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Date Posted: 22:32:29 02/21/05 Mon
Author: r
Author Host/IP: ca-01.cinergycom.net / 216.135.2.28
Subject: Reel in Rock - Simms2003
In reply to: Lijdrec 's message, "Re: New Test" on 21:25:56 08/24/04 Tue

The reel in the rock

Even UTC geology experts can’t explain rare find

By Richard Simms Correspondent

The Sword in the Stone is a great legend, a story — a myth created by T.H. White in 1938. Dan Jones’ reel in the rock is no legend. It’s not a story or a myth. It is real, and it is a great mystery. Just ask the entire geology department at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.

It’s impossible to know the exact age of the baitcasting fishing reel embedded in the rock. William Shakespeare Jr. patented the first such reel in 1897, so it has to be newer than that. Most would guess that the reel is early 1900s vintage.

The rock, according to Dr. Ann Holmes, is millions of years old. So how did the rusty remains of the reel become embedded halfway inside the ancient creation?

"It’s a true mystery," Dr. John Mies said.

The mystery began about 25 years ago. That’s when Jones says he was trout fishing in the Tellico River.

"I just walked up on a sandbar and it was laying there with water slapping up on it," he said.

Jones said the fishing reel was facing upward, making it easy to spot.

"I picked it up and just wagged it all over the place with me," he said.

"I didn’t figure anybody would believe it if they didn’t see it. You know — do all fishermen lie or are all liars fisherman ? So I figured I better bring it back."

For 25 years Jones has kept the reel-in-the-rock in his basement, occasionally dragging it out as a conversation piece — or for a trip to the barbershop to show it to a skeptical outdoors writer.

So strong is the heavy rock’s grip that Jones frequently carries it around by holding the reel as if it were a handle.

Like most, when barber Keith Woods told me about Jones’ rock, I assumed the fishing reel had managed to get caught up while someone was pouring concrete, and the concrete had simply been worn down to look like a stone.

Mies thought the same thing.

"When I heard you guys were coming, we decided, ‘Oh, it’s a piece of concrete somebody dropped in the river,’" he said.

Jones met with the UTC geology professors just before a staff meeting, so they were all gathering in one spot.

"I’ve heard about this rock ever since I moved back to Chattanooga," Holmes said. "People have told me, ‘I know this guy who has a rock that has a fishing reel in it.’ People know about it."

Jones said it had never been examined by a professional before, and Holmes was excited to get a look at it finally.


The first thing she did was to place a drop of acid on the rock.

"We know it’s not concrete," she said. "It doesn’t react to acid at all, so we know it’s truly a rock."

"It’s called phyllite," she said. "It’s a metamorphic rock from the Appalachians, the Brevard Zone that was formed probably when Africa and America collided about 300 million years ago.

"That fishing reel wasn’t around then," she said. "In fact, fishermen weren’t around then."

When Mies took his first close look at the rock, he exclaimed in very scientific fashion, "Holy cow!" Every geologist who stepped in the room was drawn to the rock, like all the noble knights who strove to pull the sword from the stone.

One after another, the geologists were equally unsuccessful at determining exactly how the phenomenon occurred, although many had a theory.

"The reel, I think, was embedded in the rock by people," Holmes said.

"I think that’s a saw mark in there."

Her theory didn’t get much support, especially from Jones.

"I’d hate to think I’d wagged it all over the place and kept it this long," he said, "if somebody was just playing a trick."

By closely observing what he thought were travel marks eroded into the stone, Mies was convinced the reel had somehow worn its way into the rock.

"It started at one angle and then changed its track on the way in," he said.

Another professor suggested, "Perhaps some bizarre phenomenon caused by water flow rapidly passing by caused it to abrade its way into the rock."

Yet another suggested a chemical reaction, "maybe a joint process of chemical and physical."

Dr. Tracy Jones stayed away from theories, simply wishing for more information.

"It would be neat to get it CAT- scanned or X-rayed or something," Dr. Jones said.

Then the head geology guru showed up.

