Of Mice and Kellog the Corn Snake

St. Patrick Removing Snakes from Ireland

Yesterday, Dalia learned a little about St. Patrick. We talked about the legend that St. Patrick drove all snakes out of Ireland (which is strangely hailed as a good thing, rather than ecologically disappointing). Cool story, but the reason Ireland likely has no snakes is because it was completely covered in ice ten to twelve thousand years ago. Snakes don’t do so well in the cold. Dalia was interested in the story because we have a pet snake named Kellog. He’s a corn snake. 

When I first started working at Beacon High School (the old building), one of my students showed up in my closet that passed as an office and handed me a heavy pillowcase. “My aunt says I can’t keep him anymore. I know you like animals and all. I was hoping you could take him.” 

Inside the bag was a gorgeous, orange corn snake, about four feet long. I agreed to take care of the animal and carried him in the pillowcase to each of my classes that day. I taught night school later in the afternoon and decided that I’d let Kellog out of his pillowcase and hang around my neck to warm up. He wandered over my head, around my arms as I set up the chemistry class and he eventually worked his way into the deep right hand pocket of the khakis I wore. As I was welcoming students to class, one of the more clever among them raised her hand and asked, “Mr. Essery, is that a corn snake in you pocket? Or are you just happy to see us?” 

Kellog has lived with us now for over 10 years. He is over five feet long and is likely close to 15 years old. Maybe he is older. Corn snakes can live for about 20 years in captivity. When he was younger, I fed Kellog live mice (corn snakes will only eat mice and small rats). I always felt badly about killing another animal for the sake of the one that I owned, but I always make a deal with the mouse. If it survives for two hours in Kellog’s cage, then I’ll remove it and set it free in a habitat of its choice (usually the edges of the backyard). Three mice have lived to tell the tale.

Yesterday, after the St. Patrick story, I stopped at a pet store to pick up some frozen mice. In his old age, Kellog can’t see real well and I worry that live mice will bite him and cause a prolonged infection, so I usually buy frozen mice and thaw them out for an hour or two in the edge of the sink in the bathroom. Kate is not usually pleased with this. 

This time, like the last three times I’d stopped by, the pet shop had no mice. Kellog had been without food for weeks and I was desperate to get something for him. So, I got him a live, white mouse in a cardboard box. I hid the box on the floor of the car so that the kids wouldn’t notice it. I knew that if they saw it, they’d want to keep it as a pet. While they’ve watched me feed Kellog dead mice, it is quite a different thing to watch a constrictor kill its own prey. 

Kellog the Corn Snake in the grass.

About half-way home the resourceful mouse chewed his way through the cardboard box on the floor of the car and ran over my wife’s leg. She caught him and held him up for the kids to see. 

Dalia asked what it was. “A mouse,” Kate replied.

She wanted to know where it came from. “This box,” was the answer.

But why. “It’s for Kellog,” was the response.

Wailing, gnashing of teeth followed. “Why does it have to die? It’s so cute! There’s got to be some way to save it! Dad, what are we going to do to save it?” 

I explained that if I could give Kellog a few veggies to eat, I’d gladly do that and spare the poor mouse’s life, but Kellog had to have mice, and as long as it was in our house as a pet, we had a responsibility to take care of it. For a moment I thought I’d have to get into a PETA style discussion about the insanity of owning animals in the first place, but Dalia quieted down. “It’s just so cute,” she repeated, in tears.

When we got home, Dalia seemed to have gotten over the incident. She wasn’t angry at Kellog (or at me), but she was very sad that a cute animal had to get eaten. 

This morning, Kellog was coiled on top of the log he usually hides under. I looked into his terrarium and he extended his neck, zipping his tongue at me with almost a smile on his mouth. Then he turned and took a deep drink out of his water bowl. It was as if he was thanking me (though really he was probably looking for another mouse).

