Things Sometimes Aren't What They Seem — A Sketchy Allegory for the IPCC

© 2007 Mike McDowell

http://birddigiscoper.blogspot.com/2007/10/nighthawk.html

Remember Batty? Our little winged friend who comes every summer? And the experiences we've had with him? Well, it turns out that Batty is indeed winged — but he's no bat. We found out the other night that he's a common nighthawk! (And I don't mean "common" in a derogatory sense, it's simply his name: Chordeiles minor.)

Well, when we got home that night at twilight I watched for Batty, and sure enough, I could see why I had mistaken him for a bat one night last summer ... sort of. In fact, in some parts of America, the nighthawk is called a bullbat! (So I'm not the only one who's been fooled.) In I came, rather dejected, and did some research online, which confirmed that Batty isn't what he seemed.

That otherworldly sonic boom is the sound of wind moving through the wingtips of the male as he performs his courtship aerobatics and dives. This also explains why we suddenly, one night, don't hear him anymore — the love affair is consummated, the babies are born (in camouflaged eggs on the ground ... no nest), and the family is off on its annual migration to South America.

When I finally learned that Batty is not a bat at all, I had to grieve the loss of an animal friend I never had. Strange feeling. (Though we've made a new friend, and that's cool.)

So now, I am going to stretch to make a point.

Because of a few booboos (of little if any consequence in the whole scheme of things) in their 2007 Fourth Assessment Report, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change is now under review by the InterAcademy Council, an Amsterdam-based group representing scientific academies and organizations around the world. This review is an evaluation of the procedures and processes by which the IPCC prepares its assessments of climate change.

"In particular the IAC Committee of experts is asked to recommend measures and actions to strengthen the IPCC’s processes and procedures so as to be better able to respond to future challenges and ensure the ongoing quality of its reports." (from the Overview)

Here's the thing. Once you start reading about the IPCC, digging deeper, checking out their technical reports, etc., you discover that the IPCC isn't what it seems. It's not just a bunch of climate-related scientists coming together to synthesize their research. That "governmental" in the Intergovernmental part of their name means that their final reports are determined by policy wonks who don't let through one single word they (or their masters) don't like. Not only that, but an eye witness at the first IPCC meeting back in 1990 says the scientists censored themselves because the news was so bad, so frightening, they thought the policy wonks would just decide it was too late to do anything about the changing climate. (If you want/need the reference, let me know ... our son got married yesterday (a delightful wedding!) and I'm too tired to find the book right now.)

So, the Nobel Peace Prize-winning IPCC is a nighthawk, not the bat we thought it was. (I told you I was stretching the metaphor.) The InterAcademy Council review is seeking public input until July 1st. Why not write and suggest that the Panel should be allowed to communicate to the public what it wants to communicate — cowardly, co-opted governments be damned!

June 1st, 2014 update: Batty arrived tonight! His winging about above our house is such a welcome sound. Welcome home, Batty.

Lessons from a Bat, Part 2

Back in July 2009, I wrote about a bat that makes its home in the rock cliff above our home. Recently, we've been having some interesting experiences with bats again, and I decided I'd better do some research.

The other night, a bat started flying up against our bedroom window — not so much smashing into the window like a bird would, but smushing up against the window like a moth does when seeking the light. But this was no moth! It happened about 8 times. We were quite stupefied. Even without getting all "woowoo" about this event as a possible message or portent, it simply didn't seem right.

For the next two days, bats kept getting mentioned in books and articles or conversations. "Okay, okay, I get the message."

So, it turns out that Canada has just experienced the warmest and driest winter (well, it ain't quite over yet) since nationwide records were first kept in 1948. (Sorry all you eastern Yanks who thought the whole rest of the world must have been blanketed in white along with you!) In parts of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Ontario, precipitation has been 60 per cent below normal. (Reported here in the Ottawa Citizen of March 9, 2010.)

The article, by Margaret Munro, doesn't use the terms global warming, climate change per se, but the armchair deniers were out in full force anyway, denying any link to global warming or climate change. But the warning is clear:

"It's beyond shocking," David Phillips, a senior climatologist with Environment Canada, told Canwest News Tuesday. Records have been shattered from "coast to coast to coast." 

"It is truly a remarkable situation," says Phillips, noting that he's seen nothing like it in his 40 years of weather watching. He also warns that "the winter that wasn't" may have set the stage for potentially "horrific" water shortages, insect infestations and wildfires this summer.

Then I looked up bats. Seems they wake up in April. It's still early March. If I were a bat, I'd be knocking at somebody's window, too.
 

Check out this 7 March 2008 article by Brian Nearing in the Times Union, Bat deaths linked to climate change. According to renegade wildlife pathologist, Ward Stone:

"... [B]ats are dying from starvation and weakened immune systems resulting from the unusually warm late fall and winters during the last several years, which has kept bats flying even when fewer insects are available to eat.

"That has led bats to begin hibernation with insufficient fat reserves, prompting them to starve and sometimes leave the safety of caves in search of food during cold weather, which is usually fatal."

And then I went to my Medicine Cards book, by Jamie Sams and David Carson:The beautiful Medicine Card is illustrated by Angela C. Werneke.)

141 Days Left - Lessons from a Bat

Our bat friend has gone. This little fellow (for some reason I always imagine him a male bat, but it could be a mother bat, according to some research I've been doing) is here every summer for six or eight weeks, and then one night he's just not here anymore.

Every evening, he heralds dusk and the setting of the sun. I enjoy listening for him and then checking the clock ... a bit later each night until the summer solstice, and then a bit earlier each night until his departure.

He makes the strangest screechy call, and an occasional otherworldly sound. (That first year, I thought it was a sick deer in the hills behind our house.) We still haven't figured out what kind of bat he is.

Just as Bat disappeared for us, he showed up in my sister's life at 4 in the morning, winging about her bedroom. That was quite the experience for her!

When I have an intimate encounter with an animal friend, I like to check out the Medicine Cards of Jamie Sams and David Carson. Bat, it turns out, often symbolizes rebirth in the Native American tradition.

This is timely symbolism for me as my stepmother, Jan, recently returned to the earth (death being the beginning of rebirth), and because we all need a reminder that it's time to let go of old habits and become reborn into a new form of civilization — one that is based on ethical economics, renewable energy technologies, and people everywhere caring about the future of the children of all species.

Here's to my stepmom, to bats, to our bat (until next summer), and to all who hold the vision of a reborn new future.