Probably not gonna happen again

Yesterday, I looked out front to find the female red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) actually sitting on the post lamp that illuminates the front walk (well, when it’s dark, and the light is on – the sun handles it most times.) This sits about six meters from the front door. Naturally, she flew off before I could get the camera and try to decide which window would provide the least distortion, because there was no way that I could get out the door for a shot. During the day, however, I discovered that she switched to perching on the roof peak right near the front door – the front door sits at the bottom edge of this roof, so a straight shot right up underneath her, if I could accomplish it. I tried a few times, but she was never present when I leaned out, or the sound of the door opening spooked her off – never sure which.

This morning, I saw her there again, and tried again.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in profile on roof peak
Same approximate distance as the lamp post – I was leaning out slowly from under the overhang, trying to get past the pine needles and debris that overhung the gutter edges without her noticing, and got extremely lucky. This is at 600mm and cropped only slightly; let’s back off to 160mm:

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in profile on roof peak
I have no reasons to complain about these conditions, yet I’m going to, because after chasing so many subjects while aiming too much into the sun, I get a chance where the lighting would be perfect – if the lighting were perfect and not overcast. And it likely won’t happen again.

She heard the shutter and was looking around, but when her peripheral vision should have revealed me, I was holding as still as possible, though after a moment she did look downward in my direction.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus discovering photographer from roof peak
Now, she and her… mate? Sibling?… have seen us before and aren’t too wary of us, but this has always been from a distance and not six meters underneath, so when she finally determined that I was right there, she flew off with some soft squeaks, as if chiding herself for being careless. But not before I got my 600mm closeups.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in closeup
This is less than half resolution – at full res, you can see the individual dirt grains on her beak, and with a flash unit I’d have been able to map her retinas. She flew off to join her partner in crime on the streelight, and I imagine that she’s going to be more alert in the future, but I’ll keep my eyes open.

A few days back I saw a pair (too far away to be these two) that appeared to be engaged in courting behavior, though I couldn’t watch long enough to be sure of this since we were passing in a car. I tend to think it’s too early for that, but I’m not absolutely sure of that either. So, yeah, I’m watching for nests. Wish me luck.

Chaos, revisited, part two

I said earlier that I had a few new thoughts about chaos theory, and so we delve back into this mess, but at least I’m giving you fair warning.

We refer back to The Forces of Chance article by Brian Klaas, and he uses the example of how the Secretary of State during Word War II had vacationed in Kyoto, Japan many years previously, and his fond memories of that visit prompted him to campaign against it as a target for the atomic bombs, which was ultimately successful. But during the second actual bombing run, the aircrew was thwarted by obscuring clouds over the primary target of Kokuro, forcing them onto their secondary target of Nagasaki; they nearly abandoned that target due to the same circumstances, but a break in the clouds allowed them to sight accurately and release destruction onto that city.

This illustrates two key points where we could say chaos theory reigned. First, the human element of emotional attachment to Kyoto, which kept it from becoming one of the targets despite its strategic value. And second, the vagaries of weather that blotted out sight of Kokuro but also allowed Nagasaki to be targeted. Between them, they dictated the events that led to Japan’s surrender.

Kind of. For instance, targeting Kyoto instead might have made the Japanese surrender before a second bomb was dropped – or it might have tightened their resolve. Playing, “What if?” with events during WWII is a common, but ultimately meaningless, pastime among professional and amateur historians. There are alternatives to anything everywhere that might lead to ‘alternate histories,’ and people are fond of imagining how things might have turned out. In this way, we imagine that events are wildly variable and so deterministic physics is all wet, but it’s not true in any sense that we can actually prove.

To go back to the Secretary of State, it seems likely (in fact, highly probable given all that we know of physics) that his experiences during his trip were what created the emotional resolve to save Kyoto, and this could have happened no other way – at least, not without other input that would have swayed his emotions in a different direction; had he been mugged while there, it could easily have been different. So the past history of one individual can have a stunning effect – but this is true of any circumstances beholden to human vagaries; the attitudes that we all hold are shaped by our past experiences. It is also entirely possible that anyone who knew the Secretary of State fairly well would have predicted themselves what his reaction might be – we do this all the time with people we’re close to. So is this chaos, or simply complication, too many factors to collate and calculate? Is that all that chaos theory highlights?

