I'm Looking It Up Now

Later:
My butterfly and moth book indicates that this is a Giant Swallowtail. It certainly was pretty giant in person, yes indeed.

I Stalk the Elusive Bobwhite But in the End It Comes to Me

I went out Saturday afternoon to track the elusive bobwhite, who once again was calling in the distance, but to no avail. It did not help that my trusty sidekick Fritz who follows on all walks is a cat. As soon as I hit the trail, the bird shut up, and though we had a very enjoyable hot and lazy walk, the only sightings were a few tail-ends (not bobwhites, though) getting the heck away from us as quickly as they could.

To my surprise, this morning I looked out the bathroom window to see this plump round bird in the tree just beyond the birdfeeders! It kindly waited there while I ran for the camera. No "bob-WHITE!" cries at all, but it stayed in the tree for a brief photo shoot, then flew to the ground to have some sunflower seeds. I am thrilled to have seen him (though I will be more thrilled when I have a chance to photograph it other than through a rather smeary window).

The Mrs Scott's Oriole; Hummingbirds

The Scott's Orioles are very beautiful and very shy. They stick together and come to the oriole feeder on the front porch together. They have an ear-catching—nay, bewitching!—song, but while they eat they make contented, soft little "chkk" noises. Here is the Mrs in a nearby tree.

My hummingbird photos are improving....slowly, very slowly.

The Nesting Wrens

There are several pairs of nesting wrens; one couple has made their home in the skull that hangs on the front porch. Unlike the very loud woodlets whom one can hear from anywhere in the vicinity, we would never know that there are wrenlets in the skull if we did not see the parents going in with food.

The Baby Scrub Jays

The baby scrub jays are scruffy and gangly, with their little gray heads and fluffy under-feathers. I saw three of them at the feeder this morning.

Scorpion #5, 2007

Approximately 4:45 a.m. in the kitchen sink. The scorpions seem to be appearing at an alarming rate this season, but I am observing and learning things as we carry out this Catch-and-Release program. For one thing, in 3 years and all of these sightings, only one of us (well, and Callie, too, now) has been stung.* And I have yet to see one of them so much as strike out and try to sting when approached and scooped—instead, they just want to get away, and I haven't seen one get defensive and aggressive. This guy today, for example—I actually had to enlist tools just to get him into the container, and it was more than the work of but a moment, but he was the nervous, scared one of the two of us. I was pontificating aloud along these lines this morning, after I was dressed and ready to take the little guy out to the hill's edge, and Hugh said,"I think we are doing the right thing with this." I agree.

*Hugh has reminded me that he got stung, too, last year or the year before, but thinks it too must have been a wee one, as the sting was not so bad.

The Bonus Woodlet

Hugh messaged me at work today to say that there was a woodlet in the yucca that's in front of the office window. The actual message, in his excitement, was:

11:11 AM hugh: baby wioody!!!!!
11:12 AM grettin 1000s of photos

We have been waiting and waiting for Woodie & Woodina's woodlets to emerge from their tree, and I was heartbroken not to be there. But then Hugh sent a photo of the baby on the yucca:

and I wrote back to Hugh to say, I don't think juvenile golden-fronted woodpeckers have a red cap. Then I looked at it some more, and wondered what those stripes are on its face; our woodpeckers don't have those. So we realized that this is not one of the woodlets, but a surprise bonus woodlet instead! I did some quick online research and found two possibilities to check in the bird books when I get home: he may be a Downy or a Ladder-backed Woodpecker. Hugh thinks the latter because the stripes are more like, and I think the latter because they are spotty on front as is this guy. We are intrigued! We've not seen an adult of these guys in the area; the golden-fronted are the only ones I've seen at all.

Hugh reported that it seemed uncertain of its flying abilities and was skulking under the eaves of the yucca. I just checked in with him (it's 6pm now) and it is now gone; he didn't see it leave. I hope that we will see this bird again! He must have been born nearby; having just fledged, he couldn't have been just passing through.

Woodpeckers are altricial. From Wikipedia:
In bird and mammal biology, altricial species, or altrices, are those whose newly hatched or born young are relatively immobile, have closed eyes, lack hair or down, and must be cared for by the adults. Altricial young are born helpless and require care for a comparatively long time. Among birds, these include, for example, herons, hawks, woodpeckers, owls and most passerines.

