conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a plot for a book about Nick, Juliette, Hank entitled The Thing with Feathers?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Thing with Feathers: Opening quote: "Sing my precious little golden bird, sing.\nI have hung my golden slipper around your neck".\nNick (David Giuntoli) plans a romantic weekend with Juliette (Bitsie Tulloch) on Whispering Pines on a cabin, planning on proposing to her.\nMeanwhile, Hank (Russell Hornsby) is still suffering from his obsession for Adalind (Claire Coffee), even going as far as to stalk her and watching her from her house.\nHe sees her kissing a man, Peter (Michael Sheets) and Hank threatens him to never see her again.\nThis was in fact orchestrated by Renard (Sasha Roiz).\nThat night, Juliette watches a man, Tim Steinkellner (Josh Randall) abuse his wife Robin (Azura Skye).\nThis causes Nick to call the sheriff to check in the house.\nHowever, the sheriff leaves without arresting him.\nNick then calls Monroe (Silas Weir Mitchell) for help and Monroe tells him that the man is a creature called Klaustreich and although they misbehave, women still love them.\nWhile in the store, Nick discovers Robin is a Seltenvogel, an extremely rare Wesen.\nTim kills a store clerk in the woods and Nick discovers the corpse.\nMeanwhile, Tim has been harvesting an egg inside Robin\'s throat.\nWith help from Monroe and Rosalee (Bree Turner), Nick rescues Robin to the woods and then extracts the egg from her throat.\nThe sheriff (revealed to be Tim\'s cousin) and Tim catch them and Nick uses their distraction for the egg to knock them and arrest them, breaking the egg in the progress.\nNow at home, Nick proposes to Juliette but she declines, stating that although she loves him, he has been hiding too many secrets recently.\nThe episode ends as Hank and Adalind are revealed to have a romantic dinner.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: \nThe episode ends as Hank and Adalind are revealed to have a romantic dinner.\nI have hung my golden slipper around your neck".\nNick (David Giuntoli) plans a romantic weekend with Juliette (Bitsie Tulloch) on Whispering Pines on a cabin, planning on proposing to her.\nMeanwhile, Hank (Russell Hornsby) is still suffering from his obsession for Adalind (Claire Coffee), even going as far as to stalk her and watching her from her house.\nHe sees her kissing a man, Peter (Michael Sheets) and Hank threatens him to never see her again.\nThis was in fact orchestrated by Renard (Sasha Roiz).\nThat night, Juliette watches a man, Tim Steinkellner (Josh Randall) abuse his wife Robin (Azura Skye).\nThis causes Nick to call the sheriff to check in the house.\nHowever, the sheriff leaves without arresting him.\nNick then calls Monroe (Silas Weir Mitchell) for help and Monroe tells him that the man is a creature called Klaustreich and although they misbehave, women still love them.\nWhile in the store, Nick discovers Robin is a Seltenvogel, an extremely rare Wesen.\nTim kills a store clerk in the woods and Nick discovers the corpse.\nMeanwhile, Tim has been harvesting an egg inside Robin\'s throat.\nWith help from Monroe and Rosalee (Bree Turner), Nick rescues Robin to the woods and then extracts the egg from her throat.\nThe sheriff (revealed to be Tim\'s cousin) and Tim catch them and Nick uses their distraction for the egg to knock them and arrest them, breaking the egg in the progress.\nNow at home, Nick proposes to Juliette but she declines, stating that although she loves him, he has been hiding too many secrets recently.The Thing with Feathers: Opening quote: "Sing my precious little golden bird, sing.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Thing with Feathers
  Inspired to study vultures at home in California, Stager brought his usual straightforward intensity and commitment to the project. He made an exhaustive literature search on vulture smell, still the most encompassing review anyone has ever published on the subject. Then he designed experiments to demonstrate exactly where previous studies had gone wrong.
  First, Stager repeated Audubon's basic test of concealing a carcass to see whether turkey vultures would find it. He baited cage traps with carrion and hid them, always out of sight of the sky. When Stager checked his traps, he'd caught some vultures—which must have followed the reek of decay to discover the bait.
  Then he hid a carcass and watched where vultures appeared in the sky. The birds tended to fly low, as you might expect if they were searching for ground scents, and usually approached the bait from downwind. He figured, by crude visual estimation, that they could detect the hidden carcass from at least a couple hundred yards away.
  But Stager's most interesting test involved the odor of natural gas spiked with mercaptans. Spurred by the stories of oil workers, he devised an ingenious experiment to attract turkey vultures with scent alone. The results were clear: When Stager puffed pure foul-smelling gas across the hills of California, vultures materialized and circled overhead. Interestingly, the shy birds wouldn't land without a decoy carcass placed nearby. Stager reported that in his odor-only trials, turkey vultures would circle for about twenty minutes before wandering away, which suggested their need for visual confirmation of the source of the smell. He concluded that turkey vultures are able to use their noses to find food, even if the final approach is often visual.
