Junction of the ages

Back from Africa and in London for the next week. I woke up dreaming about the animals again. Seeing them in their wild state was life changing. After a week in the bush, I was grateful to not see a giraffe or elephant in the game reserve just outside Johannesburg. The 4m electric fence separating it from the freeway, separating the Holocene from the Anthropocene, made the rift between the ages sadly all too clear.

Rosie or As the Century Rolls On

The Bird Park has changed in the months we've been away. It's full of cats  . . . and a skunk with a fabulous long flowing tail whom I call Rosie. In the brief time we were back, I put food out as always and good old Maggie Magpie, who ever keeps an eye on the place, showed up for breakfast as always, but she was one of the very few birds daring enough to do so.



Of course, predators have hunted here before but never stayed. Until now, the Bird Park was a relatively peaceful world just for birds. No more and I'm sad about that. I suspect these cats live in the house just over the back fence so they have the place for now. The black one spent most of her time staking out the squirrel hole and all four came and went at will. At various times I chased them away but it won't matter. I'm already gone again for months. Perhaps this is the end of an era.

Freedom, sweet freedom!

These animals are tasting freedom for the first time pic.twitter.com/zd1yfQh9kz

— The Dodo (@dodo) May 21, 2017

Squirrel Appreciation Day

It's Squirrel Appreciation Day.

Make a squirrel's day.

Ringling Circus dreams

This spring the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus is emptying its cages and folding up its big tent forever.

When I was in my early twenties I nearly joined Ringling Bros. circus. A job was waiting. Well, a job was waiting for Billy Grummel but we both knew Joey, the "one time with a dime" guy who ran a ring toss game on the midway and our mutual lover. Billy could work on the midway. I dreamed of taking care of the elephants. But all that's another story. My point is, I too once loved the circus but today I celebrate its demise.

I didn't know then what I know now. I didn't realize that elephants who, in the wild, might enjoy a 100 mile stroll before breakfast, are tortured until their spirit breaks then sold into a life of slavery. Except for when they perform, give rides to tourists, haul logs, beg on the street or at a temple etc. they live in chains.

So good. Ringling Bros. circus is closing. It only took 36 years of petitions, protests, legal wrangling but finally, finally it's closing. Thank you to all who wrote letters, signed online petitions, sent in a few bucks, explained to the kids why "we aren't going to the circus", joined a street protest when the circus came to town, talked to a friend about it, blogged about it ... whatever ... cared. The voice of compassion has been heard although, of course, it was the loss of revenue that carried it to the ears. It's all good.

And now . . . .

Biker dude dog

While his human was off shopping, this little fellow seemed to be enjoying a fabulous adventure on the motorbike.

When he realized I was standing there he turned and said, in no uncertain barks, "Get outta here". I immediately regretted ogling him. He was deep in his game and, quite understandably, did not appreciate by-standers photographing him.

Don't worry. It all worked out OK. I quickly moved out of sight, though I did take one last photo before going on my way. As for the dog, the second I disappeared from view, he roared off again on the open road.

Moments

Beautiful sunset tonight. The cicada are singing. August is their time. A frog joins them; another welcome voice as summer draws to a close.

At the moment, I'm resisting photographing the clouds. I've been photographing everything around me for so long . . . colorful scenes, unusual moments, perspectives, common wonders . . . whatever catches my eye. I need to sit this one out just to prove to myself I can.

The cloud colors run from grays, light pinks and lavenders to shades of purple the color of new bruises.

Now the glow has faded. The pinks and lavenders are gone but the cicada sing on under the darkish clouds, mixing their voices with low rumbling thunder from somewhere beyond Alligator Creek.

And now it's night. The cicada are silent again. So is the frog. Lightning from a far distant storm occasionally flashes the dark.

Monkey business

We've been back from Costa Rica since about the 13th. One of the most memorable moments was walking in Cahuita National Park and getting shook down by some monkeys. They are extremely quick and very clever and we were rubes. First they managed to grab a snack bar from the table. We were just glad he didn't grab the iPhone. After that one approached me as I was finishing the last few bites of my bar. No words were necessary. His body language was impeccable . . . we could "do this the hard way or we could do this the easy way". I tossed it to him. Bad manners, yes, but we were delighted.

Monkey highway

We're staying in Cahuita, a small town on
Costa Rica's Caribbean side. Lots of monkeys here.
The ones in these photos are Howler monkeys.

Three monkeys looking at me

They are very shy and generally stay high in canape.

We just happened to be on the road as a band of them

were crossing it . . .

Monkey taking a piss

though several paused
for a bathroom break before taking the leap.

Monkey highway

They swung over the road
via a very spindly branch but . . .

Monkey highway detail

. . . after some wrangling, they all made it

Change, the only constant

Wrong again. Why did I think life on Alligator Creek would always be the same? Nothing is ever the same. I'm not saying things always get worse, or that they are, but they do always change.

For one thing, Thea Bella and her mom are here with us this summer. Thea is now seven and is, as always, a delight though she manages to kick my ass nearly every time we play Sleeping Queens.

Great Blue Heron
& the old man by the sea.

On the other hand, Sonny has been gone since the 4th of July. That changes things. He was Alligator Creek's version of middle-aged Florida Man; a 50 something guy who, after countless misadventures, had been basically living on his parent's screen porch . . . for years. When he got going with his wild stories of the past or absurd plans for the future, whether on the phone or to his mom, the whole neighborhood could hear him. It didn't seem to bother him so what the hell? It was fun listening. Is he gone for good? Who's to say?