Department chairman Dr. Habte Churnet at first seemed somewhat indifferent to the reel in the rock, until his cohorts encouraged a closer look.

"Where did you get this?" he exclaimed.

The fisherman recited his Tellico story for the 10th time that day as Churnet examined the curiosity.

It took a few minutes before the top geologist arrived at a conclusion that brought chuckles around the room.

With great authority he declared, "I am the chairman of the department, and I say this does not exist. It’s a figment of our imagination."

E-mail Richard Simms at sports@timesfreepress.com

This story was published Thursday, October 02, 2003

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Replies:

[> [> [> [> [> [> By definition..... -- Lijdrec, 01:30:58 03/11/05 Fri (ca-02.cinergycom.net/216.135.2.29)

........you're not gay or lesbian if you have a sex change operation... you're transgendered. Most of those who seek out sex change operations see themselves as the other sex, so they do not interpret their own sexual preference as homosexuality.

There are a portions of the brain which are sexually dimorphic, usually different in size between the sexes. I can't remember what it is exactly but there is a portion of the brain that seems to align with sexual identity which is NOT that part of the brain which aligns with sexual orientation. So a person who sees themself as the opposite sex may be motivated in ones mind by that part of the brain which motivates sexual preference.

In men differential sexual identity and sexual preference may be brought on in the first trimester of gestation by gene expression from their X-chromosome due to that chromosome's incomplete methylation (it doesn't 'turn off' and that has been shown to occur in greater numbers of women relatives of homosexual men).

So the transgedered may not have the sexual orientation that a gay man would have. As a physical male, a transgendered person may be oriented towards a female and thus be considered physicaly heterosexual; however, post-operational that person would be a lesbian. But that scenario is not that commonplace.

Personally, I've never considered that being gay was the polar opposite of being straight; I think that polar opposite is being transgendered. In terms of gene expression in males that might be the case resulting in a spectrum of sexual preference such as:

heterosexual - bisexual - transgendered (identity only) - homosexual - transgendered (both identity and orientation)

Which is depending upon the degree of methylation of the X-chromosome and its effect in the developing fetus. BTW - there is a bill in the Maine legislature to halt abortions based upon a decision that the fetus will be gay/transgendered. The bill is way before its scientific time as it was introduced by a right-wing conservative who was attempting to make a point about gays. He failed, turns out there is a gay group (PLAGAL - Pro-Life Alliance of Gays and Lesbians) that is backing him up. Wonder what he will do now?

Anyway some day we may know for sure about all this. But if we never do.... we'll just live on....

...


[ Edit | View ]

[> [> [> [> [> [> [> ok -- Lijdrec, 18:37:59 06/14/05 Tue (ca-01.cinergycom.net/216.135.2.28)


[ Edit | View ]

[> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> The Fawn Year... -- Lij, 19:47:38 09/07/05 Wed (ca-01.cinergycom.net/216.135.2.28)

A Fleeting First Appearance....

It was only a short peak out from the woods that had been its security blanket. With the setting sun upon its face the fawn tentively stepped out onto the lawn at the urging of its mother. Its sun-dappled back almost camoflaged its own natural spotted camoflage. But the security of the woods beckoned this years nervous young fawn and he was soon finding his way back to the grounds that had seen so many other fawns nurtured these last 30 plus years.

Dad and I had drained that spot. Back in 1970 below where the house is now located, it had been a small mud-hole of a pond, which was meant to water cattle in the pasture that was here. I remember when the dam broke from under the blade of dad's bulldozer, the pond had been full of 6 inch catfish. And then they were all trying to go down the small woodland stream to Mariah Creek with the flood from the pond. I doubt many of them made it; we probably gave the coons in our woods a feast that night.

Dad had wanted to build a larger pond in that hollow, so he and I could walk out of the house he was planning and catch a mess of bluegill for dinner. But it wasn't to be; dad died of cancer at the age of 58 in that next year. Mom and I later built the house in 1974. But the hollow and the pastures beyond we replanted in walnut trees for a future sale. They, along with the ash, oaks, tulip poplar, and maple that volunteered there, have had 30 years growth now.

