Sunday, 4 December 2011

Elephant No. 63: Knitting




For today's elephant, I decided to knit the smallest thing I could find online. I was originally looking to make a knitted finger puppet, but I liked this tiny toy just as much.

The oldest knitted object to date is a pair of multicoloured knitted socks, found in Egypt and thought to have been made in the fourth century A.D. Most sources believe that knitting likely originates somewhere in the Middle East, spreading first to Europe, and later to the Americas.

The earliest knitting in Europe was produced by Muslim knitters working for the Spanish royal family. The designs produced by these master knitters were very elaborate, often worked in fine silk with as many as eight stitches per centimetre (twenty stitches per inch). Knitted items in this early period included cushion covers, wall hangings, clothing, and accessories such as gloves and stockings. Interestingly, the purl stitch—the reverse of a basic knit stitch—was unknown at the time, and knitters knit in the round on multiple needles, later cutting pieces apart if they were intended to lay flat.

From the fourteenth century onwards, knitted goods were produced for everyday use, and even the Virgin Mary is shown knitting in several medieval paintings. By the sixteenth century, the purl stitch had made its appearance, allowing for the creation of textured patterns within the knitted fabric.


"The Knitting Madonna" from the
right wing of the Buxtehude Altar, 1400–1410.
Meister Bertram von Minden (1345–1425)
Collection of the Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Germany
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:KnittingMadonna.jpg



Knitting was originally done only by men, with the first knitting trade guild established in Paris in 1527. Knitting schools were also set up beginning in the sixteenth century, providing poorer families with a source of income. Stockings were the most important knitted item of the time, and English stockings in particular were exported to Germany, the Netherlands and Spain.

The first knitting machine—known as a "stocking machine" since that was its primary purpose—was invented by Englishman William Lee in 1529. Although the machine remained relatively unchanged for more than two centuries, by the early eighteenth century, new knitting "frames" and machines were being developed, allowing for the mass-production of larger items such as blankets and garments. As patterned fabrics became popular, various technical advances allowed coloured patterns to be knit right into the cloth, rather than embroidered on afterwards.

These days, most knitted items are produced on machines. Until a few decades ago, however, hand-knitting was still a relatively economical way to produce garments and other necessities. It was also common for home-based knitters to unravel worn-out garments, reusing the yarn to make something new. Hand-knitting has since become a primarily artisanal activity, used to produce unique clothing, textile arts and even high fashion knitwear.

For today's elephant, I used an online pattern by Melissa Mall. It involved working on a set of double-pointed needles to create a series of tube shapes in various sizes, so I chose a grey wool I had on hand, and used needles approximately the size indicated in the pattern.





I started by making the body. Not having knit in the round since I was about 13, this was harder than I expected it to be. I dropped stitches, twisted them around the wrong way, and had to start over a couple of times. The pieces are so tiny that I don't think I ever got the technique down perfectly. Making a sock might actually have been easier,  because a sock is big enough to see what you're doing.



After I made the body, I made the head, then two ears, four legs, and a trunk.




When the parts were all made, I stuffed the head and body with a bit of polyester fibrefill, then sewed them together. The pattern also said to wind some yarn around the neck to define it a bit better, so I did that too.




After that, I sewed on trunk, then ears, then legs.




The last thing to go on was a tail. The pattern also called for me to knit a little scarf, but I actually preferred to use two strands of fancy scrap yarn I had, simply knotting them together at each end. He's only a little over 5 cm (2 inches) tall, so the two tiny scarves that I started to knit still looked too big.




The pattern leaves it up to you to decide whether or not to add eyes. I kind of like him without eyes for now, although I may change my mind later.

I'm pretty happy with the final result, although it's not the most tidy knitting I've ever done. I also made him out of 100% wool, so if I wanted to make him even smaller, I could throw him in the washing machine—then again, maybe that would be a little cruel.





Elephant Lore of the Day
One of the most unlikely animal friendships is the bond between the baby African elephant Themba and Albert the sheep.

