Category: Critters

The critters we love and the critters that deserve our love.

Categories
Critters

Octopi goodies

The joy of being known for one’s interest in cephlapods is that one gets links to all sorts of interesting stories.

A friend who walks among us, cloaked as King Henry did among his men before battle, sent me a link to a weblog post with a link to a story about a giant octopus attacking a mini-submarine. This joins with other recent video showing us much of what was previously unseen in the depths of the ocean waters, such as the recent first recording of a live, giant squid. According to one marine biologist, the reason the octopus may have approached the mini-sub is that it was old and senile, and either thought the vehicle was food or a mate.

And you all thought we had little in common with the octopus.

The original story didn’t have video, and when I searched for it, I found a Slashdot thread on the story.

For all the 2.0ness of Digg, it will never match Slashdot when the Slashdotters are in their stride, and this thread demonstrates this. Almost immediately, one commenter provided links to the video. Others than built on the story, most humorously. My favorite is the following:

Look.

Do you know how fucking big a sperm whale is? It’s huge. HUGE. And giant squid eat them. Listen to your heart – no matter what the scientists tell you, 4th grade ecology has convinced us all that whales are intelligent loving animals. Did you see Star Trek 4 [imdb.com]. They’re the freakin’ saviours of humanity man.

And giant squid eat them

Eat them

Not beacause it’s easy. Oh no, not because a sperm whale is an easy catch. Big, remember? No. It’s because squid are evil incarnate

Do you know how long they’ve been down there? No one does. But my guess is the squid and it’s precurser have been down there in the depths for a lot longer than man has been knucklewalking. That’s old. And you know they think down there. Brood down there. Their tentacles floating like the limbs of children relaxing in the water, they brood and wonder how to conquer us from below.

Things that think and brood also dream. And things that dream begin to worship the stuff of dreams. Out of man’s insecurity we have sublimated a great father figure into the sky, according to Freud. What about the tentacled things in the watery darkness, whose females are larger than their males?

I’ll tell you what they worship

A great multilimbed mother of the dark watery brood. Deep down in the very molten cracks of the earth filling the sea with inky blackness. THAT’s what they worship. We killed men in the crusades. Men who looked the same as other men. What will the dark octupi and squid do to US who are mere flabby bloodsacks to rip apart and drink out fluids with their beaky maws? What in the name of their Dark Mother goddess will they do to us when they rise into our airy realm?

Think about it dudes

Us computer geeks are basically fucked.

Categories
Critters Photography

At rest

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

As you can see, today Zoë was catching up on her beauty sleep. The patches in her fur are where she was shaved on the neck and her butt for drawing blood and administrating the radioactive iodine. It will grow back.

zoe1

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Thanks for all the good wishes for Zoë’s continued good health. She’s been a good friend to me and life would be very quiet without her.

zoe2

Categories
Critters Photography Places

Wintering

Recovered from Wayback Machine.

Time was slipping by to catch the wintering eagles. I haven’t spotted a one on any trip, and the season will be ending in a few weeks. Today, then, I headed to the Lock & Dam 24 in Clarksville at sunrise–supposedly one of the most popular eagle fishing areas.

Clarksville is a very charming little town located directly on the Mississippi. It’s celebrating its Eagle Days this weekend, but today I was the only person looking for the birds in the viewing stand built above the locks. It was a beautiful day: sunny and clear skies and the Mississippi looked deep sapphire blue located just above the confluence of both the Ohio and Missouri. But cold! The winds were so cold and dry, and my eyes teared up so much, when I got back into the car, I had rings of salt around them–something that’s never happened before.

There were flocks of seagulls and other birds, but no eagles.

flock of pelicans, seagulls in river

I was disappointed, but the rest of the view was so nice that the trip was more than worthwhile. I love funky small town, and Clarksville is that. It’s not very big, but many of the buildings have all the gingerbread of their Victorian beginnings, and there’s plenty of places to explore.

photo of Clarksville steeple church

Still, I was after eagles, so I stopped by at the Lock & Dam 25 near Winfield, on the way home.

This Lock & Dam has a park near it, and a slough that parallels the Mississippi river, but the actual locks themselves are behind barbed wire and fairly stringent security.

