Like, Wow!, man!

This one popped up several weeks ago, when I was too busy to do it justice, so I set it aside for when I had plenty of time to write it up properly, which appears to be now. There are a decent number of details and thus it will take some explaining, so get comfy as we set off on this journey.

There used to be a massive radio telescope at Ohio State University, dubbed the Big Ear, that monitored a portion of the sky each night for any signals within a fairly broad set of wavelengths – this was largely aimed towards intercepting any potential signals of extraterrestrial life, and served as among the first efforts at SETI (Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence.) And on August 15, 1977, the telescope recorded a remarkably strong signal from a relatively barren patch of sky. This wasn’t discovered for a couple of days since the printouts of the recordings had to be examined personally for any anomalies, but when it was, the section that showed peak reception and signal strength was circled and appended, “Wow!” by Jerry R. Ehman, the astronomer evaluating the data. And it was certainly significant, many times stronger than any signal received before and tracing a bell curve of signal strength that helped pinpoint the location in the sky, as well as helping confirm that it was not a stray, fluke signal.

Some background: Radio telescopes aren’t tubes and lenses like optical telescopes, but antennae of different types, and in Big Ear’s case, it was two massive mesh arrays that reflected and bounced the radio waves down to two receivers. The whole affair was fixed and not able to be aimed, but it had a broad focus range and the rotation of the Earth served to track its observation path across the sky. The signal lasted for 72 seconds, which corresponds closely with how long any given point source would be able to be received as the planet rotated.

Mostly, anyway. The way the recording worked, the telescope would take ten seconds of signals received, spending two seconds to average out the signal strength from that period, and record that average as a single digit on the readout. So technically, there were six readings of ten seconds averaged out, allowing for a little slop on the signal strength and start and end periods; this also prevented recording any modulated or patterned signal with short periods. For instance, had a Morse code style signal been received, all of the dots and dashes within that ten seconds would have been simply averaged out to one digit of signal strength, roughly half of the actual signal strength because all of the pauses between dot and dash would be averaged into the final tally as well. However, the curve traced by the rise and fall of signal strength was in accord with a steady, constant signal, getting ‘louder’ and ‘quieter’ as it passed into and out of the focus of the antenna array.

printout of "Wow!" signal from Ohio State University
Credit: Big Ear Radio Observatory and North American AstroPhysical Observatory (NAAPO).
[There are always illustrations of this in any given article about the signal, showing a string of letters, “6EQUJ5.” The signal strength was measured by simple digits representing variation from the ‘background baseline,’ one through nine, and then letters if the signal required more than that. Reaching “U” meant it was 30-31 standard deviations above the baseline, background signal. Examining the other portions of the printout, most signals show from 1 to 3, with two signals reaching 6 and 7, and no other letters (better than 10 deviations above background.) In short, it was way out of place for typical celestial receptions.]

The wavelength of the signal was 1420.4556 Mhz, which is notably close to the wavelength of excited hydrogen electrons, the radio waves emitted when hydrogen is bombarded with energy from an outside source such as a star. The problem was, when the location of the source was plotted, there was nothing within range that should have been able to produce such a signal, and in fact, very little there at all. The signal was also transient: there were two receivers for the telescope, aimed slightly differently, which should have captured the signal three minutes apart – but only one did (and the telescope was not designed to differentiate which one it was.) So at the very least, the signal stopped before the second receiver aimed at the same section of sky, or started after the first did. Moreover, the same section of sky was monitored on subsequent passes – and later on by much more sensitive telescopes. And in the nearly fifty years since, no comparable signal has been detected, from any location. The Wow! signal stands alone as a peculiar anomaly.

In 2017, a potential explanation was put forth, in the form of two comets that converged on that portion of the sky, thus magnifying their own output in the hydrogen wavelength. The popular media ran with this, but it didn’t take long to determine that the comets did not pass through that portion of the sky at the time the signal was received, nor was there any known way for them to emit that strong a signal.

