Profiles of Nature 11

green lynx spider Peucetia viridans and clearwing moth Hemaris on butterfly bush Buddleia davidii
Our first husband/wife team, Hepzibah and Enoch often work together on the same photo shoots, specializing in topics such as housewares and cheating spouses, and have appeared on the covers of cereal boxes and romance novels (and that one notable crossover, the romance-themed cereal called Steamy-Os.) Enoch and Hepzibah initially caught a lot of backlash for their mixed marriage – he’s lactose-intolerant and she’s from the lower east side – but as their reputation grew they started getting enough of an attitude to throw some shade on their detractors who, really, were only thinking of the children. They met, not at a shoot or a casting call as you might expect, but when he keyed her car during a scrum over closeout eyeliner; they like to call it, “love at first deposition.” They admit that they intend to settle down some day, maybe raise a couple of pertinent questions, but for now they’re quite happy with hedonism and tabloid scandals, ensuring that one of them calls their arresting officer racial slurs at least once a month – this keeps their publicist on her toes. Hepzibah and Enoch love to spend their spare time reaching out to their community, usually earning them puzzled looks from bypassers as they stand at the town lines with their arms outstretched, but their preferred hobby is scratching ancient snide remarks on air dryers in restrooms. Neither likes the idea of three-ring binders, believing the binders should decide without restrictions imposed on them by culture. Enoch’s favorite food additive is carregeenan, while Hepzibah thinks acesulfame potassium is the shit.

Join us next week, hold firmly for sixty seconds, then let stand for at least two hours until fully set.

Not food and not motherhood

I actually got a few photos in today – nothing exciting, nothing even noteworthy, except that I wasn’t even trying; today was yard work and gardening day, and I was mostly planting things. But as a nature and wildlife blog, this post isn’t going to the Favorites page, mine or anyone else’s, and the best I can say for it is that it isn’t food related, or about the trials and tribulations of raising kids. So there.

As I was working outside of the front window, which was open to let in a bit of fresh air, The Boogs gathered to see what was going on – all of them.

All three Boogs gathered in the same place
This is remarkable in itself, because there’s been a certain tension in the place since the introduction of Taz/Monster in 2019. She’s a bit too hyper and playful for the other two, and while Kaylee can cope with this about half of the time, Little Girl is not at all happy with it and usually wants no proximity to the youngest in the slightest. But I guess the draw of the great outdoors was too great – that, and wondering what I was swearing about out there.

(This wasn’t anything special, because I’m always swearing, but it was coming from outside the window this time, so it bore investigation. So you know, left to right, this is Monster, Kaylee, and Little Girl. You can see them as kittens here and here – the very first photo at that latter link are Kaylee and Little Girl, though none of us knew that yet.)

While Monster will chase Little Girl short distances when the former is feeling impish and the latter non-confrontational, at other times Little Girl will take no shit at all and will slap the hell out of Monster (which Monster will cower away from, then try to affect an air of disinterest.) Recently, however, it appears Little Girl is starting to get a bit more of the spirit of things, because she’ll actively chase Monster around the house, which I suspect they both secretly enjoy. Yet today, as I stood outside the house with the camera raised, they did something far more affectionate than normal:

Monster and Little Girl actually being civil to one another
That – is not at all typical, and surprisingly both of them were agreeable, at least for a moment, and neither got feisty about it, being as mellow as old friends. There’s something about spring, I guess…

By the way, I feel I should mention, a significant portion of my desktop is taken over by two cat beds, because it was necessary, and as I type this, both protagonists are occupying their respective spots – there’s a safe distance (and myself) between them.

Okay, enough of that, let’s get to some appropriate content. As The Girlfriend was raking out part of the back yard and bent to remove a detested longneedle pine sapling, she unearthed one of our residents.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea unhappy about being disturbed
While I normally consider the first appearance of the treefrogs, either the Copes grey or the green (Hyla cinerea) seen here, as the first true harbinger of spring, I’m not counting this one because it hadn’t emerged on its own, though I suspect that point is not far off now. It still gets pretty chilly at night, so they’re not ready yet, but within a couple of weeks, I’m guessing. I didn’t have the macro flash handy so these are strictly ambient light, which was light overcast skies, and when I leaned in with the 80mm macro lens, I had to shoot wide open to keep the shutter speed manageable.

green treefrog Hyla cinerea being irritably patient
While I tried to gently rebury our friend here in a safe potted plant, it was having none of that, so after the photos I simply let it be to establish a new hiding spot on its own.