Not to keep flogging the same points, but we’ll turn back to the weather example again. The problem with the weather is that it takes very little input, very little energy, to affect what direction it might take. And we know this, because all meteorologists provide their predictions with a margin of error; this is not calculating chaos theory into the mix, but the enormities of the data needed to become more accurate, to reduce this margin of error. We often know when the conditions exist for a wildfire, but not where lightning will strike or what idiot will start an improper campfire in the middle of those conditions. The resulting wildfire then introduces more energy into the atmosphere that will behave exactly as physics dictates it would, even when we cannot possibly calculate how much energy is entering and exactly where. Yet when we think about how much this is happening all the time, it becomes rather astounding that the weather reports are anywhere near as accurate as they are. We might expect or hope that they were more accurate, thinking science is failing us if they’re not, but the handle we have on it is actually pretty impressive – and the averaging out of small effects works fairly well. Even when some storm or system starts down a ‘chaotic’ path, the moment we recognize it we’re already refining our predictions.

So there are two main bodies of thoughts that occurred to me. The first is that, is it possible to identify the circumstances that may go ‘non-linear’ (or against expectations)? Are there key areas where a random variable is more likely to push things farther afield than expected? Initially, I was thinking that the lower the energy needed to effect change, the greater the chance of change occurring – not especially deep I know, but it’s more along the lines of, if the ground temperature rises two degrees above expectations or predictions, is this more likely to create rising air that develops into a storm, or a front that will deflect the storm? In other words, are there key areas that we should be watching more closely? Though I can’t say that this isn’t already being done, or at least attempted. And this isn’t just with the weather but say with economics; what stocks are likely to trigger reactions from traders with small variations? For sociology, what observable factors from a culture tend to give indications of impending changes?

Klaas provided the example of the Arab Spring, begun when one merchant reached his breaking point with oppressive government and immolated himself, touching off a backlash of reaction, frustration, and revolution. Though quite frankly, anyone familiar with the cultures involved likely knew they were a powder keg. And so we reach thought number two, which is, how often human emotions are tied into specific examples of chaos theory? In this case, not so much the revolutionaries themselves, but more the government attitudes that, if nothing has happened so far, people are okay with it, and nothing will continue to happen. This type of thinking is enormous within humans, and responsible for countless issues that arise. It’s harder and more expensive to plan for contingencies, so we’ll ignore the possibilities and hope that it works out – and every moment that it does is reinforcement for this behavior. When the breaking point is reached, it’s not that this wasn’t predicted, it’s that such predictions were ignored or misunderstood.

This has happened countless times in this country with hurricanes. There’s a range of predictions, often depicted as a cone representing the possible paths of the hurricane – less defined the further away in the future it is. Most of the time, the path falls within the cone, though less often in the center of the prediction; there is also a range of predictions of wind strength as well, with largely the same results. Yet countless people assume that the ‘worst case’ scenario isn’t going to come to pass, or they’re close enough to the edge of the cone that they won’t feel the effects too strongly, or even that it’s too much of a hassle to vacate the area – in essence, they’re betting against the predictions. And for every hurricane, we hear about the people who lost their bet, many of whom complain that they “didn’t expect this.” While we may feel inclined to blame this on imprecise predictions and the failure of physical science to pin things down precisely, pointing to it as a manifestation of chaos theory, it’s more a manifestation of relying on ‘averages’ and past experience, especially those who heard of the ‘worst case’ scenarios that didn’t come to pass and consider this a failed prediction, attempting to produce their own pattern of expectations.

So once again, the human element is a major factor – and many of those in authority recognize this and become even more adamant that evacuations are mandatory. They know that, “Better safe than sorry,” will too often take a backseat to, “That was a waste of time.”

This is not to say that every place where we might point to a manifestation of chaos theory is due to human foibles and behavior, but we should be paying attention to those areas where it does, and realize that this is more a sociological problem than a mathematical one. And again, even if we have utter faith in the value and strength of chaos theory, it doesn’t permit us to improve things – not until it can predict results more accurately than the meteorologists (or economists, or sociologists, et cetera.)

