Scorpion #9

Sunday night—or rather, Monday morning—9.18.06, 3 a.m. Thirsty. Where is water? Make way to kitchen. In dim nightlight see movement in sink. What's that?, I think. Turn light up a little more. Scorpion!!

Poor little guy. He was trapped by the curved and shiny sides of the sink. I couldn't kill him; it would have been unfair advantage. Instead I scooped him (NO, not with my hands), carried him outside, and dumped him into the garden, never to be seen again (touch wood).

Scorpion #8

Friday September 15th, 8 or 9 p.m., on the wall between the lightswitches just inside the front door. After being smacked, it fell to the ground. Alive or dead, only the shadow knows.....

The Accidental Bee Trap

A friend is moving away and gave me her pretty glass hummingbird feeder, the kind with three separate little containers, each with a red glass flower in it which is the channel through which the hummingbirds drink the sugar water. Sadly, it became a bee & wasp trap. The throats of the flowers are large enough to allow the insects through, so they crawled down and then got stuck in the sugar water and died. This is a terrible, terrible thing. I will have to find another use for the little feeder, or give it to someone else who has fewer bees and wasps.

The Hummingbird Moth

In the garden Sunday evening, arranging all the beautiful plants that Carolyn B has given me as she packs up and disposes of possessions in anticipation of her move, I was near the red sage that the hummingbirds love (the one Hamilton used to park under to snag them, before we curtailed his early-morning outdoor activities) and suddenly a little hummingbird moth was right in front of my face, flapping its little moth wings like mad as it had a go at the sage. It didn't outright hum, as the larger one that we saw last year did. But it was spectacular nonetheless.
The next day Hugh saw it outside the kitchen window and swears that a hummingbird bird came along and tried to flirt with it before realizing it was the wrong species.
Sadly, we have yet to capture one of these on film....

The Night of the Spiders

I was in the kitchen on Tuesday night, post-dinner, putting some dishes in the dishwasher. Suddenly on one return to sink from washer, there was a giant spider there in the sink! It seemed to be wet, and I think perhaps it came out of the drain that leads to the disposal. It sat there in its wetness of in sort of a stupor; who could blame it? I scooped it up in a plastic tub and put it outside on the front porch.
Less than 30 minutes later I was in the big chair in the front room, watching a spot of telly before going to bed, and (suddenly again) there appeared on the wall behind the television another giant spider! I ran for the camera yet again. (I do that a lot at the cabin.) After the photo shoot, this second spider made its way up the wall and then disappeared into a little space where the wall meets the cedarwood window trim. That corner is a favorite of spiders and scorpions. I thought they were both were wolf spiders, but looking at the pictures now they seem to be different varieties. As I said, that first guy was wet, so it's hard to tell.

The Thrashing Caterpillar

On my way to the outdoor shower on Saturday morning, I stopped to visit with Fritz on the back porch. There he was, all innocent and cute, and there were rustly, thrashy noises coming from the garden. "Oh no!" I thought, "he caught a bird and it is lying over there in death throes! Or in wounded throes!" and I ran over to look. Nothing readily apparent, but still could I hear leaves moving about. I waited and waited and finally my eyes honed in on a little caterpillar! Or rather, a rather large caterpillar. And it was thrashing like mad! It thrashed itself right out of the dry leaves under some plants and onto the rockwork of the back terraced area. It started crawling toward Rosa Winchester Cathedral, with periodic fits of thrashing. On the rock, after thrashing, it would find itself pointed a different way each time and so would start crawling off in that new direction. I was a little worried about him being on the very hot rock so I got a leaf and tried to help him onto it, which caused another fit of thrashing; so I got a larger leaf, tricked him onto it with no thrashing, and deposited him in the tall green grass of the kitchen garden. I could hear periodic thrashing throughout my shower, and could even hear him about an hour later when I went out to see how he was doing. I have never seen such a thing before. Film to be posted as soon as I edit out the parts where I got distracted and the camera without me filmed things like my feet and the towel I was wearing.

The Dog Days of Summer

I had a whole month of no entries in between Scorpions 6 & 7. The dog days of summer are here. It is hot, dry, tiring, indeed nigh exhausting. There is not a lot going on with birds or bugs or cats or me or anything; we are all too tired. The hummingbirds are the only thing that show no signs of weariness.

Scorpion #7

Saturday 7.29.06, afternoon or evening--6ish?
Can't believe there have been only 7 scorpions this year so far. And this last one barely counts. I found it on the porch under one of the recycle bins, half-smashed, apparently from me moving the bin over while he was under it, poor thing. I might have let him live, seeing as he wasn't even in the house.