The Elusive Bobwhite Eludes Me

That says it all, I guess. ;-)

However, I can always say more! Only once before have I heard a bobwhite at our house. It was funny, because I knew instantly what it was—Trixie Belden fans will understand. This morning, I heard one again, right outside the window. After the second or third cry, I grabbed the camera and headed outside. Nothing. Then I heard it far down the hill. I went back inside. Soon thereafter, I heard it again, right outside the window. I grabbed the camera and headed outside. Nothing. Then I heard it far down the hill. I went back inside. This happened about 6 times; finally I gave up. But one day I will find it!

This post is dedicated to Amber!

Baby Fawns and Teenage Fawns

This spring, for the first time since we have lived out here, we have been having tiny fawn encounters. That is, encounters with tiny fawns. The first time was about a month ago. Hugh was out of town and friend D came out to visit and have a Sunday beer; in the early evening we took the dogs on a walk down the hill. We went to the little campsite and were heading back to the road when D suddenly grabbed my arm to stop me from walking onto a tiny spotted fawn! It was nestled among some leaves and dead branches and was about the size of a basketball, if not smaller (and definitely not as round). We quickly went the other direction; fortunately the dogs were way ahead of us.

Sometime later that same week, Hugh came upon a little fawn (the same? another?) as well. I was on the patio and heard sudden cries of "JESSIE! NO! JESSIE HERE! JESSIE! JESSIE!" floating up the hillside. I could also hear anxious dashing about hither and yon. When H got back up the hill, he explained that not only had they encountered the fawn, but dog Jessie had chased it (with H in hot pursuit). No harm done, we are happy to report. Well, at least no blood shed; we can't speak for trauma impressed upon tiny fawn consciousness, I guess.

My most recent sighting was this past week. On returning from a walk, I went to look at the flowers in the meadow by the house and suddenly, from amid the tall grass and flowers, leapt up a fawn! Callie was very bad and immediately gave chase, despite my frantic and graphic yelling and chasing of her. Jessie was very, very good and stopped at my first yell. Leashes are going to get involved if certain dogs continue to not listen to me.

The little fawn in the meadow still had its spots but was not as tiny as the first one I'd seen. You know, I've always laughed at the signs that someone puts up each year in Westlake that say "Baby fawns are being born..."—not because of the content, but because of the redundancy of "baby fawns." However, I have come to believe that there are stages of fawnhood and so I laugh no more! Case in point our teenager fawn who's been making him/herself at home around the garden lately. He/she knows no fear—when I went outside to take the photo below, he ran away a few steps, but then just stopped and looked at me, even as I got closer and closer. How do you tell what sex they are? At what age do they begin to grow antlers?

The Storm and the Strange Tracks

Sunday night there was a wild and terrible storm with high winds and much lightning very close by. It was so intense that I got the cat carriers out of the closet and put them near the door at the ready, just in case evacuation was called for. I learned later from our neighbor on the other side of the hill that a "tornado vortex floated right over us". Neighbors a few miles down HPR lost part of their roof, I hear! I was worried about the woodlets but reminded myself how much it has rained, and how hard, this spring, and of course in the bright and beautiful morning after, everything was just as it should be with the Woodses (and we hope with all the other nature babies out there, as well).

This evening when I walked the dogs down the hill, there was water coursing through our sometime-stream, and on the still-damp road at the foot of the hill I found these curious tracks. What made these?? They are quite small--the channels are probably just 1/8" or so wide, maybe some a bit bigger. (I had nothing with me to put down for perspective.)




Update: here's a key in photo for scale.

Scorpion #4, 2007

Sunday night June 3d, approximately 10:30: ON BED. Eek!

I had been reading and was just falling asleep with the light on when something made me open my eyes to see, about one foot from my head, a scorpion! No little baby scorpion such as that which fell on my pillow and stung my chin last year, but a BIG one. It was crawling from the direction of the headboard along the edge of Hugh's pillow (lucky for him, he is in Florida till Wednesday).

