Baby tigers! Yes, it's true. The critically endangered Sumatran Tiger population--less then 300 survivors worldwide--has four new babies to add to the count.
The litter of cubs was born on July 9, 2011 at the Oklahoma City Zoo to proud parents Suriya and Raguno. Three girls and a boy, named Leeloo, Lola, Lucy and Leonidas. Congratulations Suriya and Raguno!
Sumatran Tigers are only found on the Indonesian Island of Sumatra and their numbers have reduced drastically due to shrinking habitat resulting in contact with local villagers and illegal poaching. The World Wildlife Fund has a petition you can sign online to encourage the Indonesian government to stop habitat destruction and help save the Sumatran tigers. If you are interested in helping these magnificent creatures, the petitions is here: Sumatran Tiger.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
The Vulture Tree
Last week, we were in Utah near St. George and Bryce and Zion National Parks. There are a few small towns in this area nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains painted with various shades of red and orange.
I was thrilled to find my familiar friends--lizards, Grackles, and vultures--as well as a new little creature that I still have not identified. It is a small rodent, as small as a chipmunk, but the head looks more like a rat. It's tail flips up over its back. It is very fast and the only pictures I was able to snap off are blurry as it is also exceptionally fast!
We were driving down a side street when I noticed one of the largest venues of vultures I have ever seen. This is one close, happy family! As they slowly circled around the sky, enjoying their play on the warm currents of air, I counted 90 before I lost track.
Then they started to land, one by one. As they flew lower, I could see that they were Turkey Vultures (Cathartes aura). Turkey Vultures can be found from Canada to South America. Although Turkey Vultures will join with Black Vultures or other scavengers, and allow scavengers to join their families, this family in Utah appeared to be only Turkey Vultures.
I was with my husband, who was driving. We assumed they were landing in a field of dead trees, so we followed in our truck. Their path led us into a residential area, down a few side streets, and in front of a house where a huge, old tree stood on the corner of a property. It was not a dead tree, which is generally preferred by vultures, most likely because of the size of their wings--with a six-foot wing spread it is certainly easier to land on a bare branch. The tree must be hundreds of years old. Five adults, holding hands, might be able to circle its trunk.
We parked the truck and I jumped out with my camera, watching as the vultures circled around and landed, one by one, inside the tree. It was difficult to see them all because of the thick blanket of leaves, but the first ones to fly in landed on the top branches and politely posed for photographs, sometimes spreading their wings wide. Vultures will do this after they have eaten so the sun bakes the flecks of food left on their wings and the food drops to the ground. It is easy to tell if a vulture has eaten recently and had not had the opportunity to dry its wings as clumps of food still cling to the dark feathers, looking like large flecks of dust.
Suddenly, the tree seemed to come alive. As one bird flew in, another was leaving with a constant flow of movement circling the tree. They were silent except for the occasional flapping of wings when one of the birds tried to gain its balance. Once, a vulture flew in from behind and surprised another bird who stumbled forward, lost its grip and fell onto another branch. I thought it was injured at first as it left its wings spread wide. One wing appeared to be snagged on a branch. Eventually, though, the bird hopped to the right and freed its wing, then closed them tight against its side.
We spoke with one of the neighbors who said they were not happy with the birds in the local community. Apparently, the venue of 100 or more vultures had used that same tree for resting purposes every night for many years. Apparently, the neighbors are concerned that the urine from the vultures falling to the ground is creating an unsanitary condition in the neighborhood. I tried to explain that the urine of Turkey Vultures is so sterile it could be used as an antiseptic, and started to explain that they pee on their legs to sterilize their legs after eating, but I began to suspect this might be too much information for someone who is obviously not crazy about vultures!
In many communities, vultures are recognized as nature's cleaning crew, keeping the community free of disease. In fact, scientists have discovered that the vulture's stomach acid is so sanitizing it will even destroy anthrax when vultures consume animals that have died from this disease.
Regardless of their appearance, and their reputation unfairly gained from their use in horror films, Turkey Vultures, and their habitats, are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, so it's best just to let them do their job as God intended. Should they decide to move into your neighborhood, either leave them alone, or admire them for the important role they place in the circle of life.
I was thrilled to find my familiar friends--lizards, Grackles, and vultures--as well as a new little creature that I still have not identified. It is a small rodent, as small as a chipmunk, but the head looks more like a rat. It's tail flips up over its back. It is very fast and the only pictures I was able to snap off are blurry as it is also exceptionally fast!
We were driving down a side street when I noticed one of the largest venues of vultures I have ever seen. This is one close, happy family! As they slowly circled around the sky, enjoying their play on the warm currents of air, I counted 90 before I lost track.
Then they started to land, one by one. As they flew lower, I could see that they were Turkey Vultures (Cathartes aura). Turkey Vultures can be found from Canada to South America. Although Turkey Vultures will join with Black Vultures or other scavengers, and allow scavengers to join their families, this family in Utah appeared to be only Turkey Vultures.
I was with my husband, who was driving. We assumed they were landing in a field of dead trees, so we followed in our truck. Their path led us into a residential area, down a few side streets, and in front of a house where a huge, old tree stood on the corner of a property. It was not a dead tree, which is generally preferred by vultures, most likely because of the size of their wings--with a six-foot wing spread it is certainly easier to land on a bare branch. The tree must be hundreds of years old. Five adults, holding hands, might be able to circle its trunk.
We parked the truck and I jumped out with my camera, watching as the vultures circled around and landed, one by one, inside the tree. It was difficult to see them all because of the thick blanket of leaves, but the first ones to fly in landed on the top branches and politely posed for photographs, sometimes spreading their wings wide. Vultures will do this after they have eaten so the sun bakes the flecks of food left on their wings and the food drops to the ground. It is easy to tell if a vulture has eaten recently and had not had the opportunity to dry its wings as clumps of food still cling to the dark feathers, looking like large flecks of dust.
Suddenly, the tree seemed to come alive. As one bird flew in, another was leaving with a constant flow of movement circling the tree. They were silent except for the occasional flapping of wings when one of the birds tried to gain its balance. Once, a vulture flew in from behind and surprised another bird who stumbled forward, lost its grip and fell onto another branch. I thought it was injured at first as it left its wings spread wide. One wing appeared to be snagged on a branch. Eventually, though, the bird hopped to the right and freed its wing, then closed them tight against its side.
We spoke with one of the neighbors who said they were not happy with the birds in the local community. Apparently, the venue of 100 or more vultures had used that same tree for resting purposes every night for many years. Apparently, the neighbors are concerned that the urine from the vultures falling to the ground is creating an unsanitary condition in the neighborhood. I tried to explain that the urine of Turkey Vultures is so sterile it could be used as an antiseptic, and started to explain that they pee on their legs to sterilize their legs after eating, but I began to suspect this might be too much information for someone who is obviously not crazy about vultures!
In many communities, vultures are recognized as nature's cleaning crew, keeping the community free of disease. In fact, scientists have discovered that the vulture's stomach acid is so sanitizing it will even destroy anthrax when vultures consume animals that have died from this disease.
Regardless of their appearance, and their reputation unfairly gained from their use in horror films, Turkey Vultures, and their habitats, are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, so it's best just to let them do their job as God intended. Should they decide to move into your neighborhood, either leave them alone, or admire them for the important role they place in the circle of life.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
It's an Opossum! It's an Opossum!
We are watching through the window now. It's a huge Opossum. He is chewing up the sunflower seeds, then spitting the shells back out as the little grass balls I wrote about last night. That's why the birds pick the seeds back out and eat them--they're not picking at poop!
Opossums look like big rats. They're the size of a cat with long snouts, black ears and silver-tipped fur. They are not unattractive, just different. They make their home wherever they can find food and water, generally in dead tree stumps near food sources. I suspect this one lives across the street in the forest.
Opossums will lie down, close their eyes and let their tongue droop when frightened so they look dead, but the one outside my window is just watching us. Apparently, we don't frighten him! They also like to hang upside down by their tails.
Opossums are the oldest mammals in Texas. They have remained completely unchanged for fifty million years. It is believed they acquired their names from Captain John Smith of the Jamestown Colony.
Unfortunately, they have a very short life span because they have many predators. Most die because they are hit by cars, though. They become frightened, lie down, pretend they are dead, and the car hits them. They are also eaten by owls, dogs, and coyotes. Opossums are also immune to rattlesnake venom and they eat snakes!
They're intelligent creatures and can easily locate and remember where they've found food--that's why he keeps coming back here night after night. He knows I'll leave food for him. They also like peanut butter!
He's so cute!
Opossums look like big rats. They're the size of a cat with long snouts, black ears and silver-tipped fur. They are not unattractive, just different. They make their home wherever they can find food and water, generally in dead tree stumps near food sources. I suspect this one lives across the street in the forest.
Opossums will lie down, close their eyes and let their tongue droop when frightened so they look dead, but the one outside my window is just watching us. Apparently, we don't frighten him! They also like to hang upside down by their tails.
