The Natural Curiosity Project

Imagine a place right here on Earth—not on Mercury or Venus—where it's not particularly unusual for the summer temperature to soar to 180 degrees Fahrenheit (82 degrees C). Now imagine a 20-meter or 60-foot-tall building in that hellish place where ice can be safely stored, completely frozen, for the entire summer. Oh—I should also add that the building has no electricity and is made out of mud, goat hair, ash, and egg whites. These buildings exist, and they're called Yakhchals. They're found in the Middle East, mostly in Iran, in places where it gets very cold in the winter, when ice can be made, and very hot in the summer. They're a type of evaporative cooler—in the dry parts of the American south, a similar technology is called a swamp cooler—and these Yakhchals been in continuous use since at least the fourth-century BCE.

Every once in a while, an idea hits me that causes one of those stop-the-presses moments, usually caused by some triggering event—in this case, the senseless, ongoing attacks on and defunding of scientific research by a group of decision-makers who aren't sure if there's an ‘I' in the word ‘science.' They make me think of a line from the movie Armageddon, in which the Air Force general says to Billy Bob Thornton, one of the NASA executives, “You're asking me to put the future of the planet into the hands of a group of people that I wouldn't trust with a potato gun.” The world reveres art, especially music and the artists who create it. The same is true of sports figures. Look at the way we hold up rock musicians and professional athletes as if they were celestial deities, sitting beside Zeus and Apollo and the rest of the pantheon. But when's the last time we saw such reverence for science and the scientists who strive to understand the ways of the universe? In fact, I know you can name musicians and sports figures. But how many scientists can you name, once you get past Einstein, and maybe Bill Nye and Neil DeGrasse Tyson? It's time to change that, don't you think?

I just got a package in the mail, which contains a signed copy of a brand-new book that just came out from science fiction author Rob Dircks, called “Sunnyside,” along with a cloth patch that I can sew onto a shirt or a baseball cap. The patch says, “HISTORY REPAIR TECHNICIAN: CORRECT THE PAST, PROTECT THE FUTURE.” I won't give it away, but it's related to Sunnyside. As you've probably already figured out, Rob is my guest my guest in this episode. I'm already halfway through the eBook version of Sunnyside, which came out before the physical book did, but Rob was kind enough to send me a physical copy as well, and that's what just got here. Man, I love this patch. In this episode, Rob and I are going to talk about writing with a focus on science fiction, but we're also going to talk about curiosity, creativity, and the challenge of balancing work and the creative pursuits that feed our souls. But there's more to Rob Dircks that just being a science fiction author and Podcaster. Yes, he's written a lot of material, and talk about diverse! His books include “You're Going to Mars!”, a trilogy called “Where the Hell is Tesla,” and “The Wrong Unit.” And those are just his science fiction titles. He's also the author of “Alphabert: An A-B-C Bedtime Adventure, and “Unleash the Sloth: 75 Ways to Reach Your Maximum Potential by Doing Less” (And I DARE you to hear that title and NOT check it out, along with Rob's other books).

Curiosity can lead to some weird and wacky places—how about Sopchoppy, Florida, home of the American Worm Gruntin' Festival? But there's more to this story than that. Have a listen.

HAVE ALWAYS BELIEVED that every child, by the time they're 13 or so, should have a good grounding in three specific skills. They should be able to read well; they should have a decent understanding of their individual rights, especially freedom of speech and the sanctity of a free press; and they should understand the scientific method and how it works. Science is real, and it is as accurate as anything can possibly be BECAUSE it is designed to be ferociously self-critical. What if our political system worked the same way? Wow—what an amazing thing THAT would be! Let me say that another way: what if we were to unleash the scientific method on POLITICAL science? What would THAT look like! In this episode, I take a look at that, with the help of none other than Carl Sagan. Have a listen.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) operates underwater microphone arrays throughout the world's oceans, going them th ability to listen to goings-on below the surface. Many sounds capture by those hydrophones they recognize--but some, they don't. In this episode I'll share some of these mysterious sounds with you. What do YOU think they are?

