fins. According to the IUCN, bans on shark “finning” – slicing off a shark’s valuable fins -- have been adopted for most international waters, but lenient standards and lacking enforcement hamper their effectiveness. In addition, no international catch limits for pelagic sharks exist despite evidence of their decline. This marine tragedy of the commons is further accentuated by policies in many countries (including several maritime European states like Spain) which subsidise national fisheries sectors.

Unlike many pelagic bony fish (e.g. tuna, mackerel, anchovies), sharks eschew the shattershot strategy of mass reproduction for a much concentrated investment in producing fewer but more developed offspring. A female shark may lay or give birth to as little as one or two pups each season, and the fish grow slowly, requiring many years to reach maturity and a prolonged pregnancy. Little is also known about their reproductive biology, although the habit of some species to amass in large breeding congregations at specific times and sites may render such populations vulnerable to unscrupulous exploitation. 

- - - - - - -

In other news:
How to rebut a climate change sceptic.

Singaporeans and monkeys don't get along. Maybe the dying leaf monkey (I have a most excellent picture of her dying cutely while chomping on a fish somewhere but decided against posting it for fear of getting my duck speared) will be better off staying in Maliau after all.

And if you thought George Clooney's batsuit codpiece was big, wait til you see the major mighty mojo of his namesake. Now we know why Catwoman keeps trying to hit on Big Bruce; cos he's all balls and little brain...

Meanwhile, biofuels, as it turns out, may well give climate change its biggest boost ever. And right next door too.

Also, vultures are nesting in the region. It's probably a sign that there's going to be plenty of rich pickings from the soon-to-be victims of globalisation, environmental degradation and overpopulation...

And while the sotongs in the sea are getting even bigger, I am sure none will match the sotongisity of elders who have not the faintest idea how to formulate a cohesive argument, much less the decency to distinguish between his personal prejudices against pets in flats and the greater good they impart to both society and the soul.

Finally, my duck has been found dubiouser and dubiouser. An overly-hasty flick of the Enter key further raised the dubiousity stakes by causing the mental defilement of no-longer innocent cows with talk of frog semen and tight and taut bodies. I must transfer this distressing dubiousity to the monkey, who would surely be little worse for it.

  basil alcove 
  Originally uploaded by budak.

He started off like a priest, with an appropriately close-shaven visage and aura of commanding seniority, enraptured in a liturgy that began with monotone chastity. But even this, a start so disengagingly simple and sacred in its solemnity, had no way of escaping the intensity of focus that made each note a fleeting capsule of red-hot tension. He races ahead, egging his entourage on with eyes that threaten and beckon, his body slowly betraying the effort with glimpses of strained effusion.

What colours he brings to a palette of pale and black! His left foot was almost as busy as his right, lending a richness of range to his touch that suffered no harshness – a mere turn of phrase totters on the edge of reason, pulling the heart apart with sequences of longing and modulations to flattened keys of mush. A further wallow in bowls of porridge would have been an appropriate coda, but we ditched the idea for another day, after hatching the notion over a jug of discontented service and bowl of belated chicken wings.

Earlier that evening, I had my second meal at Xander's – a simple yet scrumptious pasta with mushrooms and bacon washed down with honeyed Hoegaarden. This time, we were somewhat less disturbed by pedalling flocks of bioluminescent becas than the day before, when a late monkey followed a pint of Abbott's and spicy bruschetta consumed to the accompaniment of banter between a grizzled Aussie in Balinese exile and a chirpy chorus of aunties laden with weekend shopping. The ale was apt for an empty duck, light and hoppy with the flavour of mild redheads. The simian simpered over her paste of prawn ("too much shrimp," she wimped) while my duck munched on a mountain of creamy wurst and sipped on a stubby of Duvel, relishing the richness of a Belgian bouquet that floated like a butterfly and waved the night away like the dark droves of Uranid moths that descend upon the city every season with velvet wings of bleak stardust.

My kingdom for a seahorse

  pipefish (Hippichthys sp.) 
  Originally uploaded by budak.

Unlike most fishes, which lose their body shape and disintegrate into a smelly mush soon after death, members of the family Syngnathidae (as well as allied families in the suborder Syngnathoidei such as the sea-moths, Pegasidae) have their bodies tightly enclosed in a ring of bony plates, a sort of exoskeleton that lends rigidity and protection to the animals known as pipefish and seahorses. Thus, even in demise and dessication, their hollow shells remain as phantoms that serve as ghastly trinkets and testaments to unfounded beliefs that these marine equines, ground and gobbled up in capsules, will deliver a second life to dysfunctional ducks.