Opossums are the oldest mammals in Texas. They have remained completely unchanged for fifty million years. It is believed they acquired their names from Captain John Smith of the Jamestown Colony.
Unfortunately, they have a very short life span because they have many predators. Most die because they are hit by cars, though. They become frightened, lie down, pretend they are dead, and the car hits them. They are also eaten by owls, dogs, and coyotes. Opossums are also immune to rattlesnake venom and they eat snakes!
They're intelligent creatures and can easily locate and remember where they've found food--that's why he keeps coming back here night after night. He knows I'll leave food for him. They also like peanut butter!
He's so cute!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Another Mystery--Beautiful Brown Dove
I heard a dove in the backyard yesterday while I was waiting for the dogs. I couldn't see it at first--it was very high in the trees. It didn't look like the white winged doves I normally find in the backyard so I ran for my camera to see if I could get a closer look.
This is, indeed, a mystery. The bird is clearly a dove. It has the same blue-rimmed eyes of the white winged doves and scarlet legs, but its wings are a deep chocolate brown and its chest and belly are rust-colored. So lovely!
I saw it in the tree again this morning, sitting alone, watching me. I wonder who it is, and how it ended up in my backyard. Searching for water in a drought-stricken state? Or seed? I haven't noticed a mate. I searched and searched, but was unable to make a positive identification. If anyone recognizes this beautiful bird, please let me know!
This is, indeed, a mystery. The bird is clearly a dove. It has the same blue-rimmed eyes of the white winged doves and scarlet legs, but its wings are a deep chocolate brown and its chest and belly are rust-colored. So lovely!
I saw it in the tree again this morning, sitting alone, watching me. I wonder who it is, and how it ended up in my backyard. Searching for water in a drought-stricken state? Or seed? I haven't noticed a mate. I searched and searched, but was unable to make a positive identification. If anyone recognizes this beautiful bird, please let me know!
A Mystery in the Seed Dish
We have a mystery in the seed dish outside the bedroom window. Each morning, when I check the seed level, I find these little balls of seed and grass. They resemble feces, somewhat, but not really. They're more like hay rolls with seeds mixed in. To be honest, I don't have a clue what they are.
I do have other clues. They only arrive at night. I remove them all during the morning, and check the seeds throughout the day because the water dish is beneath and I like to make sure that the birds have clean water when they need it. I don't see the little grass balls, though. So, obviously, whatever it is that is leaving the little grass balls in the seed tray, they only do it late at night.
At first, we only noticed one or two. My husband pointed them out to me when he was leaving for work. He scooped them out with a leaf and tossed them onto the sidewalk. Later that day, I checked the sidewalk--it appeared as if the birds had broken it apart and eaten the seeds the way some birds will pick at cow manure. Gradually, more little grass balls appeared. This morning, there were so many that I had to scoop them up with a box lid from the trash--they completely covered the tops of the seeds. They do not smell like feces, and the seeds underneath are not clumped together as if something had gone potty on them. It's just such...a mystery!
I close my blinds when it's dark because the birds go to bed and stop visiting the tray, so I'm not really sure what happens after dark in that corner of the house. It is a little secluded, even though it faces the street. This is intentional. I have two crape myrtles in pots beside the seed tray waiting to be planted in our new house. I placed them by the seed tray so the birds would have a place to land. I also have a Wisteria branch in a pot that is growing strong and vining around the seed table. The Wisteria was uprooted at our old house during straight line winds that came through in the spring. In front of the tray I have potted plants. I set it up this way to protect the birds from the many stray cats in the neighborhood--who of course come for the dish of food I keep on the opposite side of the house, in case they cannot find food of their own.
This seclusion became particularly important this spring when a father and mother cardinal arrived, then slowly, one by one, they started bringing their babies down to the seed dish to feed them and teach them how to eat seeds. It was a wonderful adventure. Yesterday, I saw the mother, father, three girls and boy baby birds all on the back patio at once. The babies are no longer babies. Even in the spring they were the size of their parents. They still look a bit awkward as their adult feathers continue to fill in. Nevertheless, with their bright colors and funny habit of hopping around each other and skipping across the bricks they are beautiful gifts from God to our yard.
So, now I have these strange little grass balls in the seed dish. Tonight, instead of closing the blinds when it get dark outside, we will leave them open and wait. There isn't a light in the bedroom in that corner, so it will still be dark enough that the creature should not be frightened away, and I'm usually awake until two in the morning, writing. Odds are good that the mystery will be solved tonight.
I do have other clues. They only arrive at night. I remove them all during the morning, and check the seeds throughout the day because the water dish is beneath and I like to make sure that the birds have clean water when they need it. I don't see the little grass balls, though. So, obviously, whatever it is that is leaving the little grass balls in the seed tray, they only do it late at night.
At first, we only noticed one or two. My husband pointed them out to me when he was leaving for work. He scooped them out with a leaf and tossed them onto the sidewalk. Later that day, I checked the sidewalk--it appeared as if the birds had broken it apart and eaten the seeds the way some birds will pick at cow manure. Gradually, more little grass balls appeared. This morning, there were so many that I had to scoop them up with a box lid from the trash--they completely covered the tops of the seeds. They do not smell like feces, and the seeds underneath are not clumped together as if something had gone potty on them. It's just such...a mystery!
I close my blinds when it's dark because the birds go to bed and stop visiting the tray, so I'm not really sure what happens after dark in that corner of the house. It is a little secluded, even though it faces the street. This is intentional. I have two crape myrtles in pots beside the seed tray waiting to be planted in our new house. I placed them by the seed tray so the birds would have a place to land. I also have a Wisteria branch in a pot that is growing strong and vining around the seed table. The Wisteria was uprooted at our old house during straight line winds that came through in the spring. In front of the tray I have potted plants. I set it up this way to protect the birds from the many stray cats in the neighborhood--who of course come for the dish of food I keep on the opposite side of the house, in case they cannot find food of their own.
This seclusion became particularly important this spring when a father and mother cardinal arrived, then slowly, one by one, they started bringing their babies down to the seed dish to feed them and teach them how to eat seeds. It was a wonderful adventure. Yesterday, I saw the mother, father, three girls and boy baby birds all on the back patio at once. The babies are no longer babies. Even in the spring they were the size of their parents. They still look a bit awkward as their adult feathers continue to fill in. Nevertheless, with their bright colors and funny habit of hopping around each other and skipping across the bricks they are beautiful gifts from God to our yard.
So, now I have these strange little grass balls in the seed dish. Tonight, instead of closing the blinds when it get dark outside, we will leave them open and wait. There isn't a light in the bedroom in that corner, so it will still be dark enough that the creature should not be frightened away, and I'm usually awake until two in the morning, writing. Odds are good that the mystery will be solved tonight.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Lady Chatterley
When we first moved into this house there was a mother squirrel with four babies living in the dead, hollow tree in the backyard. It was difficult to determine the mother from her four babies as she is very small, but sometimes a strong wind would come up and she would stretch her paw across the back of one of the baby squirrels to help keep them on the branch. This, I knew, must be the mother.
It is instinctive, like when a mother is driving alone in a car and is forced to stop fast, but finds herself flinging her arm across the passenger seat to keep a child from jerking forward, a child who is not in the car! I recognized this movement in the squirrel. Her child was firmly perched on that branch, but she braced the baby with her paw, just in case...
The contractor building the house next door explained that he used to own this house and the tree was dead then, but mother squirrels have used the tree for as long as anyone can remember to raise their young, so no one cuts the tree down.
Gradually, over the summer, the four baby squirrels disappeared. I assumed they moved on to find homes of their own. In fact, I'm fairly certain one has moved into the neighbor's backyard tree!
When I returned from Colorado, I noticed a small squirrel lying beneath a tree on its belly. It was a feisty little thing, chattering loudly at the dogs and I whenever we walked outside. Before I left, I noticed we were down to one again and assumed it was a rogue male. The squirrel would scamper into the tree when I came outside and sit level with my eyes where the branches divided, watching me calmly, waiting for me to take the dogs back inside.
I usually knock loudly on the window, then the door, then open the door a crack and shout "dog" to give the squirrel a chance to climb the tree, but one afternoon, as I walked in and out the back door, Chewy the Chihuahua (A.K.A. the Chewchewcabra) snuck out the door and chased the squirrel into the tree. The squirrel was so angry he did not stop chattering for a long time. I was convinced it was a male then because it was so feisty!
I was wrong. A few days ago, when I rapped on the window, the squirrel stood up on its hind legs and looked around for the dogs. As soon as the squirrel raised its body I realized it is not only a female, but it is pregnant. It is the mother squirrel, still so tiny it is difficult to tell that she is fully grown. I am amazed that she somehow managed to carry and raise four babies on her own!