To combat disease, we have the opportunity to go to the doctor and get a vaccine, which helps us create antibodies to resist disease. But how do we inoculate ourselves against a very different and insidious attacker--bias and disinformation? I'll tell you.

Anyone who has listened to more than two episodes of this program knows that I'm about as weird and geeky as they come. I'm a sucker for science and nature, and in spite of the fact that as a kid I would have rather looked for turtles and snakes in the vacant lots around our town than play sports, a fact that led to more than a few schoolyard brawls, my passion and curiosity have never left me—and hopefully, never will. One of the best things I ever built, one of the most magical, was something called a crystal radio. And listen: if you have a young person in your life, pay attention—this is a great project to do together. The very best resource I've found online about crystal radios is maintained by Professor David Goldenberg at the University of Utah. You can find his page at https://goldenberg.biology.utah.edu/fun.shtml. This episode's cover image is from my good friend, Kenn Sato.

One of the most effective yet most overlooked and under appreciated techniques for assessing the biodiversity of an environment is sound--the voice of the place. In this episode, I describe why sound is such a powerful and accurate indicator of bioacoustics health.

Jared Blake is one of the most important human voices in the natural world today. His unceasing commitment to exhort us all to slow down and listen to the voices of the natural world, to work hard to understand what we're being told, is a cause and effort to be celebrated. in this episode, Jared tells us about his months-long recording expedition to the American Southwest, and about the extraordinary, often eerie, voices he heard while in the wild.

Here's a childhood question for you. And I should qualify that—for the most part I'm talking to people who were kids during the 60s, and who shared the books they read with their own children. Here's the question: What do Carolyn Keene, Franklin W. Dixon, Kenneth Robeson, Laura Lee Hope, and Victor Appleton have in common? Hopefully, you remember some of those names. The answer is that they're all well-known authors to anyone who read The Bobbsey Twins, Hardy Boys, Doc Savage, the Campfire Girls, The Happy Hollisters, and a few others. The other thing they have in common? None of them exist, and they never did. They're all pseudonyms. Here's why.

Were you aware that deep in the Amazon Jungle of Brazil there lies an abandoned American town, built in the 1920s by none other than Henry Ford? Check it out.

Remember the movie, “Tombstone”? There's a scene where Val Kilmer, who plays Doc Holliday, confronts the outlaw, Johnny Ringo. Doc says, “I'm your huckleberry,” which causes Johnny Ringo to go pale as a ghost, because he knows that people don't generally walk away from a gunfight with Doc Holliday. But here's the thing: that's not what he said. The other evening, Sabine told me what he actually said, and that got me thinking about words—you know how I am with stuff related to language—and the next thing I knew I had assembled a list of words that I had never heard in my life, but that now I can't wait to find a reason to use. Here you go.

A few months ago, I did an interview on the program with Sarah and Derek Solomon, who are safari guides in southern Africa. If you listened to that episode, you may recall that their work is pretty unique. First, in addition to doing traditional photo and wildlife viewing safaris, they also do sound safaris, usually at night. Their safari guests can't see the animals, but they can hear them, thanks to special microphones mounted on the front of the safari vehicle and headphones at each seat. Then, they met a young South African filmmaker who was producing a documentary about a remarkable young South African girl, blind since birth, and her experiences of seeing the world through sound. Brett, the filmmaker, needed a safari guide to help this young girl “see” African wildlife in her own way—with her ears, rather than with her eyes. Sarah and Derek were perfect for the job. The film, “Call of the Wild,” has been a big hit at film festivals ever since its release. But equally important is the impact that the experience has had on Sarah and Derek. After working with Brett, and the young girl, Annika, A thought struck them: Why not offer sound safaris for people who can't see? Well, after a great deal of effort and planning, their idea has become a reality. I reached out, and asked them to give me an update on how things are going.

As most of you know, I released a new novel reently called Russet. It's my fourth book of fiction; all my prior titles have been about technology, history, photography, writing, sound recording, biography, and a few other genres. The book is doing well; it's my first science fiction book, and I had a blast writing it. For the last six weeks or so, pretty much since Russet hit the shelves, I've been getting an unusual number of emails and messages from people, asking me how to write a book. Actually, they're asking more than that. Many feel like they have a book inside themselves begging to be written, and want to know how to get it from mind to paper. Or, they have an idea that they think would make a good book, but don't know how to bridge the gap between their idea and a finished work. And others want to know how I manage to jump between genres in my writing. It's true—I write about a lot of different things. Well, I've thought about these questions, because they intrigue me, too, and I've assembled some thoughts about them.