The question that’s been asked repeatedly is, might this actually indicate extraterrestrial intelligence, an attempt to communicate? Arguments have been made that the wavelength could be indicative of this, since it would demonstrate that the transmitting species was aware of the properties and penetrating value of that wavelength. But at the same time, hydrogen is the most abundant element in the universe, and fully to be expected to be received quite often – just, not at that strength. It’s also a restricted frequency for civilian use, so unlikely to be a stray signal or reflection from a terrestrial source (though the military is not so restricted.)

Missing are any factors that would be more convincing of an attempt to communicate (or even just an intercepted transmission not intended for us): patterns, variations, or modulations, any repetition, any further examples, and so on. One long beep, one time only doesn’t exactly say anything, except perhaps an alien driver stalling too long at a cosmic traffic light.

The question that’s been in my mind for years has been, what are the chances this was a simple hoax? Not on the part of the team at Ohio State University, but perhaps by some knowledgeable students? The antenna array probably wasn’t hard to access, nor would it be difficult to build a lightweight radio to transmit on that frequency, perhaps carried in a light plane or even just floated from a balloon. Since the antenna was huge, it could pick up very faint signals, and the wattage of the transmission would not need to be high at all. The signal only being captured in one of the two receivers bolsters this idea slightly. I could easily see this occurring. Except… if you’re going to go through all that trouble, why pick a wavelength so close to hydrogen emissions? Why such a short and simple ‘beep?’ Any elaborations on the idea would probably provoke a better response.

However, a couple of months ago, a paper was released that provided a potential explanation. Examining archive data from the much larger and more sensitive Arecibo radio telescope (which had collapsed a few years earlier,) astronomers found several other signals of the same type, albeit much weaker. These signals were generated simply by clouds of hydrogen excited by external energy sources, and it was hypothesized that the Wow! signal was the same, only produced by a much stronger source exciting a hydrogen cloud to unprecedented levels. The hydrogen cloud has actually been identified, just not the energy source, but given the nature of the signal, the close fit with the frequency, and the presence of many other weaker examples, the evidence is weighing distinctly in favor of this explanation.

Now we get to the critical examination of this all. Without the corroborating detail of the energy source, the explanation isn’t conclusive, though we’d feel more confident if and when it’s even seen again in some other circumstances – just one instance seems unlikely at least. Then again, the nature of the phenomenon is that it’s transient and short-lived, and a radio telescope has to be pointed directly at it when it occurs, so we shouldn’t expect to see it often either.

As for it being a deliberate signal from some extra-terrestrial intelligence? Well, again, it’s just a ‘beep’ in an extremely common natural wavelength, and just like the hoax possibility above, we’d expect to see something more elaborate, or repetition or a pattern or anything. Even singular beeps that went up the spectrum through the wavelengths of hydrogen and helium and oxygen or whatever, something that is highly unlikely to progress by any natural means but would be very indicative of intelligence, would be far better (and we’ve speculated ourselves on doing the exact same thing if we decide to reach out, a message that says, “Hey, this is not random nor probable,” without any language at all.)

Occam’s Razor comes into play. The most recently proposed explanation involves the fewest unknowns and presents examples of weaker versions of the same kind of signal. It has the fewest questions that need to be answered (“What was the energy source?”) and does not require anything that we have no evidence of at all, like extra-terrestrial intelligence. It serves to answer the question for now. Maybe it’ll be overturned in the future – but it’s far more likely that further support for it will appear instead. All we can do is watch for further developments, but that’s how science works.

Today’s surprise

pileated woodpecker Dryocopus pileatus peeking past foliage on bald cypress Taxodium distichum
Well, okay, this one wasn’t a surprise – it’s just evidence that I’m still trying to get really nice pics of the pileated woodpeckers (Dryocopus pileatus) that keep visiting the property, despite their penchant for appearing through a thicket of foliage. I was busy with other tasks as this one was flitting around, so I couldn’t dedicate the time to it right then. It’ll happen.

