Dittyday 8: They Might Be Giants

Al Denelsbeck

Oh my, oh my my my, this one’s liable to be polarizing, or it might be if I had readers anyway. This band is notorious for, if nothing else, earworms, songs that stay with you for a very long time, but I’ll readily admit this might be a bad thing if they’re really not your thing – I think they accomplish the ‘catchy’ part without necessarily getting to the ‘likeable’ part for a lot of people. I also suspect that they’re liked a bit more than openly admitted, especially when hanging with the cool crowd. As the title says, this is about They Might Be Giants, composed primarily of John Linnell and John Flansburgh, and they’ve been going strong for four decades and counting now, and have some pretty impressive credentials.

Describe them? A million different adjectives can be used, like, “eclectic” and “quirky” and “weird,” which their music videos do nothing to dispel. But then there’s also, “clever” and “slick” and even “educational,” and I’m not going to delve into my half-assed attempts to break them down or evaluate them. Just pay attention:


It always amazes me that they got so popular with John Linnell’s amazingly nasal vocals, but then again, that might be a part of it. Or it may be that their compositional skills transcend such meager shortcomings.

This post was provoked by listening to ‘Birdhouse In Your Soul’ Sunday night and having it get stuck in my head, and naturally I felt I wasn’t going to be the only one, but seriously, you have to appreciate lyrics that include, “filibuster vigilantly,” and,

Though I respect that a lot,
I’d be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off
And countless screaming Argonauts

What’s amazing is that they pull these off with more style and talent than most popular artists, and almost force you to find the lyrics to confirm that they really did just reference the Longines Symphonette, and then, to find out about the Longines Symphonette…

And their videos, so many of which fit the music so well, not necessarily in a timing and choreography way, but in that they appear to be created by college kids up way too late at night in their dorm room. We really should be studying, but did you ever think of what a communist robot would look like?


[I doubt that’s what they were after, but that’s what I see, anyway.]

This one gets a little lost in the mix, so check out the lyrics here to find that it’s a love song, of sorts, kinda maybe.

My cousin and I did get to see them perform live back in 2000, I think, in a ballroom-style auditorium, and you will not be surprised to know that during one song, the vast majority of the audience joined together into a bunny-hop conga line that snaked across the floor, threatening to submerge those tiny islands of holdouts of which we were one – terrifying in a completely absurd way. They had a backing band for the tour, but John Flansburgh can seriously jam with his guitars, pipe-smoking-nuclear-dad image notwithstanding.

My introduction to the band came through attending an animation ‘festival’ film featuring the following video:


… which also introduced Ren and Stimpy and Bill Plimpton so… yeah. But ‘Istanbul (Not Constantinople)’ is actually a cover of one performed by Four Lads nearly five decades earlier – probably TMBG’s most well-known song, just not their own. It reflects their style pretty well, but perhaps with a little less hidden depth in the lyrics.

There are more songs out there than you can imagine, so feel free to poke around and find a favorite – they’ve released 33 albums, give or take (depends on how you count them,) including five aimed at children and educationally-oriented:


And, seriously, check out their Wikipedia page to realize just how much they’ve been doing, and still are – they’re on tour right now.

This rabbit hole can get really deep and I’m trying not to spend five hours on a post, so I’ll simply close with another favorite of mine, as much for the video as for the music. I identify a little too well with the scene of John shouting over the phone at John, who laughs it off, and I’ll let you ponder the psychology of that on your own…


Hubble comes of age

Al Denelsbeck

That’s right, the Hubble Space Telescope (HST) was launched 33 years ago today, which makes it now a functioning adult if you’re into Tolkien – ‘course, I don’t think you can be seriously into Tolkien and a functioning adult simultaneously, which is simply an invitation to a flame war, to which I reply, Bring it,you Lazy Lobs…

All that aside, we check out a couple of things that Hubble has been up to. Clicking on these images will take you to the full-resolution versions of them, quite large.

Serpens Nebula HBC 672 from Hubble
Serpens Nebula with HBC 672 from Hubble, courtesy NASA

This is region known as the Serpens Nebula, and the key focus is on a star at upper right, HBC 672 – the one that is flanked by ‘bat wings’ of shadows. Click here for their professional explanation, or see below for one from a rank amateur.

