Russian numbers 40 - 69

Broken windows are covered. Floorboards are patched and doors screwed back on. The road that was ruined by German tanks is shovelled and raked smooth. Boot-shaped bruises turn yellow then fade and disappear. Flowers grow and spread across the ugly German footprints stomped into garden beds. The village looks pretty once more. School stops for the summer and everyone is put to work on the kolkhoz, the village farm. Women and big boys begin harvesting the barley crops in the outer fields. The biggest girls milk the cows, morning and night, and keep the barns clean. Old Nikolay mends ploughs, horse harnesses, pitchforks and scythes in his workshop. Anna Pushinka teaches Yelena and her friends how to get the honey from the beehives that are scattered through the orchards. I am in charge of collecting eggs. My friends Olga and Nina help. Olga and Nina are five, a year younger than me. They are twins and look exactly alike, except Nina’s nose is a little bit crooked from when she fell out of bed and squashed it sideways on the floor. The hens, ducks and geese wander free in the summer, so collecting eggs is like a treasure hunt and takes hours. Catching the hens for their daily hugs takes even longer, but I think it’s important because hugs make everyone happy and happy hens lay bigger eggs. Olga says I’m the best hen-hugger in all of Russia. Nina says I’ll be the best cow-hugger, too, when my arms grow longer. But good hugs have nothing to do with the size of your arms. It’s all to do with the size of your heart. When we are done with the hens, Olga, Nina and I can spend the rest of the day doing whatever we like. We climb the apricot trees, chase squirrels, lie in the meadow marvelling at how hot Ushanka’s black fur becomes in the sunshine, make daisy chains and race little boats of bark in the stream. I teach Olga and Nina the alphabet and we use charcoal to write our letters and our names all over the village – on doors and walls and the freshly cut ends of firewood. In between, I practise my knots. In case the German princemonsters return. I slip into Old Nikolay’s workshop and tie knots in the harnesses hanging on the walls. I wander into gardens where the washing is hung out to dry and tie knots in the laces on pants and smocks. I creep up behind Anna Pushinka and tie knots in her apron strings. I find baling twine in the hay shed and tie my own ankles together. I do such a good job of these last knots that I can’t get them undone. I have to jump all the way to Olga and Nina’s house and ask them to cut me free with their mama’s knife. At the end of each day, Ushanka and I run out into the distant barley fields to meet Mama. This is my favourite part of the day, because Mama always shouts, ‘Little Rabbit!’ and smothers my head with kisses. And as we walk home, we sing. Everyone – women, big boys and me. I love to sing. Almost as much as I love to be kissed by Mama. Sometimes one of the boys, Mikhail, has his balalaika with him. He takes the instrument out from beneath the sheaves of barley piled high on the wagon and plays music. We sing about forests and orchards and people who find their true love. As we walk home, arm in arm, my heart fills with happiness and my belly swells with pride that I am allowed to sing along with the big boys. And I can almost forget about the German prince-monsters and their lies about Russia and their big ugly boots. Almost. But today, when Mikhail reaches for his balalaika, I see other things hiding beneath the barley sheaves. Three of the mamas rush forward and cover them up, but it’s too late. I know they are there. I’ve already seen them. Rifles. Lots of rifles. Mikhail hugs his balalaika to his chest and blushes. ‘So play!’ cries Mama, her voice oddly loud and high. ‘Let’s play Sasha’s favourite song, “The Little Birch Tree”.’ So Mikhail plays and everyone sings about the lovely birch tree with its curly leaves and the branches that will be turned into silver flutes. They sing too quickly, too loudly, and as they sing and walk, they cast nervous sideways glances at me. ‘It’s alright,’ I say, when the song comes to an end. ‘I didn’t see the rifles.’ Mama nods and smiles, and I know it was the right thing to say. But I did see the rifles. And I think about Yelena wanting to get lots of guns and dynamite for the Partisans so they can shoot the Germans and blow them into thousands of tiny pieces, and Mama looking as though she agreed, and I know this is what the mamas and the big boys are doing. As well as harvesting, they are helping the Partisans. Three days later, I wake before dawn and I am all alone. Yelena is always here beside me when I wake. But not this morning. I climb down from our bed above the stove. Mama is filling a cloth sack with bread. She ties it closed with a piece of string and hands it to Yelena. ‘Stay out of sight,’ says Mama. ‘And don’t return until after dark.’ ‘Where’s she going?’ I ask. ‘Nowhere,’ snaps Mama. ‘Then why does she need all that bread?’ I ask. ‘There’s nothing left for us.’ Mama baked four loaves last night and she has stuffed them all into the sack. Yelena opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Mama shoves her out the door and sends her on the way to nowhere. Mama turns and stares at me, her blue, blue cornflower eyes wide with worry. ‘I know,’ I say, flopping down on the bench. ‘I didn’t see any bread.’ Mama sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘And . . .?’ she prods, obviously waiting for more. I puzzle for a while, then say, ‘And I don’t have a sister called Yelena.’ Mama laughs, softly and with a little bit of sadness around the edges. ‘Sweet Little Rabbit! You do have a sister called Yelena.’ ‘I do?’ I ask, now confused. ‘I haven’t seen the rifles or the bread, but I have seen Yelena?’ ‘Yes.’ Mama smiles and the magic makes me smile, too. And I am glad that Yelena is real because I love her very much. ‘Yelena is real,’ Mama explains, ‘but she does not carry sacks of bread into the forest for the Partisans.’ ‘Of course not!’ I shout, slapping my forehead. ‘Because there is no bread!’ Mama laughs loudly now, with not a hint of sadness. She hugs me, pressing me against her warm, loving heart, covering my head with kisses. ‘Clever Little Rabbit,’ she murmurs, and then, in barely a whisper, ‘Your papa would be so proud.’ When I wake the next morning, Yelena is sleeping beside me, her mouth open, her braided hair unravelling. Mama is serving kasha to a strange woman seated at our table. I crawl down from above the stove and slide along the bench beside her. I stare at her pants, her tunic, the rope she is using as a belt and her big boots. She’s dressed like a man! And there’s a rifle leaning against the wall near the door. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Sasha.’ The woman doesn’t reply. She just shovels down her kasha. I line my four wooden bears along the table in front of her bowl and say, ‘These are my bears: Big Bear, Medium Bear, Little Bear and Even Littler Bear.’ ‘Hello, Sasha. Hello, bears.’ She smiles but she doesn’t tell me her name. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’ I ask, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Because men’s clothes make it easier to run and climb and crawl and shoot,’ she says. ‘You’re a Partisan!’ I gasp. ‘But she’s not real,’ says Mama, placing a bowl of kasha before me. ‘Is the kasha real?’ I ask. Mama laughs. ‘Yes, Little Rabbit.’ I’m glad the food is real, because I’m hungry. But I’m disappointed that the woman is not real. I was going to ask if I could use her rope-belt to tie her ankles together. For practice. But if she’s not real, then the rope and her ankles aren’t either. The woman finishes her kasha, hangs her rifle over her shoulder, kisses Mama on the cheek then slips out the door. I run to the window to watch her leave, but by the time I get there, she’s gone. Vanished. ‘Because she’s not real,’ I whisper. A week later, Mama and I are working in the garden. We sing as we weed between the flowers and pluck caterpillars from the vegetables. Anna Pushinka is picking strawberries in her garden and wanders over. ‘Taste these,’ she says, holding out the basket. Mama reaches in and takes out a fat strawberry and a tiny piece of folded paper. The strawberry goes into her mouth, the paper into her pocket. ‘What’s on the paper?’ I ask. ‘Paper?’ Anna Pushinka replies with a wave of her hand. ‘Goodness, Sasha! Who has money for paper? These are lean times. We must choose between paper for writing and noodles for our soup. And I always choose noodles.’ She chuckles and I know the paper is yet another thing that is not real. That night, Mama slips the paper to Yelena, but she drops it on the floor. I pick it up for her, and I see that there are tiny words and numbers written all over it. I wish I could read better. I’m desperate to know what it says. Or rather, what it doesn’t say, because it’s not real. Later, when Mama has tucked us into our bed above the stove and Ushanka has wrapped herself around the top of my head, I ask Yelena, ‘What’s on the paper?’ ‘What paper?’ says Yelena. ‘The paper that isn’t real,’ I reply. Yelena stares at me, nibbling her lip, then whispers, ‘A message for the Partisans. Stuff about where the Germans have their headquarters and when their trains are travelling and where they store their ammunition.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So the Partisans can blow them up.’ Yelena grabs my arm. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ ‘What’s a secret?’ I ask. ‘The message.’ ‘What message?’ I say, my eyes wide. Yelena laughs. ‘Good boy, Sasha.’ My belly swells with pride. I know how to play this game. ‘How are your knots coming along?’ asks Yelena. ‘Good! Yesterday, I crept into the dairy and tied knots in the apron strings of all the girls who were milking and only one of them noticed. Today, I tied Olga’s ankles together with Mama’s embroidery thread and just now, while you were taking a bath, I tied the sleeves of your blouse together in an enormous knot.’ Yelena rolls her eyes, then says, ‘I’ll see if I can find you some rope for practising.’ ‘Practising what?’ I ask. ‘Your knots,’ she says. ‘What knots?’ Yelena, my big sister who is twelve and always serious t

Figure 18-11 represents the amount of energy stored as organic material in each trophic level in an ecosystem. The pyramid shape of the diagram indicates the low percentage of energy transfer from one level to the next. On average, 10 percent of the total energy consumed in one trophic level is incor- porated into the organisms in the next. Why is the percentage of energy transfer so low? One reason is that some of the organisms in a trophic level escape being eaten. They eventually die and become food for decomposers, but the energy contained in their bodies does not pass to a higher trophic level. Even when an organism is eaten, some of the molecules in its body will be in a form that the consumer cannot break down and use. For example, a cougar cannot extract energy from the antlers, hooves, and hair of a deer. Also, the energy used by prey for cellu- lar respiration cannot be used by predators to synthesize new bio- mass. Finally, no transformation or transfer of energy is 100 percent efficient. Every time energy is transformed, such as during the reactions of metabolism, some energy is lost as heat. Limitations of Trophic Levels The low rate of energy transfer between trophic levels explains why ecosystems rarely contain more than a few trophic levels. Because only about 10 percent of the energy available at one trophic level is transferred to the next trophic level, there is not enough energy in the top trophic level to support more levels. Organisms at the lowest trophic level are usually much more abundant than organisms at the highest level. In Africa, for exam- ple, you will see about 1,000 zebras, gazelles, and other herbivores for every lion or leopard you see, and there are far more grasses and shrubs than there are herbivores. Higher trophic levels con- tain less energy, so, they can support fewer individuals.A population is a group of organisms that belong to the same species and live in a particular place at the same time. All of the bass living in a pond during a certain period of time make up a pop- ulation because they are isolated in the pond and do not interact with bass living in other ponds. The boundaries of a population may be imposed by a feature of the environment, such as a lake shore, or they can be arbitrarily chosen to simplify a study of the population. The humans shown in Figure 19-1 are part of the pop- ulation of a city. The properties of populations differ from those of individuals. An individual may be born, it may reproduce, or it may die. A population study focuses on a population as a whole—how many individuals are born, how many die, and so on. Population Size A population’s size is the number of individuals that the population contains. Size is a fundamental and important population property but can be difficult to measure directly. If a population is small and composed of immobile organisms, such as plants, its size can be determined simply by counting individuals. Often, though, individ- uals are too abundant, too widespread, or too mobile to be counted easily, and scientists must estimate the number of individuals in the population. Suppose that a scientist wants to know how many oak trees live in a 10 km2 patch of forest. Instead of searching the entire patch of forest and counting all the oak trees, the scientist could count the trees in a smaller section of the forest, such as a 1 km2 area. The scientist could then use this value to estimate the population of the larger area. SECTION 1 OBJECTIVES ● Describe the main properties that scientists measure when they study populations. ● Compare the three general patterns of population dispersion. ● Identify the measurements used to describe changing populations. ● Compare the three general types of survivorship curves. VOCABULARY population population density dispersion birth rate death rate life expectancy age structure survivorship curve FIGURE 19-1 A population can be widely distributed, as Earth’s human population is, or confined to a small area, as species of fish in a lake are. Copyright © by Holt, Rinehart and Winston. All rights reserved. 