Locks

I couldn’t see any eagles at first, though I did see white pelicans, the ubiquitous seagulls, and other birds. Finally, after walking around about an hour, off in the distance, I saw one eagle. One, and too far to photograph.

And cold! It was so bloody cold! As nice as it was to be by the river, I was becoming numb. I was getting ready to leave when I noticed a man standing by the bridge over the slough, camera pointed to the trees near my car. I hadn’t even noticed–the eagles were in the trees.

Bald eagle in tree

There were six adults and one juvenile. They would take off every once in while, circle about and fish, though I didn’t manage a photo of any of the birds catching a fish. Actually, I didn’t have a chance to get any really great photos of the eagles. I’m not used to bird photography, and my inexpensive 400mm doesn’t take the best of photos. Add this to the bright light of midday and fast moving birds, and an elegant blur is the most one can hope.

eagle in flight

I am inspired, though, to get better at bird photography, including buying a better 400mm lens someday–maybe even a 600mm (yeah, dream on).

I had a wonderful time taking pictures of the birds. Especially when one headed straight over me, with me frantically trying to adjust the exposure, focus, and take pictures. The following is my favorite of the eagles, even though it’s not that sharp. To me, it shows the essence of eagle. I call it, “I am the fish”.

bald eagle directly overhead

My three favorite photos from the day were not of eagles, though. I like the one I took of the VFW Hall in Clarksville. I am thinking of starting a collection of photos of VFW halls in the various places I visit, because each represents the community in some way. They are the true Americana of America. The day the VFW halls disappear is the day when our country will have lost much of its heritage.

VFW Hall

I also liked two photos I took of seagulls. One was at Clarksville, and features a boat full of fishermen in front of a flock of gulls taking off.

fishing boat in front of trees surrounded by seagulls

The second was at Winfield, and again showed a flock of gulls taking off–backed by a dark and tangled wood. If the eagle represents pride, nothing represents joy of flight more than seagulls.

gulls in flight

Categories
Critters outdoors Photography

In praise of lurking

3 Quarks Daily pointed to a BBC News article on deer antlers.

Yesterday, when out walking I came upon a group of deer, including a young male who was using fallen trees to break off parts of his antlers. Luckily, this time I had a camera and could get pictures–including the male who alternated aggressive behavior toward the does, with insecure wariness of me.

deer6

The males with their antlers and full, proud stances may make for better photos, but I hold the quiet, shy does in my heart. Their soft, sweet eyes and careful curiosity has accompanied me on many a trek through Powder Valley. Sometimes when I walk at dusk, I can feel them all around me, hidden in the shadows. Yesterday, though, for whatever reason, when I stopped and held very still, they entered and crossed the road around me–appearing back-lit by the setting sun, in a display of beauty and grace.

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I have found if you wear sunglasses, deer will approach you more closely than if wearing clear lenses or no glasses at all. I think it’s because they can’t see your eyes, and they translate this into not seeing them. I have had deer, wild deer, approach within feet of me when wearing sunglasses.

My favorite interaction, though, is when the deer will remain in the bushes and when you look at them, they’ll hide their faces quickly behind a tree. They think they’re hiding from you because they can’t see you, but their entire bodies are out in the open: torso, legs, and especially, white tail. If you wait just a minute, they’ll peek back and when they see you still looking at them, back their head disappears behind the tree again.

It is humorous and endearing, but also a little sad.

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I can empathize with the deer; to be in the woods and thickets and looking out, knowing, or think we know that we’re not seen.

My desk at home is in front of a set of screened, double windows on a second floor on a hill overlooking a large section of our housing complex. Sometimes during the day after I’ve had my shower, I’ll sit in my chair at my computer, naked, water falling from my wet hair, slipping down my back and across my breasts.

I’ll watch cars drive by, the mailman on his rounds, and people walking their dogs or going to the laundry room, and know they can’t see me sitting here, in my chair, in the shadows.

Of course, at night or very early morning, before the sun has risen, I can be sitting in front of my window with the lights on and be just as back-lit as the deer yesterday. When I start to get undressed for bed, I look over my shoulder just to make sure both windows are tightly covered. Even when I see they are, I undress and slip into bed quickly–not quite trusting the shadows I cast against the blinds. The only time I’ll open them at night is during a thunderstorm, when I can open the curtain and lay in bed, watching the light flashing against the rain blurred window.