The shadow is believed to be from a planetary disk, the surrounding debris that initially provoked the coalescing of the star to begin with and will eventually form planets as the debris and dust gradually comes together under the combined gravity. The disk is presently wide and thick enough to throw a shadow from the star across the distant dust and gases of the nebula itself, even though it is too small from our vantage to make out at all. And there’s another one at upper left.

Hubble doesn’t have color sensors in its cameras, instead relying on multiple greyscale exposures through different filters, and this image utilized a near-infrared filter (among others) to bring out details not visible to ground-based scopes. Meaning, as is so often the case, that there’s no way we could achieve anything of this sort from the ground, one of the reasons that I don’t pursue astrophotography (also to include, I can’t afford to do it well, and, I live in a highly light-polluted area.) Most of the astronomical images that you see are composites of differently filtered images to bring out specific details, rendered in false colors, because this is the most effective way to pursue the science – they’re not after the aesthetics, even when occasionally we get something quite aesthetically pleasing anyway.

Hubble image of background star brightened by gravitational lensing from drifting black hole
Gravitational lensing of background star by drifting black hole, from Hubble, courtesy NASA

This one is exceptionally cool, because it shows a star brightening and then dimming from gravitational lensing because a black hole passed between it and us. See this link for a professional description, or suffer through mine below.

Here’s the deal: Gravity warps space, and light travels through space, so light traveling near strong gravitational sources gets bent a bit. Very strong gravitational sources, like clusters of entire galaxies or, in this case, a black hole, will act as lenses, distorting our view of the stars or galaxies behind said gravitational source. While most black holes that we know of occur in the center of galaxies, this is probably more a reflection of how we can detect them rather than where they can typically be found, or at least, we cannot make any conclusions about this yet. Black holes in the center of galaxies have the ability to absorb plenty of material spiraling in, and it is this influx of material as an accretion disk, jamming together in the doorway of the event horizon like The Three Stooges, that superheats it and provokes the emission of lots of high-energy particles, and this is what we can detect directly, mostly X-rays. Black holes themselves are invisible, thus the name, and so we only find the accretion disks and the effects thereof. But with too little material to form an accretion disk, there’s nothing to detect – except warping gravity. In this case, the light from the star behind the black hole, light that would normally have passed alongside us undetected, gets bent by the gravitational field around the black hole and focused more, bringing it to us. There are, of course, levels of effect – light that comes too close simply falls into the black hole, while light just a little further out gets bent so radically that it goes off in another direction entirely, but enough of it gets focused in our direction that we see the above images.

How many such black holes are out there? We really have only guesses, which we can only confirm or refute by seeing effects like this. A certain, very small percentage of the light that reaches us from ‘random’ regions of space is likely redirected by other black holes, but without as much focus and in much smaller quantities, and our optical sensors would have to be much more efficient than what we have now to pin them down. This is one of the benefits of space telescopes, because they don’t lose anywhere near as much light to atmospheric scattering as ground-based scopes.

Hubble has one hell of a history of discoveries, confirmations, and refinements that it’s added to our scientific knowledge, so be sure to wish it a happy birthday. Yet it’s an inanimate object, so the real credit goes to all of the people, past, present, and future, who worked on and with it to further our knowledge. All of you rock.

Tripod holes 17

Al Denelsbeck

long exposure from base of Looking Glass Falls in Brevard NC
N 35°17’45.63″ W 82°46’9.89″ Google Earth Location

This one was slightly tricky to pin down, not because I wasn’t quite sure where it was – I could almost certainly take you to within four meters of this exact spot – but because the location is so shrouded in trees and shadow that it’s extremely hard to pinpoint from aerial photos. It did not help that, of all the waterfalls nearby that have distinct markers on Google Earth, Looking Glass Falls isn’t one of them – you have to zoom in on almost the precise spot before something appears.

