Take Off pages 53-54

Write questions about the following story:Into the Woods Henry David Thoreau raised his pen to write, but the chatter of guests in the next room filled his ears. He stared at the page. “Concord, 1841” was all that he had written. How would he write a book with such noise in his family’s house? Thoreau headed outside, shutting the door with emphasis. He would have to find a place of his own. Thoreau walked out of town. Tall white pines soon replaced the painted houses. He listened to the rustling of the leaves. What if I could stay here, he thought. He could live off the land, close to nature, and begin his book. It would take work, but he could do it. FPG /The Image Bank/Getty Images Years passed, but Thoreau still did not have a place in the woods. One day, his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson had an idea. Emerson was a well-known writer who had bought some land near Walden Pond. Because he and Thoreau shared the same interest in nature, Emerson decided to let Thoreau use part of this land. In March of 1845, Thoreau began to build a cabin. By July, it was ready. He could live and write in the woods.Cabin Life Thoreau’s move to the woods indicated that he liked to be alone. But Thoreau did not feel that way. “I have a great deal of company in my house,” he wrote. Red squirrels woke him by running up and down the sheer sides of his cabin. A snowshoe hare lived in the debris under his cabin, thumping against the floorboards. A sparrow once perched on his shoulder. Thoreau recorded these experiences in his journal. How easily writing came to him with the beauty of nature around him! On Walden Pond Thoreau was a naturalist. He noticed the habits of animals. Each encounter showed him something new. One afternoon, Thoreau tried to get a close look at a loon, but the bird quickly dove into the pond. He knew loons could travel long distances under water, so he guessed where it would come up. But every time Thoreau paddled to one spot, the loon came up somewhere else and let out a call—a howling laugh. What a silly loon, Thoreau thought. But after a while, Thoreau felt as though the bird was laughing at him because he still could not catch up to it. Thoreau wrote in his journal: His white breast, the stillness of the air, and the smoothness of the water were all against him. At length he uttered one of those prolonged howls, as if calling on the god of the loons to aid him, and immediately there came a wind from the east and rippled the surface, and filled the whole air with misty rain, and I was impressed.The spectacular scene made Thoreau wonder at the loon. It no longer seemed a silly animal, but one with some mysterious power. As months went by, Thoreau also became aware of each animal’s ability to stay alive. “His power of observation seemed to indicate additional senses,” Emerson once remarked. In winter, as he warmed his cabin by fire, he watched in awe as the moles warmed their nest by their own body heat. He understood forest life as never before. Back to Concord Like the geese that move to new ponds at the season’s end, so too did Thoreau leave Walden. He had done what he had set out to do, and had learned much from the woods around him. He packed his few belongings and his stack of journals and returned to Concord. Now, he would turn his journal entries into a book. Generations to come would know life on Walden Pond!

She went by the name of Belisa Crepusculario, not because she had been baptized with that name or given it by her mother, but because she herself had searched until she found the poetry of "beauty" and "twilight" and cloaked herself in it. She made her living selling words. She journeyed through the country from the high cold mountains to the burning coasts, stopping at fairs and in markets where she set up four poles covered by a canvas awning under which she took refuge from the sun and rain to minister to her customers. She did not have to peddle her merchandise because from having wandered far and near, everyone knew who she was. Some people waited for her from one year to the next, and when she appeared in the village with her bundle beneath her arm, they would form a line in front of her stall. Her prices were fair. For five centavos she delivered verses from memory, for seven she improved the quality of dreams, for nine she wrote love letters, for twelve she invented insults for irreconcilable enemies. She also sold stories, not fantasies but long, true stories she recited at one telling, never skipping a word. This is how she carried news from one town to another. People paid her to add a line or two: our son was born, so-and-so died, our children got married, the crops burned in the field. Wherever she went a small crowd gathered around to listen as she began to speak, and that was how they learned about each others' doings, about distant relatives, about what was going on in the civil war. To anyone who paid her fifty centavos in trade, she gave the gift of a secret word to drive away melancholy. It was not the same word for everyone, naturally, because that would have been