We didn't really plant the pond. It was still wet in parts and willows grew up there. The old pond bottom got to be grassy with the fescues of our late pastures. Around the edge of the pond bottom a thicket of blackberries grew up in a circle. But inside, that was different; it remained a small 50 foot circle of fescue grass and the favorite of a succession of does for raising their fawns. The thicket provided protection and the grass surely good bedding. And even now there is grass there despite the surrounding forest having grown up around it. For nearly 30 years now, does and fawns have lived there just below our house, outside of our lawn. And for those same years the fawns have taken their first tentative steps out of the woods into the light of our backyard lawn. One of the truest signs of summer around here.

-------------

Lessee.....

-At least a half-dozen Eastern Kingbirds darting out of the trees to catch flying insects.
-About a dozen Chipping Sparrows sharing forage in the lawn 'neath the trees with a pair of Northern Flickers.
-A male and female Baltimore Orioles are out thrashing around the honeysuckle sucking up nectar.
-About three dozen or more American Robins out front foraging in the open lawn.
-4 or 5 Ruby-throated Hummingbirds vying for the nectar feeder.
-Four or so Carolina Chickadees and a pair of Tufted Titmouses visiting the sunflower seed feeder.
-Another half dozen or so American Goldfinches and a pair of Purple Finches staked out on the thistle feeders.
-A couple of White-breasted Nuthatches chasing each other around the oak tree by the feeder.
-While the half dozen or so Downy Woodpeckers snack on the suet cakes....
-A pair of Carolina Wrens chase each other around the brick of the house.
-The Indigo Buntings holding sway along the driveway near the house, while....
-Overhead sitting on the electric wire a dozen or so Barn Swallows sit waiting for their late afternoon meal.
-Further on down the lane a Killdeer rules its part of the lawn.
-While a gaggle of Warblers - Cerulean, Kentucky, and Yellow - hold sway along the edges of the forest.
-And overhead a pair of Red-tailed Hawks lazily soar on the thermals.

-------------

About 150 Bushels of Corn per Acre in a Fair Year....

Project a price of about $2.17/bushel of corn, 20 ears of corn per deer per hour. I watched one eat tonight at dusk. LOOK! There's another cornstalk shaking! Sorta funny looking, a deer with a yellowish-white, pointy cob sticking out of its mouth - funny that it will never be in the corn hopper.

But also about 20-30 deer eating over a period of 2-3 weeks (baby corn phase when the cob is edible) plus about 200 squirrels, 50 or so groundhogs, etc... etc... etc... well, it adds up to about one acre in every 35 that feeds the wildlife (they should consider themselves lucky we didn't plant soybeans!). That means for mom's 140 acres of cornfields about 4 acres go to feed the wildlife. That comes to about 600 bushels of corn or about $1300.00 in lost income that goes to feeding wildlife.

I think a corn-fed doe or two in the freezer this fall/winter is in order. Venison salami is really tasty! Wonder how my 250 acres of corn in the bottoms is fairing.... lessee... that's about 2 or 3 more deer!

------------------

Betwixt the Cornfield, the Lawn and the Woods....

At the junction of the cornfield, the lawn, and the woods lies the salt block put out for the wildlife. Tonight as the sun started to retreat the doe made one of her longest appearances there with her single fawn. The mother spent quite a while lapping at the salt block and the fawn paced around tentatively, never far from her side. Returning at times to nuzzle at her breast. But as time went on the fawn became bolder and wandered out into the open lawn to nibble at plantains and dandelions. There in the waning light of the sun one could see the fading lighter spots of its fawn-dom.

Momma doe eventually left the salt block and started down the cornfield along the edge of the lawn. She paused every so often to test the tendernous of a corn cob along the way. The fawn did not follow at first; prefering to stay in the protection of the V made by the lawn bordered on the right by the woods and the left by the tall corn. But mom kept turning back as she moved down the row. I could just hear the faint bleat that a mother doe makes to call her fawn. And soon her fawn responded and trotted towards her; but only to be stopped as a large truck drove by on the state highway further off to the left. Still the doe beckoned the fawn on and they finally joined with her.

