Stupid birds don’t like me

I have a yard full of bird-feeders (set up by my wife, not me), every morning is a cacophony of bird song, and I can look out my window and see flocks of birds hopping and flying all over. If I set foot outside my door and look in their direction…forget about it. Instant panic. Birds go winging off in all directions, and the yard is abruptly vacant. I was quick enough to get this one photo of a stupid bird before it too decided I was a nightmarish, terrifying figure.

Spiders don’t do that. Spiders like me. Birds…bleh.

Learning about birds

I learned about an interesting bird this morning, the American Dipper, a freshwater diving bird. I didn’t know they existed.

It was particularly fascinating to me because the narrator looks so much like my late brother, when he was younger. Also, he has a pleasantly casual narrative style — I’d recommend him to replace David Attenborough, in part because he sounds nothing like him.

Not a spider

Spiders don’t usually look this pissed off.

I know it’s not as interesting as a spider, but I’m setting goals for myself this summer. I’m making a list!

  • Get that knee surgery, finally. I’m meeting with the orthopedic surgeon on Wednesday to, I hope, schedule the thing.
  • Visit the Boundary Waters before the Republicans poison them. Preferably after the knees are fixed.
  • Visit Paisley Park.
  • Look at more organisms than spiders. See, bird! I understand some people maintain life lists of birds observed. I’ve already checked this one off!

I’ll probably add more to the list as I go. I think if I add more goals than I can accomplish, I can never die.

A grim ending

We have a home Pholcus phalangioides living under our kitchen cupboard, who occasionally emerges when they’ve caught something in their cobweb. In this case, a ladybug, who has been trapped under there for the past day.

The spider is clearly fang deep in a gap under the beetle’s armor, but what adds a frisson of horror to the scene is that the beetle was still alive, it’s mouthparts and forelimbs slowly writhing as Mlle. Pholcus sups on her fluids.