collective dece it. Each person received his or her own word, with the assurance that no one else would use it that way in this universe or the Beyond. Belisa Crepusculario had been born into a family so poor they did not even have names to give their children. She came into the world and grew up in an inhospitable land where some years the rains became avalanches of water that bore everything away before them and others when not a drop fell from the sky and the sun swelled to fill the horizon and the world became a desert. Until she was twelve, Belisa had no occupation or virtue other than having withstood hunger and the exhaustion of centuries. During one interminable drought, it fell to her to bury four younger brothers and sisters, when she realized that her turn was next, she decided to set out across the 2 plains in the direction of the sea, in hopes that she might trick death along the way. The land was eroded, split with deep cracks, strewn with rocks, fossils of trees and thorny bushes, and skeletons of animals bleached by the sun. From time to time she ran into families who, like her, were heading south, following the mirage of water. Some had begun the march carrying their belongings on their back or in small carts, but they could barely move their own bones, and after a while they had to abandon their possessions. They dragged themselves along painfully, their skin turned to lizard hide and their eyes burned by the reverberating glare. Belisa greeted them with a wave as she passed, but she did not stop, because she had no strength to waste in acts of compassion. Many people fell by the wayside, but she was so stubborn that she survived to cross through that hell and at long last reach the first trickles of water, fine, almost invisible threads that fed spindly vegetation and farther down widened into small streams and marshes. Belisa Crepusculario saved her life and in the process accidentally discovered writing. In a village near the coast, the wind blew a page of newspaper at her feet. She picked up the brittle yellow paper and stood a long while looking at it, unable to determine its purpose, until curiosity overcame her shyness. She walked over to a man who was washing his horse in the muddy pool where she had quenched her thirst. "What is this?" she asked. "The sports page of the newspaper," the man replied, concealing his surprise at her ignorance. The answer astounded the girl, but she did not want to seem rude, so she merely inquired about the significance of the fly tracks scattered across the page. "Those are words, child. Here it says that Fulgencio Barba knocked out El Negro Tiznao in the third round." That was the day Belisa Crepusculario found out that words make their way in the world without a master, and that anyone with a little cleverness can appropriate them and do business with them. She made a quick assessment of her situation and concluded that aside from becoming a prostitute or working as a servant in the kitchens of the rich there were few occupations she was qualified for. It seemed to her that selling words would be an honorable alternative. From that moment on, she worked at that profession, and was never tempted by any other. At the beginning, she offered her merchandise unaware that words could be written outside of newspapers. When she learned otherwise, she calculated the infinite possibilities of her trade and with her savings paid a priest twenty pesos to teach her to read and write, with her three 3 remaining coins she bought a dictionary. She poured over it from A to Z and then threw it into the sea, because it was not her intention to defraud her customers with packaged words. One August morning several years later, Belisa Crepusculario was sitting in her tent in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by the uproar of market day, selling legal arguments to an old man who had been trying for sixteen years to get his pension. Suddenly she heard yelling and thudding hoofbeats. She looked up from her writing and saw, first, a cloud of dust, and then a band of horsemen come galloping into the plaza. They were the Colonel's men, sent under orders of El Mulato, a giant known throughout the land for the speed of his knife and his loyalty to his chief. Both the Colonel and El Mulato had spent their lives fighting in the civil war, and their names were ineradicably linked to devastation and calamity. The rebels swept into town like a stampeding herd, wrapped in noise, bathed in sweat, and leaving a hurricane of fear in their trail. Chickens took wing, dogs ran for their lives, women and children scurried out of sight, until the only living soul left in the market was Belisa Crepusculario. She had never seen El Mulato and was surprised to see him walking toward her. "I'm looking for you," he shouted, pointing his coiled whip at her, even before the words were out, two men rushed her -- knocking over her canopy and shattering her inkwell -- bound her hand and foot, and threw her like a sea bag across the rump of El Mulato's mount. Then they thundered off toward the hills. Hours later, just as Belisa