382 CHAPTER 19 If the small patch contains 25 oaks, an area 10 times larger would likely contain 10 times as many oak trees. A similar kind of sampling technique might be used to estimate the size of the pop- ulation shown in Figure 19-2. To use this kind of estimate, the sci- entist must assume that the distribution of individuals in the entire population is the same as that in the sampled group. Estimates of population size are based on many such assumptions, so all esti- mates have the potential for error. Population Density Population density measures how crowded a population is. This measurement is always expressed as the number of individuals per unit of area or volume. For example, the population density of humans in the United States is about 30 people per square kilome- ter. Table 19-1 shows the population sizes and densities of humans in several countries in 2003. These estimates are calculated for the total land area. Some areas of a country may be sparsely popu- lated, while other areas are very densely populated. Dispersion A third population property is dispersion (di-SPUHR-zhuhn). Dispersion is the spatial distribution of individuals within the popu- lation. In a clumped distribution, individuals are clustered together. In a uniform distribution, individuals are separated by a fairly con- sistent distance. In a random distribution, each individual’s location is independent of the locations of other individuals in the popula- tion. Figure 19-3 illustrates the three possible patterns of dispersion. Clumped distributions often occur when resources such as food or living space are clumped. Clumped distributions may also occur because of a species’ social behavior, such as when animals gather into herds or flocks. Uniform distributions may result from social behavior in which individuals within the same habitat stay as far away from each other as possible. For example, a bird may locate its nest so as to maximize the distance from the nests of other birds. These migrating wildebeests in East Africa are too numerous and mobile to be counted. Scientists must use sampling methods at several locations to monitor changes in the population size of the animals. FIGURE 19-2 TABLE 19-1 Population Size and Density of Some Countries Population size Population density Country (in millions) (in individuals/km2) China 1,289 135 India 1,069 325 United States 292 30 Russia 146 8 Japan 128 337 Mexico 105 54 Kenya 32 54 Australia 20 3 dispersion from the Latin dis-, meaning “out,” and spargere, meaning “to scatter” Word Roots and Origins Copyright © by Holt, Rinehart and Winston. All rights reserved. POPULATIONS 383 The social interactions of birds called gannets, which are shown in Figure 19-3b, result in a uniform distribution. Each gannet chooses a small nesting area on the coast and defends it from other gannets. In this way, each gannet tries to maximize its distance from all of its neighbors, which causes a uniform distribution of individuals. Few populations are truly randomly dispersed. Rather, they show degrees of clumping or uniformity. The dispersion pattern of a population sometimes depends on the scale at which the popu- lation is observed. The gannets shown in Figure 19-3b are uni- formly distributed on a scale of a few meters. However, if the entire island on which the gannets live is observed, the distribution appears clumped because the birds live only near the shore. POPULATION DYNAMICS All populations are dynamic—they change in size and composition over time. To understand these changes, scientists must know more than the population’s size, density, and dispersion. One important measure is the birth rate, the number of births occur- ring in a period of time. In the United States, for example, there are about 4 million births per year. A second important measure is the death rate, or mortality rate, which is the number of deaths in a

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