I had the opportunity today to sit down with someone who is truly an expert in navigating the turbulent waters of global geopolitics. He's an expert in one particularly troublesome region, a place that most of us are quite familiar with. Not only does he describe the kinds of threats that can be encountered there, but he also explains scenarios and techniques for dealing with them. This is a great episode--enjoy.

Jerry Berrier is a birder, a wildlife sound recordist, and an outspoken advocate for the natural world. And, he's been blind since birth. In this episode he tells his remarkable story, and explains how his blindness, while clearly not an advantage in the modern world, does not slow him down.

I saw a story headline last week that inspired this episode. It told me that Elwood Edwards had died at 74. Don't know who he is? He received $200 to record all the original AOL sounds and inspired at least one really great movie. That got me thinking about other sounds from the more-or-less recent past, so I dove into my sound archives and found a bunch of them. And what I didn't have, Wikipedia did, so hats off to them for being such an important archive in so many different ways. By the way, if you use Wikipedia, even once a month, please send them the five bucks they ask for each year. We're talking about the cost of a cup of coffee here, folks—they deserve it. So—sounds. I've collected a bunch of them here for your nostalgic listening pleasure. I'll tell you what they are at the end of the program, but for now, just have a listen. These are not in chronological order, by design; they're just sounds of the technological past.

A couple of months ago I was wandering around a small bookstore here in Vermont, where I ran across a book with the magnetic title, “Abandoned Vermont and New Hampshire,” by one Marie Desrosiers. I picked it up and started reading; the next day, I finished it. The book was so compelling that I found Marie online and sent her a message. A few days later we had a chat about her work, and she agreed to do an interview about the books she writes and the photographs of she makes of abandoned places—a field she calls the study of abandonment. Please enjoy.

Sabine and I just came back from a big, looping three-week road trip that took us as far west as the sand hills of Nebraska, where I wanted to record the sounds of the prairie in the early fall. But we also spent a lot of our time trying to see the country differently than we ever have. Because we've both lived in more than one country, we live by Mark Twain's quote, that “travel is fatal to bigotry, prejudice and narrowmindedness.” We're in a pretty weird political time right now, so we wanted to get a better understanding of just what this country, this place, is. I'm not sure if we actually managed to do that—I don't that anyone can—but we definitely came home more enlightened than we were when we left.

According to many sources, Apollo 11, which landed on the Moon in July 1969, drew the attention of the entire world. But subsequent missions to the Moon and other ambitions efforts by NASA and its partner agencies drew far less attention. How quickly the sense of awe and wonder wanes. We take computers for granted; our mobile phones are orders of magnitude more powerful than anything that got Apollo to the Moon—and trust me on this, the Apollo on-board computers were wondrous devices for the time, automatically controlling pitch and yaw and roll and the firing of thrusters and retrorockets at precise times. Flying around the world has become mundane, more a chore than an incredible opportunity. We even have electric cars on the road. That's a different scale of wonder, but you know what I mean. People pay no attention to space launches, yet they're impressed by cars that run on batteries and can go 250 miles without recharging. But here's the thing. It ain't all that impressive. Sorry, Elon. Electric cars are a good idea, and they're good for the environment—mostly—but they're not a new idea. In fact, the first truly electric vehicle—a car—was built in 1965. And it wasn't designed for smooth, modern highways, with conveniently spaced charging stations along the way. No, it was designed to be driven on the Moon. And it did. In fact, three of them made the trip. Let me tell you the story, with a little help from NASA.

