January 27th, 2005

breeden

Poor Stumpy!

Rabbit-hole entries to commence later, but for now, a sad note--I woke up, and saw Gimpy on the feeder. I almost didn't recognize him because you could now call him "Stumpy"--his tail's about a third the length of a regular squirrel tail, and significantly shorter than it was yesterday. There are bloody claw marks in his bad leg, too (although not too much blood, he's cleaned it very neatly and they're small holes.)

I am not fast enough to catch a three-legged squirrel. It would appear that something else isn't quite fast enough either, but fast enough to come pretty close. I wonder if this is going to continue until his entire hind end has become truncated, or if something'll finally get lucky and snag him.

Poor Gimpy. He can eat all of my camellia he wants.


UPDATE: Hold the phone! That's not Gimpy!

Or if it is, Gimpy has an astonishing gift for instantaneous tail regeneration, as he's currently hanging off the feeder stuffing his face, and his tail is the proper length. So obviously what has happened is that a second squirrel (who will henceforth be known as Stumpy) has run afoul of some beast in the exact same manner as Gimpy--it got him by the left hind quarter and yanked, dislocating the leg and clawing it up a bit, except that Stumpy also lost the majority of his tail.

I still don't know if I am just living in some kind of ward for defective and hard luck squirrels, or if this would happen if one took the time to watch any small population of animals for a year, or what.

Well, I feel obscurely relieved. Good luck, Stumpy! If Gimpy can make it, so can you!
breeden

Poor Stumpy!

Rabbit-hole entries to commence later, but for now, a sad note–I woke up, and saw Gimpy on the feeder. I almost didn’t recognize him because you could now call him “Stumpy”–his tail’s about a third the length of a regular squirrel tail, and significantly shorter than it was yesterday. There are bloody claw marks in his bad leg, too (although not too much blood, he’s cleaned it very neatly and they’re small holes.)

I am not fast enough to catch a three-legged squirrel. It would appear that something else isn’t quite fast enough either, but fast enough to come pretty close. I wonder if this is going to continue until his entire hind end has become truncated, or if something’ll finally get lucky and snag him.

Poor Gimpy. He can eat all of my camellia he wants.

UPDATE: Hold the phone! That’s not Gimpy!

Or if it is, Gimpy has an astonishing gift for instantaneous tail regeneration, as he’s currently hanging off the feeder stuffing his face, and his tail is the proper length. So obviously what has happened is that a second squirrel (who will henceforth be known as Stumpy) has run afoul of some beast in the exact same manner as Gimpy–it got him by the left hind quarter and yanked, dislocating the leg and clawing it up a bit, except that Stumpy also lost the majority of his tail.

I still don’t know if I am just living in some kind of ward for defective and hard luck squirrels, or if this would happen if one took the time to watch any small population of animals for a year, or what.

Well, I feel obscurely relieved. Good luck, Stumpy! If Gimpy can make it, so can you!

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.

breeden

Rabbit Hole

I woke up this morning to the wonderfully squishy feeling of stepping in something.

There's a minute when this happens where you stare straight ahead, eyes fixed on the middle distance, and know that in a second, you're going to have to look down. Until you look down, it could be anything. Cat puke, cat poo, disembowled small mammal--the options are many. It's like Schrodinger's Cat Leavings. Until you actually, with infinite dread, lift your foot and turn on the light and gaze upon whatever is wedged between your toes, it could be anything. Quantum theory* would probably indicate that until you do so, it's actually EVERYTHING, as God plays something much more disgusting than dice with the universe, and until the act of observation collapses reality back into a single state, you're actually standing in a disturbing organic gumbo which might include everything from bits of platypus to Nessie.

I finally looked down, and it was the back half of a moose.

This was almost a relief. We've had moose in the walls for days, and you would not believe the amounts of crap a bull moose can leave in the silverware drawer at night. Normally they stay outside, of course, but it's been cold enough lately that they're coming in for anything they can find, and if you accidentally leave a cookie on the counter, or a 50lb bag of oats on coffee table, you'll get up in the morning to find nibble marks and occasionally hoofprints around it. And sometimes at night you can hear them in the walls. The clip-clop of little moosey hooves is bad enough, but you get a couple of 'em bugling, and you might as well go stay at a motel.

We tried traps. But the cat is too stupid for standard moosetraps--I'm afraid she'd get caught--and the glue traps were just tragic. There's nothing like pulling out the fridge and seeing a dejected ton of moose huddled in the corner, looking at you with enormous brown eyes, each hoof glued solidly down to the floor. You peel the poor thing off and everybody cries and...well, it's too hard on the emotional state. Which leaves the live traps, and now, evidentally, the cat.