So where does this leave us? Before this article, I had attempted to understand chaos theory with James Gleick’s book, and found it not just uninformative, but confusing and willingly misrepresenting science and determinism by a wide margin. Klaas’ article was significantly better at presenting the theory as instances where we cannot predict results, but this hardly moves us forward in any way, does it? And in fact, I think it may actually do a disservice in giving a specific and official-sounding name to circumstances where, let’s face it, the primary reason that we cannot predict results is that the data are too voluminous. How, exactly, is that a ‘theory?’ Does it predict where and when the ‘law of averages’ will fail to average out? Does it allow us to know how to control this, or anything, really? To all appearances, when we have any circumstances where we might say, “Crap, that didn’t go as expected,” mathematicians may nod knowingly at each other and say, “Chaos theory.” But what’s the value in that, especially when they cannot let us know ahead of time?

Sorry, I’m just going to stick to, “Too much data needed for accuracy,” and not bother with other names for it.

Just once, part 49

northern green frog Lithobates clamitans melanota basking in wooded area
While adding the image for this post, I searched on “northern” within the image title, and only two came up that were not northern water snakes – this one, and the polar vortex on Saturn (not my shot.) Now, if I search in the tags, I get 14 hits on “northern” – the tags reflect the species name, while the image titles may not, and they’re there only for me to find the images that I want easier. But since this was the only time I’ve seen and photographed a northern green frog (Lithobates clamitans melanota,) the title indicated such.

I’ve seen the green frog parent species countless times, and had a few living for years in the tiny backyard pond. We probably have them here too, but I have yet to confirm this, though I have confirmed the presence of pickerel frogs, or at least a pickerel frog. But this one was found in Ohio, and the markings got my attention because they’re faintly different from the parent species, while later examination of the image showed the ‘vein’ that runs from behind the eye all the way down its back, a trait of the green frog. A quick internet search provided the answer, showing this to be a northern subspecies. We’ll check the difference with the main species, Lithobates clamitans.

green frog Lithobates clamitans resting on pond bank
As you can see, they tend to be a bit more bronze in color and lack the lateral meandering stripe. But it shouldn’t be here since I’ve featured them plenty of times, so ignore this.

Will I get more images of the northern variant? I go into the region that they inhabit from time to time, every couple of years or so, but I’m also not that motivated to chase them as a subject, so if it happens it’ll likely be while I’m in pursuit of something else. Unless, as I’ve said before, someone wants to fund a search for more photos…

That makes two. Or is it three?

I was sorting images a few hours back, which often results in finding a few more pics to post, and indeed did; moreover, it falls in line with the ‘Just Once’ topic, since it was featured earlier this year.

yellow-bellied sapsucker Sphyrapicus varius perched in shadow on tree
That’s a yellow-bellied sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius,) snagged while out chasing wood ducks the other day, on a tree right alongside the pond – shame it wouldn’t get out in the open. I couldn’t see it well enough to identify it, but recall thinking it needed a closer look while initially reviewing it upon unloading the card, then forgetting about it. When I was out there, I believed it to be a downy woodpecker, so just fired off a couple of frames and ignored it, especially since it wasn’t getting into the light. I can be excused, because even at 600mm, the full frame looked like this:

yellow-bellied sapsucker Sphyrapicus varius in full frame
I heard the pecking, and spotted it as it flew to this perch, but the only way I could determine by naked eye that I was looking at the right bird was the upright, trunk-clinging position.

That makes two of the featured ‘Just Once’ species that I ended up duplicating within a few months of posting – the other was an eastern kingsnake less than a month ago. But I also ruled out another candidate, one of the species from my list, before I had a chance to post it, since I photographed it for the second time earlier this year, after having gone eleven years since I’d first seen it (though only eight from when I actually posted about it; the images had been published at BugGuide.net to identify the species.)

Annnddd in looking at the spreadsheet of candidates, I found another that slipped my mind: this eastern cicada-killer received its second feature this year and dropped off the list. So that’s four. Less than a month to remove another – can it be done?

