Glimpses of Wonder™

Surfing Giants of Loango — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

The Atlantic heaves, rolling out big green walls of water, and riding one of them is a hippo—yes, a hippo—perched as if on a surfboard too small for its bulk. Ears flick like rudders, nostrils flare, and for one glorious instant this half-ton river horse leans forward just right, catching the curl like a pro from a Saturday morning cartoon. Spray arcs around it like confetti, and the sight is so absurd you almost expect it to throw a shaka sign with one stubby leg. By the time your g

September 15

Sensory Design

The Fingerprints of God’s Precision — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

If your fingertip were the size of Earth, you could run it over a city and know whether you’d just brushed past a house or a car. That’s how sensitive Jehovah made your sense of touch. In 2013, researchers at KTH Royal Institute of Technology in Sweden discovered that the human fingertip can detect surface differences as small as 13 nanometers—about the size of a large molecule. Imagine that: something invisible to the naked eye, smaller than a single wavelength of light, yet your bo

dljbsp in Sensory Design

September 11

The Spiraling Horns of the Markhor — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

High on the rugged slopes of the Himalayas and Hindu Kush, there lives a goat with a crown unlike any other. The markhor doesn’t wear jewels or gold, yet on its head twist horns so elaborate they look as if they were carved by an artisan’s hand. Each spiral rises skyward, winding like a corkscrew. Some of these horns stretch more than five feet long — taller than many people! No two sets are exactly alike. One male’s horns may form a wide, open spiral while another’s are tighter, alm

September 10

The Scream Beneath the Armor — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

When you picture an armadillo, what comes to mind? Maybe a quiet, armored ball scurrying off the roadside at night. Now imagine picking one up and being met, not with silence, but with a piercing scream loud enough to rattle your bones. That is exactly what happens with the screaming hairy armadillo (Chaetophractus vellerosus). True to its name, this little creature shouts its protest with a squeal so shrill that predators—and humans—are often left stunned. Found in the dry grassland

September 5

Always Moving, Always Breathing — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

Picture the open ocean. The sun ripples on the surface, light bends into deep blue, and far below, a silver torpedo is on the move. That torpedo is alive — a tuna — and it has a secret: it can never stop. For most fish, resting is simple. They pull water over their gills by expanding and closing their mouths, a process called buccal pumping. That steady motion keeps oxygen flowing whether they’re darting through a reef or lying still under a rock ledge. But tuna are different. Their

Designs in Motion — Creatures That Travel Without Wings

September 4

Nature

The Parrot Who Talked Too Much — and Outlived Everyone — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

Most parrots learn a polite “hello” and spend the rest of their lives screaming it at the mailman. But not Puck. Puck was the heavyweight champion of bird banter, the undisputed parrot prodigy, the feathered freak of the dictionary world. By the end of his life, this pint-sized chatterbox had racked up 1,528 words — more than most toddlers, and let’s be honest, more than a few adults whose vocabulary has been whittled down to “dude,” “literally,” and “no worries.” If you tried to tea

dljbsp in Nature

September 4

Ocean Creatures

Passengers in the Current — And the God Who Carries Us — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

We think of blood as red. Red with hemoglobin, red with the iron-rich buses that load oxygen in the gills and carry it faithfully to every waiting cell. That color, that transport, is so much a part of our picture of life that it seems unimaginable without it. But in the frozen seas around Antarctica swims a creature whose blood doesn’t just run cold — it runs clear. The icefish has no hemoglobin, so no buses to transport the oxygen. Instead, oxygen drifts into the plasma, a molecule

dljbsp in Ocean Creatures

August 26

Riding the Invisible Sky — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

Picture a spider no bigger than a freckle, climbing to the tip of a blade of grass. It pauses, raises its front legs, and releases a thread of silk. The strand doesn’t just float on the breeze. It shivers, stretches, and suddenly carries the spider into the air. The tiny passenger is gone — not just drifting on wind, but sailing on something deeper. Many who ride the air this way are spiderlings — baby spiders that hatch from a silken egg sac already looking like miniature adults. Do

dljbsp in Designs in Motion — Creatures That Travel Without Wings

August 25

Everyday Wonders

Black for a Reason — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ —

Natural rubber doesn’t begin life as a tough, black tire. It starts much softer—tapped from the slender bark of the Pará rubber tree (Hevea brasiliensis) as a milky latex. In its raw form, it appears pale—white or creamy—with subtle shades of yellow or brown depending on natural compounds like proteins or resins present in the latex (Rubber Board India). Look even deeper, and you discover an astonishing truth: the very trees that provide this latex are themselves built from carbon. W

dljbsp in Everyday Wonders

August 21

The Strength Within — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 12 of 12

A dozen eggs. The carton is full now. If you’ve followed along, you’ve seen it quietly change — one egg, then two, then three — until today, twelve. Maybe you noticed the count, maybe you didn’t. But here it is, complete. And isn’t that how Jehovah works? What He builds isn’t always loud or obvious — but it is steady, it is sure, and in time, it is whole. Look closer at the eggs themselves. They appear fragile, as if a careless touch could ruin them. And yet the shell, with its gentl