What I was referring to, however, was this guy:

juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula in author's hand
That’s a juvenile eastern kingsnake (Lampropeltis getula,) and I’d only ever seen one once before, as I remarked earlier this year. This one tried to slip past me into the open garage, so I captured it and set it aside in the terrarium for a photo session a little later on.

[The terrarium, by the way, is now unoccupied – the eastern spadefoot toad that I’d elected to hang onto, thinking it was likely an invalid due to its foot injury, proved quite capable of burrowing despite the handicap, and so I released it of its own recognizance.]

juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula perched in Japanese maple tree
Trying to find a place to do a photo session without the snake simply taking a powder, I settled on the miniature Japanese maple that we’d just transplanted, which worked excellently. And full credit to the snake, who investigated the tree idly but mostly held still to allow me to snag a variety of angles.

juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula showing faintly cloudy eye from impending molt
I shot both with and without the macro flash, but the use of it helped illustrate something: the eyes are starting to cloud up, indicating that the snake will be shedding its skin within a few days – it’s not too advanced yet. Typically, when it gets further along and the snake can’t see very well, it makes them much more likely to strike when disturbed. This one gave me a faint coiled defensive display when I went to remove it from the terrarium for this session, and the barest hint of striking, but was otherwise perfectly docile.

underside of juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula in miniature Japanese maple tree
It was even cooperative enough to allow me to take a position underneath and show the belly coloration without having to flip the snake upside-down, which rarely works anyway because they can’t slither like that and so resist such attempts.

juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula perched in miniature Japanese maple tree
It’s funny; there’s nothing particularly elaborate about their coloration, but the contrast just makes them seem exotic to me, and I was glad to find one again. They can get a lot bigger than this, averaging about a meter in length but capable of doubling that, and I’m hoping I can continue to see them in the area. This one was just big enough to take on the smaller anoles, but was probably unable to tackle a full-grown adult.

Meanwhile, I liked the above pic because of the body disappearing from focus down the branch. The Japanese maple hasn’t changed much for autumn yet, and may not due to the circumstances of transplanting, but there’s a hint of color in there.

juvenile eastern kingsnake Lampropeltis getula just peeking past Japanese maple leaf
And I couldn’t resist the implied menace of this one, though it would have been better without the other portion of the body in there. It was a wild snake and wasn’t going to take direction, but I did gently nudge it to get it to raise its head more for clearer shots at times – can’t complain about that.

After this session, I released it back near where I’d found it (but outside the garage this time) – we’ll see if it appears again. But hey, the prediction that I’d rectify my single encounter actually came true, so now I can count on spotting kestrels and trapdoor spiders before the end of the year, right?

Just once, part 45

I decided to do this one, since it was just a couple days past a year ago that I snagged this shot.

adult Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis with regrown forked tail
Okay, yes, I’ve featured Carolina anoles (Anolis carolinensis) here a billion times, and there will be more before the end of the week even. But I’ve only featured, and seen, one with a forked tail just once in my life, so this counts. And believe me, I watched carefully, for the remainder of last year and all through this, to see this guy again, in vain. Since this is at the old place, I think my chances of seeing this individual have now passed. Whether the plethora of anoles here at the new place will be enough to permit me to see such a thing again will remain to be discovered.

As I said then, anoles (and skinks at least, but I suspect quite a few lizards) have the ability to regrow their tails if they lose them, and skinks apparently can drop them on demand – which seems like an odd mechanism, so maybe it’s only that the tissue is tenuous to begin with and it can separate if it’s tugged on with sufficient force, usually by a predator. Sounds traumatic, but I’ve seen it happen and the skinks certainly show no signs of adverse effects, and the tail grows back – occasionally, as seen here, it grows back forked, though why this is I cannot say. I also didn’t know how long it took, only having seen it at stages that I was unable to follow or check on periodically, but if this one is that same individual that I saw in the spring of the year, then we have a bit of a timeframe (though I have no idea how long the tail had been regrown, either.)