It struck me then that a lot of the choices we make and morals we say we hold are not necessarily morals at all, but aesthetic values. Dalia is not at all offended when our box turtle (another rescued orphan), gulps down live worms and grubs. She feeds them to her. But as soon as a cute mouse is offered up as food to a snake, her aesthetic sense is deeply offended and she feels that something needs to be done. 

My question is, How often do I, as a parent, dictate my opinions to my children as right and true, even though they may not be “truth” at all, but merely the opinions and biases I am comfortable with? Probably more often than I know.

Self-control in moderation

As an appreciator of food and drink, I often find myself reading articles on studies relating to what we eat and imbibe. Every week or two there seems to be some interesting study that suggests what we eat might or might not be healthy for us. Percentages of the likely increase or decrease in survival rates based on eating and drinking behaviors assault us in every aspect of media that we interact with. 

Most recently the news was buzzing with a study that linked moderate drinking with a decrease in strokes for women. You can read the Huffington Post’s version of it here, the CBS version of the same story here. Good news! Right? It’s what we all want to hear. Of course, each article had to include a warning about drinking too much or the obligatory alternative to drinking in order to decrease stroke risk such as eating grapefruits or exercising more, or reducing your trans-fat intake. . .

Mmmm. Beer and meat.

A similar long term study on the effect of eating red meat daily was also released. You can read the article here. Turns out, if you eat red meat every day, you are at higher risk for death. Who could have guessed that eating an abundance of bacon, ground beef, hot dogs, salami, and sausage would be bad for you? 

The issue with both of these studies is that they may have more to say about personal habits than about the foods and drinks themselves. What mainstream media don't often tell you is that these “links”, or “associations”, or “correlations” are not the same as causation. If one thing causes another, there is a direct effect of one variable on another. 

Correlations are different. They show that there is a relationship between two variables (they change with respect to each other), but the nature of the relationship is not always clear. Associations are even more nebulous. If two things are associated, they may occur next to each other, but they don’t necessarily have anything to do with each other. Scientists know this and they use these words intentionally to show the strength and significance of the relationships between different variables in a study. While these words might be reported in media articles, like the ones listed above, the writers of these articles don’t always seem to grasp the significance of them. They often treat all of these words with the same gravity, assuming that if two things are “linked” then one of them must cause the other. This is not scientific and not true.

In the study linking lower stroke with moderate drinking, a question remains. Is it the alcohol that is more likely to lead to less strokes in women, or is it the moderate lifestyle? There seems to be a correlation between drinking moderately and lower stroke likelihood, but what is the nature of that connection? One who refuses to drink is not considered moderate with respect to the issue of drinking and one who binges or drinks heavily is also not moderate. It could be argued that one who drinks moderately has more self control than one who abstains completely or one who drinks excessively. Is it possible that self control is the variable that lends more health benefits rather than the effects of alcohol itself. Could it be a life lived in moderation that promotes longevity (moderate drinking being one of zillions of moderate behaviors), and not so much the single beer or glass of wine that was imbibed each evening?

Some emerging studies suggest that a person’s propensity towards self-control may have significant genetic factor. In a 2009 article in the journal Criminal Justice and Behavior entitled “Genetic and Environmental Influences on Levels of Self-Control and Delinquent Peer Affiliation,” researchers suggested that genetics played a larger role in adolescent drug use and contact with drug using friends, while environment played a lesser (and inconsistent) role. The thought that some people are born with more or less self-control is not an egalitarian idea, but seems to have some basis in research.

In the red meat study, the same question can be asked. Is it red meat that is unhealthy, or is it a lack of moderation in eating red meat that is unhealthy? I think we all know that eating more fruits and vegetables and not drinking heavily are healthy choices, but is this information going to help those who struggle with balance or will it only be utilized by those who are predisposed to having excellent self-control in the first place?

The next time you read an article about how pomegranate juice will clean out the free radicals in your body, vitamin C will prevent colds, or how dark chocolate can cure cancer, and feel the impulse to rush to your health food store to stock up on vast quantities of the latest, greatest, miracle food, you might want to take a moment, drink A beer and practice a little bit of self control (in moderation, of course). You might live longer.