But a car and then another truck drove by, and the doe could evidently see the apprehension in her fawn. So she turned and took a step back towards the woods. The fawn was suddenly exhuberant. It kicked up its heels, raised the white flag of its tail and expertly bounded down the lawn alongside the cornfield towards the trailhead at the woods. The fawn slowed and looked back for its mother; but she prefered just to mosey along and eventually caught up. When she did, she changed their direction. Mother and fawn walked in the lawn along the woods and up the rise towards our side yard.

I knew where she was going. All that salt would surely have made the doe thirsty; and that was the way to the big hollow in the woods with the permanent spring in it. But even mom was a bit wary; this was perhaps the longest her fawn had been out in the open this summer. So as she neared the more open side lawn the doe led her fawn into the woods to take the more guarded route to the stream.

------------------

Note to Self: Do Not.....

Do not have soup flavored with cilantro (Chinese parsely) for lunch followed by a dinner of a burrito made with green salsa! You ain't 29 anymore!

Also... I've got about a dozen ruby-throated hummingbirds mobbing the one 4-place feeder. They are sucking down half a quart of nectar a day now - the red-trumpet flowers and honeysuckle must be letting up. But sometimes two hummingbirds will suck from the same floret on the feeder. One will come hover in from the bottom and the other will hover above that one. I wonder what happens when their tongues touch while lapping it up? Is that Hoosier kissing for a hummingbird?

I better see if I have that other feeder around....

------------------

Are the Macintosh Apples Getting Ripe?

It was late August and I was walking down the length of the family-room/kitchen and you can look through the doorway to the laundry room and out the laundry room window to our side yard and mini-orchard. The Macintosh apples are getting rosey red and I've been wondering about their ripeness, though I know that they won't be ready until the second week of September or so. So to my surprise, I just catch sight of a rosey-red Macintosh tumble to the ground and come to a rest. And I think to myself, 'well, maybe I should go get that apple and see how they are coming along.'

So I was keeping my eye on the apple as I continued my walk towards the laundry room. And then to my surprise I see the apple bounce! Bounce? How can it bounce after it had come to a rest below the tree? But then it bounced again! And again! And again!! And then it did a very unapple-like thing, it flew off!!

I started laughing my head off at myself; my Macintosh apple was a red-breasted robin....

-----------------

Wildlife Notes for this Labor Day...

For two days in a row a blue-tailed skink has climbed up the chimney just outside of the sliding glass doors to the patio and within view of where I sit at the computer. I wonder what it finds up there? I guess what I call a blue-tailed skink is more properly called a five-lined skink. Just like the red-headed lizards that I see around the house are more properly called a broadhead skink, though they are known also as a "red-headed scorpion!" I don't know how a person could confuse a blue-tailed... excuse me... five-lined skink with a red-headed, broadhead skink. That blue tail is pretty bright on the skinks we have and the red-heads, excuse me again, the broad heads are just that - broader in head and body and a duller, less-irridescant color.

Yesterday we watched the doe, a yearling and the fawn walk out of the woods were the lawn and cornfield meet it at the salt block. They walked up the hill beside the house and out to the orchard where the doe and yearling began to chow down on some dropped apples. The fawn had another idea and it was racing around the orchard, quickly darting back and forth. The fawn's antics got to be contagious after a while and the yearling and doe joined in the game, though to a lesser degree. But they all sure looked as if they were having fun. The doe even kicked up her back heals bucking like a donkey and with her head down, playing at butting the yearling. That might have been a bit of mothering, trying to drive away the yearling. All the while the fawn was doing wind-sprints in the lawn from the edge of one woods to the other. It might have been the family's Labor Day vacation!