I’ll draw your attention to the fact that the location was not on the pathway or the overlook deck provided, but down in the creek that feeds from the falls, and while it was crowded in the easy access areas, I was all by myself at my shooting location, though I did have to wait a bit for people exploring at the base of the falls to get out of the picture, a frequent practice there. And I’m not sure there’s any time of day, or year, when the spot where the tripod stood gets any direct sunlight at all – the cleft is deep and under a dense canopy of foliage. There may be specific times where the lowering sun shines directly on the falls themselves – I was aiming almost due east for this composition – but the mountains are significant enough right here that the disappearance of the sun, and astronomical sunset, are two entirely different times, so nice sunset colors on the falls are unlikely.

This is in Pisgah National Forest in Brevard County, NC, by the way, and for giggles, follow that road in either direction; if you begin from this point and head northeast (ever so briefly,) it will eventually connect with the Blue Ridge Parkway, but the linear distance and the driving distance are not on speaking terms. You will be zig-zagging, is what I’m saying, and on one of my few mountain trips, I ran this leg down from the Parkway while sharing it with loaded logging trucks going in the opposite direction; I cannot recommend this.

I have yet to do a trip out to this region when the fall colors are peaking, but I’ll manage it one of these days. My first trip out there was supposedly timed to capture the new spring foliage, occurring May 1st (2005, damn,) and I discovered that I was a couple of weeks early – the mountains lag behind the Piedmont (where I live) by close to a month for the spring bloom, and of course the fall change occurs earlier. Key to a fall colors trip would also be finding the best points overlooking valleys of varied deciduous trees, instead of the ubiquitous ugly longneedle pines, to maximize the scenic factors, so some scouting or research would probably be in order too. One of these days…

Not from Earth Day

Al Denelsbeck

I have not been staying on top of the various April holidays, and today (which is indeed Earth Day) is rainy and blergh out there, so we’ll have a variety of photos obtained earlier that I finally got around to editing. Let’s see, let’s see, what have I been taking recently?

trio of yellow-bellied sliders Trachemys scripta scripta in neighborhood pond
Over at the neighborhood pond, a trio of yellow-bellied sliders (Trachemys scripta scripta) were lined up nicely and, being in the weeds instead of perched on logs for basking, were less inclined to dive for cover, but still watched me suspiciously.

Days earlier, while The Girlfriend and I were doing a circuit, another species had chosen a curious spot to bask:

probable common musk turtle Sternotherus odoratus basking in crook of two trunks alongside pond
From the stripes on the face, I’m tentatively identifying this as a common musk turtle (Sternotherus odoratus,) but the appearance of several related species is similar, so don’t make that big investment yet. This one was a solid 25cm or more above the water surface and disinclined to move, prompting The Girlfriend to question if it was still alive – the eye detail wasn’t visible from our viewing distance. Since it was in the early evening, I leaned in and lifted the turtle from this spot, whereupon it slipped into the water easily – she thought it might have been stuck, but I’ve seen one in the exact same spot a few years before and think it’s just a handy place to sit and warm up, though the only sunlight that reaches it comes in late afternoon.

male eastern towhee Pipilo erythrophthalmus watching from within foliage
This is a male eastern towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus,) which seems to be the new nomenclature after having previously been called the rufus-sided towhee, and while I’m all in favor of brevity, I have a pet peeve about how damn many species are identified with the ‘eastern’ modifier – it’s like somebody’s getting royalties from the word. Seriously, I have 33 listed in the tags for this site, which are only the species that I have photographed and specifically featured in posts. Meanwhile, I remain in pursuit of good towhee photos, because they tend to forage deep in foliage and not pose out in the open, so it’s one of those little side quests.

two perched and one swimming female double-crested cormorants Nannopterum auritum
The double-crested cormorants (Nannopterum auritum) have returned to the pond – it usually hosts up to a half-dozen, peaking in the spring, but since I can’t tell individuals apart, they may cycle throughout the non-winter months. These are all female, and it’s about time to see the males displaying their namesake crests for the brief period that they have them, but the males seem far less inclined to visit, for unknown reasons.

double-crested cormorant Nannopterum auritum drying off after a swim
On another day, yet the same location and pilings (from a different angle, across the pond,) another emerged from the water in the early morning to dry out a bit, shaking the water from its head and beak in a nice backlit spray.

great blue heron Ardea herodias perched in dead tree
Only one great blue heron (Ardea herodias) seems to be hanging at the pond this spring, though I did see a pair fly down our street the other afternoon, with one returning, and I suspect it was chasing off an intruder – that makes them more likely to be both males. This one was maintaining a significant distance and didn’t descend to fish until I was quite far away, but I went a little fartsy since I wasn’t close enough for good detail. No, that branch was already broken – he’s not that overweight.