There’s an interesting avenue of speculation here as well. First off, how important is the tail if it can be removed so easily? I’ve seen numerous examples of skinks and anoles with truncated or regrowing tails, so it happens fairly often – presumably, the lack thereof is not a significant detriment to their survival. While the ability to lose it, distracting predators or escaping their clutches, probably provides a greater advantage than having it for balance or leverage or whatever. Not very many species can regrow limbs, but the tails on both of these species is as long as the body is (well, provided they’re intact,) and with the lizards’ ability to dart forward suddenly, the chances are significant that any predator will snag the tail rather than the torso. The juveniles of the American five-lined skinks have brilliant blue colors on the tail as well, not to mention that it will writhe furiously when detached to attract attention away from the escaping skink. That blue color fades by adulthood however, so by then they’re counting on their camouflage and experience in evasion? Lots to ponder.

Regardless, here’s hoping that I manage to change this experience away from ‘just once.’

Intermission, unnumbered

Way too many numbered posts in here…

Anyway, a couple of recent pics to break things up slightly, with little exposition.

pickerel frog Lithobates palustris perched on pond's edge
I was out exploring around the edges of the pond out back several days ago and found this guy, who was nice enough not to move while I held the camera down to its level and shot blind. This is a pickerel frog (Lithobates palustris,) that I would see near the old place only on rare occasions, I think always along the Eno River. They can be mistaken for a leopard frog, but are distinguished by more squared-off spots along the sides and, especially, no light spot in the middle of the eardrum. Nothing exciting to say about it, just cataloging that I can expect to find them around here now, presumably more often than before. I’m still determining the various amphibians that are in the immediate vicinity.

And this one (of a pair) was cooperative enough to let me go in and get the camera, but not so cooperative to move to a clearer view:

pileated woodpecker Dryocopus pileatus semi-obscured on backyard tree
We’d spotted pileated woodpeckers (Dryocopus pileatus) near here before, and then one flitting deep in the foliage of the trees near the pond, but this one and its sibling, I think, were right alongside the driveway – just, not getting clear of intervening branches and leaves. I did at least get this frame with the eye and catchlight visible between the branches. The two were foraging not more than two meters apart, and I thought they might be a mated pair but couldn’t get a clear enough look to determine male and female. Then the following day, I heard a familiar wheet-a wheet-a sound and watched a pair land on a nearby dead trunk, likely the same pair, but that sound seems to be uttered by immature woodpeckers conversing amongst themselves – so far, that’s the only time I’ve heard it, and until now I thought it was only flickers.

I went in to get the camera for the pair on the dead tree, but they elected not to hang around long enough. However, within a couple of minutes a red-bellied woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) came along instead.

red-bellied woodpecker Melanerpes carolinus on dead tree with acorn
The day was light overcast and I was facing almost due south in mid-afternoon, so the lighting wasn’t getting any better, and this has even been lightened in post, despite dialing in some exposure compensation while shooting. But at least it’s sharp, and you can see the acorn snack that the woodpecker has, as well as the fungus growing from the trunk. This tree sees a lot of action, mostly woodpeckers so far, but it’s a shame that my vantage is never going to be in good light. Maybe I’ll go down the road a little and see if I can get a better view from there, but the nearby trees may prevent that.

Managing a little more time to chase photos now, but up next, we have even more anoles. Well, one…

Don’t miss this

The idiocy of Daylight Saving Time is upon us again, or at least it was early this morning, and while smutphones and computers are generally on top of things now, you are likely aware of how many little clocks around the house are not: the alarm clock, the stove and microwave, the grandfather clock… and of course your camera. Sure, maybe this matters little, but if you’re going to have a timestamp on your images, it might as well be accurate, right? So go change that clock now.

