Sunday Morning Miscellany

From my desk here at home I can see the hummingbird and oriole feeders, the wrens coming and going further down the porch where their skull is, and the Woods' tree off to the right, close enough to see the nest hole and their attendance thereat. Outside the window at left is the oak tree where the titmice frequently nest and where the scrub jays hang; of late, it's also a favorite spot of the bobwhite, who's out there even as I type. The hummingbirds have a party going on this morning; they're going crazy around the feeders while Mr Scott's cleaning and fluffing in the cedar tree directly in front of me (it was a wet and probably chilly night). Hugh is angry at the mourning doves which are constantly at the birdfeeders. They are there so often and in such numbers that we've started chasing them off when we see them so the other, littler birds can have their turns. We have a couple of squirrels who visit regularly, too, but I'm convinced that the doves are the reason we now have to fill the feeders every other day.

Last night I discovered who's been breaking into the sunflower seed container outside our bedroom door. Before bed I'd brought the seed inside; around midnight I heard snuffling and small steps and looked up to see a little masked raccoon face. This morning the black-crested titmouse above was finishing up the last of the seeds from Friday night's raid. The juvenile below was by the feeder. I love how they sit with their little feet together to hold the seeds while they eat. I am curious about the black mark on this guy's left cheek. His right doesn't have one, nor do the other titmice; my guess is that it's temporary and will go away as he grows up.

I Owe Hugh Fifty Cents

Prehistoric cries!
Parent woodpeckers on tree;
Babes are heard, not seen.

I Owe Hugh a Quarter

I suspect this is the case, even though the day is not quite over yet.

We're Almost There

I'm tired and have it in me to comment only briefly. We watched the tree for a while this evening. Woodie is sticking very close by to the nest and the little birds are getting louder and more distinct; they have bursts where they suddenly sound like actual birds instead of static or a dog whimper. I bet Hugh a quarter that they're coming out tomorrow.

After the Storm

There was a late afternoon/early evening storm today; the light was incredible, and there was a double rainbow, just barely visible in this photo.

* * * * * * *
Just some of the Fascinating Topics coming soon to a theatre near you!:
Dung Beetles!
Over the Hill
Titmice: Bird Eat Bird?
The Audubon Orioles' Abandoned Nest

Scorpion #6, 2007

11 p.m. Wednesday, on the famed Scorpion Wall perpendicular to the front door.

A small guy, unalarming and unspectacular (with all due respect to Mr S himself). He's spending the night at the kitchen sink motel.

Still No Woodlets

One of my bird books says that it takes 18-30 days for golden-fronted woodpeckers to fledge. It was two weeks ago yesterday that I first heard the woodlets in their tree, so that's sixteen days, at least, and possibly more; maybe they were silent for a few days after birth (she said hopefully). Had I anything with which to record sound, I would log the staticky fuzz that is the woodlets' hungry cry, as well as the sound of Fritz, aka Mr. Loud. It is torture for him to be inside. It is also torture for us to listen to his unending diatribe of meows of varying tones, lengths, and decibel levels. Unlike his brother Hamilton, Fritz is not blessed with a musical, birdlike voice. He has the voice akin to the rusty-gate voice of fairy tale fame (that which is always visited upon the wicked stepsister who is unkind to the heads in the well* or whatever). Suffice it to say that we are counting down the days.

That makes it sound as though it's all about us, though, and it's not. First and foremost are the Woodses—we adore them, and they nest in that tree every year (not the same couple, but we like to think each time that it's one of last year's juniors coming back with its mate), and we love the fact of bird-nesting and can't wait to see the babies. Secondly, it's about the parents' unceasing feeding and caretaking—isn't it just exhausting for them to spend their entire days in nonstop hunting of food for their offspring? Do they not deserve a vacation and a meal for themselves?

While Fritz is loud, Hamilton grows fat from confinement (really more from snacking all day on dog food rather than lack of exercise). Hugh kindly took him out for a supervised walk the other evening, which caused no little friction because of course he made a beeline for the Woodie tree. "No," said Hugh, "that is simply the way down the hill," and though we disagree on Ham's intended destination, we do agree that once he gets within earshot of the tree, of course he wants to feast on baby birds. Words were exchanged and cat scooped up and cat walked UP the hill, instead of down, and no more was said about it; but also, proximity to the tree was not allowed again.

*See http://www.authorama.com/english-fairy-tales-46.html, though this is not the version that I know and love; in mine, the heads say: "Wash me and comb me and lay me down gently, that I may be comely for passers to see." In this online version, the heads wish the stepsister the voice of corn-crakes. I don't think corn-crakes can hold a candle to Fritz.

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.