[Small side note: After having been caught by taxonomy changes a couple of time before, I semi-regularly check the scientific names even though, like this one, I have many of them memorized. It now appears that the species has four recognized subspecies, so technically this would be Ardea herodias herodias, though no source that I’ve located yet has indicated how to differentiate A. h. wardi, and this is as far down the rabbit hole that I’m going right now. But I do have a couple of frames of another one of the subspecies.]

Over at Jordan Lake, I saw an uncharacteristic collection of them.

collection of great blue herons Ardea herodias in a choice fishing spot
I had been down at the lake before sunrise in the attempt to photograph the finest crescent moon yet, one of those silly personal bests, and this one was reported at only .6 to .7% illuminated – yes, less than one percent, which is my goal, but I saw no traces of it, even when I got back and wracked contrast over ridiculously in GIMP for several likely frames. However, while at the lake I naturally took more of a look around, and noted these guys on the opposite side of a branch, a measured 360 meters away (Google Earth is handy.) My guess is that they were close to one of many schools of small fish congregating at the shores, because I witnessed a few directly, and so had easy meals at hand, but this led to a couple of squabbles. During one, I heard the telltale chirping in the same direction, and began examining the treeline nearby. It didn’t take long.

bald eagle Haliaeetus leucocephalus perched in tree above herons
This adult bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) was perched in the branches directly over the herons, willing to ignore them if they behaved but scolding them if they made a ruckus. I found this a little curious, because the herons were well underneath the eagle and none were overflying its position, which is what often provokes reminders that this was claimed territory. It’s possible that there was a nest nearby, but I could find no sign of it.

Near the parking lot, a different raptor was hanging out.

red-tailed hawk Buteo jamaicensis watching for movement from tree
This red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) may well have been one of the same ones I’d seen earlier, being in the same immediate vicinity, and it watched me as I approached, but I never got close enough to make it truly nervous and it continued examining the grasses below for tasty vermin.

During that same linked visit about two weeks ago, when the lake level was significantly higher and flooding the banks, I spotted a curious phenomenon that I’d only heard about before. My attempts at still photos were thwarted by the movement of the water and the shady conditions, but a video clip showed more anyway:

The audio was completely unnecessary, reflecting only the boat ramp not too far away behind me, but amusing. The writhing ball, however, is an ant flotilla, nothing but solid ants floating on the water due to surface tension, and roughly 7 cm across. On checking recently, I found that it seems only one species does this, the red imported fire ant (Solenopsis invicta,) which are the bane of my sandaled feet far too often. They were not typically found this far north – I’d had just one encounter in NC, years ago – but then last year found a hill not too far away from this. Yes, they bite, yes, they’re extremely irritating, and yes, I’ll celebrate if the species goes extinct. Had I known for sure that it was this species and had something handy to accomplish it, I would have eradicated them while still in the collective ball with the queen and larvae. On the most recent visit to the lake a couple days ago, I found that they’d been successful in this endeavor.

anthill trail extending across footpath at Jordan Lake
This trail right smack on the footpath, while easy enough to step over, extended quite a ways along, using the roots of a tree as a guide (possibly because the soil, mostly clay, was softer there.) The ants are tiny and I didn’t bring the macro flash rig, but leaning close with the 18-135 and firing the on-camera flash was sufficient:

paths and hills of red imported fire ant Solenopsis invicta
The rust color with the darker abdomen is indicative: these are fire ants, and since this colony was only a few meters from where I’d spotted the flotilla, it’s reasonable to assume this is where they made landfall. Dammit, should have drowned the little buggers when I had the chance.