Later on as I was planting things out front, I felt something walking across my hand and looked down to find a small, unfamiliar bright green spider. Now, I vowed that I wasn’t going to photograph the daffodils this year, because even though they’re usually the first decent subjects of spring, I’ve photographed them every year, and so does everyone else, so the awareness of trite kept me from doing the same this year. But as I transferred the spider to the nearest prominent plant, which happened to be a daffodil, it immediately took up a protective camouflage position against a petal edge, and thus when I eventually fetched the camera again, I ended up going against my vow. This is why I’ll never be a priest (well, among a few thousand reasons.)

bright green orb weaver possibly Tetragnatha viridis on edge of daffodil bloom
I suspect you get an inkling of the size from this, especially since I told you what it was posed on, but overall length stretched out like this didn’t exceed 20mm. I had indeed gotten the flash for this one, finding as I did so that it had somehow been left switched on and the batteries were quite dead, so once again, wide open in ambient light, far from the best approach. I was still in the middle of several yard tasks so I wasn’t devoting a full session to this, but this was perhaps enough to identify it anyway; near as I can tell, this is a specific long-jawed orbweaver with no common name, but Tetragnatha viridis. I couldn’t see the long jaws, but the eye pattern was right and some of the example photos at that link look damn close, so this is a tentative ID for now.

So yeah, the camera still works, and I’m still capable of posting current content. Woo hoo.

Who’s counting?

Anyone visiting this blog anew (and, the crucial bit, reading more than half of a single post,) might conclude that I seem to be fond of numbered posts, which isn’t exactly true even when there are, honestly, quite a damn lot of them. And it hasn’t stopped yet – I mean, aside from the weekly Profiles posts and the occasional repeating topic like On Composition, I still have at least three others in the works. This is largely due to yet having too little to shoot where I can branch out a bit, so I’m maintaining content without a lot of current input. But take it from me, I feel bad about this, really, really bad, and will be correcting it soon. Like, you know, how Betelgeuse is going to go nova ‘soon.’ Sometime in the next half-million years or so…

I thought I had a topic that I could exploit a little here, since today is the 118th anniversary of the founding of the first National Wildlife Refuge, which would be Pelican Island NWR, near Sebastian, Florida. Now, I lived not a long ways from Pelican Island, but I don’t think I ever visited, and to my recollection stopped just short of the borders on at least two trips. This may have been due to not knowing it was the first until after I left Florida, and not being back on the east coast since, but either way, I have no photos to show.

Well, okay, none from that particular refuge. I have plenty from others, and a lot of them have already been featured herein, in non-numbered posts even (I think, anyway – I should probably check.) I toyed with the idea of doing a specific visit to a wildlife refuge today, but where I live in central NC, there are none within two hours drive, and I’ve got some other things planned for the day, so, no. You’ll just have to use your imagination, or make your own trip. Or, really, make a trip anytime you like, because who cares if the visit is on the anniversary or not? That’s the kind of meaningless shit we humans get up to. Like this:

pair of roseate spoonbills Platalea ajaja  not on speaking terms
This is a pair of roseate spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) spotted in the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, possibly the only time I’ve photographed them. These were taken just three days before being down at Sebastian Inlet just north of Pelican Island NWR and not entering, because we can get even more meaningless if we try. But this is one of the species that prompted the creation of the National Wildlife Refuge system in the US, because they were hunted almost to extinction solely for their feathers, the meaningless fashion fad back then. Refuges were created as habitats and breeding grounds for species that were being hunted or crowded out by increasing populations and development. Too often now, such refuges are only created from land that’s too difficult/expensive to develop, and that largely seems to be the case in NC, where most of the refuges are coastal swampland. But hey, if they work, they work – better to encourage people not to be stupid, of course, but I have my doubts that we’re heading in the right direction in those regards.

I’m also going to use this space to announce that my 2,000th post is nigh (six away, I believe,) and I’ve been busy trying to complete something for that. Do you care? No, but I do, so you’re along for the ride. And you still have time to get me a gift, not that you’re obligated or anything, and far be it from me to bring up the stupendous effort and thought that goes into this site but, you know, if you have a spare Canon MP-E 65mm f/2.8 1-5X Macro lens lying around…

A few tentative breaths

ywllow-bellied sliders Trachemys scripta enjoying the warmth
The past few days have begun to get pleasantly warm – I was going to say, “Finally,” but this is pretty much right on time for this latitude; it was even warm enough to open up the house for a bit today. Yesterday and today, I ventured out to see what else was venturing out, which is a guide for other photographers: we are now entering nature/wildlife photographer season, so if those are your goal, you’ll start seeing them appear on lakeshores and along game trails.

Anyway, yesterday was just a brief outing around the neighborhood pond, revealing nothing that I wasn’t already seeing routinely, but the yellow-bellied sliders (Trachemys scripta scripta) were out in force, and by that I mean in the dozens, finding anything that would support some weight to bask and enjoy the temperatures. I also spotted a few red-eared sliders (Trachemys scripta elegans) here and there, closely related but not native, or at least not historically – that may actually have changed by now.

red-eared slider Trachemys scripta elegans eyeing the photographer warily
The red “ear” (really, just a stripe on the dorsolateral portion of the head, nowhere near the ears, so never trust biologists) is often barely visible, simply because it sits right where the sunlight reflects from the turtle’s somewhat slick skin, especially if it’s still wet. Coincidence, or is there some nefarious purpose to this location? Ya got me, pilgrim.