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Writing is a little like being the deer hiding in the woods, or sitting naked in front a window on the second floor of a house on a hill. We may think we’re in control, and that we’re exposing just as much or as little as we choose. However, sometimes curtains open a crack, or the light falls just right and our shadows give us away.

There is something to be said for taking time to lurk–to pull back deeply into the dark and watch, rather than be watched. To be still, and just listen. To appreciate others dance in the sun.

deer4

Categories
Critters Media

Tinhat time

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I spent the morning taking my cat into the vet. Poor baby has a thyroid gone awack and will either need pills, radioactive iodine, or surgery. At the vet’s she tried to burrow into my arms, hiding her head inside my coat and shaking. Right now she knows I feel guilty, so she’s asking for yet another treat.

This afternoon, since my internet connection was funky, and the day was nice, I decided to visit the Butterfly House. I’ll write on this later, with photos, but will say now that the trip was enchanting, and I hope my camera’s delicate electronics have survived the humidity.

Catching up on reading tonight, Scott Reynen mentions a flooflah about iTunes and a new mini-store feature. I was reminded to check for software updates, and there it was, in among updates for Quicktime, the OS, and so on. I immediately downloaded the update so I could see for myself Apple’s dastardly doings.

Once updated, since I’m still on a Jelly Roll, urh, roll, I double clicked one of his songs. In the bottom of the song list page, another frame displayed other albums by Morton, a listing of music others bought in addition to Morton, and links to a Morton biography. I’m not surprised at the list of albums I can buy–iTunes is first and foremost a music store. I am pleasantly surprised, though, by the link to the Morton biography.

Okay, so I’ve seen the feature. Now, what’s the uproar?

The Ziff-Davis boys compare the MiniStore to Microsoft’s Passport. (I would have made a comment on this at the site, but you have to register first, and I was too tired, and to uninterested to fill in all those fields.)

Rob Griffiths at MacWorld wrote the following about data being transmitted when a song is double-clicked:

In order to do this, the music store must obviously know what you’re listening to. It learns this information via a packet of information sent each time you play a song via a double-click. This data is sent without your explicit permission, and as far as I can tell, there are no Apple privacy policies that cover that transfer of information. It’s also unclear exactly what data is being sent. (Is it just song and title? Or does it include your Apple music store ID, which would tie the song info directly to your personal data?) And although Apple now assures us that the data is not collected, that information is not made clear to users when they begin using iTunes.

However, this isn’t about the MiniStore itself. It’s about Apple’s attitude in rolling this change out to the millions of iTunes users, without as much as a peep about what’s going on behind the scenes.

Oh my Aunt Matilda’s bunions. Consider with me, if you please, a scenario:

You open iTunes. You double click a song. While the song is playing, additional information about the song, singer, other albums you can buy, and so on is displayed. You bring your hands to your cheeks in astonishment.

“Oh my gawd!”, you cry out. “How could iTunes know what I was going to be playing next?!”

You then call out to your significant other, who is currently fetching toast out of the plugged-in toaster with a fork, “Jimmy Joe! Jimmy Joe! You’re never gonna believe this one, sugah! This here iTunes read my mind, honey bug!”

At that point, having been saved from certain death, Jimmy Joe enters into your room, looks at the screen, scratches his belly in puzzlement and replies, “Sweet lips, I do believe you’re rauuught about that there iToones. It read your durn mind.”

A sudden thought dawns on Jimmy Joe, causing him to exclaim (as well as fart), “You know, the same thing happened to me the other day! I was out getting my email at gmail when I realized, golly, the ads looked familiar. I was writing about chain saws, and lo and behold, the ads were about chain saws.”

“No!”, you exclaim.

“I wouldn’t lie to you sweet cheeks. And come to think on it, when I wrote about the new Dukes of Hazard movie, the ads were about the Dukes of Hazard.”

You look at each other in wonder. You then wrap your arms around Jimmy Joe, exclaiming, “Honey bunch, you know what this all means?” Jimmy Joe shakes his head no. “We’re psychic!”

I wasn’t going to write on all this sort of stuff this this year, but the temptation was too strong. There was a little pulse that kept beating, “do it do it do it”. But you already knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from the lists didn’t you? Yes you did. And you know what that means, don’t you…

Why honey bunch, you must be psychic!