The best thing about doing this Podcast is that it forces me to constantly be on the lookout for topics and the people associated with them that might lead to interesting episodes. So, when I learned during a meeting of the Williston Historical Society that South Ridge, the neighborhood where I live in Vermont, yielded archaeological artifacts during the planning, site preparation, and excavation of the neighborhood, I got curious, and went in search of the archaeologists who I assumed were called in to ensure that sacred or culturally significant sites weren't being disturbed. And that's how I found Douglas Frink. Douglas is an archaeologist, but more than that, as you'll hear, he's a soil scientist. But he's even more than that. He's sort of a soil whisperer, because he believes that if we pay attention to the soil, we pay attention to the history.

Occasionally, in the course of developing topics and themes for this program, I run across a genuine treasure. So, full disclosure—as if you need me to tell you this—I'm a pretty serious, card-carrying geek of the highest order. I like science, I tend to geek out on it, and I'm always looking for new sources of knowledge about topics that most people don't care much about. So, you can imagine my delight when I ran across Brian Malow. Brian is equal parts science enthusiast, educator, speaker, comedian, and a few other things, as you're about to hear. I heard him speak at a conference years ago in Berkeley, and recently, I asked him if he'd join me on the program sometime. He said yes, so here's our conversation. By the way, you can learn more about Brian's work and booking him for your event (an excellent idea!) at https://sciencecomedian.com.

What is it about that sound of a foghorn, or a bell buoy, or a whistle or gong buoy? For some people, like Dianne Ballon, these sounds magical, and mystical, hearkening to a world that most of us don't know. Dianne is a Maine-based artist who shares a passion for the sea—and most specifically, a passion for the devices whose voices warn fog-cloaked vessels about the presence of hazards. Not just foghorns, but also bell, whistle, and gong buoys. I came across Dianne Ballon while I was in the middle of one of my down-the-rabbit-hole projects, researching the history of lighthouses and foghorns. I was looking for foghorn sounds to augment my own recordings, and the Maine Maritime Museum's Web site popped up, because Dianne has an ongoing exhibit there about the sounds of the Maine coast. I reached out to her, and Dianne agreed to chat with me. You can learn more about Dianne's work at https://www.dianneballonsound.com.

The sun was barely above the horizon by the time I reached the meadow during my morning walk. The bright, flat light hit the tall grasses and wildflowers from the side, creating a silhouette effect that made them glow. But that wasn't all: the horizontal light also backlit the dozens of orb weaver webs that stretched between the tall plant stems, bejeweled by the droplets of dew that had condensed on them as tiny, transparent, concentric strings of pearls. I was entranced by these gorgeous structures. So—rabbit hole time. How do spiders build those things? How do they know to create THAT shape? Are the webs strictly structural and for capturing prey? In this episode, we walk briefly through their remarkable physiology—and how scientists are looking intensely at spider silk for a range of applications.

My newest novel, "Russet," has just been released. It's a 600-page saga about mounting a mission to Mars, an unimaginably complex undertaking. Sending astronauts to the Moon took four days; Mars is a one-way journey of at least five months. How could we possibly build a ship large enough and safe enough to accommodate their needs, for a round-trip journey of at least 18 months? In my story, NASA has the answer—an extraordinary plan to put 30 people on the Red Planet—unless those who oppose the mission can destroy the ship first.

The year was 1977. The top selling cars were the Ford LTD and the Chevy Impala. The top movies were Star Wars and Saturday Night Fever. Gas was 65 cents a gallon. Stephen King published The Shining, and Farrah Fawcett published the poster. Meanwhile, over at NASA, Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 were carried aloft for a five-year mission. Yet here we are, 47 years later, and they're still going strong. Voyager I is 15.2 billion miles from Earth; Voyager II is 12.7 billion miles away, and both are traveling at about 35,000 miles-per-hour. And as amazing as all that is, that's not what I want to talk with you about in this program. I want to talk with you about the payload they both carry—specifically, the golden record.