On the other hand, I happy to note that the great blue heron and the old man are both still around (see photo from a couple of years ago).  I saw the old fellow on the ferry to the beach. He still goes early and leaves by noon. The great blue heron is a little harder to catch up with but the other morning I saw him fishing along his usual lonely stretch of beach.

As for the squirrel scene, since a hawk got Frida a few years ago, I keep that on the down low, no more all day peanuts. It's safer that way. I put some nuts and seeds out in the morning and that's it. It took awhile but eventually one squirrel discovered them and was my only guest for nearly a week, then it was two, now sometimes four or five come by briefly in the morning.

Somewhere in Texas

One more from the road.

Molly

Now a word from Mishka

No. No. Not him. No!

RIP Hanako

So sorry. Rest in peace, beautiful one.

Despite years of international outrage at Inokashira Park's treatment of the elephant Hanako and repeated offers to relocate her to an elephant sanctuary, Hanako passed away this week. She died the same way she spent her life ... alone in the zoo's concrete prison where she lived alone for 60 long years. She never felt grass, or dirt or had the comfort of the company of her own kind.

Hanako, forgive us.
source

One commenter wrote: "some people who were interviewed a while back said Hanako should stay in the zoo because they liked going to see her...selfish is the kindest word I can use..."

Pig in a Bentley

We've been in London for about a week now and today we went for a lovely five mile walk beside the Thames. Passing through a segment of a riverside park we met a woman on an outing with a gigantic, black and white, long haired pig and a little white dog. The pig was happily munching what looked like delicious spring grass and the dog was running around investigating everything. I'm not sure if the man leaning on the nearby black Bentley was her husband or her driver but he also smiled when I complimented her on the pig.

Squirrel Appreciation day 2016

 photo credit: djpsychochild

It's never the wrong time to appreciate squirrels but today, Jan 21, is their official day. However, if you missed today, get some peanuts and do it tomorrow or the next day or the next — whenever you can. These plucky little guys always appreciate being appreciated.

Late at night....

Late at night and almost beyond the edge of human hearing, giraffes hum....



Via New Scientist

CECIL THE LION - RIP

Cecil the lion
RIP

Like most people, I am outraged and heartbroken that asshole thrill killer dentist Dr. Walter Palmer lured, tortured, murdered, skinned and beheaded beautiful Cecil the lion.

Hey Palmer!

The day Cecil's death made the headlines here in London even a stranger at a little Moroccan restaurant struck up a conversation with me about it. His accent made it hard to follow word for word but our rage and grief were identical.  

Big "game" hunting is not a sport, asshole,
it's murder.

Of course it's easy to hate Palmer. Relief even. He's a member of that despicable group who pride themselves on being big "game" or trophy hunters. They are, in fact, clueless selfish rich bastards who think that wild animals, the world's living treasures, are their "trophies" for the killing, if they just throw around enough money.

Another gloating, shithead corpse rider

But killing is not a "game", is it? It's life we're talking about and it's murder. 

Rhapsodize away about the "glory" of the hunt, man's deepest roots or all the good hunters do, it's time to pull the plug on these arrogant sadists.

You can help by signing (even one of) these petitions:

United Nations: Ban International Travel for Hunting. NO imports of animal parts.

Lions Like Cecil Aren’t Trophies. USFWS: Don’t Allow Exceptions for Wealthy Hunters

DEMAND JUSTICE FOR CECIL THE LION IN ZIMBABWE

Extradite Minnesotan Walter James Palmer to face justice in Zimbabwe.

WildCRU - Oxford group who were tracking Cecil at the time of his death and currently monitoring his cubs.

Rest in peace, Cecil.

"...the time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of men.” 
-- Leonardo Da Vinci

Remember Sunder?

If you love happy endings, you're going to love this one.

If you were one of the thousands of people who signed the petitions and/or donated to Sunder's legal expenses.... thank you, thank you. He is now free and lives in India's first ever free-roaming, forested, elephant sanctuary established by PETA India, Bannerghata Biological Park. Petitions work. Keep caring. Keep signing!

Sometimes life's a bitch

Friday's wild storm had gusts up to 90 miles an hour and, between the valley and Lake Tahoe, left 21,000 people without power, some until Sunday. And that night, after the wind knocked down sections of the fence between our houses, it also brought Roxie crying to our door. She's my neighbor's so-called "outside" dog. I realize she's a hardy mix but he left after the storm began and left her out in it, as usual. Don't get me started on "outside" dogs. I will never agree with people who think dogs should live outside, whatever the weather. Fine. Wolves do it but they live in packs and have dens. Dogs are domesticated creatures who also need a pack and a den. Anyone sitting warm and cozy in their fat while their dog huddles alone outside in the rain and cold is an asshole. So, even though her paws were caked with mud, we let her in.

Uninvited guest and the magpies are pissed

And about 2 am we let her back back out again. We had to. She was pacing and whining and beginning to howl. Her "owner" barely interacts with her, so she's basically feral. She doesn't even wag. We felt bad but didn't lose any sleep over it. It's just the way it had to be.

Morning guest. Roxie at the door

Five sections of fence are down and Roxie is still wandering around the three yards that are now open to each other. Fine by me but the birds don't like it. Yesterday morning, she ate most of their kibble and was back at the sliding door begging to come in, even throwing herself at the glass, I handed her some dog treats through the door then closed it again. Sometimes, life's a bitch.

Happy Squirrel Appreciation Day

Woo-hoo! It's that time of year again....National Squirrel Appreciation Day.

Just remember to get the UNSALTED treats.