As yet, no one that has the power seems inclined to eradicate the utter nonsense of DST, even though it gets bandied around as a worthwhile idea twice a year. I’m 98% positive this is what is keeping alien civilizations from contacting us, because it takes a special brand of stupid to alter the time of day that we do any given thing, but change what the clock reads to pretend that we didn’t. Who are we attempting to fool? If you need to do something in daylight, then do it in daylight regardless of what the clock says, but the daylight period is going to be less in winter no matter what we do, so fucking with the ‘official’ time isn’t accomplishing anything.

But anyway, if you prefer to have your pics match the time on your smutphone (and there are occasions when I’ve actually counted on an accurate timestamp,) then fuck with your camera clock too and set it appropriately. I’ll be back in six months to bitch about this again.

They know

We had one batch of trick-or-treaters tonight, the first Halloween in the new house – we’d been alerted that the neighborhood never saw too many, and we decided to forego the All Hallows Read thing this year because we didn’t feel like packing away the collected books. But once we decided that we weren’t likely to see any more costumed visitors, I went out front and glanced down to find this guy snoozing right alongside the walk.

juvenile Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis sleeping on greenbrier leaf
It looks like I caught it clambering up this greenbrier plant, but no, it had been sleeping in exactly this position, only cracking open its eye as I leaned in closer with the headlamp to focus. This is the same plant seen earlier, but once the nights had gone colder it was abandoned as a sleeping perch and I figured I wouldn’t be seeing them on it anymore this year – I’d almost cut the plant out, since this and the swamp oak (also used as an anole hammock) are growing from a decorative patch of liriope and don’t need to be there, but I didn’t want to deprive the anoles of a sleeping spot until they were no longer using it. However, they seem to know when the night isn’t going to get too cold, because it wasn’t the only one I found snoozing under the stars.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis sleeping on porch light bracket
This is the bracket for the same light fixture seen in that linked post above, right alongside the back door. I find it curious because the metal obviously loses its heat quickly overnight, but at least this one gets the very first light in the morning so the anole should warm up quickly at daybreak. On multiple occasions, we’ve found anoles sleeping in the gap above the storm door only centimeters from this light, and if we’re not careful in checking the door, they drop off as we open it and get into the house; so far The Boogs have never noticed this happening and so the rodeo isn’t half as hectic as it might be. Two mornings back, I opened the main door to see a little tail peeking down from the crack of the storm door, and rudely woke the owner up by tweaking it gently, but it prevented the anole from getting into the house at least.

And finally:

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis sleeping on railing planter frame
This one was found on the frame for a railing planter off of the back deck, first time I’ve found one sleeping there. It’s 19°c right now and I don’t think it’s supposed to drop below 16, so they might get a little chilled but nothing serious.

Even more anole pics will be along shortly – yeah, it’s a rut, but the property is absolutely covered with them and they’re active when other critters aren’t, so this is what we have right now. I’m trying to imagine the territorial battles come spring.

Scaring October off

I’m later than normal, but it’s still the end of the month, so we can still have the end-of-month abstract. And I even have a couple of specific attempts, all from yesterday when I had a few minutes. Let’s see here, we have:

bald cypress Taxodium distichum turning bright orange in autumn, backlit overhead
I believe I mentioned, but Walkabout Estates Plus has a bunch of bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) trees, right in the back forty, and the light was good yesterday morning to fire them up as they did their autumn color change. Curiously, while none of the trees are more than a couple dozen meters apart, the color range they display is pretty much the full gamut that they can before the leaves drop off for winter – some of them are still fully green.

