I’m pretty certain this is the remote depot where italics are stored before use.
Seriously, what is it with construction in Montana? Hasn’t anyone there heard of diagonal bracing?
Sunday slide 32
We have returned to the Brevard Zoo in Brevard County, Florida, only to come face-to-face with a southern cassowary (Casuarius casuarius) – not the healthiest thing to do, given the aggressiveness and wicked capabilities of this species. Which almost goes without saying, since this is a native of Australia. It’s kind of an internet meme right now to consider Australia simply brimming with dangerous species, which is largely an exaggeration, though not entirely undeserved. Terry Pratchett also used the idea in one of his Discworld books, back when the internet was still young and naïve, something that we may revisit a bit later on (the Discworld book, not the naïvete of the internet in the past.)
But cassowaries are indeed fairly dangerous, if in part because people really don’t consider birds as something to be cautious around, even if they are huge. Cassowaries have inordinately muscular legs and very sharp talons, and won’t hesitate to use both when they feel it is merited, but it seems that their criteria for this has been more often fostered by human misbehavior than being an inherent trait of the bird. Like that’s something new.
This one, however, was safely within its enclosure, the only one I’ve ever seen; I can say the same for the tapirs and capybaras also photographed on that visit, both striking me as notably mellow species. The cassowary didn’t strike me at all, except in coloration – there was no apparent or perceived personality, just its presence. But they are cool-looking…
Daily Jim pic 16
Jim sent me a handful of monochrome images as well, mostly taking advantage of the aged appearance of many of the buildings – not that they really needed to be desaturated, since they were strictly grey anyway. What’s notable about most of the building shots that Jim sent me is the geometry-thwarting nature of them, erected with right angles like any other edifice but succumbing in time to a more flowing design. I suspect that the physicists who first proposed that space might be curved had spent at least some time in Montana…
It’s funny, I see the tractor tire as being too “new” for this image, not fitting in with the mood and textures of the rest, but perhaps that’s a quirk of my perspective – tires of this nature have existed longer than I have. Still, it’s too smooth and shiny; if it had at least been dried out and cracked, I would feel better about it. Maybe it’s trite, but you can probably identify with the idea. Had there been a car in the frame, it would have to be something rusty with big curved fenders and round headlights, you know?
About time to get out of the water
In late June, I spoke about some tadpoles occupying the backyard pond, which I’m reasonably certain were green frogs (Lithobates clamitans,) as well as catching a pair of Copes grey treefrogs (Hyla chrysoscelis) in “the act,” more or less. In the intervening time, both the adult and juvenile green frogs seem to have vacated the pond, and it’s now occupied by a batch of new tadpoles. Logic dictates that some of them, at least, are Copes grey treefrogs, but it appears that there might be at least two different species in there, and I cannot vouch for the others in any way.
On top of that, a birdbath several meters away was found to be hosting another batch, these remarkably tiny and currently unidentified. The best I can say is that they’re some variety of chorus frog or “peeper,” since they’re the only things I know that would have tadpoles that size. I’m hoping that they can find enough to eat in there, and am topping off the water with fresh from the rain barrels from time to time; I’d move them over into the pond, but I’m not sure that they wouldn’t simply become prey to the other species already present.
Of course, I collected a few from each location to do detail shots. I will point out, before we get started, that the bottom substrate in all cases is simply sand, so you can use this to judge relative scale. First off, we’ll look at the tiny ones.
Yes, the two photos above are of the same species. No matter what kind of light falls on them in normal circumstances, they appear simply black, but down at eye level with the macro flash, they become Fab-ulous! I like how the pigment is just patches over a mostly transparent skin, and other angles that I shot show internal organs surprisingly well. But we have plenty more to check out.
I made it a point to find tadpoles that were showing legs, and the difference in size and development was interesting. Most of the larger ones were showing tiny little hind legs, while the medium-sized tadpoles had much more developed hind legs, and since I was almost certain I’d seen one in there with four, I spent some time sweeping with the net until I scared one up. And it turned out to be even more interesting on close inspection. I’m fairly confident this is a Copes grey treefrog, but at this stage I haven’t enough knowledge of identifying characteristics, if they even exist, to confirm. The interesting bit is when we go to the opposite side.
