Another Day in Paradise

In addition to the cold (for us anyway) and the recurring torrential rains, our county is on the list for Governor Skeletor's emergency declaration after two cases of Zika virus (out of 9 or 10 statewide) were reported here. Not sure what that entails since we already have a very robust anti-mosquito program in our county although its current effectiveness may be negated by all the rain. It does mean that the disease may now spread locally since the most common transmission vector is for the mosquitoes to pick up the virus by biting an infected person and then transmit it by biting uninfected folk.

We are, of course, home to 80(!) different species of mosquitoes, 33 of which think people and/or their pets are tasty, of which 13 can spread diseases among us including Aedes aegyptii, which spreads Zika and Aedes albopictus, which could if it wanted to.

Also, the red tide's back—with a vengeance. Thanks to all the rain (see above), the Corps of Engineers has been releasing torrents of water from an overflowing Lake Okeechobee into our main river washing tons of farm runoff nutrients downstream and into the Gulf (note the concentration of red dots) to feed the algae. The algae then overbreed, their vast numbers causing the red color, using up the available oxygen in the water suffocating the fish. Wave action also causes some algal cells to go airborne where they can cause respiratory problems in people.

The good news is the water has probably been cold enough to discourage the brain eating amoeba and flesh eating bacteria.

Meanwhile, back on land, while avoiding the bears and wild hogs and pythons and nile monitor lizards and tegus, it might be wise to note the discovery of a crocodile in town just visiting the beach. Which, for the record, makes us the only area in the world to have both alligators and crocodiles wandering around.

But, what the heck, come on down for a visit. If the wildlife doesn't kill you a tornado or sinkhole just might!

Redneck Studies: Consistent Randomness

In addition to my long-standing observations regarding the native redneck's (i.e., my brother's) inability to pursue any project to completion, I have also noticed a distinct tendency toward increasing randomness in his immediate surroundings.

On occasion, and for no apparent reason, he will go through the pantry and move cans and boxes of supplies from one shelf to another. I can't determine if he was actually looking for a specific item since nothing ever seems to be gone or used. They're all just moved. It happens, to a lesser extent (possibly because he hates leaving the door open), with the refrigerator as well.

Similarly, the lawn mower and various other yard implements can be found at any of three or four possible storage sites, not dependent upon where they were last used.

Late yesterday evening, he suddenly began stomping around the house in a foul mood, opening various drawers and going through the recyclable trash in his room and the kitchen. Being the first Sunday of the month, he had decided to pay a bunch of household bills. and now couldn't find them. We're talking mortgage, utilities, storage unit(s), credit cards--the works. He ransacked the house, and then his truck, and then the house again before giving up for the night. I know he was afraid he might have put them in with the other trash paper and thrown them out last week.

This morning he got up early and started rummaging through his truck again, scraping it out down to the floor mats. When I went out the first thing I noticed was a stack of envelopes sitting on one of the lawn chairs by the fire pit he never quite finished installing so I said, "I see you found all your bills."

"No I didn't."

"What's all that stuff on the chair, then?"

"What chair?"

"The lawn chair. There's what looks like a pile of bills and a bag of pistachios on it."

"That's probably the bills." He left off cleaning the truck* and went inside still pissed off but now at himself. Your welcome.

We've had a run of a few absolutely glorious days, warm, sunny, dry and breezy, perfect for sitting outside. I did so a couple of days ago with a book and iced tea, reading and watching the blue jays and mockingbirds fight over ownership of the bugs in the lawn (blue jays are more obnoxious and tend to win), and saying "Hi" to our black snake as she came home in the early evening from wherever she goes during the day (she stopped about four feet away when she noticed me and we acknowledged each other for a few minutes before she made a wide semi-circle to go around and back to her woodpile).

In short, it's been pretty much perfect outside and my brother had decided to do the bills outdoors and got everything set before he went inside, became distracted and completely forgot what he had intended to do and where. He'd walked right by them on his way to his truck and never noticed because, to my knowledge, he's never sat outside to pay the bills before. It was just another random (though thoroughly supportable) notion.

*And will not continue, now, until he can't find something else in the future.

Signs of Spring

The mango tree has blossomed, is still blossoming, produced so many blossoms we caught birds nibbling on them and yet the tree is still full of little mango fruits.

The jasmine is blossoming and the warm night air, clear and calm and full of bright, sharp, glittering stars smells like a Persian garden.

The green parrots are back, as are the ibis, the hawks and the vultures. And the blacksnake. And the toads which have been clinging to the glass doors of the lanai and driving the cats crazy with frustration.

All of the doors and windows have been open for over a month now, at least the ones with screens to keep the bugs out and the cats in. Somehow, the occasional lizard still manages to find its way in, though.

The bulldozer arrived bright and early and spent three hours scraping the topsoil off half the open field across the road in preparation for someone building a house there.

There's been an active For Sale sign on that field for a few months now. I can't tell if someone bought the whole field and intends to build on half of it or if only half of it sold. I'm sure it's zoned for two lots. In either case, a house on that site will severely cramp available parking for next Hallowe'en. But that's still several seasons (Spring, High, Summer, Rainy and Fall, at least) away for now.

Further Blurring the Distinction Between Here and There

It was a slightly less humid than normal evening last night, so when my brother went out to the bar to watch his Red Sox play (the local TV only carries their games regularly during Spring Training when they play right across the river, besides it's a good excuse to get out for a while) he let the cats out onto the foyer. Mittens wasn't interested but Jasmine and Paribanour took up the invitation.