And then we have:

Virginia creeper Parthenocissus quinquefolia vines changing color for autumn
I think there’s only a very narrow window during the day when these Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) vines catch the sunlight, and I failed to be out there for it so far, so we have the color cast of open shade, yet a decent range of colors. I really do have to get this in sunlight…

And finally:

reflection of great blue heron Ardea herodias herodias in water alongside sailboat mast
The Girlfriend and I went down to the waterfront in the morning, because it was the perfect conditions for it – well, almost. We hadn’t been down there to check on the fall colors across the sound, but the trees there had already all turned and lost their leaves. So I snagged this instead, while it was still early morning and my eyes hadn’t quite cleared their overnight gunk, and this affected the photo.

Okay, I lie, this is actually the reflection of the heron and sailboat mast in the water, and is displayed upside-down here just to be confusing. It’s a shame a turtle didn’t surface someplace in the ‘sky’ to make things really eye-bending.

I have a few more photos to feature, should be along in the next day or two. Slowly getting back into the groove here…

Just once, part 44

fledgling white-breasted nuthatch Sitta carolinensis pausing on ground
This one’s kind of curious, not because of its appearance, since it only looks like this because it’s newly fledged, just out of the nest. No, it’s because I can’t imagine why the species has only been seen here once. This is a white-breasted nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis,) and as such, is common everywhere I’ve lived, and usually not too hard to spot – put up a bird feeder and they’ll be there within a day. So how is this the only photo of one that I’ve featured?

In checking (because on occasion, the species name changes and I’ve actually featured them countless times, but only once under a particular name,) I found plenty of nuthatch posts – only, for the brown-headed nuthatch. That’s a species that I only started seeing in NC, never realizing they existed for at least half of my life. As such, I consider them much rarer than the white-breasted above, though this is likely only personal experience and reflected in growing up with that species and seeing it constantly. And I’m sure I have plenty of pics of the white-breasted, but I simply never posted any. Huh. Some of the posts I was thinking about I realized were of the black-capped chickadee instead.

But since I’m here, I have to relate an anecdote from NY. One fall, I was looking out the window and seeing a white-breasted nuthatch perched on the pole supporting our bird feeder – nuthatches are even more adept than woodpeckers at clinging to vertical surfaces and will do it in any orientation, apparently possessing their own personal gravity. This one was perched sideways on the pole, and as I watched, the bird gave a short hop and reversed the direction it was facing, not even flipping its wings momentarily. A few seconds later it occurred to me that this wasn’t kosher; had the bird given a little hop like it appeared, it would have arced away from the pole and started falling to the ground, sideways from the bird’s perspective. Instead, it simply appeared like it had performed a short hop wile standing on the ground, only sideways. This required a full reversal of its feet at least, but the bird made it look perfectly normal. It’s the kind of thing that you want to look at in slow-motion replay, to see exactly how it was done.

I just checked; I even have a handful of images from my first digital camera, nearly four years before I had started the blog – I just never featured one here, except once. Oh well.

white-breasted nuthatch Sitta carolinensis perched sideways on bird feeder

Another milestone in photography

Or to be more specific, another milestone to photographers, because it doesn’t really impact photography in any significant way. But today is the birthday of Patois Ferndiddler. known far and wide (for a given definition of those, anyway,) as the inventor of the neck strap.

Ferndiddler’s innovation came along in that crucial time period between photographers no longer being able to afford assistants (those damn labor laws and requirements that ‘apprentices’ actually learn something) and the creation of the camera bag. Ferndiddler, realizing that constantly carrying around a large format 8×10 view camera didn’t allow the photographer to scratch themselves or pick their nose, tried to find a decent way to support the camera in a more-or-less handy way without it being in his hands, and we’ll go into the inherent contradiction in the term ‘handy’ in some later post. He first attempted to support the camera on a wheeled stand, but after losing three cameras and causing an international incident at Machu Picchu, he realized this wasn’t going to work. He then tested out the idea of a backpack sling but correctly determined that hanging a camera from your back was the best possible way to mimic leaving it at home while still carrying the weight – sadly, this lesson was lost to time. However, while leaning over a railing to speak to a teenage girl below, one of his backpack straps broke and the heavy camera swung around in a large arc that neatly decapitated an ancient statue while nearly pulling Ferndiddler over the railing, and he had his inspiration. He quickly devised a leather belt to hold the camera around his neck and thus in front of his chest, also making it obvious that he had a camera and was thus a force to be reckoned with.