And, really, not a whole lot else to see despite the weather. Even the geese were scarce, presenting only a handful, and just one great blue heron (Ardea herodias) hanging out on the pond’s edge until it decided I was acting suspiciously…

great blue heron Ardea herodias portrait
… and I was, because while plenty of people were perambulating around the pond without even looking over, I was pausing and raising this big black contraption, then strolling a little closer and doing it again, and so on. Just not kosher.

But last night, I went out trying to find a couple of good locations for the chorus frogs (and whatever else I might see,) and happened upon a spot that may provide some cool photos just a little later on. I don’t want to say anything else right now, because then you might (like you always do) start harassing me if you don’t see anything appear here promptly enough. We’ll wait and see how lucky I get.

That meant, however, that I wanted to see what the spot looked like in the daylight too, so I stopped there today to check it out, picking up a Carolina mantis egg case in the process, so I have one of those to monitor now. Then I went down to Jordan Lake for a peek.

And Jordan Lake was crowded, lots of people taking advantage of the weather, which isn’t ideal because they tend to scare off some of the subjects, though admittedly, most of what I see down there are birds at a distance anyway. Which were not in evidence at all – I think I saw a lone seagull and a perched vulture. In fact, I wasn’t seeing much of anything until, wandering the water’s edge, I spotted this:

juvenile northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon motionless at water's edge
Right where the waves were pushing up detritus and the occasional dead fish sat this guy, a dead northern water snake (Nerodia sipedon sipedon) only slightly longer than my hand. When I first spotted it, it was in my shadow, and never twitched as I moved and let the bright sunlight shine on it; in my experience, snakes can sleep easily in the open (and have no eyelids, so it’s not often obvious,) but will still launch themselves for cover when something blocks the light. I did a few frames, then reached down and nudged it just to be sure.

basking juvenile northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon
I was rewarded with a sudden flinch into a more ready position, and a whole lot of tongue activity (which I simply couldn’t time to capture in a frame – it takes place in less than a half-second.) The position was a little curious, because while out in bright sunlight to take advantage of it, the snake was still in enough contact with the water (which isn’t yet at a good temperature) to be losing some body heat to that. Not a very quick learner, this reptile: both failing to bolt when danger threatened, and not being efficiently cold-blooded. Kids these days.

But I switched angle and did a fartsier shot, because I was told to:

juvenile northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon from opposite angle
I’m a little curious about the change in color register, because for all photos the white balance was set for full daylight (no correction.) I expect the shadows to be noticeably bluer, but we’re still seeing sunlit areas here, just a more oblique angle. I don’t know, but while I normally prefer a little warmth in photos, I actually like this last version the best.

So, it’s a start, with serious, committed spring ready to rear its ugly head. Or something. This also means that I’m in transition from the typical winter depression to the spring allergic reactions, so, yay? Whatever, I’ll cope, just gimme something to shoot.

Focus, part 1

Despite this largely being a photography blog, the ‘focus’ of this topic is mental, regarding critical-thinking, and so for that I apologize. I started this some time back when some of the events were ‘current,’ (for whatever applies to the webbernets-influenced definition of that,) and then left it off because things were changing so rapidly. That, and the fact that I cannot write about most of this without getting seriously annoyed and despondent about humanity. But I regret letting it slide, and it still needs to be said, or at least, I need to say it, for my own sake – call it armchair activism if you like; if you have a method of reaching a bigger audience that’ll work for me, let me know.

Second, I know I avowed some time back that I would not get political on this site, and depending on your viewpoint, this may be going back on that promise. If you consider ‘political’ to mean, ‘regarding any form of government or voter stance or activities,’ then no, it will not be. If you consider it to mean, ‘social behaviors and cultural hotbuttons,’ then yes, it will, but that definition can be applied at will to just about anything, if you’re so inclined, so I don’t care about definitions like that anyway. I just wanted to throw out some thoughts, in the vague chance that it might cause someone to pause and ponder a little bit.

When I started writing this, protests across the country were turning into riots and/or looting following the death of George Floyd during his arrest, and the same protests soon became widespread vandalism of statues, a saga that itself has been going on for a few years now, including only a few kilometers away from me here at UNC Chapel Hill when ‘Silent Sam’ was torn down by activists. At this point in time, it now has become ‘Woke’ activism over anything that, so it appears, anyone might find the slightest bit offensive, regardless of whether A) someone can be considered even remotely affected by said offense, and B) the actual potential for harm of any kind. This is why the posts are being split into multiple parts.

Right now I’m going to address the death of George Floyd and some of the reactions, because this is rife with everything from unwarranted assumptions to outright stupidity.

Let’s start with, Trial By Media. We’ve been seeing this for years now, and to put it at its mildest, it’s something we shouldn’t even be slightly engaged within. When the video of police officer Derek Chauvin kneeling on Floyd’s neck was paraded around, this was enough to set off countless thousands of people who were entirely convinced of not just the guilt of Chauvin, but the intent of the action, the racism of said officer (because Floyd was black, Chauvin white,) and the inherent racism in, and I’m not kidding here, all police forces across the country. The irony here is going to be sharply displayed very shortly.