Now, it is late summer and the temperatures in the Texas Hill Country often reach 110 degrees. Momma squirrel is hot and tired and often chatters loudly when Chewy runs outside (she doesn't seem to mind my husband and I, or our two chocolate labs). When we go back indoors, she scratches a curved space into the dirt and lies down beneath the tree with her belly in the cool space of the hole she just created.
We are on water restrictions because of the drought. There is no lawn on this rental property, so we use out water allotment to water the trees and leave water in small dishes for the birds who flock to our house in large numbers. I fill a clay plant pot tray with water and they use this to bathe and clean their feathers.
Momma squirrel now digs her belly hole in the space where we water as the dirt is damp and cool. I think of all the little creatures in our yard, she probably appreciates the water more than most. She still chatters loudly when Chewy comes outside. We have named her Lady Chatterley.
It is instinctive, like when a mother is driving alone in a car and is forced to stop fast, but finds herself flinging her arm across the passenger seat to keep a child from jerking forward, a child who is not in the car! I recognized this movement in the squirrel. Her child was firmly perched on that branch, but she braced the baby with her paw, just in case...
The contractor building the house next door explained that he used to own this house and the tree was dead then, but mother squirrels have used the tree for as long as anyone can remember to raise their young, so no one cuts the tree down.
Gradually, over the summer, the four baby squirrels disappeared. I assumed they moved on to find homes of their own. In fact, I'm fairly certain one has moved into the neighbor's backyard tree!
When I returned from Colorado, I noticed a small squirrel lying beneath a tree on its belly. It was a feisty little thing, chattering loudly at the dogs and I whenever we walked outside. Before I left, I noticed we were down to one again and assumed it was a rogue male. The squirrel would scamper into the tree when I came outside and sit level with my eyes where the branches divided, watching me calmly, waiting for me to take the dogs back inside.
I usually knock loudly on the window, then the door, then open the door a crack and shout "dog" to give the squirrel a chance to climb the tree, but one afternoon, as I walked in and out the back door, Chewy the Chihuahua (A.K.A. the Chewchewcabra) snuck out the door and chased the squirrel into the tree. The squirrel was so angry he did not stop chattering for a long time. I was convinced it was a male then because it was so feisty!
I was wrong. A few days ago, when I rapped on the window, the squirrel stood up on its hind legs and looked around for the dogs. As soon as the squirrel raised its body I realized it is not only a female, but it is pregnant. It is the mother squirrel, still so tiny it is difficult to tell that she is fully grown. I am amazed that she somehow managed to carry and raise four babies on her own!
Now, it is late summer and the temperatures in the Texas Hill Country often reach 110 degrees. Momma squirrel is hot and tired and often chatters loudly when Chewy runs outside (she doesn't seem to mind my husband and I, or our two chocolate labs). When we go back indoors, she scratches a curved space into the dirt and lies down beneath the tree with her belly in the cool space of the hole she just created.
We are on water restrictions because of the drought. There is no lawn on this rental property, so we use out water allotment to water the trees and leave water in small dishes for the birds who flock to our house in large numbers. I fill a clay plant pot tray with water and they use this to bathe and clean their feathers.
Momma squirrel now digs her belly hole in the space where we water as the dirt is damp and cool. I think of all the little creatures in our yard, she probably appreciates the water more than most. She still chatters loudly when Chewy comes outside. We have named her Lady Chatterley.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Back in Texas...
I am home from Colorado and already miss the Sparrow Hawks, Red Tail Hawks, and the little yellow American Goldfinches that would swoop low over the swimming pool as the children splashed and played.
It was a stormy three-day drive with thunderstorms in Colorado, New Mexico, and the Texas panhandle, but the hawks and crows were in their place, watching and guiding me. The crows that watch the highways in New Mexico are so big I sometimes mistake them for hawks as I drive past.
When I finally arrived home, the first thing I did was fill the water dishes for the wild birds in the back yard and fill the seed dishes and trays. When I came inside, I noticed the birds in the tray outside the window. The little Titmouses, the Northern Cardinals, and the Scrub Jays.
The Cardinal family is still here. The father and mother and their four babies. The babies are going through those awkward teenage changes, but instead of fighting acne, they're colorful feather are filling in. The male teenage cardinals look rather funny when they go through this stage. The three females look awkward, too, though the changes in thetir color is not quite as obvious as their brother.
And true to their nature, my two Colorado chocolate labs are now perched in front of the air conditioner, wiping their brows and complaining about the heat while my Texas chihuahua is lying in the heat from the sunlight piercing the bedroom window glass.
It was a stormy three-day drive with thunderstorms in Colorado, New Mexico, and the Texas panhandle, but the hawks and crows were in their place, watching and guiding me. The crows that watch the highways in New Mexico are so big I sometimes mistake them for hawks as I drive past.
When I finally arrived home, the first thing I did was fill the water dishes for the wild birds in the back yard and fill the seed dishes and trays. When I came inside, I noticed the birds in the tray outside the window. The little Titmouses, the Northern Cardinals, and the Scrub Jays.
The Cardinal family is still here. The father and mother and their four babies. The babies are going through those awkward teenage changes, but instead of fighting acne, they're colorful feather are filling in. The male teenage cardinals look rather funny when they go through this stage. The three females look awkward, too, though the changes in thetir color is not quite as obvious as their brother.
And true to their nature, my two Colorado chocolate labs are now perched in front of the air conditioner, wiping their brows and complaining about the heat while my Texas chihuahua is lying in the heat from the sunlight piercing the bedroom window glass.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Bug Life at the Park
I was at the park with my grandchildren when we suddenly noticed an abundance of flying bugs, possibly a type of wasp. After closely examining the photos, I believe they may have been Ichneumon Wasps, though I cannot see any white on their antennae.
The wasps were not bothering us at all. They hovered over the sand, digging holes, crawling inside, crawling back out, then covering the holes. After we watched them for a bit, we decided they were either looking for food in the sand, or laying eggs. We could actually see them moving tiny pebbles, pebbles that looked like boulders compared to the size of the wasp!
I suspect this is a type of Digger Wasp, or Miner Wasp. The reason for the digging is rather unpleasant, in a way. They paralyze their prey, stuff the prey inside the holes, then lay their eggs in the holes and their larvae eats the paralyzed prey.
I have read a few interesting stories regarding the behavior of these wasps. Apparently, they are capable of memorizing every last detail surrounding their nest. They fly off, then quickly return to check on the nest. The book Wasps and Their Ways by Margaret Morley explains how one can place a leaf across the entrance to the nest, and the wasp will frantically fly about, confused by the altered appearance, though certain she is in the right place. When the leaf is removed, she will calmly check on the nest, then search for prey.
Another article describing Digger Wasps explains the theories of philosopher Daniel Dennett who compares the behavior of Digger Wasps to the concept of Free Will. According to this article, the digger wasp brings its prey to the nest, leaves the prey outside while it inspects the nest, then comes back out to retrieve the prey and stuff it inside the nest. If the prey is moved, the wasp will locate the prey and move it back in the nest, but repeat its behavior of inspecting the nest first before depositing the prey inside, even though it has already inspected the nest.
We did not observe the wasps depositing prey in the nests. We observed the wasps digging holes in the sand, climbing into the sand, returning head first and flying out of the holes, and sometimes covering the holes back up. They could be a different type of wasp altogether who is simply depositing eggs in the sandbox. There were many of them, though. So many that we stopped playing and returned home.
A week later, we returned to the park. There was a few wasps, but not nearly as many as the first trip, so we decided to play. Suddenly, we noticed a type of creature that appeared to be a type of centipede crawling through the sand, many of them, very small, and dark brownish-red. We could not identify these bugs, either, so we decided to leave in case they were biters.
As we left, we noticed that a pair of swallows has a nest in the bar that holds up the swing set. The birds were flying in and out with...bugs. Apparently, nature has taken over the playground.
The wasps were not bothering us at all. They hovered over the sand, digging holes, crawling inside, crawling back out, then covering the holes. After we watched them for a bit, we decided they were either looking for food in the sand, or laying eggs. We could actually see them moving tiny pebbles, pebbles that looked like boulders compared to the size of the wasp!
I suspect this is a type of Digger Wasp, or Miner Wasp. The reason for the digging is rather unpleasant, in a way. They paralyze their prey, stuff the prey inside the holes, then lay their eggs in the holes and their larvae eats the paralyzed prey.
I have read a few interesting stories regarding the behavior of these wasps. Apparently, they are capable of memorizing every last detail surrounding their nest. They fly off, then quickly return to check on the nest. The book Wasps and Their Ways by Margaret Morley explains how one can place a leaf across the entrance to the nest, and the wasp will frantically fly about, confused by the altered appearance, though certain she is in the right place. When the leaf is removed, she will calmly check on the nest, then search for prey.
Another article describing Digger Wasps explains the theories of philosopher Daniel Dennett who compares the behavior of Digger Wasps to the concept of Free Will. According to this article, the digger wasp brings its prey to the nest, leaves the prey outside while it inspects the nest, then comes back out to retrieve the prey and stuff it inside the nest. If the prey is moved, the wasp will locate the prey and move it back in the nest, but repeat its behavior of inspecting the nest first before depositing the prey inside, even though it has already inspected the nest.
