Entries Tagged 'the animal kingdom' ↓

The 160Gb Portia… the world’s first furry hard drive.

I’ve been wondering why the birdseed was disappearing so quickly! (Sorry ’bout the quality, the cameraphone was all I had handy.)

I don’t think there’s any chance for the eggs and nest Jenn discovered almost 2 weeks ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb the nest, so I didn’t look into it again until yesterday. Although my photo clearly shows 4 eggs, it’s just as clear that there are only 3 eggs now.

In a comment on the entry, Joel, of Pax Nortona, suggested the Peterson’s Field Guide to Bird Nests for the Eastern US and, after paging through it, I think that I’ve identified the eggs as those of a Northern (Common) Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos). I’ve seen and heard plenty of mockingbirds in the area, so it seems to fit. The guide describes the nest as residing in a:

Unfortunately, it also says that the female usually incubates alone for 12-13 days. As far as we can tell, there’s been no one visiting the nest in the past two weeks — except for the critter which stole one of the eggs. I feel somehow responsible for them now, so what’s my next step? Do I leave the nest alone with the eggs in it? Do I remove it? Do I leave the rest of the eggs for some hungry local fox, or are they rotten now and likely to start stinking? I am so ignorant on this subject…

…Jenn found this tiny little bird nest. The nest is conical and the 4 eggs are very light blue at one end, speckling down to a rusty brown at the other. They’re each about an inch in legth and we have no clue as to what kind of bird they belong to. Meanwhile, I figured I’d try the “My Pictures” tool of Radio to see how it works.

So long, Dolly. The Roslin Institute announced today that Dolly the sheep — the first cloned mammal — has been put to death after being diagnosed with a progressive lung disease. Although she was only 6 years old, she’d been cloned from a 6-year old sheep and she seemed to be exhibiting many of the symptoms of an 11 or 12 year animal. Nature is a funny thing.

In the 20 years Jenn & I have been living together, we’ve shared our home with six cats (four still living), one dog (still annoying), one lizard (in hiding), five mice (gone to the great exercise wheel in the sky), and forty or so fish (each buried at sea in a solemn ceremony, except for Gil, who is happily swimming upside down in Jenn’s office.)

The large mammals — dog and cats — have all been spayed or neutered after being rescued or adopted. The four male cats and the dog never seemed to notice that anything was missing. They never paid much attention to their furry little empty scrota. They never looked at me accusingly for having their balls removed without consulting them. They never developed complexes or syndromes as a result of their manhoods being removed.

So, I just don’t understand Neuticles — testicle replacement implants for dogs, cats and horses. While too many animals remain unspayed or neutered, resulting in hundreds of thousands of unwanted cats and dogs being euthanized each year, I really wonder if it is the actual removal of the testicles which causes “Many caring pet owners [to] hesitate or even to refuse to neuter their pets…”

Are the pet owners really worried about how their ball-less dog will look? Or is it more likely that they haven’t the time or the money or concern to take their pet to the vet for the operation? Or is it that they are interested in breeding the pet? Or is it religious objections, if the cat is Catholic, for example?

Of course, since only 50,000 pets had the Neuticles implanted between 1995 and 10/2000, I don’t think it’s a mass phenomenon. I just wonder about the owners of those 50,000 pets…

I packed my lunch this morning: a lovely vegetarian turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread with soy cheese and Nayonnaise, a bag of baby carrots, some fresh green grapes, some cherries, a nectarine, a banana and a Clif bar. I poured a cup of coffee and went down to the first floor to check my email, getting a couple of minutes’ relaxation before I started my day. I heard Jenn come down to the second floor from blow-drying her hair.

She fussed in the kitchen for a second, then I heard her say, “Oh, no! You better come here…” “Me?” I yelled, unsure whether she was talking to one of the animals. “Yes, you,” she said, and I came bounding up the stairs to see her holding a half-eaten nectarine and a partially-chewed bag of grapes. The dog was sitting at her feet, ears down, tail wagging furiously, head swiveling nervously from Jenn to me and back again. “Bad dog!” I said, and he laid down on the floor and rolled over on his back, all four feet up in the air. Jenn was trying hard to keep from smiling or laughing. I looked in my bookbag, and everything else was still there — except the sandwich.

“Did you find the sandwich?” I asked Jenn. “No,” she said, and I could tell she was struggling not to burst into hysterical laughter. I walked into the living room, looking for some bread remnants or something, but all I found was an empty plastic bag with a little smear of Nayonaise. When I walked back to Jenn, holding up the bag, the dog slunk behind her, trying not to look at me.

I’d say that this is proof that even a dog can’t tell the difference between good vegetarian food and the real thing, but this dog has no taste — he thinks cat shit tastes good, too.

I’ve got a Schneider’s skink (also known as a Berber skink). He’s always been pretty shy, but lately, I’ve hardly seen him at all. Even more worrisome, though, is that he isn’t eating.

He’s always been picky; skinks are supposed to be insectivores, going ga-ga over gut-loaded crickets. (Gut-loaded means that the crickets have spent some time gorging themselves at the all-you-can-eat grain buffet.) Caliban, however, has never been interested in crickets. We tried live ones, but they just hopped around him while he ignored them. I tried killing the crickets for him — I felt like I was a hypocrite to my strict vegetarianism — but… he couldn’t have cared less. We tried some freeze-dried crickets (pre-gutloaded), but he didnt touch them. We finally discovered that he likes wet dog food, but he’s been pretty much ignoring that, too, lately. I find the dessicated dog food chunks in the same place I left them when I go to feed him again.

Not sure what to do, although, when I do see him, he looks healthy, his color is bright, and he still goes to attack my finger when I try to pet him.