But today I caught sight of the doe and yearling down along the cornfield. They were nibbling on grass in the lawn and every so often the doe would try an ear of drying corn. But the fawn was nowhere in sight. Eventually they started up the hill as if they were going to the orchard again. They were picking at browse along the edge of the woods as went and got about a third of the way up the hill. It was then that the doe pricked up her ears and started looking about. Was she looking for her fawn? Perhaps she heard her fawns bleating for her? Whatever it was she quickly made an about face and disappeared into the cornfield along the woods. The yearling soon followed her. So I am wishing the best for the fawn tonight.

------------------

Sometimes You Live.....

I saw the doe and what might have been the fawn out in the orchard just this dusk, two days from when I saw the doe and yearling alone. But they walked behind the one peach tree that is all bushed out - I really have to trim that tree late this winter.

Ten minutes later I still wasn't sure they were still there so I walked out the front door to go down the lane for the newspaper. Immediately, after I got around the corner of the house and could see the orchard I caught sight of what was probably the yearling behind the orchard at the woodsline; and he caught sight of me - I froze. The wind was on my face, so they shouldn't get a wiff of me.

He was staring at me rather intently for about a minute while I remained as steady as I could, when the doe walked into view between us in front of the orchard, nibbling on grass as she went. The yearling lost his caution and bent to graze on some grass for himself. I took the opportunity to take two steps closer to them when the yearling looked up and stomped its foot. Now the doe looked at the yearling concerned about what was going on. She turned to look at me; but I was again as steady as I could be in somewhat mid-stride. The doe took a short while to look in my direction, but then went on about her browsing on a nearby apple tree.

The yearling kept looking my way, though, and, well, I couldn't stay still for long. So I let out a soft 'baa-aah' without even opening my mouth. The doe immediately whirled around and looked my way, stomped her foot, and gave that loudest sound that a deer can make, a loud snort, that indicates she's really nervous. Even so the doe just started to amble back to the yearling, trying to make a sneaking get-away. All this time, I am really trying to find the fawn, so I let out another 'baa-aah.' That got things going a little more, the doe bounded back to the yearling, then took a right, and both bounded off to the safety of the big hollow's woods.

I walked on down the lane and retrieved the evening paper. There was no fawn, sometime, I guess, you are a meal for the coyotes. The doe, understandably still nervous, snorted loudly twice from the woods as I walked back to the house. She has a right to be nervous; this year she lost her child.

...


[ Edit | View ]

[> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> The Fawn's Year (revised)... -- lij, 22:28:52 09/07/05 Wed (ca-01.cinergycom.net/216.135.2.28)


The Fawn’s Year


Nature Out My Back Door…

I came out of my bedroom and looked through the family room and out the utility room window to the orchard and there were three doe deer walking through. They seem to have made the walk through our little orchard of two apple, three peach and a cherry tree a common occurrence, so it wasn't all that strange. Except I came over to the bar and sat at my laptop just in time to see this little gold-finch come falling out of the sky onto our back patio. And he (she?) was a little bird, evidently a fledgling which wasn't quite in flying form yet. It hit hard and I got up, worried, but the little bird flapped its wings and turned itself over. It sat there for about an hour, then hopped over to the edge of the patio and looked down the 6 inches to the ground for quite some time. After about another half hour I looked out for it as saw that the little fella had made it all the way to the oak tree were we have the bird feeders and was 2 feet up the oak's trunk! It was then that I saw the hen turkey run into the backyard and then run back to the right towards the woods, where I caught sight of a big tom turkey.

He was strutting around with his body feathers puffed out, wings spread, and tail fanned-out seemingly trying to corral not one but three hens who appeared to be more interested in getting at bugs in the lawn. Then I saw just on the edge of the woods probably what was causing the old tom his consternation - another tom! This one wasn't quite so magnificent as the other however, his tail-fan was only half that of his elder. The young tom wasn't getting the best of the strutting and the display and he soon backed down.

Meanwhile most of the hens had disappeared back into the woods and the old tom headed in there after them. I thought that was the end of it; but about 15 minutes later I see a hen out in the cornfield at the bottom of the hill out the backyard. As I stand there watching it the old tom comes strutting out of the woods puffed up and showing off again, just where the backyard ends at the corn field. He's soon followed by the two other hens. Together for the next half hour they make there way through the corn field to the far woods. They even caused a bit of a traffic jam on the state highway that goes past our fields as several cars stopped to watch them.

