I'm lookin' over, a 4 leaf clover... **BLINDING FLASH**

 

Super cutie just outside our front door, last night.

I'm guessing sub-adult from size and non-beefy-ness.

Second and final photo (didn't want to harass the guy),
as it tried to hide under the edge of our house
to dodge that tall, goofy chick with the camera....

It's a California toad, Anaxyrus boreas halophilus,
formerly known as western toad, Bufo boreas halophilus.

When I see these guys, I think "wee-toe!"
as in WETO, as in the 4 letter code you write down
on your data sheet (WEstern TOad) or in the GPS unit
to record the species observed.

If you use that 4-letter-code enough,
sometimes it replaces the name of the species in your brain.
The only was I can remember
the scientific name of Elgaria multicarinata,
is starting with ELMU, and working backwards,
 thanks to years of fieldwork in San Diego. =)

Whatever works!!

Talked to Bear this a.m., 'cause yesterday,
after reading Burbon, Bastards, and Birds' post,
I decided we must go birding this weekend.

And then last night I dreamed I was sitting in
  a downstairs room in our house, and saw these right outside the window.

photo by Rufous-crowned Sparrow
 And, to be honest, when you see them in person,
they are WAY more impressive. STUNNERS!

 About 10 of them.

And in my dream they were bigger than in real life,
with long tails, the black was jet black,
the yellow was (as in life) so intense,
and, for my viewing pleasure, they flew slowly.

YOW!

So, in my dream I didn't get a picture of those,
but I did get a shot of these which,
of course, are a normal part of fall migration
in the Sierra foothills...

 photo: Roger Moore Glandauer

photo: Leonhard F from de.wikipedia.org

These are red-crowned amazons, Amazona viridigenalis.
These are close to what I saw, though mine had more red
on their bodies. Got a shot of 4-5 perched (magically)
on our window. From just lying down on the carpet.

Per Wiki:

"Their natural range is across the lowlands of northeastern Mexico. Feral birds have bred in urban communities of southern California, southern Florida, and the island of Oahu in Hawaii. Birds in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas may be either feral, descendants of natural vagrants from Mexico, or both."

Therein lies the beauty of dreams. =)

Wanna take photos of migrating flocks of Amazonian parrots
from your bedroom floor, in the Sierran foothills? No sweat.

And more proof that at least some times I dream in color.

Got any outdoor plans coming up,
for migrating birds, or anything else?
Or any rockin' full-color nature dreams?

xoxobb

a biologist's nightmare ... here, kitty, kitty, kitty

 
Last night Bear, upstairs reading, called down to me: "Are the chickens put up for the night?"

"Yes. At five o'clock."

And then I added, 'cause this was unusual of Bear, "Thanks for double-checking."

(pause)

"I wondered 'cause I'm hearing some dog noises outside." The window upstairs was open a crack.

Oh, great. Now my biologist/chicken-protector brain was off and running.

Dog noises.

Around here that could mean:

• dogs
• coyotes
• bears

All of which I imagined trying to get into the coop, in the dark, and kill my hens.


Anyhow, assuring myself the coop was secure, I returned to my book.


An hour later, lying in bed in the dark, waiting for sleep, I heard a single, sort of tortured coyote cry. (To hear something close, go here and click on the #11 clip, coyote barks and whines.)

Then, silence.

Like my brain needed ANY more encouragement to explore the carnivore threat possibilities "out there in the dark."*


I did, however, eventually fall asleep, and this dream unfolded:


I was wandering around the back part of our property, pre-dawn, in the dark.

Don't remember why.

Might have been barefoot, definitely unarmed, no flashlight.

Feeling vulnerable and painfully aware of my less-than-powerful build.

Then, I see this:

(photo by Bardrock)

A black jaguar.

She was just on the other side of our the flimsy barbed-wire fence that backs our property, and had three offspring with her.

Of course, my biologist brain translated this to: mother with babies = Especially Dangerous Animal.

She did not look happy with me.


I backed away.

She walked toward me.

While backing away I tried to shout for help. And, of course, nothing above a tiny squeak escaped my lips. An old nightmare standard.

It's a classic for a reason.


However, she only followed me for a short while, so I did eventually get out of there, unharmed. My lucky day.

But, wait, there's more!


Next, while moving eastward, I was crouching low among the shrubs, I looked to my right to see this, mostly just its huge face:

(photo from http://mousely.com/encyclopedia/Bengal_Tiger/)

Of course, my heart stopped. And my lovely biologist brain KNOWS Bengals eat people. Great.

