Merlin in These Parts

We speak of the falcon, not the magician. Yes. While waddling hither and yon this morning Crumby stopped long enough to sex the scissortails on a phone line. All of a sudden a merlin burst upon the scene, scattering the scissortails and setting all the resident trash birds to squawking. Mercy! You don’t espy a merlin every day in these parts, Crumby reflected.

I know. I should take its picture.

But then Crumby thought, What if everyone assumed I was taking pictures of the little children at the nearby school. Would the police believe that I was taking pictures of a merlin. No. Certainly those police would assume I was fixing to take pictures of the little children. So I better just stay at the CB and take pictures of grasshoppers.

What faunal elements can an average amateur naturalist take pictures of? Easy money, everything from insects to whales. The most popular animals probably combine the attributes, organisms covered by a field guide and organisms identifiable to species. Birds are obviously a good choice given these attributes. Plus, many birds don’t sit inert out in the open all day. Those nervous birds of the weeds, thickets and woods can be a challenge.

Butterflies too are popular. Lizards are less popular than butterflies. What about grasshoppers? Considering the faunal elements that may be easily photographed, grasshoppers may be among the least popular with average amateur naturalist photographers. Here’s why.

He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my cousin.

What the heck?

Fall migration is on. That means the birds are going every which-a-way. Is your cat spending more time than usual outside? Watch out. That cat may be fixing to tuck some bird guts under your pillow. But if you can get the bird away from the cat soon enough, you may have a fair chance of identifying that bird by yourself.

Or, you can take pictures of the migratory birds. What the heck is this one? I am inclined to feel like this one may be Vireo bellii eating a fruit of Cocculus carolina. Long term, profoundly silly ornithologists may recall “Of all the vireos, Bell’s vireo has the least interesting song.”

Gee whillikers. Do I need to airbrush that twig out?

The Littler You Go, the Less You Know

Actually, the littler you go, the less you know is not always true. The fact is, the common saying, the littler you go, the less you know, may only apply to Hymenoptera. Then too, the saying may not be all that common. Crumby may be the only one that uses the expression, the littler you go the less you know.

Yet here is an example of what Crumby is preaching thereof. OK. The excuse for purchasing about the best, arguably, macro lens available to 4/3s cameras is so a person like Crumby, with his E 330, may get to take pictures of rather small insects. That’s right, the littler insects. However, the smaller the insects are, generally speaking, the less likely it is that anyone has ever paid much attention to them unless they are incredible nuisances, like midges. And even with midges, the likeliest information on midges is not specifically descriptive. Oh, maybe one midge has been studied intensively, in Latvia, and everyone generalizes from that midge. Yes. Individual midges are lumped together, stereotyped, given short shrift, discriminated against, type cast, ignored by all the trendy boys, etc.

So that’s why the littler insects in combination with a really good macro lens can suck the life out of an amateur naturalist. Yes. The life may be sucked out as if by vampires or giant mosquitoes. Well not exactly. But what can happen is that the average amateur naturalist may spend way to much time fixing to figure out what’s what with a bunch of miserable tiny insects. Like Crumby, for example, could easily become obsessed, because, the littler you go, the less you know.

Check out this littler Hymenopteran. It’s about 9mm stem to stern. Looks like a decent picture. But all the stuff you need to figure out what the dingus is, is missing, like, first segment of hind tarsus, and venation of the hind wing. Plus you can’t even make out if the hairs are simple. Mercy!

Yet, when all else fails, the determined may compare pictures, relying on that grace sometimes conferred by the Goddess of Random Chance (RC). Goddess RC is not to be confused with the delicious cola, RC. Be that as it may, Crumby started espying pictures of bee genera in the subfamiliy Megachilinae as identified on the Apoidea of Brackenridge Field Laboratory, a handy resource. The first genera on the list is Anthidiellum. The last genera is Stelis. Turns out, the depicted above is Stelis, possibly Stelis sp. A. Huh-huh. So it's not a wasp. No. It is a cleptoparasitic bee. Goodness!

Now check this out. This little fucker is a little smaller than the other one, around 6mm. But this one is probably Anthidiellum notatum. So that's it. Thanks to Goddess RC, the first and last genera of the Megachilinae have probably been confirmed as occurring at the CB. Shitfire! I'd rather have the Goddess RC rubbing herself on my saddle pommel, than get pork chops and collards every night.