Scorpion #6

Scorpion #6 fell onto our bed last night from above, approximately 11:30, post-potluck and guests. I was in bed; Hugh was on bed. It fell right on his (naked) foot, which he then shook violently, sending the scorpion flying, not that we knew for sure that it was a scorpion yet, only that it was a something that was suddenly on his foot. We leapt up to find where it had gone; Loretta the cat quickly tracked it to where it had slipped between bed and footboard. We carefully loosed the end of the bedspread and then Hugh, sport clog in hand, got remorse and began calling for A cup! A cup! I ran to the kitchen but by the time I'd wrestled an appropriate container out of a drawer and made it back to the bedroom, he'd impatiently knocked the scorpion off the spread and onto the floor, momentarily lost it and had to find it again, and was just smashing it as I came back with the Humane Catch & Release Tupperware Tub. Oh well. We left the container in the bedroom at hand for easy access for next time.

The next surprise was this morning under the sink....Antvasion, Part 87! We'd carefully cleaned up thoroughly last night to avoid a scene this morning; so the ants kindly left the counter and sink areas alone and had a big party down under instead. I am too unnerved to comment more fully at this time, but I did have the strength and courage to get the teeming garbage out the door and onto the front porch, where it now sits in double-bagged glory. How telling that the ants completely ignore the compost bucket.

A Hamilton Update

I forgot put in Hamilton's entry his sweet and delicate bird-cry of a meow and what a surprise it is coming from such a monstrous cat. He is taking his daily morning imprisonment very well overall.

A Cardinal Update

There are two cardinal babies. Both sport the charming, young-cardinal mohawk; one's beak has become orange, but the other's is still dark. They have the patchy coloring and sticky-outy feathers of the young and they come to the feeders daily. Afternoon seems to be time for the junior set at the feeders; I just saw both cardinals, the titmice pair, and our young little scrub jay all snacking and hanging about convivially.

7.5.2006: No, there are three cardinal babies! There are two with bills not yet turned; one has a striking orange mohawk, and the other's is brown. Saw them all yesterday at the feeder. Yeah, baby!

Scorpion #5, 2006; and The Crazy Mantis

Scorpion #5, June 29, 8pm or so:
Inside the front door, sort of tucked between the door trim and the wall. Another one that sort of made me sad; he was just sitting there. He was trying to hide. Hugh tries hard to convince me that its mere presence in our house is not acceptable...but that argument doesn't entirely negate my feelings of remorse.

The Crazy Mantis:
Wednesday night, out back watering, I spotted a little green mantis on the rock near Rosa Winchester Cathedral (a potted rose). It was just going around and around in circles! We decided it must be newly b0rn. It was very green, very short, and very plump. When Hamilton moved into the area to drink some of the water overflowing from the rose pot, I moved the little mantis into a protected area. I took photos but they didn't come out very well, as it was dusk.

My Very Special Spotted Bug is Famous Now!

I can hardly believe it but my very special spotted bug, which I now know is an Ironclad Beetle (see The Gorey Beetle), has made it onto the What's That Bug website! I feel so honored. Special thanks to Jen who introduced me to the site and to Carolyn B who said on Friday, "Your bug is better than (or maybe she said "as good as") those--you email him!"

p.s. I am practically famous now. Or at least my bug is.

Mr Fritz's Summer Outfit

I tamed Fritz from the wild, you know (I am fond of saying this). And just look at him now, lying in the lap of luxury.

Fritz, also known as Frito Pie and Mr Loud, is the other cat that came with the house. For the first several months, we'd see him every three weeks or so, when he'd come to eat voraciously from the bowl of food we'd leave for him on the front porch, and he'd run away when he saw us. I worried what he'd do when winter came (though as this is Texas, winter is not usually very life-threatening, as it is in, say, Norway). Gradually, as we spent time outside, he'd venture nearer, eventually climbing into a lap now and then. As the months passed, he started coming inside on a regular basis and next thing we knew, he was one of Our Cats.
He has the thickest, most luxurious short fur I've ever felt on a cat, which gives him a curiously stout and padded look, though he's actually quite small. I found myself saying things like This sweater makes me look like Fritz, and I began to notice a certain type of short-necked, square-jawed person who also brought him to mind. But this spring he suddenly shed his thick coat and began sporting what I call his summer outfit, in which one can see his true diminutive size. It's funny; I don't remember him doing this last year, which was a deeply, miserably hot summer.

The "Mr Loud" nickname is quite self-explanatory, but I do also happen to have a drawing I made of this side of his personality. I'll round that up and post it....

