This joke in one form or another must go back to vaudeville at least.
What’s that bee doing in my orange juice?
The breaststroke.
Category Archives: Wildlife
South Pond, Lincoln Park
Frame your photos just so and you can achieve the appearance of wilderness.
Not only did I not visit the wilderness yesterday, I was smack in a densely populated city. Chicago, of course. Late in the morning I took a walk through the southern reaches of Lincoln Park — south of the better-trod zoo and conservatory and other parts of the park. Go far enough along this path and you reach the park’s South Pond.
In August, it’s lush with vegetation, but also clearly urban.
I don’t remember walking this particular path before. No matter how many times you go somewhere, there’s always more.
Chance the Snapper Has Gone Home
I left for college for the first time 40 years ago today. So long ago that I flew on Braniff to get to Nashville, as I like to say. At least to anyone who might remember that airline.
Nothing so milestone-like happened today. At least I don’t think so. Sometimes you quietly pass by milestones and only realize it in retrospect, if then.
Sometimes that’s literally true. On the Trans-Siberian, I knew that some kind of post is visible from the train marking the “border” between Asia and Europe, as you cross the Urals. I missed it. I think I was concerning myself with lunch at that moment.
One place we went today was the former home of Chance the Snapper. That is, Humboldt Park in Chicago. Chance has been returned from the park’s lagoon to Florida. Presumably Florida Man brought him to Chicago at some point.
Temps today were warm but not too hot, so we took a walk around. Plenty of ducks and geese to see. Lilypads, too.
But presumably no gators to bother the people who rent paddleboats.
We’ve visited the park a number of times, including for a look at its various artworks, but today we discovered a curious snail sculpture near one of the footpaths, but also partly covered by bushes.
According to the Chicago Park District: “In 1999, teenagers involved in a Chicago Park District program known as the Junior Earth Team spent several months learning about nature in Humboldt Park. The JETs developed an interpretive trail and provided sculptor Roman Villarreal with notes and sketches for a series of artworks.
“For this project, Villarreal and the students produced three carved artworks that are scattered and remain relatively hidden throughout the park. The three pieces relate to the theme of air, water, and earth. Among the trio is a two-foot tall snail sculpture located northeast of the Humboldt Park Boat House that bears the inscription ‘breathe oxygen.’ ”
High Summer Hiatus
Saw a few fireflies the other day, a certain sign of that nebulous period, high summer. The days might be getting shorter, but you don’t notice that yet — like the long moment at the top of ballistic trajectory. Back to posting around July 7.
Usually I rely on rain to wash my car or, if absolutely necessary, a hosing down on a warm day. But after our recent summertime jaunt to central Illinois-Indiana, enough bugs had met their insectoid maker against the leading edge of my car that I ponied up for an automated car wash. Half price ($5), though, since I had a coupon.
I find the journey through the car wash, at less than two minutes, visually and sonically interesting. I get that for my money, besides the removal of bug splatter.
So I held my camera as steady as possible during the splashing and blooping and hissing and flapping, along with elements of a minor light show.
The dog spent some time this morning trading insults with a resident squirrel. At least that’s how I want to think of it. The dog spotted a squirrel in the major back yard tree around 9 and immediately started looking up and whining at it, as she often does. Soon the squirrel was making its own noise, something like a duck with laryngitis.
Age has slowed her (the dog) down a little, but not yet when it comes to guarding the back yard against other creatures. Earlier this year, she spent time trying to scratch through the deck to reach what I suspect was a brood of possums. They seem to be gone now, since that dog behavior has stopped for now.
Chanced on a site called Yarn the other day that purports to offer a search “by word or phrase for TV, movies, and music clips.” So I decided to test it.
Why that phrase? Just popped into my head like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.
Snow Melts, Dog Guards Her Territory, Ants March and Die
Sure enough, the inches of snow got busy melting this morning. By noon, it was warm enough for me to stand on my deck in my socks — on the parts where the snow was already gone — without any discomfort. Felt good, actually.
As the meltwater trickled from the roof into the rain gutter, it sounded like this.
The dog has spent a lot of time lately out on the deck, or on the ground near the deck, sniffing and pawing. Even when the snow was thick. My guess is that another animal has taken up residence under the deck. Strategies to block the holes leading under the deck never work from year to year.
Probably a new family of possums. Or raccoons. But not a skunk. I think we would have found that out already.
Speaking of wildlife invasions, little black ants were on the march this weekend, especially around the kitchen sink. I deployed ant bait. By this morning, they were gone, except those that died in the trap. Even so, it could be that Earth is the realm of ants, and they’re merely tolerating us vertebrates.
Stray Thursday Items
Various things my computer has told me lately:
Object reference not set to an instance of an object.