Crepusculario was near death, her heart ground to sand by the pounding of the horse, they stopped, and four strong hands set her down. She tried to stand on her feet and hold her head high, but her strength failed her and she slumped to the ground, sinking into a confused dream. She awakened several hours later to the murmur of night in the camp, but before she had time to sort out the sounds, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the impatient glare of El Mulato, kneeling beside her. "Well, woman, at last you've come to," he said. To speed her to her senses, he tipped his canteen and offered her a sip of liquor laced with gunpowder. She demanded to know the reason for such rough treatment, and El Mulato explained that the Colonel needed her services. He allowed her to splash water on her face, and then led her to the far end of the camp where the most feared man in all the land was lazing in a hammock strung between two trees. She could not see his face, because he lay in the deceptive shadow of the leaves and the indelible shadow of all his years as a bandit, but she imagined from the way his 4 gigantic aide addressed him with such humility that he must have a very menacing expression. She was surprised by the Colonel's voice, as soft and well-modulated as a professor's. "Are you the woman who sells words?" he asked. "At your service," she stammered, peering into the dark and trying to see him better. The Colonel stood up, and turned straight toward her. She saw dark skin and the eyes of a ferocious puma, and she knew immediately that she was standing before the loneliest man in the world. "I want to be President," he announced. The Colonel was weary of riding across that godforsaken land, waging useless wars and suffering defeats that no subterfuge could transform into victories. For years he had been sleeping in the open air, bitten by mosquitoes, eating iguanas and snake soup, but those minor inconveniences were not why he wanted to change his destiny. What truly troubled him was the terror he saw in people's eyes. He longed to ride into a town beneath a triumphal arch with bright flags and flowers everywhere, he wanted to be cheered, and be given newly laid eggs and freshly baked bread. Men fled at the sight of him, children trembled, and women miscarried from fright, he had had enough, and so he had decided to become President. El Mulato had suggested that they ride to the capital, gallop up to the Palace, and take over the government, the way they had taken so many other things without anyone's permission. The Colonel, however, did not want to be just another tyrant, there had been enough of those before him and, besides, if he did that, he would never win people's hearts. It was his aspiration to win the popular vote in the December elections. "To do that, I have to talk like a candidate. Can you sell me the words for a speech?" the Colonel asked Belisa Crepusculario. She had accepted many assignments, but none like this. She did not dare refuse, fearing that El Mulato would shoot her between the eyes, or worse still, that the Colonel would burst into tears. There was more to it than that, however, she felt the urge to help him because she felt a throbbing warmth beneath her skin, a powerful desire to touch that man, to fondle him, to clasp him in her arms. All night and a good part of the following day, Belisa Crepusculario searched her repertory for words adequate for a presidential speech, closely watched by El Mulato, who could not take his eyes from her firm wanderer's legs and virginal breasts. She discarded harsh, cold words, words 5 that were too flowery, words worn from abuse, words that offered improbable promises, untruthful and confusing words, until all she had left were words sure to touch the minds of men and women's intuition. Calling upon the knowledge she had purchased from the priest for twenty pesos, she wrote the speech on a sheet of paper and then signaled El Mulato to untie the rope that bound her ankles to a tree. He led her once more to the Colonel, and again she felt the throbbing anxiety that had seized her when she first saw him. She handed him the paper and waited while he looked at it, holding it gingerly between thumbs and fingertips. "What the shit does this say," he asked finally. "Don't you know how to read?" "War's what I know," he replied. She read the speech aloud. She read it three times, so her client could engrave it on his memory. When she finished, she saw the emotion in the faces of the soldiers who had gathered round to listen, and saw that the Colonel's eyes glittered with enthusiasm, convinced that with those words the presidential chair would be his. "If after they've heard it three times, the boys are still standing there with their mouths hanging open, it must mean the thing's damn good, Colonel" was El Mulato's approval. "All right, woman. How much do I owe you?" the leader asked. "One peso, Colonel." "That's not much," he said, opening the pouch he wore at his belt, heavy with proceeds from the last foray. "The peso entitles you to a bonus. I'm going to give you two secret