This time I was prepared! I grabbed the Scorpion Catch-and-Release container from its nearby post on my dresser and scooped him up in no time. Then I put the container in the sink (in case he escaped from the container, which he couldn't, he wouldn't be able to climb out of the sink). This morning I took him to the edge of the hill, far from the house and far from the Woodlets' nest, and let him go. As he hurried away from me, he paused for a moment, looking back, and waved one little claw at me in sad farewell.

I'll Shut Up About Them When I Get Tired of Them

Two more Woodie photo shoots resulted in a cricket-feeding sighting, as well as a mouthful-of-tiny-bugs sighting (the latter with much last-minute scooping up of more around the hole, which involved some curious head-against-tree maneuvers), and some lovely motion shots.


8.19.2008: How I've never noticed till now that it's a scorpion in his beak in this photo, I don't know—but it is! How cool! I'd recognize that pedipalp anywhere.

More About Woodie

I've been watching the Woodie tree from afar, hiding behind the yucca on the porch. I can hear the babies even at that distance! They get louder whenever one of the parents pops in with food, which they do regularly all day. In addition to the earlier bug meal, I've seen them arrive with two different kinds of berries:



They fly over with full beaks, land on the tree, scope out the area, move over to the hole, and then go in. I am fascinated by what happens afterwards--not every time, but sometimes. The parent (who, now that I think about it, seems to be Woodie, not Woodina, most frequently--you can tell by the red spot on the top of his head) pokes his head back out and opens his mouth several times. In the shots below you can just see his tongue. What the hell is he doing? Cleansing his palate? After a bit of that, he flies out and goes back to the hangout tree.



It kills me that these photos are not better. I will try again this evening when there's more activity again (things quiet down somewhat during the afternoon).

The Velvet Ant

According to What's That Bug,
This is a Velvet Ant, a flightless female wasp. Watch out, she stings. We found a species match on BugGuide.
It couldn't get away from me fast enough; it was hard to get a good shot of it. Seems that you'd have to work pretty hard to get stung by one of them. It was quite large---1", possibly 1-1/2" long.

The Painted Bunting

May 26 2007: A painted bunting showed up outside the (rather spotty) bathroom window. He did not obligingly allow me to capture him from all sides, but I am just happy he was here at all. I've never seen one at our house before.

"Strange Wasp-like Bug with Long Tail"

The title of this post is what I googled to find the identity of this bug. The pen, by the way, is 5.5" long, though it seems smaller in Hugh's giant hand.


As always, What's That Bug came through for me:
http://whatsthatbug.com/ichneumons.html

This is one of the Giant Ichneumons in the genus Megarhyssa, probably Megarhyssa macrurus. Giant Ichneumons are non-stinging relatives of wasps. This female is ovipositing. The long stingerlike "tail" is her ovipositor and it enables her to lay eggs deep in borer infested wood. The food for the young Megarhyssa is the larval form of wood boring insects like Horntails.

I never cease to be amazed that I can have lived for plenty of years so far and yet be surprised on a daily basis by things I've never seen before. I shouldn't be surprised, as there are approximately 10 million kinds of bugs in this world, but I am.

Not to Ignore the Other Birds of 2007!

We obsess over our prehistoric woodpeckers, but we obsess over all of our other birds, too. This year's group, so far:

• One pair of Titmice nested in the hole in the oak tree just outside the window by my desk, where a pair nested the year before last. The baby is out and about now, and there is at least one other family in the 'hood; the other day I heard, then saw, a little gathering of them out near the birdfeeders; there must have been six or seven of them.
• Two little gray-headed scrappy Mexican Scrub Jay babies so far, as well as the usual group of adults.
• Approximately two dozen or so hummingbirds. We have a couple of different kinds--I am not positive which ones they are.
  
• Wrens: I have yet to figure out what kind they are--we have several, and these are the smallest of the group. One is nesting in the skull hanging on the front porch; another out back in the roof where there is a little gap at the bend. Yet another keeps considering the little bag hanging beneath my bicycle seat and putting nesting bits in it, but no permanent residence yet.
  
• The Scott's Orioles are back this year! At least one pair is at our house, and I hear them all over the valley as well.
  