  Stager and many others have accordingly speculated about flaws in Audubon's and Bachman's early experiments. Audubon conducted many of his tests with black vultures, and the current wisdom is that only turkey vultures possess a good sense of smell—black vultures don't (they often follow turkey vultures to find carcasses). Audubon may have misinterpreted his results by assuming that all vultures act the same. Also, he seemed to believe that vultures like their meat rotten, which is definitely not the case—we now know turkey vultures prefer fresh carcasses—so perhaps the birds smelled Audubon's hidden corpses but just didn't want to eat them. And when Bachman covered his pile of garden offal with canvas to see whether the vultures could find it, he didn't factor in how weak the birds' beaks and claws are; they might have sniffed the food but couldn't reach it through the thick canvas.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know four more paragraphs? Start with the sentence 'This is exactly how mathematicians depict round-robin tournaments using graph theory, the study of relationships between collections of objects'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This is exactly how mathematicians depict round-robin tournaments using graph theory, the study of relationships between collections of objects.
  Triangles in these tournaments are quite common, despite our assumptions about rigid order. Winners aren't always clear, as the tennis World Tour Finals demonstrated in 2006. Mathematicians even have a name for circular results, calling a round-robin tournament "paradoxical" when every player loses at least one head-to-head match. These are the same triangles noticed by Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe in the early 1900s within the pecking order in his chicken coop in Norway.
  Where Thor left off, sociologist/statistician H. G. Landau picked up in the 1950s. Landau had studied ballistics during World War II, but after the war ended, he focused his attention on biological phenomena, eventually settling on chickens. Like Thor, Landau observed that, in any given pair of hens, one would always dominate the other, even if the two birds were separated and reunited years later. Landau analyzed in precise detail the hierarchies of chicken coops. Unlike his Norwegian predecessor, though, he focused more on the circular rather than linear nature of these relationships. As in our favorite-foods exercise, Landau assigned each bird a dominance score; he called the top-scoring birds "king chickens" and tried to quantify their relationships to the other birds.
  Not only were there frequent triangles, but some coops had multiple kings, at odds with our general perception of pecking orders. Landau showed that it was even possible for every single chicken in a coop to be a king while they all maintained stable and unequal dominance relationships with each other, in one perfectly circular hierarchy. If pecking orders were Thor's legacy, then the idea that they could be circular became Landau's claim to fame. Backed by the mathematician's careful proofs, this concept has been handed down today in the form of Landau's so-called king chicken theorems.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In its usual human sense, romantic love may just be one more survival mechanism to benefit its practitioners—just like the albatross's wing. The strong bonds created by love affairs help us procreate our species. If we didn't fall in love, we wouldn't be as motivated to stick together while raising our children. Human kids take decades of supervision, food, guidance, tuition, and general support. The more help they receive from both parents, the better. If you want to take a purely mechanistic view of love, then it makes sense in terms of survival.
  If love has evolved just like any physical characteristic, then there is no reason for it to be uniquely human. All of the same pressures that have acted on us to love each other—long life expectancy, high investment in our children, the necessity of both parents to provide for their kids—have also acted on albatrosses. We're not so different in our basic needs and functions.
  IN A FAR CORNER of the West Point colony, I noticed a pair of black-browed albatrosses taking a quiet time out in the midst of all the chaos, seemingly lost in each other's presence. One sat squarely on their nest as a tiny chick's head poked out from beneath its downy breast feathers—flat-out asleep, evidently snoozing after a full meal. The bird's mate snuggled alongside so that their heads rested softly against each other. When one breathed, the other moved slightly. Both had their eyes half closed, completely relaxed. They gave the impression of a pair of lovers leaning against each other on a park bench, gazing into an ocean sunset, mere pinpricks in the folds of our universe, but safe, secure, and content with their place in it. For the moment, nothing else mattered.
  This volume reflects the research of many brilliant scientists, some of whom have employed me in field studies around the world over the past decade. Ornithologists may be a strange lot, but they know about living to the fullest—often in the most remote, spectacular, and adventurous corners of this planet—and these hardcore scientists have taught me about much more than birds. I appreciate all that I have received from those who came before me.
  Finally, I am thankful for my parents, whose love and support have helped me follow my own birdy path, and who have embraced the fact that family vacations now inevitably turn into birding holidays. Not all parents can critique a page with the sharp eye of a journalist, argue about bowerbird art over dinner, then bake the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. So thanks, Mom and Dad, for the cookies and for the world.