And finally, we’re right around the peak of the Lyrids meteor shower, and the other night while it was almost balmy, I spent a little over an hour attempting to snag something. Wonder of wonders, I actually did!

helicopter passing through long time exposure trying to capture meteors
Alas, this is not a meteor, which tend not to curve, much less change colors with such periodicity – just a helicopter passing directly through my frame. I’d seen it coming long before but elected to let the exposure go, which allowed me to have something to show for my efforts – nothing else made the faintest appearance. And this is only as bright as it is because the pilot was flying (at an guesstimated 1000 feet) with the landing lights on, sufficient to illuminate the surroundings very faintly even from that altitude. The flight radar app showed no aircraft, so this was likely a military flight – they were probably keeping tabs on me. But yeah, not even a brief appearance of a meteor, which is typical. One of these days…

Anyway, that’s my gout of photos for Earth, Air, Water, and Fire Day, even if I fudged it a bit on one of those. And I feel slightly better about the scarcity of posts now.

Two curiosities

Al Denelsbeck

Haven’t been in much of a blogging mood the past week or so, and thus haven’t been in search of subjects, but I’ll throw down two quick ones because… um… I really have no idea why anymore…

As the treefrogs become more prevalent in various areas of Walkabout Estates, I’ve been seeing some patterns of appearance and can tell a few apart, somewhat, simply by these habits. One of which turned out to be very recognizable, but I neglected getting good photos of it while I had the chance, and then it disappeared for a few days. But it reappeared, and I shirked not this time.

green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus with odd blue spot on back
This green treefrog (Dryophytes cinereus, and I still can’t quite keep that in memory and I’m still annoyed that they changed it,) sports a distinctly blue spot on its back, for reasons completely unknown. The spot is quite centered on the spine, which might make it genetic, or it might be an injury sustained to the spot in contact with the surfaces it had secreted itself into somewhere. For the time being, this makes it easy to know that I’m seeing the same individual, but how long this might last is anyone’s guess. Yet it’s definitely bright blue.

While at the neighborhood pond, a red-shouldered hawk wheeled overhead briefly, and I fired off a few frames. Close examination showed something interesting:

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus scratching face in flight
The frames that showed the detail weren’t the sharpest, but sufficient to illustrate that the hawk was scratching its face while flying – either that or on the phone, but it wasn’t displaying the typical inability to maintain a regular speed nor stay in its lane like most of those I see dicking with their iTwats when driving, so I’m going to go with scratching. I’ve never seen this before and I would have thought it might make their glide a little erratic, but I suppose there’s no reason to believe this and it displayed no evidence of difficulty as I watched – I didn’t suspect a thing until I saw the details after unloading. But you gotta admit it looks odd.

There will be more along shortly – I have photos, I just don’t have the motivation to explain them right at the moment. Won’t be long though.

Tripod holes 16

Al Denelsbeck

creekside root system, possibly of American sycamore Platanus occidentalis
N 36° 5’2.73″ W 79° 8’27.55″ Google Earth Location

Today’s image comes from the banks of the Eno River, not too far away from where I used to live, a secluded little creekside area that I would visit from time to time. To get this image, I had to be sprawled flat on my stomach on a rock on the banks, with my legs extended far enough into the water behind me that my shorts got wet. But that was what was required to get this perspective on those wonderful roots and moss, that likely appear this way through a combination of streamside erosion and questing for more water on a rocky substrate. To the best of my knowledge, the tree is an American sycamore (Platanus occideltalis,) but I learned how to identify that species long after I was visiting the locale, though it wouldn’t take a whole lot to return.

Part of the reason I like this is that it puts me in mind of the cover of JRR Tolkien’s The Two Towers, or at least the edition that I read in my teenage years – there have been at least dozens of covers of that book over the decades, but the one that I have in mind can be seen here, the second edition. I believe the cover art was done by Tolkien himself, but I haven’t been able to confirm that.