Yesterday was Good

Yepper. For the first nonce since April, things are good. The CB has enjoyed 7.4" of rain lately. The flora is flowering and fruiting, the insects are out, the eagles are flying overhead. All is good.

Naturally the sun came out yesterday presenting numerous digital photography opportunities to a diligent naturalist like Crumby. This tiny moth, apparently, Thyris maculata, is seen here sporting on the eupsy daisies. Miraculously, Crumby was able to infer the probable identity of this moth from its picture in The Moth Book. See. Imagination is good.

Haliaeetus leucocephalus

Achtung! Today may be a rare better day for nature observation in the Austink neighborhood. For example, Crumby was out running some errands. Look up Crumby, the WG ordered. And there in the sky above the intersection of Hwy 290 and Brodie's Buttfucker Lane was a bald eagle, the totally off the wall bird symbol of Americano Land. Hic, haec, hoc.

Yes. A man of Crumby's experience can easily recognize an adult bald eagle even from the polluted environs of Spec's parking lot. Man alive! The E and Ts are accumulating in that neck of the woods.

Are Termite Societies, Coprophagous?

This topic may not be good for reading with breakfast or coffee break.

OK. No thanks to Karl the Tracker Druid, I have discovered some societies of social insects in which coprophagy may be an important source of nutrition in those particular societies. That’s right. Rumor has it that many, maybe all, termites eat their own shit. Well now. Since this information comes in the form of a vague rumor, it is uncertain if a termite eats its own shit or another termite’s shit. And that to my mind is important. Does a particular termite take a shit and immediately turn around and eat its shit up? Or, does another termite closely follow the first termite around waiting for that termite to shit, then eat the shit up? Or maybe every termite in the colony is assigned a permanent shit eating buddy? Rumor does not answer these important questions.

Also, since shit eating is considered bad, is it possible that the coprophagous termite rumor was started up by pest managers? Yes. Those pest managers may be using coprophagy as another excuse for killing all the termites. But that is a long shot. Possibly, since termites definitely eat houses, the pest managers don’t require additional bad juju on the termites. Course, on the other hand, propagandists never stop at the literal truth of a matter.

Uh, termites also periodically shed their skins. They then may eat those up too. Makes for a litter free termite community. Like one time an ant was visiting Termite City. Hey, the ant thought, Termite City is about the cleanest community I have ever espied. However, do these termites keep the place so nice and tidy? Then the ant approached a termite and queried, Say there, Comrade Termite, this is about the cleanest social insect situation I have ever encountered. What do you do with all the shit and dead skin?

For answer, Comrade Termite took such a mighty poop that the effort of getting all the poop out did also burst Comrade Termite’s exoskeleton all asunder. Then, to the utter astonishment of Fellow Worker Ant, Comrade Termite ate the whole mess up. Mercy, thought Fellow Worker Ant.

But getting back to human coprophagy, Crumby also ran across the interesting partnership humans have evolved with shellfish. Yepper. What humans do is feed human excrement to the shellfish. Then the shellfish convert that shit into like a seafood medley just like the seafood medley Crumby ate up at that seaside restaurant in San Juan. Then shortly after dining on the seafood medley, Crumby shit out all that seafood medley. Yes. That seafood medley was just a flush away from its journey back to Shellfish City. Mercy!

Three big coyote yips, bee fly buddy mystery solved

More pictures of these bees can be seen after typing in bee on the search deal.

Behavioral dimorphism sure messed Crumby up this time. That’s right. Long have I pondered bee fly buddy. Is bee fly buddy a bee or a fly? That’s how little was known about bee fly buddy until just now. Here’s what happened.

First I noticed this goofy bee or fly that was a super good flyer. Like this bee or fly was definitely the best flying organism I have ever seen, ever. Bee fly buddy can fly circles around anything. Shitfire, bee fly buddy can fly figure eights around a hummingbird. That’s why I figured bee fly buddy might be a fly, not a bee. It was all the hovering bee fly buddy did that confused me. I never saw a bee hover so much. So I said to myself, Crumby, bee fly buddy is bound to be a hover fly, or maybe a Hoover fly. But I could never get any good pictures of bee fly buddy because bee fly buddy in motion approaches the speed of light, and never sits still, ever.