August 20

The Bantam’s Gift — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 11 of 12

Not every chicken is built the same. Some are made for laying — dependable, almost mechanical in their rhythm. A Rhode Island Red or a White Leghorn can fill a carton with eggs faster than you can make an omelet. But ask them to brood? To sit faithfully and bring those eggs to life? Forget it. They’ll wander off the nest, distracted, bored, moving on before the work is done. Then there’s the bantam hen. She doesn’t lay many eggs, and what she does lay are smaller. But give her a clut

August 19

The Brooding Lesson — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 10 of 12

If you’ve never raised chickens, the word brooding might sound gloomy, like a stormy mood. But in the barnyard, brooding means something tender and remarkable. It’s when a hen, after laying her clutch of eggs, settles herself over them, wings spread, body heat steady, eyes watchful. She gives herself to the task of bringing life forward. Here’s the part I didn’t know until I first researched it: a hen lays about one egg per day, and she won’t begin brooding until her nest is nearly c

August 18

“The Sky Isn’t the End” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 9 of 12

“The Sky Isn’t the End” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — For most birds, flight isn’t the finish line. It’s the starting point. The chick grows. It hatches. It walks. It learns to fly — and we cheer, because that feels like the goal. The summit. The release. But flight is only the beginning of a much greater journey. Now come migrations. Now come storms. Now come hunger, risk, and the wide unknown. A bird must learn to trust the wind — to ride t

August 17

Beyond the Nest — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 8 of 12

The day comes when the nest is behind them. Wings spread, the young bird glides into a world it has only watched from above. The first moments are clumsy — wingbeats uneven, balance still learning its rhythm. But the sky does not scold; it simply receives the bird, giving it space to try, to adjust, to find its strength. It’s a truth written into creation: leaving the nest isn’t about perfection — it’s about readiness. A fledgling that hesitates forever will never discover what those

August 16

The Waiting Curve — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 7 of 12

In the quiet, a curve begins. The light falls so that part of the eggshell shines while the rest disappears into shadow — smooth, unbroken, but hidden from view. You know the rest of it is there, even though you can’t see it yet. Life works like that. Chick development follows its own curve — what biologists call an S-curve. It starts slow, almost nothing to notice at first. Then, in the middle, there’s a sudden surge of change — feathers forming, organs finishing, movements beginnin

August 15

“Not All Birds Hatch Alike” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 6 of 12

Some are born ready to run. Others are born needing help. In the bird world, it’s called the precocial–altricial divide. Precocial (pree-KOH-shul) chicks — like chickens, ducks, and quail — hatch with eyes open, downy feathers, and enough strength to walk within hours. They eat, drink, and explore almost immediately. But altricial (al-TRISH-ul) birds — like robins, sparrows, and doves — hatch helpless. Eyes closed. Skin bare. Heads wobbling. They can’t regulat

August 14

“When the Chick Teaches the Turkey” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 5 of 12

It sounds like the start of a joke. A chick walks into a brooder full of turkeys… But it’s not a punchline — it’s poultry science. On some farms, newly hatched chicks are placed alongside young turkeys to teach them how to live. Turkeys are a little slower to figure things out. They may not instinctively find food or water, and they sometimes need guidance just to respond to their surroundings. But a chick? A chick comes ready. Curious. Energetic.

August 13

“Born Independent, Still Protected” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 4 of 12

She doesn’t feed them. She doesn’t have to. By the time a chick hatches, it’s ready to eat on its own. Everything it needs for those first few days was packed inside the egg — including a yolk sac the size of a marble, drawn into its body just before hatching. That tiny reserve fuels the chick’s first steps into the world. Strong. Capable. Unshaken. But don’t confuse that independence for abandonment. The hen doesn’t hover because she’s uninvolved. She’s

August 12

“Ready from the Start” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 3 of 12

No fanfare. No rehearsal. Just… go. That’s the chick’s first experience of life outside the egg. One minute it’s tucked in a fluid-filled shell, surrounded by quiet and warmth. The next, it’s up on its feet — blinking, peeping, and pecking at the ground as if it’s been practicing for weeks. There’s no training class. No feeding tutorial. No “how to breathe air” orientation. And yet, within hours, this little creature knows how to do eve

August 11

“The 21-Day Countdown” — a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — The Waiting Curve - Series 2 of 12

It’s always 21. Not 19. Not 24. Twenty-one days from the time the egg is laid to the moment the shell breaks open. It doesn’t matter if the chick is hatched in a barn, in a forest, or in an incubator under a lightbulb in someone’s basement — the rhythm doesn’t change. But how does the chick know? There’s no calendar inside the egg. No alarm clock. No coaching. No voice saying, “It’s time.” And yet, somewhere deep in that unseen place wh