• We have three pairs of Cardinals that come to our feeder. I can never figure out where they nest, but one pair is perhaps out in back somewhere, and another in the tree in the meadow, I think.
  
• There are so many Zenaida doves that they are eating us out of house and home. I bang on the window frequently to make them leave the bird feeders to give the other birds a chance.
  
• Tons of chipping sparrows
• The Rufous-crowned Sparrows (alternately called the Asteroid birds), previously discussed in the tragic-yet-happy-ending baby bird post
  
• Tons of house finches, and at least one other kind of finch. They are hard for me to identify, as they change their outfits through the seasons.
  
• The mockingbirds, of course, though they've been in rather spotty attendance this year. After one wintering with us and tapping many times daily on a living room window (with me trying to teach its name when it did so--we don't know if Mocks knows who he/she is now, or not), they've been coming and going.
  
• The "weebly-wee bird" that we hear at night--some kind of quail-type bird? I've never seen it.
  
• Another bird heard and not seen was a bobwhite! Just once, only this year and never before. Finally I have heard their call!
• And lastly--for now; I'm sure there are more I'm forgetting right now--the little chickadees with their 3-note songs.
  

Woodie 2007: The Modern Dad

Once again, we have a pair of golden-fronted woodpeckers nesting in the tree by the patio. Both of them are on the small side, and have somewhat mottled coloring, as though they've been rubbed with rust here and there. This past Monday I first heard a tiny cheep from within the tree; and yesterday evening, Friday, I walked out on the patio and heard what sounded like static from a faraway radio, only to realize it was the sound of the babies, amplified somewhat by their cavernous hole. This photo from Tuesday shows Dad on his way in to feed the wee babes a lovely, crunchy bug!

Friday

Here is the evening sky:

Tarantulas

The tarantulas have been out in force these last couple of weeks. I keep coming across them crossing the road that runs from HPR to our house, and I've seen several on the patio and environs (though none in the house yet). They are so sweet and shy! Curiously, just before I started seeing them everywhere, I had a conversation with a co-worker in which he allowed as how it was the tarantulas that ran him out of Denton. I scoffed but he said, Yes, it's true, when they are so thick on the ground that you can't pull in the driveway without smashing a dozen of them, it's getting bad. When you look at it that way, I suppose that yes, there could be such a thing as too many tarantulas.

Scorpion #3, 2007

May 31st, approx 10:40 p.m.

Callie the dog got stung by a scorpion. I had just gotten up from my chair in the living room to go to bed. Callie was right in front of me and had her nose to the rug; I assumed she was snarfing up biscuit crumbs. Suddenly she sprang up, sort of yipped, jumped sideways, and rubbed her nose or snout or lip, I don't know which part, on the rug like crazy. I thought, Something has bitten her! My discarded jeans were draped on the footstool and floor in front of my chair, and in front of my feet, and when I picked them up, something ran underneath the footstool. I kicked it out of the way and sure enough, there was 2007 Scorpion #3.

I had to stomp it. There were dogs and cats milling all around and I didn't have time to run for the Scorpion Catch-and-Release container that I have specially prepared for humane treatment this year. Sigh. Well, as J pointed out when I related the tale, it *did* sting first, so perhaps fair action taken on my part. J also asked if I sucked the poison out, knowing full well my slant on dogs and touching them. Anyone who knows me will be rolling on the floor in paroxysms of laughter over the thought of my mouth anywhere near the fur of a dog. Ew, I say, ewwwwwwwww. I'd rather take on the scorpion.

Callie, by the way, is fine. I kept checking her for swelling, pain, irritation, etc., but after the initial reaction, there was nothing. Dogs. I will never figure them out.

Scorpion #2, 2007

5.19.2007: Toilet Room Wall, approx 10 p.m. Catch and release program is now in effect after the tragic and guilt-ridden 2007 #1 sighting, killing, and posting. There was accidental letting out of a cat this evening which complicated the release, but it was done nonetheless; just a little closer to active property areas than is desirable.