That was the first time I had ever witnessed that sight myself. The winter before this last we'd only seen one small flock of 26 juveniles; but last winter we saw perhaps two different flocks of juvenile turkeys on the farm that numbered about 50 in each. I imagine that they are getting pretty numerous out there. Even saw a coyote chase a hen across one cornfield the state highway and then through the field behind the house and into the woods. I got the feeling the hen was toying with the coyote, always just flying out of the coyote’s reach, perhaps to lead it away from a brood.


A Fleeting First Appearance…

It was only a short peak out from the woods that had been its security blanket. With the setting sun upon its face the fawn tentively stepped out onto the lawn at the urging of its mother. Its sun-dappled back almost camouflaged its own natural spotted camouflage. But the security of the woods beckoned this year’s nervous young fawn and it was soon finding his way back to the grounds that had seen so many other fawns nurtured these last 30 plus years.

Dad and I had drained that spot back in 1970 below where the house is now located. It had been a small mud-hole of a pond, which was meant to water cattle in the pasture that was here. I remember when the dam broke from under the blade of dad's bulldozer, the pond had been full of 6 inch catfish. And then they were all trying to go down the small woodland stream to Mariah Creek with the flood from the pond. I doubt many of them made it; we probably gave the coons in our woods a feast that night.

Dad had wanted to build a larger pond in that hollow, so he and I could walk out of the house he was planning and catch a mess of bluegill for dinner. But it wasn't to be; dad died of cancer at the age of 58 in that next year. Mom and I later built the house in 1974. But the hollow and the pastures beyond we replanted in walnut trees for a future sale. They, along with the ash, oaks, tulip poplar, and maple that volunteered there, have had 30 years growth now.

We didn't really plant the pond. It was still wet in parts and willows grew up there. The old pond bottom got to be grassy with the fescues of our late pastures. Around the edge of the pond bottom a thicket of blackberries grew up in a circle. But inside, that was different; it remained a small 50 foot circle of fescue grass and the favorite of a succession of does for raising their fawns. The thicket provided protection and the grass surely good bedding. And even now there is grass growing there despite the surrounding forest having grown up around it. For nearly 30 years now, does and fawns have lived there just below our house. And for those same years the fawns have taken their first tentative steps out of the woods into the light of our backyard lawn. One of the truest signs of summer around here.


About 150 Bushels of Corn per Acre in a Fair Year…

Project a price of about $2.17/bushel of corn, 20 ears of corn per deer per hour. I watched one eat tonight at dusk. LOOK! There's another cornstalk shaking! Sorta funny looking, a deer with a yellowish-white, pointy cob sticking out of its mouth - funny that it will never be in the corn hopper. But also about 20-30 deer eating over a period of 2-3 weeks (baby corn phase when the cob is edible) plus about 200 squirrels, 50 or so groundhogs, etc... etc... etc... well, it adds up to about one acre in every 35 that feeds the wildlife (they should consider themselves lucky we didn't plant soybeans! Tofu! Yuck!). That means for mom's 140 acres of cornfields about 4 acres go to feed the wildlife. That comes to about 600 bushels of corn or about $1300.00 in lost income that goes to feeding wildlife.

I think a corn-fed doe or two in the freezer this fall/winter is in order. Venison salami is really tasty! Wonder how my 250 acres of corn in the bottoms is fairing.... lessee... that's about 2 or 3 more deer!