words," said Belisa Crepusculario. "What for?" She explained that for every fifty centavos a client paid, she gave him the gift of a word for his exclusive use. The Colonel shrugged. He had no interest at all in her offer, but he did not want to be impolite to someone who had served him so well. She walked slowly to the leather stool where he was sitting, and bent down to give him her gift. The man smelled the scent of a mountain cat issuing from the woman, a fiery heat radiating from her hips, he heard the terrible whisper of her hair, and a breath of sweetmint murmured into his ear the two secret words that were his alone. "They are yours, Colonel," she said as she stepped back. "You may use them as much as you 6 please." El Mulato accompanied Belisa to the roadside, his eyes as entreating as a stray dog's, but when he reached out to touch her, he was stopped by an avalanche of words he had never heard before; believing them to be an irrevocable curse, the flame of his desire was extinguished. During the months of September, October, and November the Colonel delivered his speech so many times that had it not been crafted from glowing and durable words it would have turned to ash as he spoke. He travelled up and down and across the country, riding into cities with a triumphal air, stopping in even the most forgotten villages where only the dump heap betrayed a human presence, to convince his fellow citizens to vote for him. While he spoke from a platform erected in the middle of the plaza, El Mulato and his men handed out sweets and painted his name on all the walls in gold frost. No one paid the least attention to those advertising ploys; they were dazzled by the clarity of the Colonel's proposals and the poetic lucidity of his arguments, infected by his powerful wish to right the wrongs of history, happy for the first time in their lives. When the Candidate had finished his speech, his soldiers would fire their pistols into the air and set off firecrackers, and when finally they rode off, they left behind a wake of hope that lingered for days on the air, like the splendid memory of a comet's tail. Soon the Colonel was the favorite. No one had ever witnessed such a phenomenon: a man who surfaced from the civil war, covered with scars and speaking like a professor, a man whose fame spread to every corner of the land and captured the nation's heart. The press focused their attention on him. Newspapermen came from far away to interview him and repeat his phrases, and the number of his followers and enemies continued to grow. "We're doing great, Colonel," said El Mulato, after twelve successful weeks of campaigning. But the Candidate did not hear. He was repeating his secret words, as he did more and more obsessively. He said them when he was mellow with nostalgia; he murmured them in his sleep; he carried them with him on horseback; he thought them before delivering his famous speech; and he caught himself savoring them in his leisure time. And every time he thought of those two words, he thought of Belisa Crepusculario, and his senses were inflamed with the memory of her feral scent, her fiery heat, the whisper of her hair, and her sweetmint breath in his ear, until he began to go around like a sleepwalker, and his men realized that he might die before he ever sat in the presidential chair. "What's got hold of you, Colonel," El Mulato asked so often that finally one day his chief broke 7 down and told him the source of his befuddlement: those two words that were buried like two daggers in his gut. "Tell me what they are and maybe they'll lose their magic," his faithful aide suggested. "I can't tell them, they're for me alone," the Colonel replied. Saddened by watching his chief decline like a man with a death sentence on his head, El Mulato slung his rifle over his shoulder and set out to find Belisa Crepusculario. He followed her trail through all that vast country, until he found her in a village in the far south, sitting under her tent reciting her rosary of news. He planted himself, spraddle-legged, before her, weapon in hand. "You! You're coming with me," he ordered. She had been waiting. She picked up her inkwell, folded the canvas of her small stall, arranged her shawl around her shoulders, and without a word took her place behind El Mulato's saddle. They did not exchange so much as a word in all the trip; El Mulato's desire for her had turned into rage, and only his fear of her tongue prevented his cutting her to shreds with his whip. Nor was he inclined to tell her that the Colonel was in a fog, and that a spell whispered into his ear had done what years of battle had not been able to do. Three days later they arrived at the encampment, and immediately, in view of all the troops, El Mulato led his prisoner before the Candidate. "I brought this witch here so you can give her back her words, Colonel," El Mulato said, pointing the barrel of his rifle at the woman's head. "And then she can give you back your manhood." The Colonel and Belisa Crepusculario stared at each other, measuring one another from a distance. The men knew then that their leader would never undo the witchcraft of those accursed words, because the whole world could see the voracious-puma eyes soften as the woman walked to him and took his hand in hers. Copyright © 1989 by Isabel Allende From The Stories of Eva Luna, Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden

CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE The world is filled with familiar objects, such as tables, rocks, plants, pets, and automobiles. Which of these objects are living or were once living? What are the criteria for assigning something to the living world or the nonliving world? Biologists have established that living things share seven characteristics of life. These characteristics are organization and the presence of one or more cells, response to a stimulus (plural, stimuli), homeostasis, metabolism, growth and development, reproduction, and change through time. Organization and Cells Organization is the high degree of order within an organism’s internal and external parts and in its interactions with the living world. For example, compare an owl to a rock. The rock has a spe- cific shape, but that shape is usually irregular. Furthermore, differ- ent rocks, even rocks of the same type, are likely to have different shapes and sizes. In contrast, the owl is an amazingly organized individual, as shown in Figure 1-2. Owls of the same species have the same body parts arranged in nearly the same way and interact with the environment in the same way. Copyright © by Holt, Rinehart and Winston. All rights reserved. ORGANISM (Barn Owl) ORGAN (Owl’s Ear) TISSUE (Nervous Tissue Within the Ear) CELL (Nerve Cell) Every living organism has a level of organization. The different levels of organization for a complex multicellular organism, such as an owl, are shown in the figure below. FIGURE 1-2 THE SCIENCE OF LIFE 7 All living organisms, whether made up of one cell or many cells, have some degree of organization. A cell is the smallest unit that can perform all life’s processes. Some organisms, such as bacteria, are made up of one cell and are called unicellular (YOON-uh-SEL-yoo-luhr) organisms. Other organisms, such as humans or trees, are made up of multiple cells and are called multicellular (MUHL-ti-SEL-yoo-luhr) organisms. Complex multicellular organisms have the level of orga- nization shown in Figure 1-2. In the highest level, the organism is made up of organ systems, or groups of specialized parts that carry out a certain function in the organism. For example, an owl’s ner- vous system is made up of a brain, sense organs, nerve cells, and other parts that sense and respond to the owl’s surroundings. Organ systems are made up of organs. Organs are structures that carry out specialized jobs within an organ system. An owl’s ear is an organ that allows the owl to hear. All organs are made up of tissues. Tissues are groups of cells that have similar abilities and that allow the organ to function. For example, nervous tissue in the ear allows the ear to detect sound. Tissues are made up of cells. A cell must be covered by a membrane, contain all genetic information necessary for replication, and be able to carry out all cell functions. Within each cell are organelles. Organelles are tiny structures that carry out functions necessary for the cell to stay alive. Organelles contain biological molecules, the chemical compounds that provide physical structure and that bring about movement, energy use, and other cellular functions. All biological molecules are made up of atoms. Atoms are the simplest particle of an ele- ment that retains all the properties of a certain element. Response to Stimuli Another characteristic of life is that an organism can respond to a stimulus—a physical or chemical change in the internal or external environment. For example, an owl dilates its pupils to keep the level of light entering the eye constant. Organisms must be able to respond and react to changes in their environment to stay alive. ORGANELLE (Mitochondrion) BIOLOGICAL MOLECULE (Phospholipid) ATOM (Oxygen) cell from the Latin, cella meaning “small room,” or “hut” Word Roots and Origins www.scilinks.org Topic: Characteristics of Life Keyword: HM60257 mb06se_bios01.qxd 5/18/07 10:37 AM Page 7 8 CHAPTER 1 Homeostasis All living things, from single cells to entire organisms, have mecha- nisms that allow them to maintain stable internal conditions. Without these mechanisms, organisms can die. For example, a cell’s water content is closely controlled by the taking in or releas- ing of water. A cell that takes in too much water will rupture and die. A cell that doesn’t get enough water will also shrivel and die. Homeostasis (HOH-mee-OH-STAY-sis) is the maintenance of a stable level of internal conditions even though environmental conditions are constantly changing. Organisms have regulatory systems that maintain internal conditions, such as temperature, water content, and uptake of nutrients by the cell. In fact, multi- cellular organisms usually have more than one way of maintain- ing important aspects of their internal environment. For example, an owl’s temperature