From the category archives:

nature

Herptile Rehousing Administration

by fred on June 18, 2013

IMG_1402barnsnake480

I know for a fact that this is the kind of thing that gives far too many people the creeps, and so I understand and accept my eccentricity in this regard. Looking up to see the five foot long black rat snake sunning himself on top of the barn door made me grin where most would have shuddered or gone to fetch the rifle.

He was there the next day as well, not surprisingly, since this south facing wall and a horizontal repose some 10 feet off the ground was a great, protected place near the barn loft and its associated small edible creatures. Take some sun, snack a little, then go explore.

I suppose he was exploring yesterday when Ann opened the gate to the chicken yard and spotted him lounging in the upper story of the hen house, hens out ranging free at the time. I’m not exactly sure how I heard her holler, except that when Mother Hen hollers for fear of her chicks, the volume is sufficient to muster the Army of One, even over the loud murmur of the creek.

Said army made contingencies last year for just this kind of battle. Although this was a smaller snake than Jumbo who attempted last year to swallow an almost-grown hen, because this somewhat smaller specimen was deep inside the coop with several roost bars and such to wrap himself around, I decided for the first time ever to use something other than my bare hands for the extraction.

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At the end of last summer, after my third or fourth run-in with Jumbo with an egg in his mouth, I decided he needed a road trip. Then he wisely disappeared for the season. But because of this, yesterday I was fore-armed with my handy-dandy snake noose, made from a piece of flexible pipe and a bit of nylon rope as pictured.

And that is when the dance commenced–me, the snake, and the prancing wife, round and round, first movement performed in the chicken yard. The suspect was at first calm and cooperative, then less so, coiling, tail rattling, and finally made a run for it, resisting arrest, smart enough to avoid the loop at the end of the rope. But not for long.

Snake is now in “hand” and several pounds of him dangle from the noose. Ann refused to hold the pillow case fetched for containment. Capture-apparatus plus writhing snake is passed awkwardly to leaping assistant. I open the sack, pull snake’s back end from the roost bar he has since managed to grab firmly onto, and slide the yellow pillowcase up over the length of the body like a sock until contained. Whew!

Back at the house, she ran to get my car keys for the Reptile Road Trip, during which time the inmate became an outmate. Seems there was a hole in the corner of the pillowcase. Noose is redeployed, more running, more excited near-hysterical exhortations as if this was a Gaboon Viper and I was a swooning school girl, and finally, the poor wild creature was contained in a blue pillowcase with ruffles.

She drove. I executed the live release a mile from the house. I’m not saying which direction, given the strict prohibitions of the Herptile Rehousing Administration. Suffice it to say there are empty barns nearby, and mice just as tasty as in our barn loft. But not serving chicken wings.

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Garden Shed

by fred on June 13, 2013

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As usual, it was a kick to experience our everyday world through the eyes of the young.

The most ordinary daily experience–finding a snake skin in the garden, for instance–becomes the thrill and horror of a new day in the country for our grand daughters.

Here, the older sends the younger into mock-panic, even though the original resident had left the building, and the skin is no more a snake than a fingernail is a person.

But what a strange way to do things, don’t you think? To molt an epidermis all at once (we slough and shed epidermal cells constantly) so that you leave husks of your former self hanging about they office, gym or family room–now that could be the subject of much conversation.

And would we be inclined to save little Johnny’s skins as he grows up–a kind of integument of memory to scrap-book our lives? But I digress.

Here’s one of our locals undergoing the process at this very moment. I just checked the wood pile. This gray rat snake is staying put, since he (it) is not able to see very well just now, the conjunctiva of the eye is also cloudy and about to be exchanged for a new one.

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So I had this moment of terrible imagination: can you see it–a family of today’s supersized Americans who all shed their intact skins at the same time–and leave skin-tents draped from any convenient itching post at the local mall. The horror!

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Small Wonders: Life Intersects Insects

by fred on June 12, 2013

Dragonfly Ambassador

I’m guessing it had landed on my back some time before I walked in from cutting the grass. Or maybe it snagged the insect in its mouth just as I opened the door, and it flew into the house accidentally.

Or maybe, the dragonfly beating at the window over my desk had intentionally seized the opportunity for us to meet and chat for a good long while yesterday afternoon. I guess I’ll never know for sure.

I grasped it as I would a bird from a mist net, to protect the wings, and carried it out the front door to release it back into its world. But it chose to stay in mine, and would not leave right away until we had gotten to know each other a bit.

I hope it was not impolite, but I watched it devour an unknown insect, extruding the fuselage of some flying food I could not quite identify, then sucking it back into its mouth again, each time a bit less left, sometimes a leg or antenna spat out like chicken bones. It used its middle pair of legs with no small degree of dexterity to turn and control the morsel, while front and rear legs kept it on the temporary bar stool of my extended index finger.

So welcome to Fred’s petting zoo. These in-the-flesh (and chitin) encounters with the intricacies of living kind other than my own always reorient me to the small marvels buzzing around and within us all our otherwise-oblivious lives.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, life perches in our hand in all its veined and articulated detail. Sometimes, we are not too busy to be good hosts.

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One Place, Understood

by fred on June 7, 2013

PasturePainting

I am pleased to be able to contribute to the fine work of Richard Louv and the Child and Nature Network.