This is the exact same specimen, and by the way, let me expound slightly. Tadpoles don’t usually sit still for pics, at least until they’ve been in an aquarium for a while, which I wasn’t aiming for. So just getting one posed close enough to the glass to minimize distortion and sediment haze takes a bit of patience, but to then get the same one to turn around and face the other way is even more of a challenge. They have two responses to a gentle nudge: no movement at all, or swimming away desperately. So after sending this one on a circuit of the aquarium several times over, I eventually got it to pause facing in the opposite direction, so I could get photographic evidence of only one leg on this side. And we’ll go in for a minute inspection.
There does, in fact, seem to be a hole there, and I admit it’s easy to believe that something (not me – I was careful) took that limb away from it. However, as it would swim along I would get the unmistakable impression of something under the skin, like someone running around with their arm under their shirt, which was part of the point of getting these photos: I wanted to see if this was visible. The photos don’t seem to give any indication of this, and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t just seeing the edge of the developing jaw or something. So out of curiosity, I retained this particular one for a day just to see what happened. That experiment paid off.
Yep. 30 hours later we have a fully-developed and functional limb there, so I have to surmise that they develop within the body and emerge. I have spent my life yearning for new equipment, like microscopes and macro video capabilities, and now I want an x-ray machine…
The thing that it clings to, by the way, is a small graduated pipette/cylinder about the diameter of a standard pencil (number two of course.) With all four limbs, the tadpole was now quite willing to cling to things, and even take a little jaunt up the side of the aquarium when I was being too annoying.
That tail will soon disappear, and the tadpole or frogpole or froglet or whatever you want to call it will venture out onto land. And now I want my x-ray again, to see if the tail actually has a skeletal structure (it certainly looks like it does from the photo further up,) and perhaps get daily radiographs of it disappearing, But for now, let’s take a look at some details that I did get, this pic from one of the green tadpoles several weeks back.
Eewwwwwww! Actually, this is the mouth of a tadpole, and right now I can only offer my speculation, but I’m fairly certain these are just feeling/tasting appendages to help them collect the algae and other stuff that serves as their food. Most time it faces downwards and you can’t see anything at all, but when a tadpole ventures vertically up the glass you can get a peek at something that looks like a pencil-mustache and black lipstick or something. Mouthliner? Whatever – it’s really distinct and more than a little bizarre-looking.
Along with the tadpoles, I collected a few specimens of some aquatic beetle, the same kind we got a glimpse of previously, and was trying for more detail shots. This endeavor was seriously taxing, because the beetles are hyperactive and rarely pause in one spot, and of course they had to be close to the glass. When it happened, it was always for just long enough to start to pin down focus, but ended right before I tripped the shutter. Seriously, I have several empty frames, which isn’t counting all of the times that I realized they’d left and never made the attempt. Eventually, I got some cooperation when a pair of them got frisky – but then others started photobombing, I can only guess attracted by some aspect of active mating.
Despite the interference, they completed their tryst and I got my photos, including some fairly detailed shots of genitalia, which I will display upon request as long as you can demonstrate some valid reasoning like being an entomologist or something. You’ll have to answer a test question like what a metasomal tergum is. If you ask me to show you a beetle’s peepee, you’re not getting an answer.
And while at the neighborhood pond the other day, I saw a large collection of some aquatic insect at the water’s edge, but couldn’t see them closely enough to know what they were; not quite the size of a grain of rice. So I collected a few and did some images of them during this session as well. It turns out they were some variety of backswimmer or water boatman, family Corixidae, but as nymphs still difficult to identify. Which is not to say that I didn’t get some nice shots.
Again, that’s sand down there, and not coarse stuff either – standard beach sand that stays forever in the floor mats of the car. Each one of those eye facets can let through, like, one photon each…
As I returned my photo subjects to the pond later at night, I found a little frog sitting right on the edge as if it had just emerged. Since the tail was almost completely gone I’m going to guess this was just an impression, but of course I captured it for some of its own closeups.