An hour or so later, having put food in their dishes, I opened the door to collect them only to find both cats hyper-intensely poking at the base of the wall. I thought at first I might have to take another lizard away from them (all three of them had found one in my room a few days ago, sans tail (no idea if that was their doing), causing me to lock them out when it disappeared under the desk where I couldn't find it until I caught Jasmine with a tailless lizard corpse after I suspect it tried to get out of my room on its own) but I was wrong.

They had cornered a baby snake.

It couldn't have been more than a foot long and looked more like a really energetic worm. How it got inside? The same way the lizards do, I'm sure, probably even easier without legs sticking out. Why it came in FSM only knows. I confess to dancing out of the way when it wriggled too close; my excuse is I was barefoot.

I had to physically toss the cats back in the house (Jasmine twice) to get them to leave the poor thing alone and by the time I succeeded it had managed to hide itself off in some nook or cranny and I couldn't find it again. If it's smart it will figure out how to get back out in the garden where it belongs.

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

The most exciting thing going on around here this weekend is the Great Burmese Python Hunt which runs for 30 days starting this afternoon.

Over 800 people from 32 states and Canada according to the latest tallies, most of whom have never hunted at all let alone hunted predatory snakes up to 30 feet long, will be tromping hip-deep through swamps infested with alligators, other (poisonous) snakes, wild boar and the occasional endangered panther. Even the plants can attack as saw grass is aptly named for its ability to slice into skin (and who doesn't want open wounds when slogging through stagnant semi-tropical water?). But, the participants will get a 30 minute training session and sign waivers so its all O.K.

Someone else must also see the potential for disaster. They're offering to turn the hunt into a reality TV show.

This is our (Republican) governor's "market approach" to dealing with invasive species.

Wildlife Beyond the Screen

Wow!! Mockingbirds really, really, really hate snakes. Two of them were in the backyard this weekend pouncing on our poor resident slitherer, grabbing it and even lifting it slightly off the ground. It managed to get into some tall grass under a palm tree and the birds eventually gave up and went away.

Two minutes later the rabbit was out back nibbling on the lawn. The rabbit's too large to worry about the snake but, then so are the birds, although it could, and probably would gladly, eat an egg or two. Mostly I think it gets by on the never diminishing lizard population.

There's a Fable In There Somewhere

I was sitting at my desk pretending to write when I noticed, out the window, a mockingbird repeatedly dropping from a tree branch claws first onto a black spot amid a tangle of dead leaves. It would hit, bounce back up to the low-hanging branch, sit for a second, and drop again. On the third or fourth attack the black spot moved. It slithered through the leaves revealing a decent size black snake, maybe two inches diameter and two+ feet long. It just wanted to escape and didn't even try to fight back.

Mockingbirds really hate snakes.

This morning the snake was obviously nowhere around as a young rabbit was out in that spot enjoying the early sun. Later the flock of ibis came by to graze the lawn.

Did I mention before that we live in an extremely suburban development?

Politics--and Warfare--As Usual

I wanted to write about something other than birds this time. I wanted to write about the amazingly traditional Southern politics of this little planned bedroom community where one of the city councilmen was just removed by the governor (The governor! Where else does a governor have the right to remove a local politician? This must be a legacy of Reconstruction.) because, as a contractor (every third person in town is a contractor) he allegedly cheated several clients out of their deposits and payments to the tune of a half mil or so, although he was upright enough to report it to the police when someone (a local citizen and wannabe contractor of an entirely different sort) offered to whack the plaintiffs on his behalf, and where the son of the chief of police just pled guilty to running a real estate Ponzi scheme along with a couple of friends (although as far as I can tell from the state of the housing market here, second only to Las Vegas for foreclosures, half the town must have been in on it), and where the mayor and a crony of his on the city council stand accused of running for office only so they could get their lawsuit against the city (something to do with contracting) moved along by being in position to move it along themselves (and, of course, they'd never ask the city to take a dive on that one), and where the council is trying to figure out how to bill utility costs to people who are not connected to any services and to vacant lots, and where the police just ran an undercover sting operation at a middle school fair to bust underage smokers.

That's what I wanted to write about.

But then I went out for my morning walk and witnessed a magnificent battle royal between a dozen and a half crows and three hawks. It was visible for a quarter mile and audible for three times that. The hawks hung on steady, like bombers in formation, as the crows swooped, circled and dove, claws out and beaks agape. At one point, a hawk and crow grappled (no idea who grabbed who first) and fell from the sky, a twisting ball of splayed feathers. They disappeared behind a tree before hitting the ground but when I got there I saw no evidence of a crash so I assume they broke before impact. The crows scored a tactical victory and the hawks retreated with as much dignity as they could muster. On my return the crows were settling in on the power line, their equivalent of the officers' club no doubt, where I could hear them discussing strategy, congratulating each other and loudly expounding their personal tales of derring-do which I have no doubt will only continue to expand in the retelling.

Personal note for Andrea: Python* season opened yesterday and runs through the middle of April. $26 for a license, free training is available for novices and there is no bag limit. Two extension agents caught a 15-footer and had it on the news a couple days ago.

*Includes Burmese-, Indian- and African rock pythons, green anacondas and Nile monitor lizards(!).