Spring Science Surprise #1:
Bears Don't Really Hibernate
Scientists say that "true" hibernators, such as ground squirrels, practically die during hibernation. Their body temperature drops to near freezing, and their organs shut down. A ground squirrel's heart rate, for example, slows from a few hundred beats per minute to just five. Even the little nut lover's bones and teeth deteriorate, as every tissue toes the line between life and death. They do wake up every few weeks. But normally, you can poke, prod, or even eat a hibernating critter and get no response.
Never try that with a bear. Yogi and Boo-Boo aren't exactly into winter sports, but they're not dead to the world either. Bears just use winter to catch up on their sleep, preferring winter dormancy to scrounging for dwindling food. Their body temperature drops only a few degrees. They wake up frequently and can stir in a second if someone invades their den. Mother bears even give birth to cubs and suckle them sleepily till spring.
Spring Science Surprise #2:
Your Grass Doesn't Really Grow That Fast
Once warmed and watered out of its winter brownness, your lawn probably adds a couple of inches each week. Yet be thankful. There is a grass that you'd have to cut every hour of every day for a month just to keep your yard underfoot.
It's called bamboo. Bamboo may grow like a tree, but it's actually a kind of giant grass. Many think it's the fastest growing plant on the planet. One variety, called madake, can grow up to four feet (more than a meter) in a single day. It reaches its full height in a month, towering as much as 72 feet (22 meters) above you and your Lawnboy. Slack off with a bamboo lawn, and you'll be cutting it with a helicopter.
Spring Science Surprise #3:
The Smell of Rain Is Petrichor
April showers bring May flowers, and something else, too: the smell of rain--that fresh, earthy scent marketers never quite manage to put in fabric softener. In 1964, two Australian scientists trying to pin down the elusive smell discovered that plants secrete various oils during dry times that rocks and soil absorb. A little rain releases the oils into the air. The scientists, who clearly had poetry in their souls, called the aroma "petrichor," combining the Greek word petros, or rock, with ichor, the blood-like essence of Greek gods.
Still, not every rainy-day aroma comes from botanical extracts, like so much bath oil. In moister, more wooded areas around the world, the smell of rain is likely the smell of spores, from bacteria that live in the soil called actinomycetes. Raindrops pounding the ground blast fine particles of soil and spores into the air, where they're more whiffable. So, could the smell of rain kill you? Not generally. In fact, actinomycetes are a primary source of antibiotics used to combat other, less refreshing bacteria.
Spring Science Surprise #4:
The First Robin May Not Signal Spring
Alright, let's talk about the birds and the bees. First thing: Mom lied. Spotting a robin does not necessarily signal the start of spring. Truth is, you can spot American robins just about all year long. Even if your robins flew south for the winter, you might see one that flew in from someplace farther north. To get a thumbs-up on spring, you have to lay eyes on your robins--on the ones actually returning to your area for some spring and summer worming.
You can't exactly check their boarding passes. But you can listen. When your local robins return, the males call dibs on worms, marking their territories with a distinctive song: cheer-up, cheer-up, cheer-a-lee. Robins make all kinds of chirps and calls, but they save this singing for after they've returned to claim a springtime spot. They tend to arrive after the temperature moves consistently above 37 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius). That's when worms head back to the surface after tunneling all winter below the frost.
Spring Science Surprise #5:
Honey Is Bee Vomit
Dad didn't tell you the whole story either. He surely told you that bees make honey. But how? It's not as if the little buzzers have a honey factory inside their hive where they slather sweets into packages like Keebler elves. Come on: they're bees, not teamsters.
No, honey is pretty much just bee vomit--what bees burp up to feed their young and sustain the hive during winter. To make such glorious stuff, honeybees sip only the best nectar from the ripest flowers. The official drink of Greek gods, nectar is a watery mix of various sugars, with those sugars accounting for between 3 and 80 percent of the solution. Once inside bees' honey sacs, the nectar loses moisture, giving the sugars sticky-sweet reign. One bee belch later, and you've got the essence of spring flowers on your toast.
From: KnowledgeNews
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