All that changed last Monday morning. Armed with my new used macro lens I headed out to the pecan orchard. There was bee fly buddy zooming around the penultimate proximate pecan. Yes I had to journey in an easterly direction, face up to fierce, fickle Ogma to reach bee fly buddy habitat. The journey was arduous, the wet grass treacherous. At last I arrived at bee fly buddy habitat. As usual bee fly buddy was zooming around at supersonic speed. OK bee fly buddy, Crumby cried out, if I can’t get some decent pictures of you this time, I am fixing to fetch the butterfly net. You know what that means, bee fly buddy?

My threat to use the butterfly net on bee fly buddy may have slowed bee fly buddy down a smidgen, because this time I got a fairly decent picture or two of bee fly buddy. Yet when I examined the pictures closely, the dern mystery actually deepened. Yes. I could see from the four wings and the antennae that bee fly buddy was a bee. But so what? That totally didn’t explain the relationship between bee buddy and all those other bees that looked practically just like bee buddy, but in comparison, couldn’t fly for shit. Those other ones may look like bee buddy, but they sure didn’t act like, bee buddy.

So this morning I was looking at all my pictures of all these bees. There were the poky ones chewing holes in the bases of the Anisicanthus flowers. There was bee buddy, slightly blurred, zooming along. Hold it, bee buddy has a white face. The rest of these bees have black faces. Hmm. But the truth still didn’t hit me.

Then I decided to try one more time on Bugguide. And there it was. A picture of a bee’s ass with the semi circle rings of yellow hair laterally on the abdomen. Not only, the picture was from Travis County. And in the comments below the picture, someone noted that the males of the species have “yellow” faces.

Hold it, Crumby thought. My bees could be just like this bee only with white faced bee buddy males. And the males could be way better fliers than the lard ass females poking around chewing holes in my Anisicanthus. Eureka! The most common large bee at the CB is probably a subspecies of Xylocopa tabaniformis. Yip! Yip! Yip!

Spider!

There I was, innocent or nearly innocent, fixing to open the door to the great vehicle, when I chanced to espy this crab spider, possibly a Misumena sp. Yikes, thought Crumby. Yon spider hath an evil aspects(s), all righty. I better take its picture.

Trouble was, at 7AM it’s darkish. So the trusty C5060 WZ had to go on macro mode, hand held at 1/30. Mysteriously, the flash never seems to work in macro mode. Still one may espy why Crumby was deeply disturbed by the hideous visage(s) presented by this particular spider. Almost, Crumby went back in the CB, fearing this spider might portend evil. But Crumby overcame his fear and went ahead on to work anyway. However, if Crumby had not just bought an expensive used camera lens, Crumby would have stayed home.

Yes. Crumby needed to earn or otherwise garner some payday for that lens. Otherwise Crumby would have used this spider for an excuse to stay home and work on his bee pictures. Yes. A particular bee is driving Crumby mad. Stark raving mad.

Our Enemy the Termite

Our Enemy the Termite is an actual book published in 1935. Yes. Termites have long been perceived as our enemy. That’s because they eat up our wood. Like termites at the Lady’s Restroom at the Cow Barn ate most of the wood. It cost about one or two tousand to fix the Lady’s Room plus get rid of the termites. That was many moons ago.

So I have been investigating the termite tube constructions areas. Sometimes these areas of tubes are quite big, maybe a tousand or two tousand square feet. Oh! After a careful yet methodical search, we have also discovered termite tubes at the CB. Mercy!

Naturally the Druids want to know which termites we are actually harboring since hardly anyone actually believes these termites are the benign species Termitanus mexicanus. They might be Termitanus mexicanus, but if so, they would need to also be a species not previously described in order to be the fantastic Termitanus mexicanus. Yes. I sort of made Termitanus mexicanus, up.

Last night I dreamed about termites. The dream termites were locked in a terrible, losing struggle with dream ants. Matter of fact, my dream was depicting the hideous events covered when the termites got accidentally assaulted by the ants. So I got to thinking, where are the soldier termites. Those soldier termites might kick some ant ass.

OK. This morning I was out early digging up termites with my yellow tomahawk. Like in the cowboy plus sissy movie, Yellow Tomahawk. I dug up like three groups. One group I temporarily captured. Yes. I captured like 30 termites. Then, once I captured those termites, I looked at them under the microscope.