Themba was orphaned in 2008 at the age of six months, when its mother fell over a cliff. Vets at the Sanbona wildlife reserve in South Africa hoped that another elephant cow would adopt Themba; when that didn't happen, they took him in to make sure he didn't starve to death.

At the Shamwari Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre in the Eastern Cape region, Themba met Albert. The friendship did not have an auspicious beginning. Themba dashed over to the sheep, and chased Albert around the watering hole. Albert was deeply unimpressed, ultimately running to the far end of the segregated enclosure for safety. He stayed there for the first half-day.

Themba was very curious about Albert, however, and kept walking over to Albert, sticking his trunk through the bars and touching the sheep gently on the back. By the next morning, Albert had started venturing into the main enclosure. The two began exploring their enclosure together, with Themba's trunk resting companionably on Albert's back. After that day, the two became inseparable.

Interestingly, instead of Themba copying Albert's behaviour and behaving like a sheep, Albert copies Themba and behaves like an elephant. Albert eats what Themba eats, and has been learning Themba's technique for eating thorny acacia bushes.

Since the ultimate goal is to reacclimatize Themba to life in the wild, sadly the pair may one day be separated.

Albert and Themba snacking on an acacia tree: a tree that is not
normally part of a sheep's diet.
Photo: ©Caters
Source: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1084689/
Pictured-The-baby-elephant-adopted-sheep.html


Saturday, 3 December 2011

Elephant No. 62: Jingle Bells




I started my Christmas shopping yesterday, so I'm finally starting to get into the Christmas spirit. So, for today's elephant, jingle bells.

The song "Jingle Bells"—one of the most popular Christmas songs in the world—was originally written for the American Thanksgiving holiday. Penned by James Lord Pierpont in 1950, the song was published as "The One Horse Open Sleigh" in the autumn of 1857.


The original sheet music cover for "The One Horse Open Sleigh".
Source: http://www.americanmusicpreservation.com/jinglebellssong.htm


Inspired by the popular sleigh races in Medford, Massachusettes, the song was written in the town's Simpson Tavern. Although the tavern is long gone, a plaque in the town's main square commemorates the song's birthplace. In 1859, the song was reprinted with the new title, "Jingle Bells, or The One Horse Open Sleigh".

According to music historian James Fuld, the word "jingle" in the title and opening line is an imperative verb: in other words, ordering the bells to jingle. Today, however, the phrase is commonly assumed to refer to a certain type of bell. Mea culpa, because that's how I'm taking it as well, particularly for today's elephant.

Interestingly, the original melody was more classical and rather pretty. The original song also had different words and a different chorus. Over the past 150 years—likely because of the simplicity of its melody—"Jingle Bells" has been the subject of innumerable parodies and homages.

"Jingle Bells" was also the first song to be broadcast from Space when, on December 16, 1965, Gemini 6 astronauts Tom Stafford and Wally Schirra contacted Mission Control with the following report: "We have an object: looks like a satellite going from north to south, probably in polar orbit . . . I see a command module and eight smaller modules in front. The pilot of the command module is wearing a red suit . . ." The astronauts then produced a harmonica and sleighbells they had smuggled aboard, and proceeded to broadcast their rendition of the song.

For today's elephant, I'll be using these multicoloured bells I picked up on a whim a few days ago. I'm always drawn to displays of colour, so I picked these up without even knowing what I would do with them. For two dollars for the two packages, I figured it didn't really matter.




To create an elephant out of the bells, I figured I'd wire them together somehow with this 30-gauge wire. This is the same wire I used for the pine cone elephant. Although it was too thin for the pine cone elephant, I thought it might be good enough for these small bells.




To start, I wound together a few of the largest bells to make the beginning of the head. These three bells flopped about a lot, but I figured that this would sort itself out as I added more bells.