We did not observe the wasps depositing prey in the nests. We observed the wasps digging holes in the sand, climbing into the sand, returning head first and flying out of the holes, and sometimes covering the holes back up. They could be a different type of wasp altogether who is simply depositing eggs in the sandbox. There were many of them, though. So many that we stopped playing and returned home.
A week later, we returned to the park. There was a few wasps, but not nearly as many as the first trip, so we decided to play. Suddenly, we noticed a type of creature that appeared to be a type of centipede crawling through the sand, many of them, very small, and dark brownish-red. We could not identify these bugs, either, so we decided to leave in case they were biters.
As we left, we noticed that a pair of swallows has a nest in the bar that holds up the swing set. The birds were flying in and out with...bugs. Apparently, nature has taken over the playground.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A lizard in suburban Colorado?
The last thing I expected to see crossing the sidewalk as we walked to the park was a lizard.
They are quite common in Texas. In fact, I see three or four a day. And I'm sure they are also common in Colorado, but to be honest, the only place I've ever seen them in Colorado is down south, near Mesa Verde.
At first, my grandchildren and I stood and stared. None of us expected to see a lizard this far north where the snow is sometimes six feet deep in winter, and in fact, winter dragged on this year until May! But there it was, a tiny lizard, sunbathing on the sidewalk. We crept slowly forward, and when I realized it was, indeed, a little lizard, I slowly moved to its side, talking to it, photographing its lovely head and tail. The grandchildren followed my example, creeping closer and closer, using soft, soothing voices.
Lizards enjoy this type of conversation with soft voices and baby talk. They often turn their heads and look at you sideways--as this one died--as if they are trying to understand the conversation. After awhile, though, he seemed to get a bit nervous, realizing he was surrounded by giants, and scampered beneath a nearby fence.
After downloading the pictures and searching diligently on the Colorado State University website, I have determined it was a female Prairie Lizard. They prefer sunny, rocky habitats and cliffs, downed logs, and forested areas, though they prefer ground areas. The females lay their eggs in June, July and August, so it's possible it had eggs nearby.
My daughter's house is in the foothills, so close that we can walk into the lower hills at the base of the mountains. I suppose it isn't that rare to find this type of lizard in this area, I was just surprised to see it!
They are quite common in Texas. In fact, I see three or four a day. And I'm sure they are also common in Colorado, but to be honest, the only place I've ever seen them in Colorado is down south, near Mesa Verde.
At first, my grandchildren and I stood and stared. None of us expected to see a lizard this far north where the snow is sometimes six feet deep in winter, and in fact, winter dragged on this year until May! But there it was, a tiny lizard, sunbathing on the sidewalk. We crept slowly forward, and when I realized it was, indeed, a little lizard, I slowly moved to its side, talking to it, photographing its lovely head and tail. The grandchildren followed my example, creeping closer and closer, using soft, soothing voices.
Lizards enjoy this type of conversation with soft voices and baby talk. They often turn their heads and look at you sideways--as this one died--as if they are trying to understand the conversation. After awhile, though, he seemed to get a bit nervous, realizing he was surrounded by giants, and scampered beneath a nearby fence.
After downloading the pictures and searching diligently on the Colorado State University website, I have determined it was a female Prairie Lizard. They prefer sunny, rocky habitats and cliffs, downed logs, and forested areas, though they prefer ground areas. The females lay their eggs in June, July and August, so it's possible it had eggs nearby.
My daughter's house is in the foothills, so close that we can walk into the lower hills at the base of the mountains. I suppose it isn't that rare to find this type of lizard in this area, I was just surprised to see it!
Parenting in the Bird World
The grandchildren and I went for a walk a few days ago and noticed a few baby sparrows perched on a neighbor's house. One of their parents flew up with some food, so of course, we rushed back to the house to get my camera. When we returned, they were gone.
While we were at the park, we noticed a house sparrow flying in and out of the thick metal tube that the swings connect to, and this truly surprised me. I imagine it is rather hot inside the tube right now!
Disappointed, we went back to the house, fetched the wagon, and went to the park. On the way back, we once again saw the baby sparrows. This time, they were perched on the street sign in front of my daughter's house. Four little babies chattering madly as their parents flew back and forth with bugs to soothe their insatiable appetites--baby birds eat about every twenty minutes.
And I thought it was challenging feeding my babies! My goodness, by the time those poor birds choose the juiciest bug, wash off the dirt (or boil it if its the first child and the parents are still in that over-protective mode), fly back to the babies, choose the child that will eat this round, stuff the bug in the beak of the baby who, by this time, is chattering loudly and flapping all over the nest, pick up the toys they've scattered around the nest, toss a load of dirty feathers into the washing machine..no wonder it takes both parents to shop for the family groceries! Seriously, though, it must be exhausting to be a bird parent!
I am also surprised by the large number of birds in Colorado right now. They seem to be everywhere! Colorado, however, is generally a very dry state, and while Texas is plagued with drought at the moment, Colorado has so much rain that mountain towns, such as Estes Park, have daily flooding in the parking lots and public parks, and the park down the street from my daughter's home has sand bags piled up in various places around the park to prevent the water from overflowing onto the park's access roads. Water brings plants, which bring bugs, which bring...birds!
I suspect we are seeing the baby birds in Colorado right now because they also had a very long, cold winter. When I left Texas the first week in June, we had skipped right past spring and were already experiencing 105 degree summer days.
Before I left Texas, I took many pictures of a mated pair of cardinals that stopped by our bedroom window tray of seeds every morning. For a short time, the father appeared alone and we assumed the mother was at the nest with the babies. Then one day, we noticed juvenile cardinals sitting in the tray--three females and a male. It is easy to spot a juvenile cardinal--they look awkward, are missing feathers, and almost appear as if they've been in a fight! At first, we could not tell their sex, but it gradually became more obvious as their feathers filled in.
And these were the magic moments. Every morning. we watched in awe as the mother and father cardinal took turns feeding the babies. After awhile, it became obvious that the parents were trying to teach the babies how to crack open seeds. The father actually appeared to be demonstrating this act. Then we realized the baby birds had learned the technique, though they continued to flap and chatter noisily, begging for food when their parents appeared.
What amazed me the most, though, was the undeniable fact that the parent birds were showing emotions. We could actually see this through the window--the love, tenderness, and compassion they felt for their children. It was a family truly blessed by God.
While we were at the park, we noticed a house sparrow flying in and out of the thick metal tube that the swings connect to, and this truly surprised me. I imagine it is rather hot inside the tube right now!
Disappointed, we went back to the house, fetched the wagon, and went to the park. On the way back, we once again saw the baby sparrows. This time, they were perched on the street sign in front of my daughter's house. Four little babies chattering madly as their parents flew back and forth with bugs to soothe their insatiable appetites--baby birds eat about every twenty minutes.
And I thought it was challenging feeding my babies! My goodness, by the time those poor birds choose the juiciest bug, wash off the dirt (or boil it if its the first child and the parents are still in that over-protective mode), fly back to the babies, choose the child that will eat this round, stuff the bug in the beak of the baby who, by this time, is chattering loudly and flapping all over the nest, pick up the toys they've scattered around the nest, toss a load of dirty feathers into the washing machine..no wonder it takes both parents to shop for the family groceries! Seriously, though, it must be exhausting to be a bird parent!
I am also surprised by the large number of birds in Colorado right now. They seem to be everywhere! Colorado, however, is generally a very dry state, and while Texas is plagued with drought at the moment, Colorado has so much rain that mountain towns, such as Estes Park, have daily flooding in the parking lots and public parks, and the park down the street from my daughter's home has sand bags piled up in various places around the park to prevent the water from overflowing onto the park's access roads. Water brings plants, which bring bugs, which bring...birds!
I suspect we are seeing the baby birds in Colorado right now because they also had a very long, cold winter. When I left Texas the first week in June, we had skipped right past spring and were already experiencing 105 degree summer days.
Before I left Texas, I took many pictures of a mated pair of cardinals that stopped by our bedroom window tray of seeds every morning. For a short time, the father appeared alone and we assumed the mother was at the nest with the babies. Then one day, we noticed juvenile cardinals sitting in the tray--three females and a male. It is easy to spot a juvenile cardinal--they look awkward, are missing feathers, and almost appear as if they've been in a fight! At first, we could not tell their sex, but it gradually became more obvious as their feathers filled in.
And these were the magic moments. Every morning. we watched in awe as the mother and father cardinal took turns feeding the babies. After awhile, it became obvious that the parents were trying to teach the babies how to crack open seeds. The father actually appeared to be demonstrating this act. Then we realized the baby birds had learned the technique, though they continued to flap and chatter noisily, begging for food when their parents appeared.