Wood if I could

So, a presently ongoing saga. A couple of weeks ago I heard an odd call while out on the back deck of Walkabout Estates Plus, overlooking the pond – I didn’t recognize it but thought it seemed familiar. Then, on a hunch, I got out the binoculars and began scanning the area, and confirmed my suspicion: out in a secondary pool some distance off, I could see some wood ducks (Aix sponsa.) This was excellent, because I’ve rarely even spotted them in the wild and certainly have no wild pics of them.

portion of pond on Walkabout Estates Plus
Now, a word about the pond. It’s closer to being a bayou, stretching for a few hundred meters but separated into multiple pools, all bordered by bald cypress trees – shallow, but as we found out last week, quite boggy/muddy in the bottom, so a bad choice for wading. Near Walkabout Manor, it more resembles a pond, but as it gets further down (where I spotted the ducks,) it’s much more of a swamp. This is fine, we weren’t looking for a place to go boating or swimming, but it does mean access is not a casual stroll. Last week I made the attempt to creep up on the ducks and get some pics, but this proved easier typed than accomplished.

full frame shot across pond at 600mm showing something out there
It doesn’t help at all that the one perspective that I’ve managed so far has been shooting almost due south, so straight into the sun and the sun’s reflection from the water. This is full frame at 600mm, peeking through the intervening foliage because getting past it would have brought me into open sunlight and full sight. But there’s something in there…

A tighter crop reveals more, though:

cropped image showing female wood duck Aix sponsa in shadows
That’s enough to see the teardrop white marking around the eye and the faint nap of the ‘hood,’ indicating that this is a female wood duck. Which is as good as I got that day. It was easier to see the mallards (Anas platyrhynchos.)

small flock of mallards Anas platyrhynchos in pond on Walkabout Estates Plus
Further attempts proved how spooky they were, as they took flight when I became too obvious, and I might have to construct a blind. But the first thing to construct was a nest box for the wood ducks, which was accomplished when I found some old shelves that were the perfect size.

wood duck nest box
This is based on plans found here, and is only pine, but we had some appropriately-colored stain handy, so that augmented the old brown stain that was already on the shelves (as well as some splashes of white paint from some time in the past.) Hopefully this will keep it lasting a little longer than a single season – it really should be made from cypress or cedar, but those are completely unavailable in the right size around here.

interior of wood duck nest box showing interior roughing for ducklings to climb out
The plans called for hardware cloth on the inside under the entry hole, but I simply gouged the wood with a circular saw. This is to give the ducklings an easy surface to grip with the nails on their toes when they climb out, quite soon after hatching; they’ll then spend the next few weeks on the pond itself with the mother, so the box serves only to incubate the eggs. The ducklings cannot fly when they bail the nest, still looking like little gold and brown cat toys, but they withstand drops from quite significant heights, even onto solid ground – you need to look up videos of them leaving the nest, because the bouncing is unreal.

Having finished the nest box but still deciding where it’s going to be mounted (and if it will be joined by one or two more,) I went out again yesterday to try again for some decent pics of the potential future occupants. Long story short: I spotted them three times, and never could get the camera even locked on before they took flight. This will definitely be challenging.

But I did find some other items of interest.

recent beaver activity on Walkabout Estates Plus
That’s evidence of beaver activity, and it’s right on the far side of the main pool – it’s also only a day or two old. The Girlfriend and I were almost positive that we saw one in the main pool early one morning, but have seen no subsequent sign of them since, until now. I found trails through the tall grasses, and a couple of crossover spots between the pond and the stream that runs behind it.

Now, while everyone knows beavers have lodges, I have yet to see the typical depiction of a mound out in the middle of the beaver pond; every time here in NC, it’s been dug into the banks of the pond, stream, or lake instead, and the quality of the pond edges on the property, the slow descent into bog and mud, convinced me that the lodges would be on the stream and not the pond. I was still attempting to get pics of the wood ducks, so I was exploring and stalking a pair that seemed to be staying just out of sight along the edge of the stream.

At one point, I spooked a raptor, likely our resident red-shouldered hawk, from its perch near the stream, where it swooped low across the water and produced a loud splash – quite curious, because it was nowhere near low enough to have struck the water itself, not to mention that such birds aren’t water hunters or divers. I thought it might have come low enough to try for a wood duck. The view was obscured by dense woods right to the stream edge, so I tried working closer, causing the same bird to fly off again with another splash; I could see enough of the water and flight path to know it was nearly two meters off the water, so what was this all about? I never saw a wood duck during this, nor heard any alarms.