My duck hasn't had time to fully digest the contents of today's talk, but already, a few juicy facts have emerged. Seahorses, pipefish and their flamboyant cousins, the leafy and weedy seadragons, may seem live life in the slow lane, hindered by their stiff bodies and miniscule fins, but a close inspection reveals that they are among the true studs of the sea, reaching maturity at a rapid pace, followed by a relatively short life span filled with furious fucking. One large species, the pot-belly seahorse (Hippocampus abdominalis) has been found to be utterly shameless flirts, and even blatantly sexperimental, notching multiple daily conquests with members of both genders. It does give a new meaning to the habitat known as seagrass beds... oh, to exchange my duck for a seahorse!

Dr. Martin-Smith also revealed that male seahorses boast some of the lowest sperm to egg ratios in the vertebrate world, down to an incredible 2:1. Considering that the rest of us poor ducks have to spurt out zillions of ti da tous tail-lashing tadpoles that have a fool's chance of hitting the bull's eye and are more likely to end up languishing in a latex tube, seahorses deserve far more respect for the power of their juice. Instead of expending energy on producing countless condemned ducklets, the males and their mates engage in prolonged sessions of vigorous foreplay and mutual body massage, with bouts of ecstasy that sees them rising high above the foliage before actual copulation. And right after the big O, the ejaculate must swim against a tide of seawater and a narrow window of time to reach the unfertilised eggs in the male's brood pouch. Now, that's some milt with might!

The flip side of all this is that male seahorses and pipefish bear the primary burden of childcare – well, at least still the eggs hatch and the fry are shaken and stirred out of their stupor into wet and wild world. And while the male guards his brood, the female is free to fiddle with other boys' diddles. In some species of pipefish, the girls get really garang, assuming the conventional role of the male in the courtship ritual. The ladies are much more colourful than the guys as well as larger and more aggressive, and compete with their sisters to seduce the duller and smaller males. Some even have a penis-like structure used to deposit the eggs into the male's brood pouch. Dr. Martin-Smith notes that this reversal of sexual roles (a habit that would surely distress certain he-men who think that women must choose between career and children, while guys don't) has apparently evolved independently several times amongst Syngnathids. I wonder if this trait might emerge in ducks too...:P

Before the culling starts...

  mother cat 
  Originally uploaded by budak.

The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization gives its take on the reported cases of the avian influenza virus H5N1 in cats in Indonesia. In a press statement, the FAO said the incident "should be closely monitored" and stressed that there has been "so far no sustained virus transmission in cats or from cats to humans."

The FAO recommended the commonsensical precautionary measure of separating cats from infected birds (duh!) as well as keeping felines away from commercial poultry premises (double duh!) and advised against killing cats as a control measure "because there is nothing to suggest that cats are transmitting the virus in a sustained way." In fact, the FAO warned that "removing cats could lead to a surge in rodents such as rats, which are an agricultural pest and often transmit diseases to humans."

And while there is some concern that cats (and it should be added many other mammals from dogs to rabbits) might as a intermediary hosts for the virus, FAO officers noted that given 80% of cats in outbreak areas have not been infected, it indicates that "cats are unlikely to constitute a reservoir of virus infection" and are actually "more likely to be a dead-end host."

Meanwhile, it seems there are itchy trigger fingers just waiting to perform their civic duty by blasting every damn duck out of the sky. One wonders if the powers that be will fail to learn from the SARS episode when politicians revelling in ignorance failed to tell the world of difference between civet cats and Felis catus, preferring to give way to wanton prejudice and unwarranted fears. Would gun clubbers like Mr Lim even know the difference between migratory birds and residents? Can they even tell the difference between the invasive house crow and native large-billed crow? Or corvids from similarly sized and coloured black bazas?

Will they even give a fool's damn to the perspective that while migratory birds play a role in the virus's transmission, the real major factors "contributing to the spread of the avian influenza virus are poor hygienic practices related to the production, processing and marketing of poultry, contaminated products, gaps in biosecurity and individuals not following recommended control measures?" I suspect not; it's surely much more fun to shoot first and ask questions later. Why waste thought on trying to capture the complexity of reality and comprehend matrices of unproven causations, when after all, the good doctor knows best. Doesn't he? But it must feel really good to be doing "something good for the country", to be – as one faithful servant of his motherland once intoned in defence of his strenuous efforts towards a final solution to a pressing problem – "just following orders..."