Antvasion! and the Walking Stick in My WIne, and What is Biting Me?! (The Story of the Jeep)

It is prime insect season at the cabin. Even as I write this, there is a crazed spider running up and down the wall in front of me. It is very confused about exactly where it wants to go.

In addition to the masses of ants in the sink, whom this year do not seem repelled by the fresh mint and so are giving us all kinds of Kodak moments for filming for our epic picture Antvasion!, the other night a walking stick fell into my wine where it innocently resided on my bedside table. We do not know why I, undisgusted by anything other than rats and giant cockroaches, are so unsettled by walking sticks, but I am. I think it's because you cannot see their heads. That is, they appear not to have them, because that would make them look like not a stick and that would ruin the point, now, wouldn't it. I bravely plucked him out of my wine, though, and with barely a shudder got him out the back door and onto the porch.

The other primary insect action right now is whatever is biting me at night. I wake up every day with a new bite in a new place. Of course the first thought is always that it's a brown recluse, and one waits anxiously for a couple of hours for the necrosis to begin; thankfully, it never does. But because of this, 2 weeks ago on Saturday when I woke up with bite just under a pink and swollen left eye, I immediately wanted a Benadryl, though they completely send me into a stupor. I could not go get one myself, as I was pinned to the bed by cats, so I asked my darling husband if he could be so kind as to get one for me. He did. It was the wrong kind, the blue sinus type. I asked for another, hoping for a pink, non-capsule type that is easy to break in half. He came back with a pink capsule one , at which point I said to hell with it, I will take the whole dang thing. So I did.

Which is, I believe, the reason that when we left the recycling center that afternoon on the way to brunch, I backed our jeep into a telephone pole. Or, as my friend K would say, a telephone pole leaped out and attacked me. I managed to hit it at the juncture of four—not one, not two, but four—different car parts: taillight, right rear panel, liftback, and bumper. Oh, and possibly more damage under the bumper, according to the guy at the body shop. We proceeded on to brunch and then took me home where sadly and
druggedly I fell into a deep 3-hour sleep. Two weeks later, you can still see the bite mark under my eye.

Hamilton the Best-smelling Cat and His Asthma

Hamilton and Fritz came to us with our house. Laurie, the wife of the selling couple, had said to me when we were viewing it for the second time,"So, we think we're going to leave the cats with the house." I responded along the lines of That's okay, I love cats!, never dreaming that she meant it (how could anyone leave their cats?!). But we moved in with 2 cats and 3 dogs and found 2 other cats already in residence.

Hamilton the Giant weighs fifteen pounds and it's all muscle. He is the biggest cat I have ever known, and the best-smelling one; he smells like cedar and outside and fresh air with just the tiniest hint of smokiness. He seems to have allergies and gets very asthmatically wheezy at times. He is also Death On Paws to birds, and we have a special morning regime because of him. I get up at 5:30 or so, before dawn, and read for a bit, till Ham and Fritz appear at the door to come inside for breakfast. Then Fritz (Mr Loud) is allowed to go back out, because though he chases after the occasional bird, he never seems to actually catch one (and also because he will sit at the door and endlessly, loudly meow if not let out; hence his nickname). Hamilton is kept inside, but put out of the bedroom, because otherwise he starts to eye Loretta's food and she gets very noisily growly at him. Usually this is about the time that dogs start deciding that they, too, must go out as well, and they don't usually coordinate with the cats, so there's a little bit more traffic through the bedroom till finally I manage to snooze for another hour or so before getting up to go to work. Ham is kept in until after noon, when the birds are done with their heavy morning activity and seem more alert to cats. So far this strategy has been successful.

All the Other Pretty Birds

Bird babies at the cabin this year other than the cardinal and woodpeckers:

• Two titmice
• Finches—hard to tell, because they're all so small, but I think there are many, as the ranks seem to have doubled lately
• Hummingbirds—ditto the above
  
• At least two scrub jays
• Possibly a Scott's oriole, but may be wishful thinking
  
• Two Zenaida doves
• A bluejay
  

Bunnies in the Meat Case

I felt weird and sad tonight, and thought of Bobby the Bunny, when I saw plastic bags in the meat case at Central Market that were labeled "Whole Rabbits." I had to look away.

The Cat Who Thought He Was a Tiger

Hamilton Pool Road is not a highway!

My bumper stickers came today! I am terribly excited even though H has revealed to me that he is not, because he thinks that Hamilton Pool Road IS a highway. My feeling is that it doesn't matter whether it really is or not....the sentiment is more about what we want it to be.