What To Do When Your Cat Gets a Baby Bird

If you got here because you're desperately searching for what the the hell to do with the baby bird your cat got, click this link is to Austin Wildlife Rescue: http://www.austinwildliferescue.org/html/wildlife_in_need.html

What I found there that helped me when my cat dragged a baby out of its nest and injured its wing:

• Keep the baby warm and call 472-WILD (9453) immediately. Baby birds do not live long without proper nourishment. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FEED ANYTHING TO THE BIRD! Many times feeding the wrong diet, or the right diet incorrectly will kill the babies.
• Injured baby bird:
• An injured baby bird must be brought to the Intake Center and placed with a rehabber, especially if it has been in a cat’s mouth. Cat’s saliva contains toxins that are toxic to small animals.
• Sick baby bird:
• A sick baby bird must be brought to the Intake Center and placed with a rehabber.

What Happened At the Cabin:

On Tuesday evening I went for a walk down the hill with the animals. On the way I scooped up Hamilton, who was eyeing the cardinal's nest in the yucca (the cardinals, by the way, have nothing to fear; I'm just afraid that Ham will put an eye out on a yucca spear trying to get at the safe-as-houses nest within). I started down the path with him struggling in my arms and finally let go, as I'd gotten him away from his point of interest. The dogs were way ahead and little Fritto was trotting behind and Hamilton the Giant didn't really follow, but that's not unusual for him; he usually heads cross-country to meet us on the other side of the hill.

Unusually, I came back up the hill the same way I'd gone down it, otherwise I wouldn't have caught Hammy with the baby bird. It didn't even have feathers yet and it was lying sadly by a clump of grass while Ham sniffed at the teeny piece of wing he'd torn off. I grabbed him up and ran into the house with him, then had to do the same with Fritz, before I could tend to the little baby. I was heartbroken, and I thought it was near dead if not dead already. I realized he'd not fallen (nor been snatched) out of a tree, but was from a nest tucked into the center of the clump of grass! There was another little bird within the nest, seemingly unhurt.

I didn't know what to do. I've always heard that you should leave baby animals where you find them, or tuck them back in their nest, and so I went away, hoping the parent birds would come down and do I don't know what. There was a terrible storm in the night and the temperature dropped; in the morning I went back to check on the little guy and lo and behold, he was still breathing. And still not in the nest, though I think the parents did tuck him into the grass next to the nest a little bit. I finally got smart, got online and found Austin Wildlife Rescue. After making a panicked phone call, I got a box (with airholes and a towel in it), got the bird and took him in. Today I called to check on his status and found that he has been sent to live with a rehabber, who will care for him till he is well; then he will be placed with a group of his own kind (or similar, I assume, in case there are no exact others) for a while; and at some point, the group will be released together back into the wild.

The only other time I've ever called the Wildlife Rescue group--20? 25? years ago--they were simply a group of people that cared and knew what they were doing (we hoped), and when you called, a person would show up and take the animal to nurse in their home. I don't think they had a base of operations or anything like that. I was so impressed by the now-existing facility (though it is humble, and they need donations, hint hint) and by the knowledgable and capable woman who checked in my little baby (as well as the animals of the other two people who showed up in the same five minutes that I did--if they're always that busy, then I'm even more impressed). Among other things, it inspired in me the desire to learn what I myself can do in the face of wildlife emergencies. A panicked tizzy is very ineffectual in times of crisis, especially if you live out in the boonies amongst nature and wildlife, as I do.

By the way, while the drama was unfolding, there was much angry and alarmed noise coming from many birds in the tree beside the nest. There was a wren and two of the birds I call the asteroid birds because of their "tew tew tew tew tew" cry that is so reminiscent of the old arcade game. After sitting down with the bird books and photos I took of them the day following the incident, I have identified them as Rufous-crowned Sparrows, ground-nesters and criers of "dear dear dear," according to Peterson's Birds of Texas ("tew," "dear"--close enough, I say; it's hard as hell to write with letters what a bird call sounds like).

We'd already been keeping Hamilton in from dawn till afternoon every day; now both the cats are under house arrest until all the babies in the area are fledged. It's going to be a long and loud few weeks.....