Next I strung together a series of bells for the trunk. I twisted each one in place, but this too was quite floppy and didn't hold its shape. I was beginning to realize that I was going to have to think of something else to make them stay. Clearly, the fine wire that was not good enough for pine cones was also not good enough for teeny bells.



My brilliant solution was to use the slots and holes bisecting each bell to anchor the wire. There must be a better way to do all of this, although this seemed to work well enough for now.




Next I wired the trunk to the head, then added a couple of extra bells to the head area.




After this, I shaped some ears and wired them to the head, using the same through-the-slot wiring afterwards to make them more secure. I attached the ears to the head, wired on another bell or two, and figured this was as good as it was going to get.




I am not, as some of you might have guessed by now, any kind of engineer. Structural stability is best left to the professionals in my book, so this elephant is basically jerry-rigged. It won't fall apart, but the back of it is not a pretty sight. If I had more time, I might add more wire, and perhaps some stabilizing elements like beads. On the other hand, in real life it's kind of pretty in a misshapen-mutant kind of way, so maybe I'll just leave it as it is.




Elephant Lore of the Day
In antiquity, war elephants were often depicted wearing one or more small bells around their necks.

There is a certain amount of speculation as to the purpose of the bells, one of which is that the bells may have been used to terrify the enemy. Given their small size, most historians laugh at the idea that the bells could have terrified anyone or anything.

It has also been suggested that the bells were intended to bring the elephant and rider luck, or that the bells were worn simply to give people enough time to get out of the way and avoid being trampled.


Graeco-Bactrian coin, ca. 200–185 B.C., featuring elephant with bell.
Source: http://www.edgarlowen.com/greek-coins-the-east.shtml


Their likely purpose, however, is much more mundane. In India, elephants wore bells so that, when they went out foraging for food at night, their mahouts could find them in the morning. Elephants often wear bells for the same reason to today.

Elephant bells are now often sold as decorative items and even musical instruments. Struck like gongs, they are often featured in modern musical arrangements.


Set of modern elephant bells.
Source: http://www.steveweissmusic.com/product/30792/sound-effects




To Support Elephant Welfare
World Society for the Protection of Animals
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information on a number of sanctuaries around the world)
Performing Animal Welfare Society
Zoocheck
Bring the Elephant Home
African Wildlife Foundation



Friday, 2 December 2011

Elephant No. 61: Three-Dimensional Balsa Wood




For today's elephant, I decided to try a kit elephant that involves punching out a bunch of balsa wood pieces, then assembling them into a three-dimensional object by inserting various shapes into various slots.

Balsa wood comes from the Ochroma pyramidale, a tree that is native all the way from southern Brazil and Bolivia to southern Mexico. Today, it is also grown in many other Latin American countries, with Ecuador supplying as much as 95% of the world's commercial balsa. The name "balsa" comes from the Spanish word for "peanut".

Ochroma pyramidale is a tall and fast-growing tree that can reach heights of 30 metres (98 feet) within a mere ten to fifteen years. It usually establishes itself on abandoned agricultural land or cleared forests, paving the way for other plants. Because it grows so fast, its wood has a very low density—lower even than cork. The trees rarely live beyond thirty or forty years.


Acacia tree in the Tropical Gardens of Maui Iao Valley Road,
Maui, Hawaii
Photo: Forest and Kim Starr
Source: http://www.hear.org/starr/images/image/?q=090720-3129&o=plants


The tree bears very large flowers that open in late afternoon and remain open through the night. The flowers often contain wells of nectar as deep as 2.5 cm (1 inch), and are a favourite of capuchin monkeys, kinkajous and bats.

Despite the softness of their wood, balsa trees are classified as hardwood because of the shape of their palmate leaves. The light weight of the wood comes from the fact that the tree has large, open cells that contain water. When harvested, the wood is kiln-dried for two weeks to draw off this moisture. Interestingly, the extended web of holes gives the wood surprising strength. Because it is low-density but high in strength, balsa is a popular wood for making models such as model bridges for testing, model aircraft, and even full-sized light aircraft such as the Second World War de Havilland Mosquito.