The underlying (heh!) point within this post, however, is that interesting perspectives and compositions can be found anywhere, with a little effort and consideration – the roots definitely looked cool by themselves, but it took the low angle to give them the drama. And just now, out of curiosity, I did the channel-clipping thing and took just the green channel, then tweaked contrast higher in the upper ranges of the brightness curve for an even moodier greyscale version, perhaps a little more Ent-like now.

roots of possibly American sycamore Platanus occidentalis in green channel, greyscale

And the winner is…

Al Denelsbeck

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis 'Stubby' patrolling territory
… Stubby, with 6 to 4 odds.

Out today doing some yard work, and spotted this Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) skipping along between fence posts, definitely much spookier than the last time I saw him, but I’m putting this down to not being preoccupied with staking a claim to this territory and thus having a natural level of discretion. Nonetheless, I stalked him until he both returned to the exact same post that many of the disputes occurred on, as well as displaying his telltail – finally, I have a way to tell at least one of the anoles apart.

I also got a few better frames, too.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis 'Stubby' displaying scars from territorial fights a week ago
Remember when I said that I wasn’t seeing much in the way of injuries? They’re a bit more apparent here, but I also suspect most of these will vanish with the next molt. I’ll keep an eye out for the other guy so we can compare.

This particular image might be portraying his annoyance with me, not just from my proximity, but the fact that I had the back gate open, not a meter away, and thus his normal path across the backyard had a huge (to him) gap in it. He’d have to go all the way down to the ground and scamper across open territory before climbing back up again on the other side to resume his patrols, all because I wanted to dump some pond debris outside the fence. I have no doubts he was eyeing my arms and thinking I was lazy for not just leaving the gate closed and hurling the stuff over it.

I’ll have more pics later on, perhaps even of a new photo goal, but for now, one more anole, because.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis perched in potted Japanese maple
Many meters away on the deck, another anole, a female I suspect, jumped onto the potted Japanese maple there and paused among the leaves in a photogenic way, so I took a moment to be fartsy. This will likely be a print soon.

Birds and snakes, an aeroplane…

Al Denelsbeck

… and Lenny Bruce is not afraid.

Now that I have that earworm firmly established, let’s get to the pics.

pair of basking northern water snakes Nerodia sipedon sipedon
A few days back we got a ton of water dumped on us here in central NC, like most of the country I believe, right after temperatures had gotten above 25°c, then dropped precipitously (sorry) during and after the rains. Yesterday, with the sun out and the temperature climbing again, I visited Jordan Lake to see what was happening, and the first thing that I noticed was the plethora of northern water snakes (Nerodia sipedon sipedon) basking on the rocks alongside the boat ramps. Given that I’d found maybe three watersnakes in years on the lake shores there, this was unprecedented; I believe they were driven out of their hidey-holes by the significantly-higher lake levels, at the same time trying to get their internal temperatures up to snuff. Of the two above (yes there are two,) the smaller was perhaps slightly smaller than average, but the larger was quite impressive, close to my wrist in girth. Despite this, they were all very spooky and dove into the water if I was the slightest bit incautious, so these various pics required careful stalking.

Save for this guy.

northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon basking boldly on rock
Easily the smallest with the girth of my finger, this one showed all the others as the cowards they were by remaining atop this rock in plain sight as I worked along the shore. Or you could just consider it too stupid to know better – either works.

I returned again today, earlier in the morning, to see how many more I could get, and of course to see the AM bird action, but that netted me this favorite perspective:

northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon peeking from under surface of water
Not for nothing do they call them watersnakes, and this one was checking to see if the coast was clear (literally) before venturing out again to warm back up. They can only hold their breath for about two minutes, and most times they raise their snouts very close to debris, roots, or clutter to remain camouflaged as they check for danger, but this one couldn’t have been more obvious, perhaps chastened by the little one yesterday. The cloudy eyes (which many of them displayed) indicate that it would be shedding soon, and yes, it does limit their vision, which in turn makes them more defensive and quicker to bite if threatened. They’re non-venomous and harmless – the bites sting a bit, but not even like wasps, and I can’t count the number that I’ve received (though none either of these days, I’m sorry to inform you Mr Bugg.)

northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon splayed across rocks
This one was about average in size, so roughly half a meter long and 4-5 cm in thickness, and it slowly eased out of the water and along the rocks to a good basking point as I watched. Some closeups of the head showed why it never reacted to my careful movements only a few meters away.

close up of northern water snake Nerodia sipedon sipedon head, displaying tongue and possibly injured eye
Aside from catching the tongue out, we’ll look closely at that eye, which is nowhere near normal in appearance, nor is it how they appear when close to shedding – I suspect it’s an injury, though how recent I couldn’t begin to say. What was curious to me was that it consistently maneuvered with this side facing the boat ramps, away from the sun, which does not seem to be the most efficient at spotting danger. The biggest threats would likely be from the land side, while if there’s any vision in that eye at all, it would be more useful on the sunny side where something throwing a shadow across it would still indicate danger. But then this takes consideration, and it’s hard to say how much snakes actually have, though it’s certainly not much.

I heard some sudden, suspicious rustles on the other side of the boat ramps too, but likely they all came from species like this:

American five-lined skink Plestiodon fasciatus not long after shedding
This is an American five-lined skink (Plestiodon fasciatus,) and unlike the snakes, they don’t shed their skin in one nice intact piece, because legs, so this one is sporting the remnants on the side of the head and along the tail – it took seeing these images, cropped, to determine that it wasn’t actually injured like it appeared in the viewfinder. This little guy would have been an easy meal for even the smallest of the watersnakes, so it’s better that he was well away from them – or at least the ones that I’d seen myself. It could, as I type this, be making its way through the alimentary canal of yet another…

Though I did mention birds, right? Not too many this time, but enough.

osprey Pandion haliaetus returning to perch with captured fish
While I never saw the capture, this osprey (Pandion haliaetus) cruised past grasping a nice fish – or perhaps I’m assuming too much about the fish, which could have been a serial killer for all I know, in which case, nice job, osprey! We’re right at the beginning of nesting season here, but as I was soon to discover, this one was not bringing home the takeout meal.

[A small photographic aside: these were all shot with 1 full stop overexposure compensation for the bright skies, and should have been a little more though it would have bleached the skies pure white, but I was shooting almost due east, looking at the shadowed side of the bird, so there was only so much that could work anyway.]

osprey Pandion haliaetus taking perch on dead tree with captured fish
This dead tree sat right on a small point between two boat launch areas and is easy to plot in Google Earth, so it let me perform a small exercise. I estimated the distance at about 75 meters, but in reality it was closer to 125, so we see how accurate my perception is. Next time I’ll just assume I’m right and not bother with facts – you know, the Republican way…

osprey Pandion haliaetus eating fish in tree
Only a few osprey were showing while I was there (and two distant bald eagles which didn’t make for worthwhile images,) none of which wanted to do much hunting even though the lake was thin on boat traffic and the thermals pretty distinct; I know because I could see the vultures riding them. So this one finished its meal and then sat for roughly a half-hour just chilling with its lake view.

osprey Pandion haliaetus in dead tree after finishing fish
Actually, I could check that too with the timestamps on the images, and in this regard I was much better: 26 minutes between the last apparent actions with the fish and when it took flight again, though I admit to not remaining locked onto it the entire time. I did catch this horrendous belch, however, one that echoed back from across the lake.

[I lie of course; the osprey might have been calling, warning off another that circled nearby a few times, or simply yawning, or trying to get that taste out of its mouth. But I like the tongue.]

However, it left its perch, cruised almost directly overhead and then, with elaborate casualness, skimmed down to the lake and snagged another fish as if it had left it there earlier – no circling, no pausing or backing, nothing whatsoever of the telltales to warn a guy that a capture is imminent.

distant osprey Pandion haliaetus just making capture in lake
The autofocus and/or the image stabilization weren’t really up to the job, and the sequence was crap, but I throw down just a couple for the record.

distant osprey Pandion haliaetus climbing from surface after snagging fish
Definitely a successful capture, and appearing almost effortless too, but this one was carried away around the point and I never saw where they went to. Maybe this time it was to the wife sitting on the nest…

osprey Pandion haliaetus wheeling overhead backlit
Another did circle overhead a few times, pretty close, and I could do a sequence of frames as it was backlit by the sun, which came up fairly nicely. No missing or damaged feathers, symmetrical, good angle – could have been a tad sharper, but I’ll keep it for now.