Description: An unhandled exception occurred during the execution of the current web request. Please review the stack trace for more information about the error and where it originated in the code.
Sure, whatever you say.
Tremendous loud thunderstorm yesterday evening. Short but dramatic. The yard needed the water. Been a dryish August so far. But not too hot. I try to enjoy lunch on my deck daily, and sometimes breakfast, because soon the air will grow cold. All too soon.
Cicadas are in full voice during the day now. Crickets are on the night shift, singing their songs. Sounds just the same — to my human ears — as it did in 2015. But for all I know, the songs have morphed since then, and are as different to the insects as Middle English compared with Modern English.
Presidential sites are pretty thin on the ground up on the north shore of Lake Superior, but I did find one place during our recent trip that has the vaguest connection to a U.S. president. Its name: Buchanan.
Here it is.
That might look like undeveloped shore on Lake Superior, and it is, but not far from shore a plaque says: This town site, named after President Buchanan, was laid out in October 1856. From September 1857 until May 1859 the place, though little less than wilderness, was the seat of the U.S. land office for the northeastern district of Minnesota. After the removal of the land office, the settlement disappeared.
This sizable sculpture is on the campus of University of Minnesota Duluth, near that school’s planetarium. It’s called “Wild Ricing Moon.”
“The sculpture… was designed by John David Mooney, a Chicago sculptor with an international reputation,” the university says. “The piece is 89 feet tall. The first half of this large-scale outdoor sculpture was erected in October 2005. The first installation, a large steel circle, 40 feet in diameter, represents the full, rice-harvesting moon of late summer.
“A ‘rice stalk’ section and bird was included in the pieces that arrived in June. Mooney described the sculpture as reflecting the North Shore of Lake Superior and natural features of the region.”
Here’s the pleasant open area behind the Allyndale Motel in Duluth.
One morning I ate a rudimentary breakfast there as the girls slept. One night I went there on the thin hope that the northern lights would be visible. No dice.
I spent a few minutes tooling around Eau Claire, Wis., on the Saturday morning on the way up to Minnesota. One thing I saw in passing was the impressive Sacred Heart-St. Patrick Parish church.
Unfortunately, the church was closed.
A little later that day we stopped at Leinenkugel Brewery in Chippewa Falls. The tourist-facing part of the operation is known as the Leinie Lodge®, which “is filled with historical photos, vintage brewing equipment and plenty of Leinie’s wearables and collectibles to take home,” notes the brewery web site. There’s also a bar. Guess what it serves.
Boy, the Leinie Lodge was crowded. That’s the result of years of clever advertising (autoplay) and what we get for going on a Saturday morning. But that wasn’t the irritating part, not really. Leinenkugel Brewery tours cost $10. Admission for a brewery tour?
I’ve been on brewery and vineyard and distillery tours all over the world, including a beer brewery in Denmark, a bourbon maker in Kentucky, a winery in Western Australia and a sake brewery in Japan, and that’s one thing I haven’t run across. Because, you know, the tour is marketing — building goodwill — introducing new customers to your product — not a damned revenue stream. For the birds, Leinenkugel, for the birds.
But I have to confess that Lilly wanted a Leinenkugel shirt, so I got her one. Her souvenir for the trip. I got a couple of postcards.
On the way back from Minnesota, as I’ve mentioned, we ate lunch in Madison, Wis., at the excellent Monty’s Blue Plate Diner.
Across the street from Monty’s is the Barrymore Theatre. I like its looks.
Various live acts play at the Barrymore. Looking at the upcoming list, I see that They Might Be Giants will be there in October after dates in the UK, Germany and Canada. Maybe I should see them again — it’s been almost 30 years now — but it’s a Tuesday show, so I don’t think I’ll make it.
One more thing. At a rest stop on I-94 near Black River Falls, Wis., there’s a state historical marker honoring, at some length, the passenger pigeon. Among other things, the marker says: “The largest nesting on record anywhere occurred in this area in 1871. The nesting ground covered 850 square miles with an estimated 136,000,000 pigeons.
“John Muir described the passenger pigeons in flight, ‘I have seen flocks streaming south in the fall so large that they were flowing from horizon to horizon in an almost continuous stream all day long.’ “
Wow. 136 million pigeons more or less in the same place? A marvel to behold, I’m sure. That and an amazing amount of noise and a monumental torrent of droppings.
The Great Lakes Aquarium
On the last day of July, we spent a few hours at the Great Lakes Aquarium in Duluth, perched on the lakefront near Canal Park since it opened in 2000. At $17 admission for an adult, I wasn’t entirely persuaded at first that it would be worth it, but eventually I got some satisfaction for that price.