What amazed me the most, though, was the undeniable fact that the parent birds were showing emotions. We could actually see this through the window--the love, tenderness, and compassion they felt for their children. It was a family truly blessed by God.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Where do the birds go in a hailstorm?
Late in the evening of July 13, 2011, I was helping my grandchildren get ready for bed when I heard thunder in the distance. I tucked them beneath the covers, then jumped into the shower to prepare for bed myself before the storm hit. Just as I turned off the water, I heard thunder so loud it made the walls tremble. I quickly slipped into my pajamas and ran into the hallway to meet both of my grandchildren.
Suddenly, it sounded as if hundreds of guns were firing at the house. My son-in-law shouted at us to get into the tornado closet, which was behind us, just beneath the stairs in the basement. I could hear him calling my daughter on the phone, knowing she was on her way home from work and trapped in the storm. I peeked out the door of the closet and watched in awe as golf ball-sized hail averaging 1 3/4 inches, smacked into the window, porch and yard, some flying back up off the ground.
As the storm started to ease, my daughter pulled up in front of the house--she had stopped beneath a tree, hoping to protect her windshield. Another friend was caught in the storm with her children. She stopped the car, climbed into the backseat and covered her children with her arms to protect them in case the windshield broke.
The family cat, who darted outside through an open door earlier in the evening suddenly appeared, shivering with fear. We checked him over for injuries, but he apparently found shelter because he is fine.
I then walked out onto the lawn, staring up and down the street, looking for injured animals. Thankfully, there were none that I could see.
There was hail of all sizes on lawns, in door jambs, driveways, and on cars and trucks. All four vehicles at this house received hail damage. The hail was in all sizes, too, from tiny, dime-sized pieces to golf ball sized chunks. Some were smooth, round, perfect balls. Others appeared to be clumps of tinier balls joined together.
I am still in Colorado. Although only a small portion of the state is considered part of "Tornado Alley," Colorado also has frequent tornadoes, particularly in the foothills. In 2008, I spent three hours in the basement closet with my granddaughter as the television repeatedly warned of possible tornadoes in our area and a mile-wide tornado plowed across the fields and the Town of Windsor on the other side of the highway from where my daughter lives.
Colorado is also known for fierce hail storms and tremendous hail damage. According to the NOAA's National Severe Storms Laboratory, Colorado, Nebraska and Wyoming generally have more hail storms than anywhere else in the United States.
As an avid bird watcher who keeps God's little creatures close to her heart, I am always concerned about the small animals caught in these storms. In May of 2010, residents of Norman, Oklahoma experienced a severe hail storm and in its aftermath discovered a large flock of birds was injured. Many of the birds died, but sixteen were rescued by local residents.
Hail can be extremely dangerous, particularly for small creatures, like birds, who cannot take shelter. I believe it is important to check outside, in the yard, perhaps even in the neighborhood, after storms like this to see if there are birds or other creatures injured by hail. God's little creatures need all the help they can get.
Suddenly, it sounded as if hundreds of guns were firing at the house. My son-in-law shouted at us to get into the tornado closet, which was behind us, just beneath the stairs in the basement. I could hear him calling my daughter on the phone, knowing she was on her way home from work and trapped in the storm. I peeked out the door of the closet and watched in awe as golf ball-sized hail averaging 1 3/4 inches, smacked into the window, porch and yard, some flying back up off the ground.
As the storm started to ease, my daughter pulled up in front of the house--she had stopped beneath a tree, hoping to protect her windshield. Another friend was caught in the storm with her children. She stopped the car, climbed into the backseat and covered her children with her arms to protect them in case the windshield broke.
The family cat, who darted outside through an open door earlier in the evening suddenly appeared, shivering with fear. We checked him over for injuries, but he apparently found shelter because he is fine.
I then walked out onto the lawn, staring up and down the street, looking for injured animals. Thankfully, there were none that I could see.
There was hail of all sizes on lawns, in door jambs, driveways, and on cars and trucks. All four vehicles at this house received hail damage. The hail was in all sizes, too, from tiny, dime-sized pieces to golf ball sized chunks. Some were smooth, round, perfect balls. Others appeared to be clumps of tinier balls joined together.
I am still in Colorado. Although only a small portion of the state is considered part of "Tornado Alley," Colorado also has frequent tornadoes, particularly in the foothills. In 2008, I spent three hours in the basement closet with my granddaughter as the television repeatedly warned of possible tornadoes in our area and a mile-wide tornado plowed across the fields and the Town of Windsor on the other side of the highway from where my daughter lives.
Colorado is also known for fierce hail storms and tremendous hail damage. According to the NOAA's National Severe Storms Laboratory, Colorado, Nebraska and Wyoming generally have more hail storms than anywhere else in the United States.
As an avid bird watcher who keeps God's little creatures close to her heart, I am always concerned about the small animals caught in these storms. In May of 2010, residents of Norman, Oklahoma experienced a severe hail storm and in its aftermath discovered a large flock of birds was injured. Many of the birds died, but sixteen were rescued by local residents.
Hail can be extremely dangerous, particularly for small creatures, like birds, who cannot take shelter. I believe it is important to check outside, in the yard, perhaps even in the neighborhood, after storms like this to see if there are birds or other creatures injured by hail. God's little creatures need all the help they can get.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Swallowtail Butterflies and American Goldfinches
I'm in Colorado again visiting family. There seems to be a large number of many little creatures in Loveland this year, which could be explained by the fact that they've had an unusually high amount of snowmelt and rainfall and some of the lower mountain towns have daily flooding in the streets.
I've spent a lot of time in my daughter's backyard and I've noticed her neighbor's tree seems to be the center of attraction for many little creatures in the neighborhood. I see many swallowtail butterflies in the neighborhood and they all seem attracted to this tree.
I watched one for about twenty minutes this afternoon. I don't know if it was playing, or searching for something, but it would fly around the perimeter of the neighbor's house, then into the tree, fluttering through the leaves and branches, then start around the house again. I kept waiting for it to land so I could take a picture, but it didn't seem interested in settling down. There are over 550 species of these large, colorful butterflies, but the ones I've seen in my neighbor's yard are all yellow with black stripes. Back in Texas, I've seen many varieties.
I don't know what type of tree the neighbor has in her front yard, but it seems to be a happy place for little creatures. It also attracts a wide variety of birds. I photographed a stunning brown bird, which I have not been able to identify. I also photographed an American Goldfinch, which was watching my granddaughter as she walked beneath the tree. My granddaughter could not see the bird, but you can tell by the photograph, the bird obviously could see her! It was a magical moment watching the bird follow my granddaughter as she strolled around the grass, staring up through the leaves. I think the bird was actually enjoying the fact that she was secretly spying on the little girl!
I've spent a lot of time in my daughter's backyard and I've noticed her neighbor's tree seems to be the center of attraction for many little creatures in the neighborhood. I see many swallowtail butterflies in the neighborhood and they all seem attracted to this tree.
I watched one for about twenty minutes this afternoon. I don't know if it was playing, or searching for something, but it would fly around the perimeter of the neighbor's house, then into the tree, fluttering through the leaves and branches, then start around the house again. I kept waiting for it to land so I could take a picture, but it didn't seem interested in settling down. There are over 550 species of these large, colorful butterflies, but the ones I've seen in my neighbor's yard are all yellow with black stripes. Back in Texas, I've seen many varieties.
I don't know what type of tree the neighbor has in her front yard, but it seems to be a happy place for little creatures. It also attracts a wide variety of birds. I photographed a stunning brown bird, which I have not been able to identify. I also photographed an American Goldfinch, which was watching my granddaughter as she walked beneath the tree. My granddaughter could not see the bird, but you can tell by the photograph, the bird obviously could see her! It was a magical moment watching the bird follow my granddaughter as she strolled around the grass, staring up through the leaves. I think the bird was actually enjoying the fact that she was secretly spying on the little girl!
Friday, June 17, 2011
Help Save the Sumatran Tiger
It seems to me that one of the primary reasons we are seeing so many species on the endangered species list is due to habitat destruction. The problem is so wide-spread it seems insurmountable, but there are small ways to help. The World Wildlife Fund has a petition you can sign online to encourage the Indonesian government to stop habitat destruction and help save the Sumatran tigers. If you are interested in helping these magnificent creatures, the petitions is here:
All Activists: Sign on to Save Sumatra's Tigers | World Wildlife Fund
All Activists: Sign on to Save Sumatra's Tigers | World Wildlife Fund
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Love Those Grackles!
I love grackles. I love the sound they make as they scamper about the parking lot--that wild, squawking, tropical bird sound. I love watching them prance like royalty, lifting their feet high into the air. I love the way they follow me around my yard, waiting for me to sprinkle seed into the seed dishes, and I love watching them splash in the bird bath, then shake their feathers dry.
The Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula) is in the blackbird family, though they are a bit longer in the body, and much more colorful and flamboyant. Common Grackles have bluish-purple on their upper body and head and their wings shimmer with shades of bronze and green. They have golden eyes. They have long legs, long tails, and longer bills than blackbirds.