A few meters further on, as I was skirting a pile of discarded bamboo (that I surmised the previous residents had left behind while clearing paths around the pond,) I heard another splash, this time on my side of the stream and very close, almost underneath me. What was truly confusing was that I could see the water clearly enough from there to observe no ripples at all – what the hell? You’ve probably pieced it together faster than I did, but it really only took a moment of looking around to make me realize that the pile of bamboo and sticks I was standing right alongside was shielding over the top opening of the lodge, and I had been spotted by a beaver within.

upper shielded opening of beaver Castor canadensis lodge in stream bank,  almost directly underfoot from the photographer
You can see the stream in the background and the dark opening in the middle there, going deeper than it seems at first, with an obvious beaver stick poking out at bottom – I had been too busy watching the water to be looking closely towards my feet. Yeah, yeah, I know, excuses excuses, but the whole point was to try and see the wood ducks before they saw me.

This is actually pretty easy to get to, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on it – kind of. Beavers are primarily nocturnal, so even getting right up next to it won’t mean squat without light. But I’m already planning to do a small amount of ground clearing, mostly to get the noisy stuff out from underfoot so I can walk through the area without making as much noise, which can only help. With luck, maybe I’ll find an area on the edge of the stream where I can achieve a decently clear view, and perhaps create a blind. Now’s the time to be doing this, before the spring brings all the critter activity.

Perhaps the last for the year

In crossing the yard the other day, I saw movement in a bare-ish patch of lawn, immediately recognizing it as a ground skink – I pounced, managed (after a couple of tries) to get it into my hand, then had to endeavor not to let it slip between my fingers. But this gave me the chance to do a few studio pics.

ground skink Scincella lateralis on ground litter
Mimicking their natural habitat isn’t hard, since they like leaf litter and loose earth – I’ve seen them a few times since we moved here, but never when I had the chance to capture one, and forget about getting pics in situ, unless I get really lucky some day. Unlike the anoles, they’re very secretive, and while they might be out basking in the sun at times, they quickly slink under cover, moving far more like a very fast snake than any of the other lizards in the area. And, they’re small:

ground skink Scincella lateralis alongside measuring scale
They can get bigger than this, but this is roughly the average size that I’ve found them, so clearly not too many critters need to be worried about falling prey to them. And even though they’re quite a shiny and reflective bronze in color along the back, they still blend in to leaves with ease.

My specimen here was fairly cooperative, which was nice, because I imagined it repeatedly seeking shelter under the leaves or even burrowing in the soil, and thought the session was going to be a lot harder than it was.

ground skink Scincella lateralis in 3/4 profile
They might look wet and even slimy, but unlike salamanders and newts, they’re perfectly dry and don’t require the dampness that those do. I’d say that the dark lateral stripe was an identifying characteristic, which is probably true, but it’s hard to mistake these guys for anything else, really.

This was a few days ago during a nice warm part of the day, but the temperature dropped right alongside freezing last night and this may have been enough to convince the reptiles to pack it in for the year – not sure yet.

ground skink Scincella lateralis with bit of soil as eye-booger
The skink remained motionless for a short while, and I took advantage of this to get different perspectives, but this side has a distraction, or detraction, or both: a bit of soil adhering to the corner of the eye, hardly visible until I got it under the magnification of the lens. But, unbelievably, I was able to nudge that almost away:

ground skink Scincella lateralis with soil removed by photographer
Using a corner of the same paper scale seen above, I managed to swipe the soil, not away, but at least ahead of the eye, and the skink cooperatively just closed its eye as I did this. Which is not bad, considering that the entire head is, what, seven millimeters in length? Where does it become neck, anyway? A philosophical question for the ages, or at least for bored herpetologists.

Meanwhile, look at those tiny toes.

I released my model here back where I found it once I was done, and have seen no sign of any since. But, the same day I did see our resident red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) again, multiple times in the yard, and during one of those it was scarfing down what appeared to be an anole, though I was unable to get any pics of that. I got a basic portrait later.

likely female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus standing in yard looking for prey
There are probably more than enough anoles in the yard that she won’t make them extinct, though I imagine she could knock down quite a few each day. But she also hunts out back and along the pond, and there are plenty of other opportunities back there for mice, snakes, toads, and so on. She seems to like the property, so fingers crossed regarding a nest come spring.

November, your mother and I think you should move out

We’re just a tad late, but not too much, and so we’ll see November out on its own (but always welcome to visit, as long as it’s not overnight) with the month-end abstracts. And this month, we have two (urk!) smutphone examples, because that’s what I had in hand at the times.

sunlight through elephant ear leaf
Nice textures, but probably not too confusing or mysterious. We were transplanting among the last of the plants (in this case a butterfly bush) near an elephant ear plant when I noticed the sunlight coming through the leaf, and the smutphone was the only thing handy, not to mention that my hands were dirty and it was the only thing that I wanted to handle anyway. Still not sure of the exact species so that information will wait for another time. Gave a little boost to saturation and contrast to make it look how I remembered it, as well as more closely matching the phone display.

