I gave Mary a quick lesson in using a real camera this morning. She took a few shots of the flowers she has growing outside our back door.
Tell her she did a good job!
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.
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.
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!
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.
It’s warming up and the snow is melting everywhere, which means my lawn is exposed and looking hideous, and all the vole trails have been exposed.
It’s nice to think about all those little guys scurrying under the snow pack all winter long.
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.
Found lurking in our bedroom, an assassin!
Masked Hunter (Reduvius personatus)
It has been courteously escorted off the premises.
Spotted, growing on a tree about a block from my house: Laetipous, AKA Chicken of the Woods.
It’s not my tree, or I’d be tempted to harvest it and fix it for dinner.
A sperm whale was found munching on a giant squid.
I had no idea it was such a messy meal, but I should have figured that was so — all those tentacles flailing about.
It was easy. Their wings weren’t fully inflated and dried, so they couldn’t escape.
Another one also emerged a few feet away, and there are three more chrysalides around my door.