Besides, it’s a deal compared with the Shedd Aquarium, whose rack rate for an adult ticket is a hefty $40, a price devised to sell memberships and gouge one-time visitors from far away — and the reason one puts up with mass crowding on its occasional free days. Then again, the Shedd is a marvel and its collection vast and varied. The Great Lakes Aquarium, while certainly interesting, isn’t quite in the same league.
Maybe that’s because Great Lakes is only part aquarium. It’s also partly children’s museum, and while that might be a fine thing, I’ve seen enough of that kind of edu-tainment until the time comes when I might possibly entertain grandchildren.
As I said, there was some satisfaction to be had at the Great Lakes. For one thing, it focuses on freshwater creatures, including but not limited to the actual Great Lakes, which is unusual. There’s no lack of tanks and other things to see. The exhibit on Lake Baikal, for instance, was good, and the tanks featuring freshwater tropical fish tended to be colorful.
Also on display, a whopping big Lake Sturgeon, which the sign near the tank said can be found in the waters right outside the aquarium.
A snapping turtle in motion.
The girls had some fun with the children’s museum elements (and so did I), especially the model Great Lakes, on which you float toy boats and open and close toy locks between some of the lakes, to illustrate their respective elevations.
This was near the tank of river otters, as you’d guess.
One of those things installed purely for entertainment.
Thursday Plattero-filleto-mulleto-turboto-cranio-morselo-pickleo-acido-silphio-honeyo-pouredonthetopo-theouzelo-throstleo-cushato-culvero-cutleto-roastingo-marowo-dippero-leveret-syrupu-gibleto-wings.
Just having fun with the head. As I did a few years ago. It’s one of the English translations of the Greek, which is transliterated lopadotemachoselachogaleokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphioparaomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptekephalliokigklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon.
I didn’t even have to find my copy of the Book of Lists to find it. All I did was Google “long Greek word leftovers,” and I found it right away.
Considering that it’s the “first day of summer,” it’s pretty cool and rainy around here. That’s nonsense anyway. It’s the Summer Solstice. That’s all.
Saw a few fireflies early in the week, but not since. They’re just the early ones. Around here most of them show up in July.
Not sure whether the rain pleases the toads or not, but I’ve seen some lately.
Something I didn’t know until recently that I found out in my work: the Seminole Tribe of Florida owns Hard Rock Cafe Inc. Since 2007. I probably should have known that, but I didn’t.
Not long ago I sat down with Ann and watched the 2011 Captain America movie on DVD. I’m rarely in the mood for comic book movies, but I thought I’d give it a go.
Not bad. I thought the best idea — which might be true to the comic, I have no clue — was that Captain America, after his conversion by Science from a 98-lb. weakling into a super-soldier, spent much of WWII on bond tours.
Then, of course, through an insane convergence of circumstances, Captain America got to defeat the badies in pitched CGI battles, be sad about his buddy’s death, and fall in love with a tough-but-tenderhearted British bombshell. Right, whatever. That’s what the 15-year-old boys (and some girls) paid to see.
I would have preferred a movie about a fellow who spends the war doing over-the-top patriotic shows, in a ridiculous costume, to sell bonds. He wouldn’t even have to be sad about his situation. Just before V-E Day, he could accidentally take a few hundred Germans prisoner, something like Don Knotts might have. It could be a comedy. That kind of thinking is what I get for not being a 15-year-old boy for a good many decades now.
New Robins in the Front Yard
May is ending, and June is beginning, as they should: warm. With periodic rain — which we had a lot of yesterday — to keep things growing for a while.
The robin eggs in the front yard nest hatched not long ago, and the hatchlings are eager for food. There seem to be three.
The female and the male robins oblige them. This I can see with my own eyes, though I read a bit about robin behavior to confirm that both parents feed the young.
As “The Story of Robin Eggs” puts it, “Now it becomes a full time job for both parents to protect the nest, find food, and feed the clamoring babies during the 9-16 days they spend in the nest.”
Recent Sounds
I take my digital audio recorder some places that I go — I’m resisting the temptation to call it a “tape recorder” — and sometimes to step outside the door and record the ambient sounds.
Such as outside my mother’s house in San Antonio last month. The birds were a lot livelier than in the cold Illinois I’d left, and the selection of birdsong somewhat different, though I can’t pinpoint the exact differences.
In Marathon, Texas, late last month the wind blew much of the night and into the morning one day. I captured 20 seconds of it, but it went on without much pause for hours.
The spring rainstorms in northern Illinois have been numerous and loud recently. This is what I heard from my front porch about 24 hours ago.
The rain had stopped by the morning and the sun dried up a lot of the puddles today. But not everywhere. The back yard is still marshy.