In coloration and size, it was pretty close to my tadpole subject with the emerging leg, and I never really made out any markings that would help identify it, save for some restrained striping on the hind legs and a hint of a broad stripe through the eye, but since it’s obviously a juvenile the identifying characteristics haven’t developed yet, at least as far as my general guide goes. You’re welcome to have a look yourself and see if you can figure it out; I’m leaning towards one of the smaller species of little grass frog, chorus frog, or spring peeper. Here are a few more shots to provide as many traits as possible (while showing off of course.)
Remember, I’m just guessing, from the timing of events, that the majority of tadpoles in the pond are Copes; it’s possible that the larger ones are, but the species that we saw further up is actually something else. I mean, I didn’t camp out at the pond’s edge or set up surveillance cameras to see who was dumping their progeny into the water.
A few days later as I was collecting water from the rainbarrels to soak the plants, I spotted another little spud sitting on a weed right alongside the barrel. For reference, the leaf is about the size of a largish carrot or medium cucumber.
Naturally, I did a quick session with this one as well, who definitely wasn’t thrilled about the camera looming close and repeatedly faced away, often hopping to another leaf. With a lot of scrambling around, I could manage some portrait angles, very briefly.
Such an action pose.
And then, for another illustration of scale, I managed a shot of it perched on my middle finger. Since my left hand was in the shot, I couldn’t use it to close down the aperture on the mounted Mamiya 80mm macro, so we’re talking very short depth here at f4, but still enough to give the right impression.
Remember, that’s my middle finger, not thumb. But it was as I was editing this shot that I spotted a key detail: that red toe tip. And realized that this was the same frog that I’d shot two days before, having collected and released it at the pond a few meters away – scroll up to that left-side portrait under the water boatman pic to compare. The frog was probably getting pretty annoyed with me by this point.
Daily Jim pic 15
And so we now travel to Montana – “we” actually meaning, “not me,” but instead Jim and family, and I suppose one or two other people that might have entered Montana that day a month ago; the sprawling metropolis of Floweree, Montana, to be exact, and no I’m not kidding (Jim might be, though.) It would be nice to consider these wildflowers, and I suspect Jim made a little effort to disguise the efforts at gardening, but I’m pretty sure we’re looking at someone’s planter, at least. The colors are vivid and the sky works well, but that pole is a bit jarring, isn’t it? However, it might have gotten into the frame from a simple trait of cameras: the aperture doesn’t stop down until the shutter trips (or it’s otherwise activated by the photographer.) This means the depth-of-field is as short as possible for that lens while looking through the viewfinder, and the pole was – potentially, anyway – more out of focus than seen here. Or it could be that framing it otherwise would have introduced even more unsightly elements. Or that Jim simply didn’t register it. It happens to all of us, more than I care to admit, actually…
Daily Jim pic 14
And we return to this bizarre landscape in Yellowstone National Park, with a series of odd pools. Here’s how I think they developed (you’re not really expecting me to do research for these posts, are you? That’s Jim’s job!):
Layered geologic strata weathers away over time, leaving a series of stepped slopes. Water that appears periodically, washes along, but as it stops it pools in the little depressions and low areas. Because of its high mineral content, as it evaporates it leaves a layer of minerals behind, and this layer reshapes the depressions and affects the subsequent flow of water. Eventually, higher and higher dams or walls are created since the deposits take place at the edges where they adhere to previous deposits as evaporation occurs.
Or not. Probably safer to go with that one.
It’s a shame the sky in that direction was clouded over too much; having a reflection of blue in the water surfaces could have added some really cool accent color.
Daily Jim pic 13
I’m conflicted on whether I like the anachronistic nature of this one, or am put off by it. The desolate, almost-barren nature of the landscape is contrasted by the blue sky and fluffy clouds – it really needs a dark and moody overcast, or maybe a pestilential deep red sunset. And then someone dressed in rags off to one side – long and tattered rags, mind you, the kind with no function whatsoever except to blow in the wind. Then perhaps a beat-up Ford Falcon XB GT sitting at the edge of the frame.
Okay, maybe I’ve been too influenced by movies…
You’re boned
I actually had a little time to do some shooting today, and was lucky enough to find a few subjects. More will be along later when I have more time to post about them, but for now we’ll cover a brief but dramatic saga.