"Good cat!" I told her, tipping the moose butt into the trash. "What a good little hunter you are!"

The cat, presumably still digesting the front half of the moose, laid on her back and made a noise vaugely like "Mehhhhrrf...."

She's a good cat. Not a smart cat, but it's not every nine pound Siamese that can take down an adult moose, when you think about it.


*Which I don't understand, which is why I'm mangling it. I'm an artist, Jim, not a quantum theoretician.

(For those wondering what friggin' planet I'm on, an explanation of the Rabbit Hole thing is at http://www.livejournal.com/users/crisper/26562.html )
breeden

Rabbit Hole

I woke up this morning to the wonderfully squishy feeling of stepping in something.

There’s a minute when this happens where you stare straight ahead, eyes fixed on the middle distance, and know that in a second, you’re going to have to look down. Until you look down, it could be anything. Cat puke, cat poo, disembowled small mammal–the options are many. It’s like Schrodinger’s Cat Leavings. Until you actually, with infinite dread, lift your foot and turn on the light and gaze upon whatever is wedged between your toes, it could be anything. Quantum theory* would probably indicate that until you do so, it’s actually EVERYTHING, as God plays something much more disgusting than dice with the universe, and until the act of observation collapses reality back into a single state, you’re actually standing in a disturbing organic gumbo which might include everything from bits of platypus to Nessie.

I finally looked down, and it was the back half of a moose.

This was almost a relief. We’ve had moose in the walls for days, and you would not believe the amounts of crap a bull moose can leave in the silverware drawer at night. Normally they stay outside, of course, but it’s been cold enough lately that they’re coming in for anything they can find, and if you accidentally leave a cookie on the counter, or a 50lb bag of oats on coffee table, you’ll get up in the morning to find nibble marks and occasionally hoofprints around it. And sometimes at night you can hear them in the walls. The clip-clop of little moosey hooves is bad enough, but you get a couple of ‘em bugling, and you might as well go stay at a motel.

We tried traps. But the cat is too stupid for standard moosetraps–I’m afraid she’d get caught–and the glue traps were just tragic. There’s nothing like pulling out the fridge and seeing a dejected ton of moose huddled in the corner, looking at you with enormous brown eyes, each hoof glued solidly down to the floor. You peel the poor thing off and everybody cries and…well, it’s too hard on the emotional state. Which leaves the live traps, and now, evidentally, the cat.

“Good cat!” I told her, tipping the moose butt into the trash. “What a good little hunter you are!”

The cat, presumably still digesting the front half of the moose, laid on her back and made a noise vaugely like “Mehhhhrrf….”

She’s a good cat. Not a smart cat, but it’s not every nine pound Siamese that can take down an adult moose, when you think about it.

*Which I don’t understand, which is why I’m mangling it. I’m an artist, Jim, not a quantum theoretician.

(For those wondering what friggin’ planet I’m on, an explanation of the Rabbit Hole thing is at http://www.livejournal.com/users/crisper/26562.html )

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.

breeden

(no subject)

Here's one for the birders...

Unidentified bird on the deck. Had the distinctive eye with the ring like a thrush, was shaped pretty much like a thrush, would generally have called it a thrush...but the breast was pale, no spots at all. The back and head were a pale grey-buff color, about the hermit thrush shade, maybe a hair lighter, shading into white underbelly. It looked almost exactly like a hermit thrush, which we get around here, but a little paler and with no breast spots at all. No stripes or bars or license plate or other distinctive markings at all that I could see (I didn't see it in flight, just hopping along the deck for a moment.) Can't find anything in my bird book to match it, and I've about given up on e-nature.

Anybody got any guesses?
breeden

(no subject)

Here’s one for the birders…

Unidentified bird on the deck. Had the distinctive eye with the ring like a thrush, was shaped pretty much like a thrush, would generally have called it a thrush…but the breast was pale, no spots at all. The back and head were a pale grey-buff color, about the hermit thrush shade, maybe a hair lighter, shading into white underbelly. It looked almost exactly like a hermit thrush, which we get around here, but a little paler and with no breast spots at all. No stripes or bars or license plate or other distinctive markings at all that I could see (I didn’t see it in flight, just hopping along the deck for a moment.) Can’t find anything in my bird book to match it, and I’ve about given up on e-nature.

Anybody got any guesses?

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.