Lessee…

• At least a half-dozen Eastern Kingbirds darting out of the trees to catch flying insects.
• About a dozen Chipping Sparrows sharing forage in the lawn 'neath the trees with a pair of Northern Flickers.
• A male and female Baltimore Orioles are out thrashing around the honeysuckle sucking up nectar.
• About three dozen or more American Robins out front foraging in the open lawn.
• 4 or 5 Ruby-throated Hummingbirds vying for the nectar feeder.
• Four or so Carolina Chickadees and a pair of Tufted Titmouses visiting the sunflower seed feeder.
• Another half dozen or so American Goldfinches and a pair of Purple Finches staked out on the thistle feeders.
• A couple of White-breasted Nuthatches chasing each other around the oak tree by the feeder.
• While the half dozen or so Downy Woodpeckers snack on the suet cakes....
• A pair of Carolina Wrens chase each other around the brick of the house.
• The Indigo Buntings holding sway along the driveway near the house, while....
• Overhead sitting on the electric wire a dozen or so Barn Swallows sit waiting for their late afternoon meal.
• Further on down the lane a Killdeer rules its part of the lawn.
• While a gaggle of Warblers - Cerulean, Kentucky, and Yellow - hold sway along the edges of the forest.
• And overhead a pair of Red-tailed Hawks lazily soar on the thermals.



Note to Self: Do Not…

Do not have soup flavored with cilantro (Chinese parsely) for lunch followed by a dinner of a burrito made with green salsa! You ain't 29 anymore!

Also... I've got about a dozen ruby-throated hummingbirds mobbing the one 4-place feeder. They are sucking down half a quart of nectar a day now - the red-trumpet flowers and honeysuckle must be letting up. But sometimes two hummingbirds will suck from the same floret on the feeder. One will come hover in from the bottom and the other will hover above that one.

I wonder what happens when their tongues touch while lapping it up? Is that Hoosier kissing for a hummingbird? I better see if I have that other feeder around. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for starting anything unseemly in the ruby-throated hummingbird world. Especially, if it’s two hummingbirds of the same sex!




Betwixt the Cornfield, the Lawn and the Woods…

At the junction of the cornfield, the lawn, and the woods lies the salt block put out for the wildlife. Tonight as the sun started to retreat the doe made one of her longest appearances there with her single fawn. The mother spent quite a while lapping at the salt block and the fawn paced around tentatively, never far from her side. Returning at times to nuzzle at her breast. But as time went on the fawn became bolder and wandered out into the open lawn to nibble at plantains and dandelions. There in the waning light of the sun one could see the fading lighter spots of its fawn-dom.

Momma doe eventually left the salt block and started down the cornfield along the edge of the lawn. She paused every so often to test the tendernous of a corn cob along the way. The fawn did not follow at first, prefering to stay in the protection of the 'V' made by the lawn bordered on the right by the woods and the left by the tall corn. But mom kept turning back as she moved down the row. I could just hear the faint bleat that a mother doe makes to call her fawn. And soon her fawn responded, trotting towards her; but only to be stopped as a large truck drove by on the state highway further off to the left. Still the doe beckoned the fawn on and finally the fawn joined up with its mother.

But a car and then another truck drove by, and the doe could evidently see the apprehension in her fawn. So she turned and took a step back towards the woods. The fawn was suddenly exhuberant. It kicked up its heels, raised the white flag of its tail and expertly bounded down the lawn alongside the cornfield towards the trailhead at the woods. The fawn slowed and looked back for its mother; but she prefered just to mosey along and eventually caught up. When she did, she changed their direction. Mother and fawn walked in the lawn along the woods and up the rise towards our side yard.

I knew where she was going. All that salt would surely have made the doe thirsty; and that was the way to the big hollow in the woods with the permanent spring in it. But even mom was a bit wary; this was perhaps the longest her fawn had been out in the open this summer. So as she neared the more open side lawn the doe led her fawn into the woods to take the more guarded route to the stream.


Are the Macintosh Apples Getting Ripe?

It was late August and I was walking down the length of the family-room/kitchen and you can look through the doorway to the laundry room and out the laundry room window to our side yard and mini-orchard. The Macintosh apples are getting rosey red and I've been wondering about their ripeness, though I know that they won't be ready until the second week of September or so. So to my surprise, I just caught sight of a rosey-red Macintosh tumble to the ground and come to a rest. And I think to myself, 'well, maybe I should go get that apple and see how they are coming along.'