As I passed a potted basil plant without the camera in hand, I saw a small black and white wasp traipsing across the leaves, which is not uncommon, but as I looked closer I could see it was burdened with a larva of some kind, and not its own. Realizing that it was probably futile, I dashed inside and got the camera in hand, fresh batteries in the flash and everything. Luck was with me on my return, since the wasp was still there. I figured there was a pretty good chance it would fly off with its prey, but I was going to give it a shot anyway.
It’s likely that the caterpillar was going to serve as food for the wasp’s young’uns, since that’s a common trait among many species of Vespidae, but instead of flying off bearing this new meal, the wasp was carrying it around on the basil leaf, sometimes on top, sometimes on the underside, seeming unable to determine where it wanted to be. I kept shifting to try and maintain a good vantage, but then the wasp cooperated and halted on top of the leaf in good sight. The caterpillar, it must be said, wasn’t putting up any fight at all, and could have been dead for all the movement it demonstrated.
I spent a bit of time trying to identify the wasp, with only moderate luck. I’m fairly certain it’s a potter or mason wasp, of the genus Eumeninae, but pinning down the exact species hasn’t happened yet. Here’s an example passage from a biological key that allows precise identification:
Metasomal tergum 1 with short overhang, the space below not serving as acarinarium (mites never present); base of tergum 2 usually with a row of shallow to deep pits
That’s just for one particular species. Even if I look up all of the terms that I’m not familiar with, there’s a good chance none of my images show the necessary details. Entomologists collect their species, while more often than not I’m shooting them “in the wild,” usually without native trackers or guards or anything; yeah I’m that badass. But it often means that key features simply never get captured in images.
Notably, the wasp paused a couple of times and jabbed the caterpillar vigorously with the end of its abdomen; while it might have been stinging it into submission, I think it’s far more likely that it was instead laying eggs within the body cavity of the larva. This is, after all, how caterpillars serve as food for the wasp larva. The wasp will then carry it off to its mud cocoon and seal it within, where sometime later the young, having consumed the paralyzed caterpillar (or spider, another frequent prey of some species,) will dig out of the dried mud and fly off. Meanwhile, I got to watch the wasp going to town on the caterpillar like a Chihuahua with an Ugg boot.
And then – it just flew off, leaving the caterpillar behind. Not what I was expecting.
I waited a short while to see if either a) the wasp returned, perhaps after prepping an ideal spot, to carry the larva off again, or b) if the caterpillar would roust itself and go on about its business, unaware that something bad was brewing internally. When neither happened, I picked up the caterpillar and was rewarded with a defensive wiggle, showing it was still alive, so I put it back where it was and left it.
Hours later, it was still on the same leaf, though it appeared to have reversed position, and was now gaining the attention of some kind of predatory true bug. Curious now, I collected the caterpillar and placed it within a small terrarium with a few choice leaves to observe it over the next few days. I suspect it may sprout some cocoons on its back after a while, and so there might be another part of the saga coming along eventually. I know you’re on the edge of your seat.
Daily Jim pic 12
Going slightly out of order with this one, just to break up two similar images. We’re just going to see how incorrectly I’m interpreting this one, but I see this as a drainage area for geysers and/or hot springs, and the yellow-tan color denotes the most recent still-damp runoff. As mentioned earlier, the mineral content in the water is off the scale, and much of the detail and shaping of the ‘rocks’ is due to deposits from the water itself, the same kind of thing that creates stalactites and stalagmites in caves. This would make those surfaces chalky and not terribly resilient, able to be shattered with a hammer, like the water-softening unit that gave up about a year after installation in my old house in central New York (we just had well water, but it was notoriously ‘hard’ and even left scale within the toilet bowl.)
But I’m probably going to be corrected by Jim – not about our water in central NY, since he wasn’t there, but about this scene from Yellowstone since he was. Confused yet?
Daily Jim pic 11
This one also got into the ‘Too cool’ category, and it’s a favorite of mine. This is (I’m pretty sure – again, Jim didn’t tell me when he sent the stack of photos) a geothermal vent that passes through a layer of grey clay, and so produces a witches cauldron of bubbling mud. And Jim was able to capture one of the bubbles as it popped. It’s a shame it doesn’t stand out better against the immediate background, but I doubt there were a lot of positioning or lighting options at hand.
I wonder if he got video?