I am coming right out and saying that the death of anyone in police custody, save for self-inflicted, is evidence of improper conduct; it doesn’t matter who. Officers are supposed to have both the resources and the training to avoid such things. At the same time, accidents happens, coincidences (such as a heart condition being aggravated) happen, and most especially, initial impressions can be wildly mistaken. This is why, after decades of such issues, we have established trial procedures to become cognizant of all of the details and circumstances; a minute of video is nowhere near adequate enough to base any decisions on whatsoever. People want to believe what they see with their own eyes, and are supremely reluctant to accept that A) what they didn’t see is also germane, and B) they’re almost guaranteed to be lending their own interpretations to what they saw in the first place. That’s why we want, need, to get all of the facts, all of the accounts, and follow the proper procedures.

And we were and are: the officer in question was both fired from the force and charged with 2nd degree murder, and these were plainly in evidence right from the start. We should not and can not abandon these practices at any point in time, no matter how angry anyone gets. Our justice system plays out slowly, and admittedly not always accurately, but abandoning it is certainly no substitute, and neither is lynching.

The second part of this equation is the error of trusting the media, or making any assumptions whatsoever about their lack of bias, accurate representations, and so on. The media exists to make money, and this is done by drawing eyes to screens, and often this is accomplished by intentionally stirring up controversy. While numerous people can point to how often a black person dies in police custody, not one of them can give the subsequent numbers of any other ethnic group, the number of arrests, the number of violent and resistant reactions,… – in short, they have no idea whether any kind of trend is present or not, much less what the causative factors of any such (undetermined) trend might be. Studies of such things have to take countless pertinent factors into account before offering even tentative conclusions, and it’s safe to say that we have none of that at hand right now – much less can glean it from any given news report. While our media can be extremely useful in bringing important things to our attention, it can be abysmally bad at it too, and should only serve as the impetus to gain more information. Full stop.

Moreover, media attention is very good at fostering an inaccurate impression of any given event or potential trend. There are a few thousand arrests that take place every day in this country – two occurrences of any behavior within a month or so isn’t exactly statistically significant.

Presumption of Intention. We’re not even sure (because, as of this writing, the trial has not begun so the evidence has not been presented) that Chauvin’s actions were the sole or primary cause of Floyd’s death, but most especially, we don’t know that it was in any way intentional, or even semi-accidental (the officer using more force than necessary from having any form of bias.) And to be blunt, intent can be a very hard thing to prove, especially since police officers must, frequently, use forceful restraint against suspects or perpetrators. While there is a subset of the (large and diverse) group of protestors that believe officers should never have to use that kind of ‘violence,’ I’m happy to call this ludicrous and inexcusably naïve – the moment someone starts exhibiting uncontrolled and violent behavior, ignoring their actions is simply putting others at risk, including the officers themselves. Regardless, we are nowhere near establishing that Chauvin had any particular intent or bias in his actions.

Nor is it likely that the trial will be able to answer such questions, or will even try. The charge of 2nd degree murder only seeks to establish that the act was intentional and not a necessary part of police actions – it has nothing to do with why or whether this is common. While evidence presented may support or deny the idea that Chauvin was biased in any way, that will only be in direct relation to his guilt or acquittal on this particular charge. Determining, for instance, that the Minneapolis Police Department is rife with such things, or even knew of Chauvin’s potential bias and ignored it, is way beyond the scope of any such trial, and requires an entirely different sort of investigation. Expecting anything else from the trial is unrealistic.

People are complicated, as any psychologist or therapist knows, and determining root causes of behavior is exceptionally difficult, in many ways impossible – this is something that way too few people understand, instead (somehow) believing that personalities can be determined by offhand comments, forum posts, or the use of expletives. But there are no shortcuts in this area, and no simple guidelines or ‘key indicators’ – that’s utter nonsense. Having any kind of confidence in any conclusion regarding anyone’s personality is, bluntly, stupid.

[This seems like a good point to throw this in here: Personally, I am not a fan of police officers in general. I’ve seen far too many that weren’t very competent, that were far too full of themselves and their authority, that made countless excuses for not doing the actions that they could and were expected of them, and so on. I’m firmly of the belief that police institutions can stand a much better evaluative process for officers to begin with, but definitely should have a hell of a lot more emphasis on critical thinking at the very least, and more frequent evaluations of performance. Yet, most of this comes from my personal experience, which is a really shitty set of guidelines, but much more pertinently, my bias in no way reflects how any particular action of any officer should be judged. The only way we could possibly know if I’m right or wrong – whatever degree of accuracy or lack thereof – is by seeking hard evidence and viewing it, all of it, with reason.]

Extrapolating events into a larger problem. Now we’re into the inexcusably ludicrous territory. There really are far too many people who believe that a black man dying at the hands of a white officer is evidence of ‘systemic racism,’ and the problem with ‘police’ (as if this is a cohesive entity,) and on and on. All of this is incredibly ignorant horseshit.