Grackles like to hang out in large flocks, which can be rather pretty when you see a flock of fancy-tail grackles and the males are fanning their tails. They are often seen in fields, parking lots, and around fast food restaurants--they seem to enjoy cold french fries. They sound like a cross between a blackbird and a crow. Actually, they sound like a grackle. I can always tell when I'm listening to a grackle.
Yesterday, I sat in my dining room watching a Common Grackle high-stepping in the bird bath. I thought it was bathing, but it didn't do the usual dip, splash and shake. In fact, it stuck its head straight down in the water, then it came back up with a tiny grasshopper in its mouth and proudly pranced about the back porch before gulping it down.
Unfortunately, after completing both the Christmas Bird Count and the Great Backyard Bird Count, the National Audubon Society announced that the Common Grackle is number 14 on a list of twenty common birds in decline. I do hope their numbers rise back up. I cannot imagine walking through a parking lot without hearing their cheerful call!
The Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula) is in the blackbird family, though they are a bit longer in the body, and much more colorful and flamboyant. Common Grackles have bluish-purple on their upper body and head and their wings shimmer with shades of bronze and green. They have golden eyes. They have long legs, long tails, and longer bills than blackbirds.
Grackles like to hang out in large flocks, which can be rather pretty when you see a flock of fancy-tail grackles and the males are fanning their tails. They are often seen in fields, parking lots, and around fast food restaurants--they seem to enjoy cold french fries. They sound like a cross between a blackbird and a crow. Actually, they sound like a grackle. I can always tell when I'm listening to a grackle.
Yesterday, I sat in my dining room watching a Common Grackle high-stepping in the bird bath. I thought it was bathing, but it didn't do the usual dip, splash and shake. In fact, it stuck its head straight down in the water, then it came back up with a tiny grasshopper in its mouth and proudly pranced about the back porch before gulping it down.
Unfortunately, after completing both the Christmas Bird Count and the Great Backyard Bird Count, the National Audubon Society announced that the Common Grackle is number 14 on a list of twenty common birds in decline. I do hope their numbers rise back up. I cannot imagine walking through a parking lot without hearing their cheerful call!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Chic Chic Cicadas...
The sound fills the air on hot summer nights, like a deep breath, and relaxed sigh. Chic, chic, chic--it grows louder, then stops, louder, then stops. It's the sound of the cicada, a sound I know well as I've listened to it every summer since I was a child.
Cicadas are fascinating creatures, and I feel a little guilty about the way I have spoken of them in the past. I have frequently photographed cicadas in their exoskeleton stage (see photos) and entered them in my personal Facebook "Ugly Bug Contest." Well, the exoskeleton of the Cicada may be a bit creepy, I suppose, but they are all creations of God, and deserve my respect.
In 1933, Stanley Bromley wrote that East Central Texas, where we live, is "a veritable cicada paradise. I have never visited a region where so many species are as abundant." And if you walk around outside in the dark--which is not advisable, considering the millions of other strange creatures that abound in East Central Texas--you will hear this abundance of cicadas, like a choir of bugs filling the air with their, um, sweet, angelic bug calls! (I know, I know, but I said I was going to try to speak nicely about them now!)
Actually, Bromley describes the singing of cicadas more accurately when he says, "they may be silent for long intervals, when suddenly the whole population will burst into song simultaneously, resulting in an ear-splitting din which subsides as suddenly as it arose."
Cicadas are rather large insects that look like flies with very long wings. They lay their eggs in cracks in tree or tree roots. Nymphs crawl underground and feed on roots, but do no perceptible damage to plants. They can stay underground for years as their hard shells develop, then eventually, they crack out of their shells and the winged creatures emerge in a similar fashion to dragonflies. It is common for millions of cicadas to hatch at once, in cycles, like locust. There are 2500 different types of cicadas around the world--the world can be a very noisy place at times!
The male cicadas are the loud noisemakers. They have what are called "tymbals" at the base of the abdomen, like ribs, which they contract. The sound is created as the tymbals move inward, and when they relax, and the tymbals go back to their original position, a second sound is created. The body of the male is fairly hollow, which make the sound resonant. To me, it sounds as if the earth itself is breathing when cicadas sing.
I have seen the fully-grown cicadas flit about the yard, but I've only been able to photograph their exoskeletons, so photographing a winged cicada is now my personal goal...but I will display my photos of the exoskeletons to the right, and I cannot promise to exclude them from my ugly bug contests!
Cicadas are fascinating creatures, and I feel a little guilty about the way I have spoken of them in the past. I have frequently photographed cicadas in their exoskeleton stage (see photos) and entered them in my personal Facebook "Ugly Bug Contest." Well, the exoskeleton of the Cicada may be a bit creepy, I suppose, but they are all creations of God, and deserve my respect.
In 1933, Stanley Bromley wrote that East Central Texas, where we live, is "a veritable cicada paradise. I have never visited a region where so many species are as abundant." And if you walk around outside in the dark--which is not advisable, considering the millions of other strange creatures that abound in East Central Texas--you will hear this abundance of cicadas, like a choir of bugs filling the air with their, um, sweet, angelic bug calls! (I know, I know, but I said I was going to try to speak nicely about them now!)
Actually, Bromley describes the singing of cicadas more accurately when he says, "they may be silent for long intervals, when suddenly the whole population will burst into song simultaneously, resulting in an ear-splitting din which subsides as suddenly as it arose."
Cicadas are rather large insects that look like flies with very long wings. They lay their eggs in cracks in tree or tree roots. Nymphs crawl underground and feed on roots, but do no perceptible damage to plants. They can stay underground for years as their hard shells develop, then eventually, they crack out of their shells and the winged creatures emerge in a similar fashion to dragonflies. It is common for millions of cicadas to hatch at once, in cycles, like locust. There are 2500 different types of cicadas around the world--the world can be a very noisy place at times!
The male cicadas are the loud noisemakers. They have what are called "tymbals" at the base of the abdomen, like ribs, which they contract. The sound is created as the tymbals move inward, and when they relax, and the tymbals go back to their original position, a second sound is created. The body of the male is fairly hollow, which make the sound resonant. To me, it sounds as if the earth itself is breathing when cicadas sing.
I have seen the fully-grown cicadas flit about the yard, but I've only been able to photograph their exoskeletons, so photographing a winged cicada is now my personal goal...but I will display my photos of the exoskeletons to the right, and I cannot promise to exclude them from my ugly bug contests!
Love and Chihuahuas
“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” --Mother Teresa
Chihuahuas are an interesting breed. They can never seem to get enough affection. I write for ten to twelve hours a day, and the entire time I am working, Chewy is sitting on my lap, nudging my hand with his nose, begging for love. There seems to be no end to the love and affection Chewy can give, or for what I feel for him, and the other little creatures God has brought into my life.
The chihuahua is the smallest breed of dog, named after the State of Chihuahua in Mexico. Its history is a mystery. It has been traced to the Techichi, companion dogs to the Toltec, according to the American Kennel Club. It is also believed that the appearance of Chihuahuas in Europe began in the time of Christopher Columbus.
Chewy, our chihuahua, first made his appearance last year, creeping out of the forest during a thunderstorm and walking up to my stepson, shivering in the rain. We were convinced that he was lost as chihuahuas are very popular in this area, but we tried for over a month to find his owner and finally concluded he was abandoned. Abandonment to dogs is an unforgivable act of cruelty as dogs want nothing more than to love and please their owners, as Chewy demonstrates from the time he wakes up until he goes to sleep.
Chewy thinks of himself as a big dog, and I have read that most chihuahuas do believe, in their minds, that they are larger than their actual size. I like to tell people we have our two chocolate labs for companionship and the chihuahua for home protection. They supposedly attach themselves to one person--and that would be me, though Chewy does show affection to my husband and stepson, and eventually warms up to others. Because they are fiercely protective, they are known for being temperamental, but this is just their protective nature. Chewy's alternate names are Chewchewcabra and Chichihuahua.
Chihuahuas are long-haired and short-haired, but Chewy is short-haired. This does not, however, prevent them from shedding. (Insert sigh here.) Their fur can be any color normally found on dogs. Chewy is fawn, but we refer to him as the "yellow dog," since he compliments the chocolate labs so well with his coloring. Chihuahuas are also prone to eye injuries because of their protruding eyes, and to hypoglycemia, particularly when puppies, because of their size. They live to be around 17 years old, and sometimes older.
Chihuahuas like to burrow. Chewy loves to wait until we are sleeping, then he jumps onto the bed and burrows beneath the covers. I find him on my feet every morning. Sometimes, if I get up in the middle of the night, he will jump onto my spot, slide beneath my pillow and pretend to be asleep.
Our little Chewy has brought a tremendous amount of joy into our lives. Adjusting to a small dog has been a challenge to a family more familiar with large breeds, but the love and affection shown by chihuahuas is contagious. I believe God's creatures instinctively love until it hurts, then love some more, and as their pets, we learn to do the same.