Camera manufacturers were quick to adopt his idea because he was dumb enough not to patent it, but it also increased their revenue substantially in repairs to broken lenses and dented bodies. Since it also made the camera more obvious, they began adding in such enormously useful accoutrements as chrome and leatherette accents, which helped keep the makers of cheap-ass glue from going broke (as well as the breeders of steerettes.) The most abundant addition to the idea came when Kodak accidentally invested millions in pale brown shoe polish (phone connections to your broker were abysmal in those days,) and had to find some way to make this work. They created the Ever-Ready case to completely enclose the camera in leather, with a snap to release the top portion and permit immediate control of the camera while allowing the same portion to hang clumsily and conspicuously from the bottom of the camera, creating the tourist meme that Mad Magazine was delighted to abuse for decades.

Eventually, even tourists realized that a leather strap holding something heavy around your neck was enormously uncomfortable and chafing, and manufacturers were quick (for a given definition of that, anyway) to adopt the broad and softer accessory neck strap, usually with some Native American blanket motif because… actually, we have no goddamn idea why this pattern became so prevalent; it’s not like Native Americans even used such for their quivers. What all of these were adept at producing, however, was neck sweat, leading to the ‘ring around the collar’ commercials in the 70s.

Ferndiddler himself was undone by his own invention, bending over to greet the Duchess of Esperanto and accidentally snagging his camera on the arm of her chair, sending her over backwards when he stood again and hurling her into a piranha-infested river; the firing squad was unsympathetic. Meanwhile, even though camera bags have virtually taken over in a blindingly-obvious “Duryea!” manner, camera manufacturers still include a neck strap with new purchases as if this is a bonus of some kind, always requiring the buyer the thread it themselves through the little flat loops because, in a high percentage of cases, this results in the camera slipping free and shattering on the concrete.

Today, you can still purchase camera straps (yes, even in those Native American motifs,) though the target customer now seems to be retro-hipsters with their Yashica Electro 35s. But for a glorious period (for a given definition of that, anyway,) the neck strap reigned supreme as the must-have camera accessory, and for that, we recognize Patois Ferndiddler and his contribution to the history of neck problems and dented chrome accents.

What’s the right thing?

So it was a bit of an amphibious day yesterday, meaning that’s what I was finding around Walkabout Estates Plus. We’ll start with the greenhouse:

odd muddy markings on side of greenhouse, likely from a treefrog
While, as I said before, the property is absolutely overrun with anoles, they tend to be dry and not leave any evidence of their passing, so while I have found nothing conclusive within these strange, faintly muddy markings on the sides of the new greenhouse, I’m inclined to say that they were made by a treefrog – perhaps more than one, because really, they were literally covering several of the panes, and this was on the outside, so not any that got trapped within. I checked, last night and tonight, but didn’t find any frogs around the greenhouse.

I did find one, a tiny one, on the liriope along the front walk, though.

juvenile Copes grey treefrog Dryophytes chrysoscelis perched on liriope
While the green patch is bright and obvious, this is instead a Copes grey treefrog (Dryophytes chrysoscelis,) and a little one at that, probably just a few weeks out of tadpole stage – the key identifier for the grey treefrogs is the pale patch under the eye, and while there is another species with the same patch (the common grey treefrog,) they’re almost unheard of in North Carolina. The green will disappear as it gets older and begins to hide on trunks rather than leaves.