And then, we were out and about yesterday and came across this ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba) tree just losing its leaves, which was a little surprising to The Girlfriend and I, since most other trees are largely bare. I found a patch of blue-ish shy and fired off a few frames.

ginkgo Ginkgo biloba leaves in autumn colors against wispy clouds and blue sky
We’re waiting to see if the one we transplanted a couple weeks ago takes hold in the spring, while two others, much smaller, reside in the greenhouse for now; the pot of one of those has been chosen, twice, for fire ant infestations – I mean, not by us, but by the ants themselves, despite our disapproval. I think the second attempt to convince them of their folly (by wholesale slaughter) might have worked. They probably wouldn’t hurt the tree by being in there, but this whole thing about swarming and attacking anything that disturbed the pot, even by watering, wasn’t flying with us.

I might try and get some more pics up a little later on today – we’ll see.

Just once, part 48

pair of mandrills Mandrillus sphinx in unknown location
When first/last I featured this duo, I said that I wasn’t sure where it was taken – the obvious choice was the North Carolina Zoological Park in Asheboro, given how long ago it was taken and the negative film used. Except I didn’t recall ever seeing mandrills (Mandrillus sphinx) there. Since that time, I found several more examples in my negative pages, right smack between other subjects clearly from the NC Zoo, so apparently my memory sucks. I can’t pin down where in the zoo they were, which is curious, because I can tell you exactly how to get to most major species therein – or at least I could. It’s been a few years since I’ve been now and things might have changed.

Their previous appearance was for another weekly topic, then ‘Visibly Different,’ and I talked about how bad the quality of the shot was even when I liked the poses, and this image was used to illustrate the condition of the negative, though the scratches and dust are easy enough to remove. But some time in the years between the original capture and that post, I’d had an inspiration; a little fartistic altering, using the grain, produced this:

mandrill image converted to greyscale with background removed
… which suddenly makes the grain a lot more at home, because we expect it from monochrome images, or at least find it more acceptable since much of the time, ‘monochrome’ means ‘old,’ and older films could be pretty grainy. And of course there was a bit of cleanup in there, isolating the subjects and removing distracting elements; the unfocused mandrill in the back now takes on a more symbolic nature, suggesting that it’s more imaginary than real.

And I couldn’t leave it at that, either.

selective color version of mandrills image
I can confirm another detail now: this is a female (foreground) and male (background) mandrill, and has nothing to do with the looming specter of age or anything. The looming specter of males, now, that’s another thing, one I’m not qualified to comment on. I try not to loom, myself…

Always check your calendar

Several years ago during the trip to South Carolina, I was putting one of the kayaks on the roof rack of the car and, being incautious, ran into the side mirror of the car while maneuvering the straps around. This pulled a muscle in the side of my lower back rather seriously, and left me a bit tender for a while. Worse, it’s the kind of muscle that you use for a lot of things, and so I could aggravate it with no effort whatsoever, even while trying to avoid using it at all.

And then the next summer I think, I pulled it again, in exactly the same manner – the side mirrors on the car just hit at a terrible spot, plus I’m not thinking about them as I’m trying to manage the kayaks. This was of course worse, not as much from the damage that I’d done as from failing to remember the hazard despite the lasting impression that it provided. Having done it twice, however, seemed to have produced some lasting vulnerability, since I can now start that muscle aching with little provocation. The recent extended efforts at moving house, for example, has meant that I’ve pulled it mildly several times, and so I’ve spent no small number of days with a sporadically sore side and difficulty in doing certain strenuous actions – naturally, I haven’t the liberty of not doing them, because I wasn’t smart enough to have kids that I could fob all those tasks onto. Just yesterday, for example, we transplanted almost the last of the plants that needed it, but the digging and stooping and so on left me a little sore, again, concentrated right in that portion of my side.