I read a lot. It fuels my writing, gives me a better view of the world, and is a great way to travel through time and space. Every once in a while, I run across a book that really hits me as a must-read. Episode two was about Sam Kean's book, The Disappearing Spoon; Episode eleven was about The Age of Wonder, by Richard Holmes; and Episode 255 was about William Least Heat-Moon's Blue Highways. In this program, I'm going to talk about Lynda Rutledge's novel, West with Giraffes, which I finished last night. Sabine recommended this one to me; as I closed the back cover, I realized that there were tears on my face. This is one great book. But there's more to the story of this episode. The book made me think about current events in the context of past events and made me realize that we're far better off now than we were in 1938—or any year hence. Those who feel otherwise and who look to the past to find “the good old days” won't find them, because they don't exist: “The Good Old Days” is a dangerous and misleading myth. Better days only lie ahead, in our collective future, and it is our job to make them real. Please have a listen—this is an important message. Note: Image copyright San Diego Zoo Global.

I know, tilting at windmills again, but as we enter this next political cycle, I have to once again take a shot at the corrosive power of labels and how we should avoid them--not just during election season, but in our lives in general. this is short, but hopefully will give you something to think about.

This Podcast is all about Curiosity and why it's important. I was looking through one of the local paper a few months back, and saw a photo of an interesting looking guy who was practically lying on the ground at the shore of Lake Champlain with a microphone extended over the water, and a beast of a recorder next to him. He's Wren Kitz, and as you probably already know, he's a curious guy. I got in touch, we chatted, and he agreed to do an interview. Wren is a musician, field recordist, filmmaker with his partner Abby, and a bread bakerIf you'd like to hear more of Wren's work, please visit his Bandcamp site, which is at WrenKitz.Bandcamp.com. And if you happen to be in the area and want to taste some amazing bread, Seek out Tremolo. He sells it at local farmer's markets in the summer, and a few local restaurants.

One evening in 1982, Sabine handed me a book that had come out two weeks before, saying, “Read this. It has you written all over it.” The book was called, “Blue Highways: A Journey into America,” by previously unknown (and quirkily named) author William Least Heat-Moon. If you haven't read the book, stop whatever you're doing right now and go buy a copy. I've read it 19 times, and I'll read it a few more times, I'm sure. Today, 42 years after its release, it's one of the most important American books of the 20th century. And today, as we enter yet another mindless political screaming match, it's a good book to read. Listen to hear why.

There's been a lot of chatter in the press lately about advances in interspecies communication and our soon-to-arrive ability to translate what our non-human neighbors are saying. That's quite a breakthrough, considering how much trouble I often have understanding what other HUMANS are saying. But there's another factor: even though AI, machine learning and large language models give us extraordinarily powerful abilities to analyze unimaginably large volumes of data, and to perhaps decode non-human communications, I'm not convinced we should. Have a listen.

One of my favorite quotes comes from Anthropologist Loren Eiseley. He said, “If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.” In this episode I'm going to prove it. A lot of you probably know that the first stage of my professional career was as a SCUBA instructor and commercial diver. I spent thousands of hours under the surface of the Pacific Ocean, enthralled by what my hero Jacques Cousteau called The Silent World. We divers used to laugh good-naturedly at that, because the ocean is anything but silent. It's filled with noise, and I'm not talking about boats and such, although there's plenty of that, too. I'm talking about snapping shrimp, parrotfish, ocean waves and swells passing overhead, the clicks of dolphins, the eerie call of whales, and all the other sounds we used to listen to and wonder about. But it isn't just oceanic creatures that make noise. As you're about to learn, it turns out that freshwater ponds are filled with sound. Yes, that still, calm little pond over there may be quiet above, but most likely, below the surface, there's a whole symphony going on. My guest on this program is an acoustic ecologist who has studied aquatic sound, but more than that, he has come up with ways to use sound as a predictor of freshwater environmental health—and as a tool for the restoration of ponds in areas where human activity has degraded them.

Not long ago I got a request from a young student to do an episode on the Podcast about roly polies, which happened to be this student's favorite animal in the universe—his words. So, I did. And that kicked off a flurry of other requests, which I dutifully fulfilled. This episode is the result of a request from a junior high student who wanted to know about the field of geology. So, I started to do some research on the topic, and after about 30 minutes of digging, I had an epiphany, which caused me to go stand in front of a mirror and slap myself a few times for being an idiot. My Dad is a retired hard rock geologist, so rather than research the field, I decided to go straight to the horse's mouth, as it were, and ask him. So, in this episode, I'd like to introduce you to my dad, Bob Shepard. I asked him to share his story with me, as a way to answer the question that came in from Andrea in Oklahoma City. So, without further ado, here's my dad!