As I came out the front door yesterday, I saw a tiny black thing hopping across the bricks and quickly stooped to grab it, then sought The Girlfriend out so she could hold it for pics. She watched my cupped-hand approach with some trepidation, not knowing if I had something cute (like a frog) or creepy (like a snake,) but agreed to hold this guy once she saw it.

unidentified tiny black frog with gold markings, in The Girlfriend's hand for scale
The thing is, I don’t know what species this is at all; it’s likely a juvenile, especially since it resembles none of the chorus frogs that might be found in the area, but the guides that I have all show adult specimens. I’m vaguely suspicious that it’s a young narrowmouth toad, from the dark skin and snout shape, but that’s the best I can offer right now.

old nylon webbing that had ensnared a spadefoot toadYesterday as we went past a patch of bare earth, I spotted something moving and realized that it was a toad trying to bury itself, but it soon ceased any movement as we drew close. I’m a guy, so I took a small handful of sandy soil and deposited it onto the back of the toad, to protect it from the hot sun, and continued on with our tree-transplanting tasks. Today, I stopped by the same spot and could still see it there, so I went to scoop it up for a closer examination, because I rarely saw toads that dark. Only, it wasn’t coming up, and appeared to be anchored by a leg (I was not tugging with any force at all – I’m circumspect.) Eventually I determined that one hind leg was wrapped tightly with something well-anchored in the soil, and with some digging I freed this, finding it to be a scrap of old nylon webbing; what I had taken the day before to be efforts to bury itself were actually efforts to free itself from this tourniquet. That meant that it had been there at least a full day, and the hind leg was angled badly and discolored. Wanting to evaluate the condition as well as get some detailed pics, I brought the toad inside and eventually set it up in a makeshift terrarium, since all of my decent options for housing are still two hours away. But you need to see these eyes at least.

eastern spadefoot Scaphiopus holbrookii showing vertical slit pupils
This is an eastern spadefoot (Scaphiopus holbrookii,) a toad not to be found in our old area of central NC, but closer to the coast the conditions are more conducive to them since they prefer sandier soils. Spadefoots are also one of the few species of toad with vertical pupils, and the irises are not always this green; let’s have a closer look:

closeup of eye of eastern spadefoot Scaphiopus holbrookii
Those are perhaps the best-looking eyes of any species I’ve photographed, and they get even better from the front:

portrait view of eastern spadefoot Scaphiopus holbrookii showing almost-confusing eyes
I wouldn’t be surprised if this is where the writers of Futurama got the inspiration for the hypnotoad, and certainly, once I saw this perspective I knew that I needed a pic. You can see the right hind leg sitting out at an awkward angle, but here’s a better view:

injured leg of eastern spadefoot Scaphiopus holbrookii, still showing dark ridge for digging that inspired the common name
The dark ridge along the back edge of the foot is what gives the species its common name, and helps them dig backwards into their burrows, where they spend much of their time. But it shouldn’t be sitting out at this angle, and even after several hours of recovery time, the toad shows no signs of being able to use it, so I fear the worst. You can even make out the groove that the nylon webbing left, right where the coloration changes going up the leg.

The toad is otherwise alert and responsive, and can move around despite the hindrance of this leg, but I’m certain that it’s at a distinct disadvantage in avoiding predators, capturing meals, and even maintaining its burrow. Spadefoots spend most of their time underground, and often “forage” by simply coming to the mouth of their burrow and waiting for food (spiders, crickets, ants) to happen past. So the chances are that this guy would simply die quickly in the wild from being unable to function properly, if complications from that leg injury don’t accomplish this faster. I’m not a fan of keeping wild animals as captives, but I’m thinking this might be the best thing for this guy, provided I can give it enough of a habitat to be comfortable. Or I may contact the university the next city over (about a half-hour away) and see if their biology department wants to tackle this. Even if the leg could be ‘set,” I doubt any veterinarian in the area would know how to, saying nothing of course of what they’d charge me. Even the licensed wildlife rehabilitators within an hour of here only take small mammals.

So, I’m undecided right now, but I’ll settle on something within a day or so, and let you know where it’s going.

1 2 3 4 5 6 298