But earlier this evening, I turned from putting something in the recycle bin in the garage, slightly tight quarters considering that The Girlfriend’s car is right there, and goddamned if I didn’t smack that exact same muscle again, solidly, right on her sideview mirror! I knew instantly that this was a bad one, and I could barely move without somehow involving that muscle group; I could be standing still and, without ever knowing how I did it, I’d tense that muscle and boom, stabbing pain. It’s been a rough evening, and I’m on a couple different kinds of painkillers right now. I’d almost suspect I did some kind of internal injury – well, you know, to organs – but everything will be fine unless I move a certain way. The best course of action is naturally to not move, but I’ve never been able to lie still for hours on end.

Now we get into causality, because I’d forgotten to check the calendar, otherwise I would have known that it was Do The Same Stupid Fucking Thing Again Day. Would this have been forewarning, and I could have avoided this fate? Or would the hypersensitivity of trying to determine what I wanted to stay away from have caused me to fail prey to something else? I mean, I don’t think I’ve done a lot of stupid fucking things, but I’ve never tried tallying them up, either. What’s the average? Does it matter? You only need a couple to lose track of, I suppose.

I will say that I am trying to make the best of it, and have a decent excuse not to move heavy things for a couple of days, already exercised. It’s tempered by the fact that I have no idea how to totally avoid using that muscle area. It’s like wiggling your ears: you have the muscles to do it, but you have no idea how to select them, or in this case, avoid them. So at the moment, I’m prone to sudden sharp pains in my side that make me tense up, the worst thing to do, and so I then abruptly try to relax them, and then wonder how I still flexed that damaged muscle without doing anything that I thought would have aggravated it. I’m having fun.

Further along those lines…

Just a follow-up to yesterday’s post, from early this morning. Because I opened the blinds in the bedroom and found the female red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) standing in the lawn right outside the window, but she noticed the movement and decided it wasn’t kosher, that close and with her down that low. I realized, many years ago while doing wildlife rehabilitation, that height is security (and dominance) to birds, so being down on the ground makes them much more antsy. She quickly resumed her perch on the light pole.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus perched on light pole in early morning
The rain was all past and the sky resoundingly clear, though I was still facing south and so the light was less than ideal. Especially, her supraorbital ridge, the ‘eyebrow,’ was keeping her eyes shaded as she examined the ground for prey. But I kept the camera raised and waited her out, and soon enough, she turned her head a bit and gave me that light in the eyes.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus with catchlight in eyes
I’ve already noticed a pattern, in that many of the subjects that so handily appear in the yard here do so to the south, right smack into the sun – we’ll see even more of that in an upcoming post, but it shows that there are some challenges to overcome.

I was shooting from a distance, half-hidden, to avoid spooking my subject here, and decided to slip out the back of the house and try that angle instead, which might improve the light a little – if I managed not to scare her. So I went around that way and slowly eased out until I could see her atop the pole.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus from slightly better angle
You can see the roof edge in there, and the light is slightly better, but not significantly – I changed angle by no more than 30 degrees, and was closer and running the potential of being spotted. Which did eventually occur.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus spotting photogragher
Nonetheless, she remained at her perch and soon dismissed me as inconsequential, and I let her be after a few frames.

And then The Girlfriend told me that she’d gone down to the mailbox, passing almost directly under the hawk, who didn’t move. So then I went back out and crept a bit closer. Our behavior was a little different, because I was definitely pausing while facing the hawk and aiming a large glass lens in her direction, which likely spelled our more warning signs than The Girlfriend ambling down to the mailbox. But it didn’t matter.

female red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus from closer
She ended up holding that perch for the next 90 minutes or so, and I never saw her fly off, but later on in the day I believe I spooked her – one of them, anyway – from a tree in the backyard right alongside the pond. Build a nest, build a nest, build a nest…

And since I’m doing the follow-up, I thought I’d show the same anole in daylight this time, still too early to be reaping much of the benefits of the sunlight (and done with the 150-600 lens, since I had it mounted):

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis warming itself on wind sculpture
The day was sunny but the front had pushed through overnight and the temperature had dropped noticeably, so the lizards had to spend some time warming up to activity levels. But the patterns visible on this one’s skin are interesting, anyway. None of them seem to be turning green very much anymore, due to both the lack of bright green foliage and the lower temperatures necessitating that more solar warmth needed to be absorbed, but there are plenty of them still active all over the place, so we’ll see how long it goes before they pack it in for the winter. There’s a frost warning for tonight and this might be it.

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