All those termites were just worker termites. Like these. I espied nary a soldier all morning. Which makes me wonder, maybe these termites don’t have soldiers. However, all the older workers have nasty black mandibles with two teeth per mandible. They also all have less than 23 antenna segments. Plus, my termites appear to lack a fontanel. None of which information is the least bit helpful in determining my termites to species. Hmm. Maybe they are Termitanus mexicanus.

Apparently, nearly all the entomology related to termites has been carried out by pest managers like former Rep. 2 Tom Delay. Get it. Delay was a Republican Representative. Thus, Rep. 2. Damn it. This venue does not support superscripts. OK. Everyone is just going to need to pretend, the preceeding 2s are superscripts.

That may be why, (Delay was in charge), that there seems to be a scientific vacuum regarding my termites. Yes. No one cares about my termites. Everyone hates them. Everyone just wants to kill them. Kill my termites. That must be why I can’t find out much about my termites.

OH! One other fact I left out. The winged adults (alates) of this type termite, that I remember the look of from days gone by, are black. Like if I sit in my Lazy Boy with the back door open and the light on next to me, suddenly I may get swarmed by hundreds of these winged, sexually active, fixing to fornicate, termites. That’s happened like twice. One of those times was when they were eating the Lady’s Room. Mercy!

Dry Land Termites, Good Goddess

Jesus Fucking Louise. I promise. I had no idea there was a fire ant highway near to the termite tubes I was investigating. Oh Man! If Rayetta finds out I totally did this evil deed, messed up the termite tubes so the fire ants could get in, for amusement, my shit is flushed. Jeez Louise!

Dry Land Termites

This, as everyone knows, is DY 3, or 2009 of the Julian. Long the Druids have pondered the question, What is DY 3 all about? Now we have decided. DY 3 is all about the dry land termites, also known as Mexican termites, (Termitanus mexicanus).

Yes. The sudden appearance of these alien Mexican or dry land termites all over these parts has sparked the interest of many. Many do wonder about these termites. Like: What do these termites want? Are these friendly termites? What if these termites are yet another sinister alien threat? Are these termites fixing to eat my house? Will these termites eventually get in the trees?

Mercy! Just about everywhere I go these days I encounter like maybe a tousand or two tousand miles of termite tubes. At first I thought, What are those dern tubes? But then I broke one open. What did I find in that tube? Easy money, a dang dry land or Mexican termite. There must be billions of dry land termites within just a few blocks of the CB. Jillions! But so far those termites have not constructed any tubes at the CB proper. Or maybe they have and we don’t know it. Ooooo!

Little is actually known about these particular termites for sure. However, the vast hoards of these termites may be in inverse proportion to corresponding hoards of Mexican fire ants. Like some suggest that the Mexican fire ants are at low ebb due to the paucity of rain recently. Thus, the dry conditions have allowed the dry land termites to construct a series of tubes all the way from Mexico. Did the wall hinder them? Course not.

Will the balance of nature ever be restored to these parts again, ever? That’s unlikely. Once you get on a slippery slope, inertia takes over

Do you, drink your own piss?

Gandhi did. So does Juan Manuel Marquez. Hmm. If I had to choose between two men that I was fixing to have to fight, and one of those men drinks his own piss, I would pick on the other one.

So what tops drinking your own piss? I know, eating your own shit. Yet I was unfamiliar with any actual person who eats their own shit except babies. So I needed to find out, is there somebody or some group that makes a big deal out of eating their own shit? But before I could do that, I needed to espy the correct term for shit eaters which I couldn’t remember. I used to know that word, but I forgot. Stupid really since I remembered coprolite. Yes. Here it is. The correct mixed company term for shit eater is coprophagous. I found coprophagous on an internet site by employing the phrase, feeds on excrement. That site provides an interesting discussion relating to shit eating insects. However, internet search failures included the phrase, shit eater. No. Shit eater didn’t do the trick. Neither did feeds on feces. Yet, feeds on feces produced numerous iterations of “Texas mom puts feces in feeding tube.” Makes a feller proud to dwell in Tejas.