What Happens When Mathematicians Drink

Vintage Pi pint glass from
 http://www.cafepress.com/+vintage_pi_pint_glass,554316495

This morning, when I woke up, I realized it was Pi day. At our morning meeting, the WDS math department presented a geeky and very intriguing talk about the applications of Pi and I found out that it's appropriate to take a Pi reflection moment at 1:59 pm. I guess that makes sense. 

So, as I do with almost everything, I wondered how to relate Pi to beer. My initial thoughts settled on the familiar and beautiful shape of the pint glass. Your standard pint glass is a simple and practical design composed of two circles: a larger mouth that tapers to a slightly smaller base, like a cut off cone. I wondered how to calculate the volume of a pint glass mathematically, instead of experimentally (as my typical scientific self would prefer).

Turns out, someone's already done it. While they were drinking a pint, no less. 

Check out The Pickle Matrix, preferably while drinking a good brew out of a standard pint glass. Be sure to have your graphing calculator handy. Happy Pi(nt) day!

Secondhand Thanks

As I mentioned in my last post, we had a house fire in January. 

Firefighters at work on our house.

The outpouring of love and concern from our community was deeply appreciated. The kids are fine. The house is standing and almost completely repaired. Even the cats (who disappeared during the event, but reemerged unscathed afterwards) are fine (not sure if I’m thankful for this or not).

Many among the amazing crowd of support that surrounded us echoed a common sentiment. “Thank God you’re okay!” OR “Thank God it wasn’t worse!” At first, I found myself nodding, a feeling of universal thankfulness welling up inside for the safety of my family, home, and, yes, even the cats. 

Then I thought of the fire on Christmas that took the lives of grandparents and their grandchildren in Connecticut (read it here, if you want to be depressed). It is one story out of thousands like it. Many people don't get a positive ending. I have been known to over-think things, but I can't stop reflecting on what we mean when we thank God for something.

If it is just something to say when there is nothing to say, kind of like in Mary Poppins only a little more serious, it's merely a phrase that expresses huge relief or shock. 

To many people the utterance of the phrase isn't just slang to express shock. It has deeper meaning. They are attributing the good things that happen to a power higher than they are. It is an act of prayer and worship for some, and for others it is a reminder of the fragility of life. 


I can't help thinking that thanking God, as satisfying as it may be when something positive happens, also implies blame, the opposite face on the coin of thankfulness. The implication of thanking God for the avoidance of pain and misery is that God keeps some people safe and not others (all things being equal). If it is good (and reasonable) for me to be thankful to God for the survival of my family, is it also reasonable (if not good) to blame God for the losses in the Connecticut Christmas fire? Is it reasonable to thank God for the avoidance of my family's destruction, when it could have easily have been the other way? To do so feels as if I am insulting or misrepresenting some hidden reality and universalizing a fractured understanding of the divine. 

Over-thinking this even further, my experience with spirituality suggests that what I know of it is always secondhand. At best, it is hidden behind the wall of physical reality. It seems strange to me that if God is content to interact with the world indirectly, that I should pretend that this relationship is direct and thank or blame God directly for my fortunes and problems. How could I directly communicate the message anyway? Think really hard? Shout to the sky? Write it a hundred times in my journal?

Despite the theological quandaries that circle my thoughts, I still have this constant sense of gratefulness and relief floating through my chest, more than I can express with words (as you can tell from this rambling post). I need to (once again) thank those who affected my family directly and trust that this attitude of thanks will somehow cross the boundary that my senses and reason can't detect, even if it is delivered secondhand.

I am thankful for:

• The Catskill Fire Department. Their expertise and precision minimized damage to our house.
• Family who have supported us through everything.
• My neighbors who helped keep the kids and dogs calm and brought us coats and jackets on the coldest day of the winter.
• All those who stayed late on a freezing night to clean and board up the holes in our walls.
• Steve and Andrew who repaired the damage in such a short amount of time. 
• Close friends who have since visited with us, emailed us, entertained our children, and helped us normalize our existence. 
• My wife, Kate and daughters, Dalia and Gwen who have an abundance of strength, patience and humor.