I share my recent and on-going ruminations about the urgent need to reconcile our broken bonds to nature and to place. From that guest post essay,  The Wisdom of One Place: Why We Need to Know Where We Are, I’ve pulled this excerpt:

To restore wholeness to the brokenness we’ve inflicted on the planet’s living systems, we need go no further than that one place just beyond our doors—to sense and know that accessible fragment of the whole of nature that we can see, taste, hear, smell and wrap our heads and hearts around in our own nearby terrain.

As we succeed with that reintegration of human lives with nature, we also will grow to appreciate the places where our stories unfold, to reclaim sense of place—an identity with the where of our lives in all its uniqueness of topography and history and culture. We become placed persons even as we become a renatured people.

From this reintegration with nature and place may evolve eco-empathy: an organic personal-ecological ethic that puts each of us back into the web of right relationships, back not only into local nature but into the intended natural order as stewards with a seven-generation commitment to the well-being of people and planet.

If you want to be a “field guide” for your students, children, grand children or other young people who might follow you outdoors, the Child and Nature Network has many great resources.

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In Green Pastures

by fred on June 7, 2013

Pastoral View Floyd Co VA

Also on Wednesday’s forced-march to town for the makings of s’mores and hot dogs, I stopped the car in the middle of the road (this is something you can do in Floyd County in most places) and snapped this image, and from the same place, the one I’ll post tomorrow. [click pix to enlarge]

Bonus feature: click this audio link and listen to the baaaaaahs. I especially like the deep baritone guy-sheep (I’m guessing) that adds his harsh “get outta here” bleet to the high nasal whining of the little sheeples.

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BioSpeedBump

by fred on June 6, 2013

You Wanna Piece of Me?

I was not thrilled with the duty of a trip to town to gather supplies for an afternoon picnic up the valley, but the drive to town at least offered several photo-ops.

This snapping turtle stared me down as I started up the last hill before the hard top.

He impressed me as an ancient warrior–a Goth perhaps–in a coat of mail, shield permanently in place to protect him from behind.

I am sure that when I drove off, he returned to the upright position, retrieved his sword from the side of the road, and continued on his quest for adventure and romance.

Or maybe I’m just a permanent victim of a long history of Gary Larsen exposure.

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Lovely Rotten World

by fred on May 29, 2013

Amazing World of Rot

I have a growing body (so to speak) of resources on the “human microbiome”–that living cosmos of thousands of species and gazillions of individual living organisms that we each call ME.

Case in point, quickly, because I have weed-whacking duties before the sun crests the ridge–you have some 100 or more fungi living on your feet alone.

The image above (click to enlarge in Flickr) shows a mycological community hopefully such as you’d only see growing out of a plant, although the blue polypores would go well emerging near my baby-blues, don’t you think?

Tree trunks like this are common in mature woods (this one growing near Konnarock below Mt Rogers) where trees live long enough to have the diseases of old age. The fungal threads, whose total biomass far exceeds the visible external “mushroom” part of the fungus, secrete enzymes that break cellulose and lignin into digestible sugars. This may come in handy in a future where cellulosic biomass may contribute to local energy needs.

Without this service of decay, the world would quickly fill up with dead but undecayed organic matter, tying up the building blocks needed by the next generation of growing things. Not to mention that the un-rot would just pile up deeper and deeper on the forest floor.

More conversation, perhaps some morning after the days get shorter again, on the colossal community that is the human microbiome. We are legion.

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Billion-Year Bottled Water

by fred on May 16, 2013

bedrock

We’re talking well-aged water: like for a billion years or more: found trapped in ancient bedrock north of Lake Superior. And that ancient water may contain living organisms that came along long before multicellular life on the surface. Or so they speculate.

So I’m looking at the map in the NPR piece–the age of bedrock coded in colors. Hmmm. I’d sort of like to know what the colors mean in terms of age.

So I find the USGS National Geologic Map Database and I’m in map-geek heaven. Except that nowhere on the elaborate customizable maps do I find a legend that gives me any information about what the map shows. Maybe the colors are something a geologist just knows. But for us armchair explorers, I need more information, please.

Then again, it looks like this overall map database is a long way from being standardized for anything (note the four maps that converge in the center of this screen shot), and the ages of the individual quadrangle maps are probably, well,  all over the map yet.

So. Another science fiction storyline bubbles up in my mind, as if I ever wrote fiction: ancient trapped water is discovered, and…it contains lifeforms that are not carbon based and considered to be extraterrestrial. Or once released to the oxidizing atmosphere, the lifeforms proliferate, spread rapidly and threaten the worlds fresh water; or….

If they do find organisms, chances are they will be not too distant from the geothermal chemosynthetic autotrophs found at the boiling vents deep in the oceans. Still, that would be cool to discover that at about the same time as we resurrect extinct species like the Wooly Mammoth by currently available genetic engineering. (The jury is still out on whether that is such a great idea. DeExtinction is a whole nuther topic. See this National Geographic coverage on DeExtinction if you are interested.)

Strange world we live in. And it ain’t over. Yet.

 

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The Least of These

May 14, 2013

The white-nosed bats and the honey bees. That both these earth-economy essential creatures should be threatened in a serious way should be improbable details you’d come across only in dystopian fiction. The storyline of such a novel is predicated on the large consequences that derive from the disappearances (only a highly creative imagination could come [...]

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Fun Gal

May 10, 2013

So I’m heading off to Mt Rogers for the umpteenth Naturalist Rally today, drizzles notwithstanding, and at the end of a two hour drive, hope to have a bit of dry skies to do the traditional loop around the Grindstone Nature Trail. That was the first place I ever discovered ramps, though I did not [...]

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