is maintained at about 40°C (104°F). To keep a constant temperature, an owl’s cells burn fuel to produce body heat. In addition, an owl’s feathers can fluff up in cold weather. In this way, they trap an insulating layer of air next to the bird’s body to maintain its body temperature. Metabolism Living organisms use energy to power all the life processes, such as repair, movement, and growth. This energy use depends on metabolism (muh-TAB-uh-LIZ-uhm). Metabolism is the sum of all the chemical reactions that take in and transform energy and materials from the environment. For example, plants, algae, and some bacteria use the sun’s energy to generate sugar molecules during a process called photosynthesis. Some organisms depend on obtaining food energy from other organisms. For instance, an owl’s metabolism allows the owl to extract and modify the chemi- cals trapped in its nightly prey and use them as energy to fuel activities and growth. Growth and Development All living things grow and increase in size. Some nonliving things, such as crystals or icicles, grow by accumulating more of the same material of which they are made. In contrast, the growth of living things results from the division and enlargement of cells. Cell division is the formation of two new cells from an existing cell, as shown in Figure 1-3. In unicellular organisms, the primary change that occurs following cell division is cell enlargement. In multi- cellular life, however, organisms mature through cell division, cell enlargement, and development. Development is the process by which an organism becomes a mature adult. Development involves cell division and cell differen- tiation, or specialization. As a result of development, an adult organism is composed of many cells specialized for different func- tions, such as carrying oxygen in the blood or hearing. In fact, the human body is composed of trillions of specialized cells, all of which originated from a single cell, the fertilized egg. This unicellular organism, Escherichia coli, inhabits the human intestines. E. coli reproduces by means of cell division, during which the original cell splits into two identical offspring cells. FIGURE 1-3 Observing Homeostasis Materials 500 mL beakers (3), wax pen, tap water, thermometer, ice, hot water, goldfish, small dip net, watch or clock with a second hand Procedure 1. Use a wax pen to label three 500 mL beakers as follows: 27°C (80°F), 20°C (68°F), 10°C (50°F). Put 250 mL of tap water in each beaker. Use hot water or ice to adjust the tem- perature of the water in each beaker to match the temperature on the label. 2. Put the goldfish in the beaker of 27°C water. Record the number of times the gills move in 1 minute. 3. Move the goldfish to the beaker of 20°C water. Repeat observations. Move the goldfish to the beaker of 10°C. Repeat observations. Analysis What happens to the rate at which gills move when the temp- erature changes? Why? How do gills help fish maintain homeostasis? Quick Lab mb06se_bios01.qxd 5/18/07 10:37 AM Page 8 THE SCIENCE OF LIFE 9 Reproduction All organisms produce new organisms like themselves in a process called reproduction. Reproduction, unlike other characteristics, is not essential to the survival of an individual organism. However, because no organism lives forever, reproduction is essential for the continuation of a species. Glass frogs, as shown in Figure 1-4, lay many eggs in their lifetime. However, only a few of the frogs’ off- spring reach adulthood and successfully reproduce. During reproduction, organisms transmit hereditary informa- tion to their offspring. Hereditary information is encoded in a large molecule called deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA. A short segment of DNA that contains the instructions for a single trait of an organism is called a gene. DNA is like a large library. It contains all the books—genes—that the cell will ever need for making all the struc- tures and chemicals necessary for life. Hereditary information is transferred to offspring during two kinds of reproduction. In sexual reproduction, hereditary information recombines from two organisms of the same species. The resulting offspring are similar but not identical to their parents. For example, a male frog’s sperm can fertilize a female’s egg and form a single fer- tilized egg cell. The fertilized egg then develops into a new frog. In asexual reproduction, hereditary information from different organisms is not combined; thus the original organism and the new organism are genetically the same. A bacterium, for example, reproduces asexually when it splits into two identical cells. Change Through Time Although individual organisms experience many changes during their lifetime, their basic genetic characteristics do not change. However, populations of living organisms evolve or change through time. The ability of populations of organisms to change over time is important for survival in a changing world. This factor is also impor- tant in explaining the diversity of life-forms we see on Earth today.

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