Thank you all. 

Double Therapy

HYDROMETER has returned from dormancy. About two months ago, a fire broke out from an unseen crack in our chimney and torched a section of the walls in our master bedroom. Thanks to quick responding firefighters and a host of lucky circumstances (Is there any such thing as circumstance? HYDROMETER will explore this in a later post) no one was harmed and the repairs are nearly completed.

Since the fire, it’s taken a while for my mind to return to a state of normalcy. The insurance discussions, construction details, piles of damaged wall and scored timber have been constant reminders of what happened, but even more terrifying - what could have happened. To help myself process all this, I stitched together a recipe for a double IPA and brewed up a batch of hoppy, malty, heady beer. 

Homegrown hops cone. Early August.

Double IPAs (also called Imperial IPAs) have their roots in the mid 1990’s and the American microbrewery revolution. Though they derive from India pale ales, it can be argued that the double IPA epitomizes the American brewing tradition featuring bright, citrusy northwest hop flavors at every level, and a pleasantly higher alcohol content (typically above 7.5%). Hops with a high alpha acid content are often selected to lend the ale a high level of IBUs (measurement of general bitterness). For aroma, brewers choose hops that have a piney or grapefruit quality, such as cascade, amarillo or chinook varieties. 

Malt profiles in these brews vary significantly but their primary function in Double IPAs is to balance out and feature hops. Unbalanced double IPA’s tend to be astringent and biting; all hops without the sweetness and body necessary to support the power of the flower. They can also be syrupy and cloying when brewers overcompensate for hop bitterness. Well balanced doubles can have very high IBU measurements, but they also have complementary sweetness from malt that makes them very drinkable.

Dogfish Head’s 90 minute IPA is one of the best known (and tasting) double IPAs. It is very well balanced and, for me, sets the bar for this style. Stone’s Ruination is a great example as well. Stone calls it “a liquid poem to the glory of the hop.” I have to agree. Other double IPA’s I’ve enjoyed include Breckenridge’s 471 Small Batch, Hoptical Illusion by Blue Point, and Southern Tier’s 2X IPA.

With these greats in mind, I set out brewing what I call Double Therapy using six ounces of homegrown hop cones, an ounce of Amerillo for good measure and nine pounds of pale malt extract (this is 50% higher than my typical pale ale). After a week in the fermenter, I dry hopped it with another 3 ounces of homegrown hop flowers. It’s been in the bottle for two weeks now, and when I sampled it, it tasted sweet, aromatic and very bitter. Given time, I’m expecting it to stabilize into a bright bitter brew with a warm afterglow. Just the thing to calm nerves and help maintain a bit of normalcy.

DOUBLE THERAPY 

9 lbs. Pale malt DME 3 oz. Homegrown hops (Bittering)

1 lb. Crystal Malt 3 oz. Homegrown hops (Flavor)

⅓ lb. Gambrinus Honey Malt 1 oz. Amarillo hops (aroma)

⅓ lb. Biscuit Malt 3 oz. Homegrown hops (dryhop)

¼ lb. Carapils Malt 1 package Safale 05 ale yeast

                                                                          1 cup corn sugar (priming)

Place crushed malts in 2.5 gallons of water and steep at 155 degrees for a half an hour. Remove the spent grains and bring to a boil. Add malt extract and 3 ounces of  homegrown hops. Boil for 45 minutes. Add 3 oz of homegrown hops. Boil for another 35 minutes adding Amerillo hops in the last 10 minutes of the boil. Cool the wort. Pitch the yeast. Ferment for 7 days. Dry hop with 3 oz. of homegrown hops. Continue to ferment for 7 more days. Bottle with corn sugar (1 cup instead of 3/4 cup seems to work better for these larger beers) and age for at least 3 weeks. I used hops grown in my backyard for this. A medium alpha acid variety like Cascade hops would substitute fine and lend a good citrusy flavor.