To start with, there is no cohesiveness to police, even within any given county, much less nationwide. Police forces are extremely local, even down to wide differences between precincts, and overseen only by very local authorities such as police captains and, perhaps, county commissioners (in my experience, most of those have no interest in even monitoring the police departments under their purview.) City police, county police, state police, sheriff’s departments, highway patrol – they’re all separate entities with little communication and no overriding authority. Even if we could establish that, for instance, a county sheriff’s department was run under a banner of overt racism, it’s unlikely that everyone connected with such would never reveal this, but regardless, this has no impact whatsoever on any other police force within even the same county, much less across the entire fucking nation. Some of these concepts are so horrifically stupid as to make us ponder what brain-dead fuckwit could possibly believe them.

Also note that the assumption that ‘police’ is an entity united in habits, behavior, or outlook is, essentially, racism. Though it’s not an ethnic group, the belief that everyone within a certain demographic exhibits the same traits remains exactly the same thing. If we want to eradicate prejudice and bias, we certainly have to recognize it every place it exists, and not practice it in demonstration of total fucking hypocrisy.

That leads to ‘racism’ isn’t a firmly defined concept. Countless people would try to argue this, but I contend that you couldn’t even get two of them to agree – we don’t even have a decent definition of ‘race’ to start with. Worse, far too many people believe it exists as a binary state: you’re either racist or you’re not. But again, people are complicated, and exhibit biases in every facet of their lives – all of us. I’m not denying that prejudices against black people exist, and far too much, but this is often defined at will, with little consistency and little recognition of the bare facts. There are degrees of bias, huge grey areas with difficult-to-establish boundaries, and it’s ludicrous to try to conflate someone that believes there’s more crime in black neighborhoods with someone that would lynch a black person if they thought they could get away with it. It’s easy to say that neither one is acceptable, but A) addressing them effectively would require radically different approaches, and B) one of them might at times be supported by the bare facts.

Which is where you run into the asinine concept that even pointing this out is considered racist, as if A) this is a judgment on everyone within a given race, and B) anyone in the fucking world could be considered completely innocent. There’s an interesting (read: stupid) dichotomy here, in that black people (or any given ethnic distinction that you like) can widely be considered victims of their circumstances, but white people are guilty of theirs – this is exemplified in the oft-repeated “systemic racism” and “white male privilege” accusations. It is amply demonstrated in the Floyd/Chauvin case where a white officer that was responsible for the death of a black suspect must be racist, because there’s no other possible explanation. Is it the same when a black officer is involved in the death of a black suspect, or a white one? Is it the same when any black person kills another? How are these distinctions being defined, and are the rules consistent throughout all circumstances? And if not, why not?

The hypocrisy of far too many activists starts to become apparent when we ask pertinent questions, because the entire goal of eradicating racism/prejudice/bias is that we don’t even pay attention to skin color/ethnicity/nationality/gender/et cetera. Yet in order to make the accusations that are being leveled, they not only have to see these distinctions as primary and overriding, but assume that everyone else is, too. In many cases, they have to assume that their chosen victimized class is either innocent of any wrongdoing, or ‘driven to it’ by, again, some privileged class. It is remarkably similar to the parent that automatically blames the teachers when their child isn’t doing well in school. And in case my point isn’t being made clearly enough, these automatic assumptions are racism themselves – or, since we don’t have a good definition of that, we’ll go with unwarranted prejudice. Doesn’t matter – it’s still hugely hypocritical. But let me say it again: it is just as racist to assume there is a ‘white male privilege’ as to assume that there is a ‘black criminal tendency.’

Determining the bare facts first, and recognizing that these can apply only to a given individual, might actually be a worthwhile practice before pronouncing any kind of judgment. Chauvin might be revealed to be a virulent white supremacist – or he may be found to be over-excitable, or exercise bad judgment, or innocent of all charges because Floyd died from circumstances other than his arrest (a broad clue here is that, if you can’t breathe, you can’t keep repeating that you can’t breathe, because that takes breath.) We won’t know until we at least get to see the evidence presented. That’s the requirement of being both rational and responsible. Moreover, the verdict will tell us only about Chauvin himself, and nothing at all about anyone else, any institution, any culture, any systemic whatsis.

But here’s the unfortunate aspect: if Chauvin is found guilty, countless assholes will feel completely justified in their pronouncements, secure in the fact that ‘they called it’ and never recognizing that they never bothered to even consider the other possibilities. Should anything less than a full conviction occur – and remember, this is a 2nd degree murder charge implying willful intent, not accidental death or criminal negligence – countless thousands of people will insist that ‘justice’ was never served, deny that they were dead wrong about the situation, and continue to believe that ‘the system’ is inherently racist (as if there’s any aspect whatsoever in our lives that we could put down to ‘the system.’) It’s extremely likely that there could be riots. And while it indeed remains possible that the practices of the trial, of seeking justice, were or are flawed, I’ll bet heavily that very, very few people who decide to take action would ever bother to confirm that it was, or how.

More on that aspect in part 2.