Chihuahuas are an interesting breed. They can never seem to get enough affection. I write for ten to twelve hours a day, and the entire time I am working, Chewy is sitting on my lap, nudging my hand with his nose, begging for love. There seems to be no end to the love and affection Chewy can give, or for what I feel for him, and the other little creatures God has brought into my life.
The chihuahua is the smallest breed of dog, named after the State of Chihuahua in Mexico. Its history is a mystery. It has been traced to the Techichi, companion dogs to the Toltec, according to the American Kennel Club. It is also believed that the appearance of Chihuahuas in Europe began in the time of Christopher Columbus.
Chewy, our chihuahua, first made his appearance last year, creeping out of the forest during a thunderstorm and walking up to my stepson, shivering in the rain. We were convinced that he was lost as chihuahuas are very popular in this area, but we tried for over a month to find his owner and finally concluded he was abandoned. Abandonment to dogs is an unforgivable act of cruelty as dogs want nothing more than to love and please their owners, as Chewy demonstrates from the time he wakes up until he goes to sleep.
Chewy thinks of himself as a big dog, and I have read that most chihuahuas do believe, in their minds, that they are larger than their actual size. I like to tell people we have our two chocolate labs for companionship and the chihuahua for home protection. They supposedly attach themselves to one person--and that would be me, though Chewy does show affection to my husband and stepson, and eventually warms up to others. Because they are fiercely protective, they are known for being temperamental, but this is just their protective nature. Chewy's alternate names are Chewchewcabra and Chichihuahua.
Chihuahuas are long-haired and short-haired, but Chewy is short-haired. This does not, however, prevent them from shedding. (Insert sigh here.) Their fur can be any color normally found on dogs. Chewy is fawn, but we refer to him as the "yellow dog," since he compliments the chocolate labs so well with his coloring. Chihuahuas are also prone to eye injuries because of their protruding eyes, and to hypoglycemia, particularly when puppies, because of their size. They live to be around 17 years old, and sometimes older.
Chihuahuas like to burrow. Chewy loves to wait until we are sleeping, then he jumps onto the bed and burrows beneath the covers. I find him on my feet every morning. Sometimes, if I get up in the middle of the night, he will jump onto my spot, slide beneath my pillow and pretend to be asleep.
Our little Chewy has brought a tremendous amount of joy into our lives. Adjusting to a small dog has been a challenge to a family more familiar with large breeds, but the love and affection shown by chihuahuas is contagious. I believe God's creatures instinctively love until it hurts, then love some more, and as their pets, we learn to do the same.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Flamingo
My son and his family visited us this weekend and we spent our time at the local Marriott resort in Horseshoe Bay near Marble Falls, Texas. They have a stunning botanical garden with rivers, waterfalls, ponds and lakes, turtles and frogs, and one beautiful pink flamingo.
At first, when I saw the flamingo, I thought he was fake. He held very still, standing on one leg in the middle of his pond, his beak tucked into his chest. Then he slowly raised his head and changed position. I glanced down at my grandson, and when I raised my head again, the flamingo had turned its body around. I was wondering if it would put down its leg to turn around. I didn't see it happen, so I don't know! We walked around the gardens and I photographed some turtles and frogs, and when I returned, the flamingo was, once again facing us.
It looks like cotton candy. It has some red on its body, but these are under-feathers and more like highlighting on a work of art, accents to bring out the softness of the pink. Its feathers swirl around its body as if perfectly placed by a painter, or feather-stylist. I think it has a pink eye, too, from what I can tell in the photographs.
It made me sad, in a way, to see it standing alone as flamingos are gregarious wading birds. In other words, they love to socialize in large flocks, standing along the seashore, hanging out with their friends. I think this one is a Chilean Flamingo because it has gray legs and pink knees. If I am correct, and it is a Chilean Flamingo, its species is considered Near Threatened, most likely to human encroachment and habitat destruction, which are the two main reasons animal species are threatened, but flamingos are also threatened due to egg harvesting by humans.
No one really knows why flamingos stand on one leg, but in the pictures I have posted beside this blog, you can see the second leg tucked underneath. They eat shrimp and algae. They are usually about five feet tall, weigh six to seven pounds, and have a wingspan of 55 to 65 inches.
It is possible this flamingo is not alone. I plan to call the hotel tomorrow and try to find out more information about the animal and its care. It looked healthy and very content, but I am curious as to whether or not it has a mate. If it does have a mate, the mate could very well have been hiding in the gardens somewhere.
At first, when I saw the flamingo, I thought he was fake. He held very still, standing on one leg in the middle of his pond, his beak tucked into his chest. Then he slowly raised his head and changed position. I glanced down at my grandson, and when I raised my head again, the flamingo had turned its body around. I was wondering if it would put down its leg to turn around. I didn't see it happen, so I don't know! We walked around the gardens and I photographed some turtles and frogs, and when I returned, the flamingo was, once again facing us.
It looks like cotton candy. It has some red on its body, but these are under-feathers and more like highlighting on a work of art, accents to bring out the softness of the pink. Its feathers swirl around its body as if perfectly placed by a painter, or feather-stylist. I think it has a pink eye, too, from what I can tell in the photographs.
It made me sad, in a way, to see it standing alone as flamingos are gregarious wading birds. In other words, they love to socialize in large flocks, standing along the seashore, hanging out with their friends. I think this one is a Chilean Flamingo because it has gray legs and pink knees. If I am correct, and it is a Chilean Flamingo, its species is considered Near Threatened, most likely to human encroachment and habitat destruction, which are the two main reasons animal species are threatened, but flamingos are also threatened due to egg harvesting by humans.
No one really knows why flamingos stand on one leg, but in the pictures I have posted beside this blog, you can see the second leg tucked underneath. They eat shrimp and algae. They are usually about five feet tall, weigh six to seven pounds, and have a wingspan of 55 to 65 inches.
It is possible this flamingo is not alone. I plan to call the hotel tomorrow and try to find out more information about the animal and its care. It looked healthy and very content, but I am curious as to whether or not it has a mate. If it does have a mate, the mate could very well have been hiding in the gardens somewhere.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Buzzing Humble Bumble Bee
I will be returning to Colorado soon, in June, the best time of year for Colorado. Yes, it is also tornado season, but June is when the flowers bloom, the birds sing, the baby antelope prance and play on the prairies, and the parks are filled with laughing children.
It is also the best time of year to photograph one of my favorites subjects, the Bumble Bee. They photograph very well. I love those "grab" moments when a bee pulls it's head from the center of a flower and is covered with pollen, and I love listening to their buzz as they move from plant to plant, completely oblivious to the camera's lens.
In Shakespeare's time, in fact, right up to around World War I, Bumble Bees were called Humble Bees. Charles Darwin referred to Bumble Bees as Humble Bees in The Origin of the Species.
I much prefer the Humble Bee. They are not pretentious creatures, begging for attention, flapping and calling and showing off the way some geese might do. No, they simply move from flower to flower, sharing the love.
I haven't seen a single bee this year, that I recall. Though we seem to have a shortage of flowers around the house we are renting, we certainly do not have a shortage of wasps! The red wasps are everywhere, and in Texas, some of these wasps are as big as longhorn cattle!
And I miss the sound of the Humble Bumble Bee, though I know I will hear it again soon. A remarkable little bit of trivia that I just learned: The Humble Bee's humming sound does not come from the beating of its wings, but from the vibration of its flight muscles.
Another bit of trivia, contrary to popular myth, it is not a scientific mystery as to why the Humble Bee manages to fly in spite of its heavy body weight compared to the lightness of its wings. The wings of the Humble Bumble Bee function in a similar fashion to those of the hummingbird, like reverse-pitch, semirotary helicopter blades. Hummingbird wings are often compared to helicopter blades.
I can picture the moment when a bright, young scientist, perhaps an aviation engineer, a dreamer who believed in miracles, who understood the perfection of all God's creatures, sitting on his back porch, his coffee cup in one hand, a piece of toast in the other, glanced over at a flower, at the Humble Bumble Bee moving near his head, just close enough for the scientist to see the rotation of its wings, and the scientist said, "Hey, I wonder if..."
It is also the best time of year to photograph one of my favorites subjects, the Bumble Bee. They photograph very well. I love those "grab" moments when a bee pulls it's head from the center of a flower and is covered with pollen, and I love listening to their buzz as they move from plant to plant, completely oblivious to the camera's lens.
In Shakespeare's time, in fact, right up to around World War I, Bumble Bees were called Humble Bees. Charles Darwin referred to Bumble Bees as Humble Bees in The Origin of the Species.
I much prefer the Humble Bee. They are not pretentious creatures, begging for attention, flapping and calling and showing off the way some geese might do. No, they simply move from flower to flower, sharing the love.
I haven't seen a single bee this year, that I recall. Though we seem to have a shortage of flowers around the house we are renting, we certainly do not have a shortage of wasps! The red wasps are everywhere, and in Texas, some of these wasps are as big as longhorn cattle!