Fortunately(?), it didn't seemed particularly disturbed by my appearance. I was terrified.

Again, I back slowly away.

Eventually, turning back toward the house, I prayed my back (an "Attack Me Now" sign for many predators) would not suddenly sport a huge-Bengal-tiger-as-toothy-backpack.


Home free, now?

Oh, no, not yet, silly.


Biologists have unusually long lists of potentially lethal creatures they can quite easily conjure up for a dream.

A factually accurate Scary Dream Speed Dial.

No problem.


So, picking my way carefully back to my house, I look to my right, and under the thick, low hanging canopy of a huge oak I see this animal, lying comfortably, watching me:

(photo by US Department of Agriculture)

Yes, a mountain lion. This species is an actual resident of our neighborhood (vs. Bengal tigers and black jaguars).

I stopped.

I stared, frozen.


It gazed mildly, almost benevolently, at me in a way that said:

"I've been watching you this whole time, and you had no idea I was here. What are you doing out here?"

Like Maria Callas in a recording studio when an untalented rank amateur stumbles in and wants to sing along.


Clearly, I was WAY out of my league.

Per usual, at this point, trying not to panic, I again retreated carefully. But, this time, with the house coming into clear view, my self control weakened, and I soon broke into a trot.

This was probably unwise.

However, this time my brain, and its understanding of predator attack triggers (like, say RUNNING AWAY), apparently decided to cut me some slack.


I got safely back to the house which, of course, was not my house and had extra rooms and people, but they all were sleeping, safe, totally unaffected by the crazy danger I'd just been in. Nice. So very helpful.


Anyhow, a hallmark of my scary-dream-encounters-with-predators is silence.

During my entire foray out into the dark, through all of those frightening face-offs, not one cat made a single sound. There is no soundtrack.


Cats are good at that, being silent. It's important to their success.

I thought about this recently when I saw documentary footage of a tiger attacking an ever-so-briefly unaware monkey.

In 4 seconds, the tiger sprang silently from its hiding place, galloped across the space between them, and took that monkey's head INTO HIS MOUTH.

Done.


Holy crap.

That freaked me out.


Four seconds. I counted. Y'all know I'm a compulsive counter.

So, I thought about that.


That monkey was unaware of that tiger and had 4 seconds of NO SOUND as a warning that the jaws of death were racing toward him.


Yeah.

So, that may have helped "inspire" that dream, along with the coyote visit.

Yeesh.


Kinda extra glad to wake up and get some coffee, this morning.

And stare outside.

And wonder.

One of those cat species DOES live on our property. We get reports from neighbors seeing them in our neighborhood every year. Just got one 2 months ago.


How much you wanna bet this little monkey's been watched and had no clue?


"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."


Kitty here?


bb


*Sunset Boulevard quote from Norma Desmond.

George Clooney or tadpoles? YOU make the call...

  
Perusing blogs this a.m. (wide awake at 5 a.m.) I happen upon this post about a vampire frog, which reminds me, a tadpole was in my dream last night. Honestly, I had to think back to yesterday to assure myself I'd not seen a tadpole during the day (uh, it's JANUARY, folks).

Yeah.

And I saw a George Clooney movie, The American, on the big screen last night.

And I dream about tadpoles.

=)

A biologist's brain. Go figure. =)

biobabbler

ew...

 
Sometimes being a biologist has it's costs.

I just woke up.

This morning I was dreaming, the images crystal clear, that I had a bunch of house plants and they'd been invaded by pale green scale insects, and sometimes when I'd reach in to scrape them off, some that were in a row would then raise up and morph into a green caterpillar which would then start walking. And there were ants surrounding the whole mess.

ew.

I think it was inspired by Bug Girls post on shellac, "also not a beetle," and its reference to a previous post on scale insects.

For some reason, scale insects creep me out. I think it's 'cause when I wasn't paying attention, they found and then COVERED my little plant, a cute little pink polka dot thing that I loved. I was so grossed out I chucked the whole thing out in the trash in the alley.

I know. I should have handled it. I am a biologist, after all. However, I do reserve the right to get grossed out by a very few things. Maybe next time I'll deal.

So, as I have suggested before, sometimes when a biologist is dreaming about a snake, rather than dipping into handy psychological symbology and suggesting it's a sexual thing, ask yourself if they actually handle snakes.

Sometimes a snake is just a snake.

Especially if you're a biologist.

And now, I'm off to check my plants for scale.

=)

biobabbler

P.S. What wildlife thing freaks you out?