The de Havilland Mosquito B.XVI, September 30, 1944
Photo: Royal Air Force
Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DH98_Mosquito_bomber.jpg



Balsa is used to make laminates for boats and cars as well—including some models of the Chevrolet Corvette. Balsa logs were also used to build the Kon Tiki: a Polynesian-style raft sailed by Norwegian adventurer Thor Heyerdahl from Peru to Polynesia in 1947.


The Kon Tiki in 1947.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kon-Tiki.jpg


For today's elephant, I bought this kit for a mere two dollars. I thought it was a pretty good deal, given that it came with paints, a brush, and even a little square of sandpaper. What sort of elephant I might want to paint with these colours, I'm not sure, but it's still a good deal.







The kit came with no instructions, however, beyond these teensy diagrams on the back of the package, and the helpful suggestion that I "Match the corresponding pieces to make the model elephant."



This sounded straightforward enough until I actually tried to find the numbers. I began to think there was no Number 1 anywhere, and that these were stock shapes of some sort. This went on for a full twenty minutes of me staring at the diagrams and at the pieces, until I realized that the manufacturers had saved space by putting "1,9" and "2,10" on some of the key pieces. Because the numbers are so small and smeary, I had read this as "19" and "20". What they actually appear to have meant is that that particular piece would fit with Number 1 from one side of the front half of the body and Number 2 from the other side of the front half, and Number 19 from one side of the back half of the body and Number 20 from the other side of the back half. Confusing? You bet.

Even when I managed to figure out the numbering system, there's nothing to tell you which way to slide things into the slot. I got the entire body put together (much to my relief) before I realized that the legs would be upside-down if I tried to attach them. At that point, I just had to laugh.




Eventually I decided to take everything apart and start over, not paying attention to anything but the photograph of the wooden elephant on the front. I sorted the pieces into the recognizable parts—body, legs, trunk, tusks and ears—and a jumble of what was left.




Once I ignored the instructions—something I also find helpful when assembling Swedish kit furniture—it went fairly quickly. I definitely needed the diagram—and there were one or two points at which I did have to looked at the cursed numbers, usually to no avail—but eventually I got the body assembled, then the head.




The front legs have a disturbing tendency to fall off, for some reason, but I used all the pieces and they seem to fit in the right places, so I don't know what's wrong. Perhaps this is what the "use a spot of glue if things don't stay together" instruction refers to.

I like the final result, but it should come with much better instructions. Granted, I am no engineer, but I think even an engineering-oriented child would struggle with this. Better to have instructions like the ones I have for an umbrella ("Don't overwinding!") and a piggybank ("Go to the front to put in through the back") than mini-diagrams with illegible numbers.




Given how long this took, it's not getting painted in any colour. I may douse it with glitter and give it a Santa hat before Christmas if I want to torment it. But that's only if it doesn't lose its legs again.





Elephant Lore of the Day
One of the favourite trees of African elephants—and giraffes, for that matter—is the acacia. Given elephants' ability to eat between 149 and 169 kilograms (330 to 375 pounds) of plant matter a day, the risk to acacia trees is considerable.

Enter the ant. Ants act as protectors of the Acacia drepanolobium, which elephants rarely touch. The reason is that any elephant foolish enough to try eating this particular species of acacia is likely to end up with a swarm of angry ants crawling up inside its trunk.

To test their theory that ants were the reason elephants avoided the Acacia drepanolobium, scientists stripped the tree of its ants, while also adding ants to another species—the Acacia mellifera—which elephants love. When either tree had ants on it, the elephants would avoid those trees completely.


Ants on Acacia drepanolobium, Ngorongoro Conservation Area, Tanzania.
Photo: Pharaoh han, 2009
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Acacia_drepanolobium_and_
Crematogaster_nigriceps_@_Ngorongoro_Aug2009.jpg


Despite their thick hide, elephants have extraordinarly sensitive skin, and their trunks have hundreds of thousands of nerve endings. Because elephants dislike ants inside their trunks, and appear to sense the presence of ants by smell, ant scent may one day be used to deter elephants from eating food crops grown on farms and plantations. This may reduce the incidence of human-elephant conflict, which usually results in casualities on both sides.