Spring is Here! and 2007 Scorpion #1

With a vengeance. And I mean that in the best of all possible ways, because Spring in Texas usually lasts about 3 weeks, and this year it's been about 4 months. It's also rained like mad, which is equally fantastic. There is tons for me to catch up on so I will dive in tonight with 2007's Scorpion #1 of the Year:

April 23d, approx 8:30-9 p.m.:

Outside, but right above the front door, a great big fat specimen. I wavered between Kill and Catch-and-Release, and decided to whack him symbolically as the first of the season, but really mostly because I didn't like the thought of him dropping down upon me or dog or cat. So I whacked it, and immediately repented. I shouldn't have done it and I apologize to him or her, and I hope that this does not bode ill for scorpion karma this very wet year (though that's secondary, and not the reason I am apologizing, which is because it was just wrong). Please, not on the bed. Please.

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.

Baby Cardie is Alive!

I suppose it could be any baby cardinal, but we like to think it's ours, the one from the back porch who so mysteriously was not ever seen at the nest. But now he or she and Mr Cardie are flying around, sitting at the feeder together, Dad tenderly feeding him/her sunflower seeds, looking out for him/her, protecting him/her from the scrub jays and Zenaida doves and house finches. We're rather pleased that our weeks of aural agony when Mr Loud was imprisoned in the house were not for naught after all.

An Alternate Alternate Woodie and Where One of Them Sleeps

There are TWO Alternate Woodies! Saturday night as I gloamed alone on the patio, while H slaved away at his computer inside, as I watched Alternate Woodie who was shyly perched in his Woodie alternate tree, suddenly another Alternate Woodie—same darkish, unformed coloring—appeared beside me in the main Woodie tree. AW1 flew right over to the main tree too; AW2 flew away toward the back of the house; and AW1 then flew to tree #3 off to the right, which is pretty close and from which he could presumably still keep an eye on the main tree.
But presumably they are from the same nest—so who gets the tree? Do they share sometimes? And where have mum and dad gone? They seem to have disappeared, which is what happened last year when the first Young Woodie was born; for a while we'd see the little family group sitting together, then suddenly it was Young Woodie alone.
The tree, by the way, an arthritic old oak at the edge of our patio, is rife with holes. At dusk Alternate Woodie flies over, hops and peers around for a while to make sure it's safe, and then ducks down into this year's hole, where we think he beds down for the night, even though my Aunt Dorothy commented that birds don't live in nests when they're not having babies. Perhaps that doesn't apply to golden-fronted woodpeckers. It's quite sweet.

The Gorey Beetle

First seen and documented last year on the steps; last night we found him on the patio.

Later that evening: I just had the brilliant idea of digging up last year's photo to match up the dots. If they match exactly, is it the very same beetle, or do all of them have exactly the same pattern?

6.24.06: Finally, I've found the file of last year's bug, and he's not exactly the same. Also, just after composing an email query about him to What's That Bug? in which I stated that I've only ever seen these two, that very evening upon arriving home the first thing I saw was yet another (below), with a rather different zipper-style down his back. Very interesting!

He is a He!

The alternate woodie came to the oriole feeder tonight. He's definitely a baby and he's definitely a male; I saw the red dot on the top of his head. He's adorable. I love him.

Scorpion #4, 2006

Ewwwww. I just learned that if you smash a scorpion and then sort of regret it because he was outside on your patio and not even in your house, even though the patio sort of counts as another room, and then in a sad attempt at saving grace you get a plastic tub to save the body because you remember that your friend Megan once asked you to save her a dead scorpion, and then you put the tub on the dining table and forget about it for many days until you want to photograph it for your blog and so you open up the tub again, that it smells just as bad as any dead mammal (only smaller). Who knew?!

The Alternate Woodie

We think our baby woodpecker has been born and is now out and about! I keep seeing a strangely darkish Woodie, who hangs out at the Woodie tree and stays pretty close to home, hanging out in the nearby other tree when we are on the patio too close to the Woodie tree. I am on a mission to capture him on film yet don't wish to scare him, being convinced that he is indeed the Woodie baby and is therefore new to this world and shy. Last night Hamilton the Giant was sitting under the Woodie tree, looking up way too interestedly at the holes therein; I squirted him with the hose and hope I've taught him a permanent lesson, though of course I haven't, as his brain is the size of a walnut and he will have forgotten his soaking about 5 minutes after receiving it. Bah.