Profiles of Nature 10

juvenile Virginia opossum Didelphis virginiana held in author's hand
This week we have one of our younger models, Hesterine, here being coached by her handler. Hesterine, naturally, got into the business when pressured by PETA (PETA never asks,) which needed a new spokesmodel after the last one died from malnutrition, curiously since he was on a regular diet of naturally-deceased grass. PETA funded the eye-dewing surgery and the widow’s-peak enhancements in preparation for their rural American billboard campaign, budgeting millions to stop roughly twelve rednecks from eating possum. Hesterine hopes to parlay this into either a swimsuit career or her own show on Food Network making multi-course meals from the compost bin; she already knows six recipes for the stalky bit of lettuce heads. She’s not neglecting her regular studies though, holding a 3.9 GPA in Making The Dogs Lose Their Shit At Night while excelling in Drama Club, playing the ingénue’s stunt double in Romeo and Juliet and the lead in Evita 2. In her spare time she drools. Hesterine’s one weakness though is hair-care products, since she fails to understand what ‘topical use’ means, but her colon is shiny and full-bodied. Her favorite paint finish is PDCA Standard P12.

We’ll be back next week, because petitions and threatening phone calls only scare weenies! See you then!

On this date 57

I’ll have this topic, my weekly one from last year, still peeking in occasionally because I like the comparisons, especially right now as the first indications of spring are popping up. So let’s step back to 2012.

unidentified aquatic snails hatching from eggs
That winter, I had a small aquarium that held a handful of finds from nearby ponds and streams, and an unidentified snail had laid eggs right against the glass, which I was lucky enough to capture. I was lucky enough to capture their hatching too, seen here, but this isn’t a huge accomplishment because, if you’ve ever seen any eggs hatch, it tends not to be a quick or momentary action, taking place instead over a period of many minutes; for snails, it’s exactly as you’d imagine and takes a whole lot longer. In fact, witnessing actual motion from them was almost impossible, but over two hours of shooting, changes in position between frames indicate that it was still taking place. You can see the transparent outer walls of the enclosing sac, ruptured on the left side, as well as a few discarded iridescent eggshells, a couple of newly-emerged snails, and several still within their eggs. Using the aquarium allowed me to set the light source at will, and with a little experimentation I found the best angle for these details; each egg was perhaps a little larger in diameter that a straight pin shaft.

Two years later, things were very dramatic.

freezing rain on holly bush
This date in 2014, we got hit with a serious freezing rain storm – or at least, serious for North Carolina’s ill-preparedness for such things. While the ground temperature remained too warm for the roads to get treacherous, the weight of the ice took down countless power lines, and countless limbs and trees stretched over power lines, knocking out electricity throughout the county. I snagged a variety of photos, including of the holly tree in the yard, before we ended up having to go to The Girlfriend’s Mother’s house overnight to actually have heat. I suspect that storm was a primary factor in The Girlfriend putting ‘a fireplace’ on the list of preferences while house hunting – something which she fulfilled that same year, I might add.

That story I mentioned

So in the wildlife rehab post recently, I mentioned a story about a grey squirrel and that I may explain it in detail later. That post was first made in 2013, then reposted in 2014 and again in 2021, and I am now getting around to relating that story; I figure eight years is enough to build the suspense…

At the time, I worked for a humane society that tackled a lot of projects, among them wildlife rehabilitation, and I was living onsite as a caretaker and bookkeeper for this expanded facility. Someone, some ‘member of the public,’ had brought to us an adult eastern grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) that they had attempted to raise as a pet and finally gave up on as it was getting too aggressive. This is an exceedingly common result from such attempts, the primary reason why it is actively discouraged (and usually illegal.) Humans domesticated dogs and cats thousands of years ago, and yet they still have habits that we often wish they didn’t, because traits are usually dictated by genes over a period of millions of years; the traits of wildlife are not going to go away with a couple months of living in different conditions. How the animal views its surroundings and interactions is entirely different from how we do, and its expectations and simple habits are usually not something that we even comprehend. Witness the grey squirrels in several urban areas that became notably aggressive during this pandemic as their primary food sources all but dried up, and there are plenty of other stories of that type to be found. In short, don’t raise wildlife as pets – it will likely turn out entirely different than you imagine, and not in a good way.

This particular squirrel was, I think, about two years old and female (which is slightly better – males tend to turn a lot more aggressive a lot faster.) We had her housed in an outdoor cage in the woods that we used to acclimatize rehab patients to outdoor conditions before they were eventually released, what we called a ‘halfway house.’ They have shelter and food types largely commensurate with what they could find in the wild, but contact was minimal and they were otherwise exposed to the elements. My job was to provide the food and water and try to monitor her to determine that she seemed to be coping with this introduction to kinda-wild conditions.

For the first few days, she seemed fine, but then started getting notably agitated at my presence; I surmise that this was from not getting either the food types or the schedule that she was used to, but may also have been some anxiety over the temperature (it was summer, so nothing drastic) or possibly the presence of predators outside the cage at night. Whatever the reason, she began darting for the door as I opened it to put the food and water within, necessitating some gymnastics on my part, distracting her at the opposite end and moving fast while she was away from the door.