To Support Elephant Welfare









Thursday, 1 December 2011

Elephant No. 60: Modelling Foam




For several weeks now, I've been noticing something called "modelling foam" in the kids' craft section of various stores, so I thought I'd try it for today's elephant.




Having never seen a package of this stuff opened, I had no idea if it would be sticky or squishy or stretchy or what. I'm sure my nieces or the cute little twins next door would know exactly what to do with it—probably while rolling their eyes at my ineptitude—but I'm on my own, so I figured I'd just make the best of it.




The package tells me that I will "Feel the fun!" with this material, but that's all the instruction it seemed willing to impart. It did come with three helpful photographs of modelling foam creations on the front, like this pig, so I felt safe in assuming that I could make a reasonably three-dimensional object with this material.




I didn't like any of the colours in the package, so I perversely chose orange. Bonus: it has iridescent bits sprinkled throughout. The texture is like a firm marshmallow or a rice krispies square (not my favourite treat), and it's ever so slightly sticky—not enough to be annoying right out of the package, but I guess enough to make it stick to itself. I noticed also that each of the tiny balls is hollow. I guess that's what allows the material to compress.




The first thing I did was break it in half to use one half for the main part of the body, and the other half for everything else.





After the body was more or less in a shape I liked, I added the head.




Here's where it started to get annoying. I think the orange is actually the adhesive part of the material, because the styrofoam beads showed white the more I handled it, and wherever it was whitest was where it tended to fall apart. The sparkly bits also started coming off. 

This would have been fine, but for the other tendency of this stuff, which is to displace itself. This means that, although you can stick on ears and legs, for example, the moment you try to ensure a good bond by pressing it together a little, all the styrofoam beads move around, forming a totally different shape. Taking the whole thing in your hands and trying to gently compress it in a uniform way all around is no better. There is simply a volume of styrofoam that is going to remain the same volume, no matter what you do. The little holes through each bead mean nothing.




It also got stickier as I went along, making individual beads detach from the main elephant and stick to my palms, wrists and the back of my hands. For anyone who reads this blog, even occasionally, you know I don't like things that stick to my hands too much.

It eventually got so ridiculous that I had to laugh. Once, when I got the legs almost right, gravity decided to take the trunk and detach it from the head. When I got a nice shape for the head, reattaching one of the ears made most of the head bulge back into the body. The elephant's body was variously fat, skinny, skeletal, long, short, round and almost wedge-shaped.




When I felt it was as good as it was going to get, I quickly photographed it before it decided to fall apart again. No telling what shape I'd end up with if I had to squish it back together for the twenty-third time. Maybe a giraffe—or a hippo.

I can see the appeal of modelling foam to kids. If you want to make something fairly compact (i.e., without a trunk or ears that stick out) or something that lays flat, this is not bad. I liked it at first myself. But I know that, when I'm finished writing this blog, I'll go back and see a trunkless elephant with perhaps one leg missing, no ears and bits of itself trailing all over the place. The upside is that I think I can squish it back together and make something else—until all the orange adhesive wears off, anyway.





Elephant Lore of the Day
Interestingly, elephants have even made their mark on Space. Observing an unusual texture on the surface of our moon, scientists have given it the technical name "elephant skin".


Elephant skin texture on the surface of Earth's moon.
Photo: NASA/GSFC/ASU
Source: http://planetary.org/blog/article/00002561/

This particular pattern is currently believed to result from a slow movement of the lunar soil related to thermal cycles of day and night, as well as from shaking due to the impact of meteorites. It is most noticeable when the Sun's rays strike the moon at an oblique angle.


Actual elephant skin.
Source: http://www.upali.ch/skin_en.html



To Support Elephant Welfare