As I was returning to the car, I spotted a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) circling in the distance, then another, and they drifted closer and permitted me some decent detail shots.

red-tailed hawk Buteo jamaicensis circling with talons dropped
The two were in moderately close proximity and this one, the highest, dropped its talons down, and I wasn’t sure if I was about to see a territorial dispute or a mating display. It eventually turned out to be neither, as they drifted apart again, but this one thought something was going to happen, anyway – they don’t cruise around like that. They cruise around like this:

red-tailed hawk Buteo jamaicensis banking overhead
I’m not sure if it was the same as above or not, but this one very cooperatively skimmed quite close overhead – I’ve learned my lesson now and offer no estimate of distance. But we can now see the talons tucked up under the tail, nice and streamlined, while it steers for some reason visible only to it in the trees behind me. The tail doesn’t appear to be very red, and often doesn’t, but the pale belly with the crossing band of dark speckles is more indicative of the species.

And yeah, an aeroplane to flesh out those lyrics:

Southwest Airlines Boeing 737-800 approaching RDU

Tripod holes 15

Al Denelsbeck

Great egret Ardea alba with tiny flounder on southern beach of Jekyll Island Georgia
N 31° 1’12.86″ W 81°26’4.40″ Google Earth Location

It’s a little disturbing to discover that this was taken four-and-a-half years ago, since I wouldn’t have said that much time had passed, but here we are. This came from a inadvertently brief trip to Jekyll Island, Georgia; we’d planned to be down there for a week, hopefully catch a sea turtle nest hatching, but another damn hurricane cut that short. If I remember correctly (old, you know,) the hurricane wasn’t slotted at all to hit the area, but back home at Walkabout Estates instead, and The Girlfriend was concerned about the cats and if we’d lose power back up there, so after a mere day on the island we returned. Yet it was a damn productive day.

This was later afternoon on a beach close to Jekyll Point, the southern end of the island, and the birds had gathered to fish – perhaps enticed by the humans that were both bait-fishing and using a drift net. This great egret (Ardea alba) had snatched a tiny flounder that had been discarded from one such net and was doing an extended juggling session to get it into position to swallow it. It would have been a great candidate for video, but I didn’t have video capability handy then, and in fact was using the Canon 100-300 L lens handheld – video would likely have been too shaky for the focal length. Whether such subjects are to be found dependably there, I cannot say, because we only visited this particular locale the one time, but the entire island seems rife with shorebirds, so on return I will have the tripod in tow and be ready for any such drama.

Of course, when you go (and you will – I am declaring it,) you have to visit the Georgia Sea Turtle Center only a few kilometers away on the island, the best rehab center that I’ve seen. And North Beach, and go sand dollar hunting on the east side beaches, and so on…

Lizard licks

Al Denelsbeck

Boy, this took too damn long…

I’ve had the video clips for several days now, and largely edited together for over a day. It took a lot longer than anticipated to get the voiceover done, but the real delay was in the rendering. The first version seemed a little large to me and I’d prefer to upload leaner, less space-consuming videos if I can, but Kdenlive just couldn’t handle making any changes to display size and crashed no less than five times, so I eventually had to go with the original, which is finally uploaded and ‘administered’ now (all the little doodads like tags and description and who can do what with it.) Thus:

Oh, you want a closer look? Yeah, I did a few frames.

pair of male Carolina anoles Anolis carolinensis with jaws locked in territorial dispute
If you look closely at the lower one, you can see the teeth along the edge of the jaw, but also surprisingly few injuries from this extended altercation. So you know, the body size of these ran roughly the size of your finger (not counting the tail, if possessed,) with the heads being perhaps 10-12mm in width.

All of this, by the way, was early in the week when the temperature topped 25°c and it was easy to believe it was summer. Then the front came through and made it easy to believe it was winter for several days, and the lizards and frogs all disappeared. Sheesh.

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