It only took a day before she figured this out. I put the food in one afternoon and slipped the door closed just before she hit the gap, watching her twitch her tail rapidly at this action. She was following me around the cage on the inside, clinging to the wire sides, and I did a quick dodge around the end to lure her down that way and put a nut in the wire for her to dig out. She was no fool, and when I darted back to the door with the water dish, even though I had it open for a bare second or so, she hit it flying from across the cage, bounced off the wire of the door, and landed on my shoulders.

She’d been a ‘pet,’ so I wasn’t at all alarmed at this, and knew better than to move suddenly or freak out or anything, and I just put the water dish down and then turned back to look at her in the attempt to coax her back into the cage. It was then that I became aware of a strange tugging sensation on my shoulder, the feel of something pulling on my back from within, and abruptly realized that she was biting the hell out of my shoulder. Somehow, she had nailed the nerve almost as soon as she started to bite down (I was already expecting her claws to dig in a bit so the initial sensations weren’t unexpected,) and thus the deep bite didn’t register anywhere near as painful as it should have been – and let me tell you, squirrels can bite. They gnaw through wood and nut hulls routinely. But the sensation of her teeth within the muscle of my shoulder registered nonetheless, and in a flash, I snatched her off my shoulder and flung her into the cage in one fluid movement, never giving her a chance to redirect her attention to my hand. She landed on the wire again and chattered angrily, but the door was already closed.

When I turned the attention to my shoulder, I found a decent amount of blood but not horrendous, and a noticeable puncture wound that it was exceedingly strange to feel with my fingertips yet be almost unaware of at the shoulder where the wound actually was. She had also put two distinct holes in my almost-brand-new favorite T-shirt that I’d gotten at the Carolina Raptor Center, for which I could never forgive her; it was the perfect shade of slate blue and had kestrels on it, a species I was particularly attached to. Little shit.

Within the next day or so, rather than risk further mishap, we elected to release her, figuring that at least she had the moxie to deal with adverse conditions, but there was little we could do to ensure she had all of the habits she’d need, and those traits were likely still present anyway. Meanwhile, I still have both the scar and the nerve damage: if you poke my shoulder with a sharp object at just the right spot, I will feel the pressure through the underlying muscle, but not the object itself. I should convince doctors to vaccinate me there…

But you know, while I’m here, I have two other rehab stories from the same time period, though granted, they speak nothing of the hazards of treating wildlife as pets. Well, mostly not.

In one case, we had a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) that had been orphaned and was near adult size. For a short period of time she was housed in a smaller cage within the barn, before she was moved to a flight cage as the final stage before release. Every morning I brought her mice, frozen but thawed to roughly ‘live’ temperature, and deposited them in her cage where she would seize them eagerly and turn her back to me to devour them, hunched over with wings slightly spread, a habit that I guessed was meant to protect her meal from siblings. She was completely fine with my reaching in the cage however, though I never let her get too used to this, but it was curious to see her disregard for this encroachment, and it worried me slightly. She needed to have a healthy distrust of humans, and especially not see them as food sources, but that would also be enforced in the next step, the flight cage.

One morning, with nothing out of the ordinary that I could see, I entered the barn to find her agitated, darting her gaze around and dodging on her perch animatedly. I watched this for a moment, unsure what caused it, knowing that I personally had done nothing different and could neither hear nor see anything amiss in the barn. After a moment, I went ahead and opened the door slowly, and introduced the mice.

She hopped across the perch and landed onto my wrist as it was extended with the mice, and clamped down with the talons, only momentarily. The thing was, one of these sharp and massive nails bit right into my wrist directly on top of that bump of bone on the outside (go ahead, look at it,) lancing down through the thin skin to the joint and cartilage. It was only a handful of millimeters, far less than the squirrel’s bite, but in exactly the wrong place, and this hurt like a motherfucker, easily one of the most painful things that I’ve ever felt (and I’ve had kidney stones.) It was the kind of injury that you wring your arm up and down madly, as if this would do anything at all, but you have no choice, and I treated her to a fine collection of expletives regarding her ancestry and sexual predilections. And yet, it barely even bled, but it throbbed like hell all day long.

And I still have no idea why this occurred. I can only guess that something, a fox perhaps, was sniffing around outside the barn not long before I came in, or another red-tail was sounding off very close by. Anything smaller and she would have been delighted at the prospect of a meal, so rats were out, and really, little else could have entered the barn. But I was a lot more circumspect with her feedings after that.

red-tailed hawk Buteo jamaicensis in rehab flight cage
Old, shitty negative, and probably not one of the mentioned patients, but a representative example anyway
We also had a couple of flight cages at the facility, and these were massive, wood-slat affairs, roughly 4 meters square on the end and 13 meters long, to allow medium-sized raptors to gain wing strength before release. For one of our red-tailed hawk patients (I’m fairly certain not my assailant above,) we wanted to ensure that they knew how to hunt, which was tricky – chances are, even with live prey within the cage, they wouldn’t do anything if they knew someone was nearby observing them. What I ended up doing was setting up a surveillance camera. This was the mid-nineties, so what we’d been donated was a full-size, shoulder-mount videocamera that held complete VHS tapes – you know, the size of a hardcover book. This was set up in the far end of the flight cage on a tripod, with a protective plastic bag (red-tailed hawks defecate horrendously, managing quite some distance at times.) I started the camera, then released a handful of live mice on the floor of the cage while the hawk was high above on a perch, and slipped out.