And I miss the sound of the Humble Bumble Bee, though I know I will hear it again soon. A remarkable little bit of trivia that I just learned: The Humble Bee's humming sound does not come from the beating of its wings, but from the vibration of its flight muscles.
Another bit of trivia, contrary to popular myth, it is not a scientific mystery as to why the Humble Bee manages to fly in spite of its heavy body weight compared to the lightness of its wings. The wings of the Humble Bumble Bee function in a similar fashion to those of the hummingbird, like reverse-pitch, semirotary helicopter blades. Hummingbird wings are often compared to helicopter blades.
I can picture the moment when a bright, young scientist, perhaps an aviation engineer, a dreamer who believed in miracles, who understood the perfection of all God's creatures, sitting on his back porch, his coffee cup in one hand, a piece of toast in the other, glanced over at a flower, at the Humble Bumble Bee moving near his head, just close enough for the scientist to see the rotation of its wings, and the scientist said, "Hey, I wonder if..."
Monday, May 30, 2011
Dogs, Cats, and Crawfish
My dog, Holly, has a bug bite on her tail. She was trying to nibble at it with her teeth, lost her balance and did a backward somersault into the closet, landing on a pile of dog pillows.
I was worried at first, but she walked out of the closet just fine... then turned around and looked back inside, staring at the pillows and sniffing around as if trying to figure out what had pulled her in there in the first place!
There was a big bin of live crawfish at the grocery store and they were all crawling around on top of each other so of course I started filling up a container to take them down to the creek and set them free and my husband made me put them back! What is up with that? It makes perfect sense to me. If I pay for them, I should be able to do what I want with them.
My chihuahua usually picks and teases and snips at my cat, Niblet. He's like a pesty younger brother, and Niblet, who is 60+ in cat years, takes it all in stride. A few days ago, my husband shaved the cat to get ready for our 105+ Texas summers. Now that Niblet is shaved, though, Chewy doesn't tease him. It's as if he thinks Niblet was Samson, and without his hair, he's lost his manhood. Now, Chewy walks up to the cat and rubs noses, as if to say, "I'm sorry, dude. You just look...goofy."
After spitting repeatedly on the ground to try and teach my chihuahua the meaning of the words "drop it," as he started into my eyes, then gulped down whatever piece of garbage was in his mouth, I finally figured out why my neighbors all think I'm a nut.
My bed is too tall, and my cat is too fat to jump onto the bed. The vet claims he's not fat, just big, but when he jumps and drops and jumps and drops...
Instead of reaching down and helping him, my husband would laugh at him. "The big, scary, Niblet, Boo Boo Kitty Black Fang is too old to jump on the bed," he would say, and the cat would sit and glare at him. (Yes, my cat has many names.)
Today, I bought Niblet Black Fang Boo Boo Kitty a step ladder. He has a right to his dignity.
I was worried at first, but she walked out of the closet just fine... then turned around and looked back inside, staring at the pillows and sniffing around as if trying to figure out what had pulled her in there in the first place!
There was a big bin of live crawfish at the grocery store and they were all crawling around on top of each other so of course I started filling up a container to take them down to the creek and set them free and my husband made me put them back! What is up with that? It makes perfect sense to me. If I pay for them, I should be able to do what I want with them.
My chihuahua usually picks and teases and snips at my cat, Niblet. He's like a pesty younger brother, and Niblet, who is 60+ in cat years, takes it all in stride. A few days ago, my husband shaved the cat to get ready for our 105+ Texas summers. Now that Niblet is shaved, though, Chewy doesn't tease him. It's as if he thinks Niblet was Samson, and without his hair, he's lost his manhood. Now, Chewy walks up to the cat and rubs noses, as if to say, "I'm sorry, dude. You just look...goofy."
After spitting repeatedly on the ground to try and teach my chihuahua the meaning of the words "drop it," as he started into my eyes, then gulped down whatever piece of garbage was in his mouth, I finally figured out why my neighbors all think I'm a nut.
My bed is too tall, and my cat is too fat to jump onto the bed. The vet claims he's not fat, just big, but when he jumps and drops and jumps and drops...
Instead of reaching down and helping him, my husband would laugh at him. "The big, scary, Niblet, Boo Boo Kitty Black Fang is too old to jump on the bed," he would say, and the cat would sit and glare at him. (Yes, my cat has many names.)
Today, I bought Niblet Black Fang Boo Boo Kitty a step ladder. He has a right to his dignity.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I Love Bird Legs!
I love bird legs. They are so cute. Tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, big thick ones on vultures--such tremendous variety, too.
I like catching shots of birds taking off, flying over my head where I can see their tiny legs tucked beneath their body like the tires of an airplane. The legs of House Sparrows look delicate and small when viewed from beneath, then they pop those legs out as they come in for a landing and the tiny toothpicks hold their bodies perfectly. They do not wobble, stumble, or fall, in spite of the fact that their legs are clearly no where near the same weight as their bodies.
Hummingbird legs are especially delicate because they are so small, and they tuck beneath the body in a different way-they are so small, they don't even appear to fold, they look as if they just flap down onto the bird's belly, then stretch out again. And yet, when they land on the ledge of the feeder, those teeny legs are not only strong enough to keep them in place while they eat, but also hold them in place in out harsh, Texas winds.
I watched a blue heron at the park yesterday afternoon. It's legs appeared to be longer than its body. It stood on a rock near the water's edge as fierce gusts of wind battered its body, but it stood strong, solid. It didn't even appear to sway with the wind.
Vulture legs are like tree trunks, but they seem to disappear when they land, covered by the vulture's massive wings. I suspect the vulture's legs are thicker because their body is much heavier, especially when you add in the weight of those massive wings, which are sometimes 6 to 8 feet across! I think their legs are the reason why it's a bit more difficult for them to take off than other birds. When on the ground, they have to get a running start.
I like bird feet, too. I like the way they curl their talons around tiny twigs to hold them in place. When I take the dogs out, I always knock on the back door to warn the birds that we are coming, and sometimes the smaller birds, like the chickadees and sparrows, and even cardinals, will hop onto the sides of the trees, gripping the bark with their little talons and watching the dogs sideways as the dogs stare back at them, neither really frightened or intimidated, just...curious.
Edited to add: After I posted this blog, I looked out my bedroom window and watched a baby cardinal land on a tree branch. I have two crape myrtles that we bought for our old house, but we could not find a place to plant them because there was so much rock on the land, so I put them in pots, hoping they will survive until we find a house in New Mexico. The trees are only five feet tall, and the branches are more like twigs. When the baby cardinals land on the twigs, they bob up and down, but the babies hang on with their tiny legs and talons firm and strong until the bobbing stops, confident that their legs, and the tree, will hold.
I like catching shots of birds taking off, flying over my head where I can see their tiny legs tucked beneath their body like the tires of an airplane. The legs of House Sparrows look delicate and small when viewed from beneath, then they pop those legs out as they come in for a landing and the tiny toothpicks hold their bodies perfectly. They do not wobble, stumble, or fall, in spite of the fact that their legs are clearly no where near the same weight as their bodies.
Hummingbird legs are especially delicate because they are so small, and they tuck beneath the body in a different way-they are so small, they don't even appear to fold, they look as if they just flap down onto the bird's belly, then stretch out again. And yet, when they land on the ledge of the feeder, those teeny legs are not only strong enough to keep them in place while they eat, but also hold them in place in out harsh, Texas winds.
I watched a blue heron at the park yesterday afternoon. It's legs appeared to be longer than its body. It stood on a rock near the water's edge as fierce gusts of wind battered its body, but it stood strong, solid. It didn't even appear to sway with the wind.
Vulture legs are like tree trunks, but they seem to disappear when they land, covered by the vulture's massive wings. I suspect the vulture's legs are thicker because their body is much heavier, especially when you add in the weight of those massive wings, which are sometimes 6 to 8 feet across! I think their legs are the reason why it's a bit more difficult for them to take off than other birds. When on the ground, they have to get a running start.
I like bird feet, too. I like the way they curl their talons around tiny twigs to hold them in place. When I take the dogs out, I always knock on the back door to warn the birds that we are coming, and sometimes the smaller birds, like the chickadees and sparrows, and even cardinals, will hop onto the sides of the trees, gripping the bark with their little talons and watching the dogs sideways as the dogs stare back at them, neither really frightened or intimidated, just...curious.
Edited to add: After I posted this blog, I looked out my bedroom window and watched a baby cardinal land on a tree branch. I have two crape myrtles that we bought for our old house, but we could not find a place to plant them because there was so much rock on the land, so I put them in pots, hoping they will survive until we find a house in New Mexico. The trees are only five feet tall, and the branches are more like twigs. When the baby cardinals land on the twigs, they bob up and down, but the babies hang on with their tiny legs and talons firm and strong until the bobbing stops, confident that their legs, and the tree, will hold.
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