Scorpion Count 2006

The Scorpion Count has begun for 2006. I have kept track of every scorpion sighting (date + where seen) since we moved in; in the back of my mind has always been the thought that if we ever reach the point where the average is more than one a week, that we might consider doing something about them (poison?!). But we have never reached that point, so we (that's sort of a royal "we" there; there is one among us who forgets and will be sorry one day) shake out our shoes and garments before putting them on and keep our fingers crossed and our eyes open.

1. 5/16/2006, 11:10 p.m.: In Loretta's area, behind the VCR on top of Hugh's dresser. She was intrigued.
2. 5/18, 9:30 p.m.: In the big room on the wall behind the TV. Vanished into crevice before I could smash it.
3. 5/24, 9:30ish again: On the floor in the hall by the living room entryway. I flattened it like a pancake.*

In 2004, we had 17 from May through October.
In 2005, only 7, same months. It was a much drier year than 2004.

*We thought once of catch-and-release, instead of smashing; but so far have yet to put this into practice.

The Mysterious Cardinals

Two of our cardinals began building a nest in a corner of the back porch the first weekend in May. Mrs Cardie started sitting on the nest shortly thereafter; by Wednesday she was firmly ensconced. We began keeping a close eye on the cats and trying to keep them in as much as possible. The nest is just outside the French doors that lead from our bedroom to the back yard.
The following Sunday night, I couldn't sleep, and so turned on the light and read for a while. Hamilton was very fussy and I thought, what harm can he do in the middle of the night? The birds are all asleep... So I let him out. Within 3 minutes I heard a sound and leaped up and ran outside just in time to pluck him from 3/4 of the way up the cedar post at the top of which sits the nest. (And he is so giant that when he is stretched out, as when climbing, he's a good 3 feet long, or so it seems, like a small jungle cat.)
Apparently I was very middle-of-the-night loopy, because before too long, Fritz (aka Mr Loud) was being, yes, LOUD, and I thought, what harm can he do in the middle of the night? The birds are all asleep... and not 3 minutes later I heard a sound and leaped up and ran outside just in time to pluck him out of the roof of the porch, off the very beam which sits atop the cedar post at the top of which sits the nest. I always think of Fritz as the lesser killer of the two boy cats, but he knew what he was going for that night. So this is what led to the no-cats-out-till-the-babies-are-hatched-and-fledged rule.
We kept them in for over 2 weeks. It was hell. Mr Loud is called that for a reason. We went out of town for three days; our friend who animal-sat slept in the living room after the first night. We came back on Tuesday, 2 weeks after the initial nest-sitting began, and the next day or so, I was thrilled to see Mr & Mrs Cardie coming to the nest with food! They were feeding the babies! We watched their uneventful comings and goings till Friday. That morning, I saw a scrub jay very close to the nest, while Mrs C looked on alarmedly from afar; I opened the door and hissed it away, It left, only to be replaced by a titmouse, also looking very interested, and I hissed it away, too. But after that, we didn't see either parent at the nest again. It was too early, we thought, for the babies to have fledged, but on the other hand, maybe the eggs were laid sooner than we thought, or maybe they abandoned the babies, or maybe there never were any babies, or maybe the eggs got eaten by snakes, but I had seen the parents with food, so what happened?
Finally, this Saturday, after a full day of no more Mrs, Hugh took pictures of the inside of the nest. Thankfully there were no dead babies in it. There were no eggshell shards either. What happened? Were the babies ever there at all? Could they have left without us seeing them? Last year there were bird babies everywhere; this year, not so many.
I did see Mr C at the birdfeeder the other day. He took a sunflower seed away to someone in the tree, but I couldn't see if it was a baby or if it was Mrs C being shy. I am waiting, I am waiting, for our cardinal baby...

Butterflies

Our garden has been full of butterflies in the last few days.

Ants in the Oak Tree

I did not know that ants can, and do, live in trees. I decided to move the compost heap today so we can put a picnic table (instead of compost) under the nice oak tree in the meadow. I also wanted to get all the parasitic mistletoe out of the nice oak. While up on the stepladder, I put my hand on a little stubby dead bit for balance and approximately 10,000 red-and-black ants came streaming out of it! I had already noticed some strange growths or attachments on some of the branches, about the size and shape of plums and seemingly made of wood; when I cut one open, it, too, was full of ants. Very weird. Lastly, at the base of the tree, there is a stump of what was once a third main trunk, with a hole in it. I was curious. I got a stick. I put the stick in the hole. Out came another 10,000 ants!
I am alarmed and intrigued. Are the ants there because the tree has those dead bits, or are the dead bits dead because the ants are there? Inquiring minds want to know....

The Tarantula

I walked into the bathroom the morning of Sunday May 14th and lo, there upon the window was a very large tarantula. It was as big as my hand! It was crawling! It wanted out! So I ran for the tupperware while Hugh ran for the video camera. The saving of the tarantula has been captured on film, as has been my petting of said tarantula (though the nakedness has been edited out). Wowsers! It was like petting a mouse--firm and furry, no mushiness at all. Go here

http://www.hughw.net/~hughw/movies/Tarantula.wmv

to see the movie!

Bobby

Bobby the Bunny died today. We've been keeping the cats IN, IN, IN because of their midnight marauding scarily near the cardinals' nest on the back porch; but last night Hugh took them for a supervised romp down the hill. I came home, H came to greet me, and Hamilton and Fritz were left to their own devices for a moment. Seeing as they were out front (away from the nest), H was unconcerned, but I was nervous. Fritz came running at first call, but not Ham. I wandered in the near-dark, calling and calling, and finally spied him a few yards down the hill, but he would not come to me as usual. Slowly I realized that he had something. I ran down the hill in my sandals (missing a new giant ant bed on the way, happily). There at Hamilton's feet, now discarded by him, was a bunny, the tiniest, sweetest bunny you've ever seen. It was so still that I had to lean in before I could make out that it was a bunny and not a rock. I grabbed Ham, took him inside and shut him in the bedroom, grabbed a towel and a flashlight, and ran back down the hill.
We brought the little bunny inside. He was immobile from shock and who-knows-what other damage, and there was a little blood, but the bites didn't seem too bad. We cleaned him up and decided that we would take him back down the hill and leave him for a time, thinking that he might recover once out of sight of the giant humans, or that his mummy might come for him. But 15 minutes later he was right where we'd left him. We brought him in again and made him a little box. Using an eyedropper, we gave him some water, and Hugh made him some tiny carrot slices, one of which he licked. We named him Bobby.
Bobby didn't look very good in the morning (even though he had eaten one of the carrot bits) so I took in to town to our vet. They kept him there and tended to him but to no avail.

We decided that he ought to be returned to the hill from whence he came so the next morning I picked up his little body from the vet and brought him home, albeit somewhat indirectly. I had a massage scheduled that afternoon, and the vet is north, and massage and home both south, so I had to retrieve my little bunny-filled box from the vet and then take it in with me to the massage, as May in Austin is no time for leaving bunnies, dead or alive, in parked cars. April kindly did not mind the additional company.
When I finally arrived home, Hugh and I walked down the hill, trying to figure out where to put him where he wouldn't be easily dug up by cats or dogs or coyotes or foxes. We finally found a spot under a little oak tree, dug the hole, unwrapped his little body, and laid him to rest. We marked the spot with stones and a "B" fashioned from twigs.