So I was keeping my eye on the apple as I continued my walk towards the laundry room. And then to my surprise I see the apple bounce! Bounce? How can it bounce after it had come to a rest below the tree? But then it bounced again! And again! And again!! And then it did a very unapple-like thing, it flew off!!

I started laughing my head off at myself; my Macintosh apple was a red-breasted robin....


Wildlife Notes for this Labor Day Weekend…

For two days in a row a blue-tailed skink has climbed up the chimney just outside of the sliding glass doors to the patio and within view of where I sit at the computer. I wonder what it finds up there?

I guess what I call a blue-tailed skink is more properly called a five-lined skink. Just like the red-headed lizards that I see around the house are more properly called a broadhead skink, though they are known also as a "red-headed scorpion!" I don't know how a person could confuse a blue-tailed... excuse me... five-lined skink with a red-headed, broadhead skink. That blue tail is pretty bright on the skinks we have and the red-heads, excuse me again, the broad heads are just that - broader in head and body and a duller, less-irridescant color.

Yesterday we watched the doe, a yearling and the fawn walk out of the woods were the lawn and cornfield meet it at the salt block. They walked up the hill beside the house and out to the orchard where the doe and yearling began to chow down on some dropped apples. The fawn had another idea and it was racing around the orchard, quickly darting back and forth.

The fawn's antics got to be contagious after a while and the yearling and doe joined in the game, though to a lesser degree. But they all sure looked as if they were having fun. The doe even kicked up her back heals bucking like a donkey and with her head down, played at butting the yearling. That might have been a bit of mothering, trying to drive away the yearling. All the while the fawn was doing wind-sprints in the lawn from the edge of one woods to the other. It might have been the family's Labor Day vacation!

But today I caught sight of the doe and yearling down along the cornfield. They were nibbling on grass in the lawn and every so often the doe would try an ear of drying corn. But the fawn was nowhere in sight. Eventually they started up the hill as if they were going to the orchard again.

They were picking at browse along the edge of the woods as they went and got about a third of the way up the hill. It was then that the doe pricked up her ears and started looking about. Was she looking for her fawn? Perhaps she heard her fawns bleating for her? Whatever it was, she quickly made an about face and disappeared into the cornfield along the woods. The yearling soon followed her. And I was left wishing the best for the fawn that night.



Sometimes You Live…

I saw the doe and what might have been the fawn out in the orchard just this dusk. It was two days after I saw the doe and yearling alone. But they walked behind the one peach tree that is all bushed out and I lost sight of them. I really have to trim that tree late this winter.

Ten minutes later I still wasn't sure they were still there so I walked out the front door to go down the lane for the newspaper. Immediately, after I got around the corner of the house and could see the orchard I caught sight of what was probably the yearling behind the orchard at the woodsline. And he caught sight of me! I froze. The wind was on my face, so they shouldn't get a wiff of me.

He was staring at me rather intently for about a minute while I remained as steady as I could. Then the doe walked into view between us in front of the orchard, nibbling on grass as she went. The yearling lost his caution and bent to graze on some grass for himself. I took the opportunity to take two steps closer to them when the yearling looked up and stomped its foot. Now the doe looked at the yearling concerned about what was going on. She turned to look at me; but I was again as steady as I could be in somewhat mid-stride. The doe took a short while to look in my direction, but then went on about her browsing on a nearby apple tree.

The yearling kept looking my way, though, and, well, I couldn't stay still for long. So I let out a soft 'baa-aah' without even opening my mouth. The doe immediately whirled around and looked my way, stomped her foot, and gave that loudest sound that a deer can make, a loud snort, that indicates she's really nervous. Even so the doe just started to amble back to the yearling, trying to make a sneaking get-away. All this time, I am really trying to find the fawn, so I let out another 'baa-aah.' That got things going a little more, the doe bounded back to the yearling, then took a right, and both bounded off to the safety of the big hollow's woods.

I walked on down the lane and retrieved the evening paper. There was no fawn, sometimes, I guess, you are a meal for the coyotes. The doe, understandably still nervous, snorted loudly twice from the woods as I walked back to the house. She has a right to be nervous, this year she lost her child.


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