Tim Brookes is many things: accomplished author with many prestigious publishing credits to his name; woodworker; college professor and program director; and the founder of the Endangered Alphabets Project. We've all heard about languages disappearing, especially those that have no written form. Well, alphabets are also disappearing--and Tim is on a mission to save them.

It's hard to believe that over the course of 70 months--from September 2018 to this episode in June 2024--I have published 250 episode in tis crazy journey of discovery. thanks for being along for the ride--there's lots more to come!

My guest in this episode is Tom Biegalski. Tom's a photographer and videographer, but to say that is like saying that 'Ansel Adams took snapshots.' He specializes in photographing things that can't be seen with the naked eye, using techniques that fall into Arthur C. Clarke's well-known quote that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. His Web site, TTBPhoto.com, is filled with examples of his work. Please take a few minutes to visit the galleries there, and be sure to click on the YouTube link at the bottom of the home page to see his videos. The slow-motion dragonflies are mesmerizing.

Remember the show, Big Bang Theory? Of course you do. Best—television show—ever. Do you remember when Sheldon Cooper and his girlfriend Amy Farrah Fowler produced their Web TV show, "Fun with Flags? “I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper, and this is Fun with Flags.” Well, in keeping with that, I have a similarly geeky fascination with geography. So, I'm Dr. Steven Shepard, and this is Fun with Geography. I am constantly running across fascinating little factoids about the world. Most of ‘em fall into the ‘really interesting but not sure how it's useful' category, other than the priceless value of information and knowledge. When I worked at Hill Associates, we used to talk about quodlibetic information—information that is really interesting, but that has no earthly use. So, this episode is your periodic dose of quodlibetic information.

The amazing and mystifying life cycle of ants--and why they do the things they do. This is an amazing story!

A brief audio essay on the importance of wonder in all of our lives.

Have you ever dreamed about going on an expedition? And I don't mean a walk in the deep woods—I mean, going to places most of us couldn't find on a map, and living under some pretty rugged conditions.Well, my guest on this program has done that. In fact, he's been on more than one expedition, to some of the roughest places on the planet. Meet Tony Baylis. Tony is an Australia-based wildlife sound recordist who sometimes bills himself as a ‘bird vocabularist'—meaning, someone who specializes in the unique calls of individual species. I caught up with him recently while he was in the UK, visiting our mutual friend Roger Boughton, and we had a great conversation.

Sometimes there are no words. In this case, I editorialize about theme I believe deserves attention: the corrosive power of disinformation and lies, and those who wield them.

Amazing what happens when art and science collide.

Episode 242 - Interview With Musician And Field Recordist Madeline Reilly by Dr. Steven Shepard

As you know, the tag line of this program is that this is the place for stories that matter. Well, this story matters more than most. Not only is it about experiencing the wonders of the African bush, it's about a young woman, sightless from birth, who taught others how to see.

What's the largest thing on earth--the blue whale? Nope, not even close. Here's a hint: it weights 233 times what a blue whale weighs.

A message from an 8th grader asked me to look into antlions. So, I did, and with lots of memories of these little critters from my own childhood, here you go!

This is an important audio essay (at least, I think it is). It's a bit longer than my usual diet, but it will be worth your time to listen and, as Winnie-the-Pooh would say, think a little think about it. Thanks, in advance.

Described as the most resilient creatures on earth, tardigrades are funny little critters that can withstand just about any threat we toss at them--and shake it off as if nothing happened. They can be frozen, boiled, left in the vacuum of space, exposed to radiation--and nothing seems to affect them. In this episode we talk about these little critters. Enjoy!

Dudley Edmondson is a gifted nature photographer with a passion for telling nature's story through his books and images. He's also a Black Man in America, and wrestles with all that that means as someone who often feels more comfortable in the wild than he does standing in his own front yard. Listen to his story--and think about what it means.

Another track that's mostly for the kids, this one thanks to a student request about the lowly dung beetle—a much smarter little critter than we give it credit for. Enjoy!