Later in the day I came back and collected the camera when the battery had run down, producing not quite two hours of tape, and brought it in to the VCR. After several minutes of virtually nothing at all to see – some slight fidgeting on the perch, because red-tails conserve energy and often sit observing for hours at a time – I began fast-forwarding through the tape, watching the slight jiggling and jerky movements of the hawk on the perch. And then, whoops!, a sudden flash of action off of the perch! I rolled it back and played it at normal speed, seeing the hawk suddenly drop into an alert pose with eyes fixed on the floor of the cage. Raptors often do this little head-bob-and-circle movement as they spot potential prey, trying for a clear look and getting the range, so it’s often obvious when they spot something. And in another moment, the hawk dropped from the perch to the floor of the cage, stayed down there for a minute or two fidgeting, then returned to the perch. The resolution was too low to determine that it actually held a mouse, but the actions of eating it were unmistakable. Success!

For a later patient, I created a small ‘wading pool’ for the mice, because the greater area of the cage allowed too many nooks for mice to disappear into, and so they were housed in a two-meter square pen with sides too high for them to jump out of. This patient (another red-tail) had been raised from a fledgling so we wanted to know it had the instinct to hunt on its own, and it sat high above me on a perch as I prepared the buffet. After releasing the mice within the pen, I stepped back for a moment to observe them, and the hawk slammed onto the floor within the mouse pen not two meters away from me. Red-tails have a violent attack mode, counting on their strong legs to halt their descent and on their body weight to often incapacitate their prey – there’s nothing delicate or graceful about it, and they don’t fly down to their prey, they plummet with little effort at arresting their speed. So the spectacle right in front of me was a bit startling. After only a moment, the hawk hopped to the edge of the pen with a mouse in its talons, regarded me stoically and without alarm from little more than an arm’s length away, then flew up to its perch to consume its meal. Well, fine – not worried about your hunting abilities at all.

Too cool, part 47: ze frank is back

I’ve already seen at least two other websites that have featured this video, so I’m slow, but we already knew that. Still, it was too good not to feature, a fine mix of information, illustration, and humor – because it’s by ze frank of course. I’m never sure how to capitalize or separate that…

Anyway, if you haven’t seen it (or even if you have,) take a gander at True Facts: Deception in the Rainforest


Zebra mosaic Colobura dirce displaying curious patternJust so you know, while the more extreme examples in the video are often only found in the rainforest, all of these traits and defenses can be witnessed the world over, including right here in North Carolina; you’ll find more of them if you take some time to closely examine the plants and ground around you, though you’ll have a lot better luck if you wait a little longer when spring gets its ass in gear. A handful of these can be seen at the Butterfly House in the Museum of Life & Science in Durham.

Certainly, I’d like the opportunity to witness and photograph some of the more exotic species myself, and such a trip is still on the bucket list, but drawing closer. Yes, it could potentially be offensive to contribute funds towards such an endeavor, implying that I couldn’t afford a trip on my own, but I’m fairly thick-skinned and would make the supreme effort of taking such cash (or plane tickets) in a gracious spirit, because I’m that kind of guy. I would even share my experiences here, so you’d be benefiting countless others all at the same time.

And credit where credit is due:

David Weiller

Thomas Marent

Thomas Hossie

neira Dan

Yero Kuethe

Luisa Mota

Tom Sherratt

Douglas Yanega

chrysalis of possible red-spotted purple admiral Limenitis arthemis astyanax
This is a chrysalis, right on the wall of our house here at Walkabout Estates, likely of a red-spotted purple admiral (Limenitis arthemis astyanax.) So, you know, always examine bird shit closely…

Profiles of Nature 9

Dyeing poison frog Dendrobates tinctorius "Itch" doing pushups
This week, we meet Itch Diddli as he either practices placing his handprints on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, or pees on the ferns – we’re not exactly sure which, and it might be both. Itch hasn’t actually done any modeling yet, so all of his anecdotes are imaginary; even then, they’re kinda boring. He tried moving to a small town in rural Iowa to help speed his discovery by a top agent, because that was a way cooler backstory, but that hampered his ability to brag of hanging with Jones and Miller at a loft party, since there were no loft parties or even lofts, so he moved to New York and just counted on being able to say that he was discovered in Iowa. Unfortunately, he moved to Binghamton, believing this was near SoHo, and keeps trying to find the crosstown train. His favorite story, that actually bears a smidgen of truth, is about getting beat up when asking Sting (so he thought) for an autograph, which might have gone better if the woman hadn’t been having such a bad day. His primary hobby is giving the worst possible advice to schoolchildren, though he doesn’t know this yet. Itch lists the city he’d most like to live in as, ‘Eurasia,’ and his favorite Crusher Run is 3/4″.

We’ll be back next week – just you try and stop us! No, no, just you – not all of you, that’d hardly be fair now…

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