OK. What did I find out? Well, coprophagous humans are either crazy or sexually deviant. I was very disappointed with that result. You see, I was hoping for a tribe of humans somewhere, like maybe in Iceland or Utah, who survived only because they ate their own shit. Or, I was hoping for an important religious figure or secular saint type who ate his or her own shit.

Because my internet search totally let me down, I have decided to contract with Karl the Tracker Druid. If anyone can track down a society of copraphagous humans or a shit eating prophet or two, that anyone is Karl.

Why heck. I shall just call Karl up at this very nonce. What’s Karl’s number? Here it is.

Karl, this is Crumby.

No. I am not doing OK. That’s why I called you Karl. I am disappointed that there are no known coprophagous societies, saints, prophets or deities. So I need you to track down somewhat of that sort that is coprophagous.

You are too busy! Besides I still owe you from last time! Dern it Karl!

Shit! That dang Karl has hung up on me. Now what am I fixing to do. I know, dry land termites.

Cooperia drummondii

Many are aghast at the profusion of fall rain lilies that have sprung up thanks to the recent deluge. Yes, aghast that millions of bulbs are busy soaking up precious water that ought to be headed for toilets or swimming pools. Do you have any idea how much cool rain water a few million of these introduced Mexican bulbs may absorb? Course you don’t.

The Cow Barn was practically the only spot south of the dammed river missing the fall rain lily. To rectify that situation we first transplanted a few bulbs. But that didn’t work. Then two summers ago we lucked upon a massive seed crop in Comal County. It took two years, but now a few of those seeds have become lilies. Now we can do our part, growing introduced Mexican rain lilies for spite.

Here’s one of them hosting a fly and a beetle. The fly is probably in genus Toxomerus. The beetle, about 2mm, is probably a bean weevil, genus Algarobius maybe.

So far in Crumby’s life he has never been keen on associating which Cooperia with whatever name. Maybe that’s because the other rain lily was formerly designated as Zephyranthes drummondii. In any event, like most of the flora of central Texas, both species were recently introduced to these parts. How were they introduced? Well, as usual we can blame the Mexicans. Yes, the Mexicans sneaked these weeds into Americanoland. And now, despite the wall, it’s too late to do anything. Boo-hoo-hoo. Somebody needs to call Glen Beck.

Water Treatment, Tejas Style

Naturally, the Capitol of the ROT needs a new water treatment plant. That’s because, as the dopey daily assures in its topmost editorial today, Austink “has been on a growth trajectory almost since it was founded in 1838.” So how the heck can the Capitol City continue to get along, like forever, with just two water treatment plants?

Yes. Hope and optimism have sprouted. Thanks to the recent rain sent by Jesus, Austink shall have water to treat. Yes. The water shall fall from the sky, more and more rain water to coincide with the anticipated growth trajectory. Praise Jesus! Yall say it with me. Purraise Je-sus!

Well OK. More treated water is an absolute necessity, given the growth trajectory. Also, and I really don’t care to harp on this, but more and more little migrant school children correlates with more and more little turds in the public and private school toilets. If those little turds don’t get flushed, if those little turds just sit in the toilets and eventually dry out, sometime down the road an archaeologist shall find those little petrified turds. There those turds, nay coprolites, shall be found, then described and written up in a journal. How embarrassing will that be for the Capitol City?

All righty then. Now that everyone is in agreement with Jesus that we need plenty more treated water, we need to decide which endangered species preserve to build the plant on. Thanks be to Jesus we have plenty of endangered species preserves set aside for new infrastructure projects. Plus, the greatest of all water engineer discoveries is that water runs down hill, so obviously Jesus picked those preserves as cost effective locations for water treatment plants. Lift up your eyes, unto the hills. Huh-huh. Purraise Je-sus!

Yes. Purraise Je-sus! But even Jesus likes to hear modern ideas for improving water service. OK. How about, if there were separate lines carrying treated water and untreated water. The treated water would go to the sink faucets and the untreated water would go everywhere else, like to the toilets. Or you could make the treatment optional for toilets at your house if you have cats that drink out of the toilets.

What about the treated water? What’s with chlorine? Why is it always boring chlorine? What about bourbon? Why not put a real treat in the water? Purraise Je-sus! There are plenty of other and maybe better substances or elements that could be put in the treated water besides boring chlorine. Like maybe swine flu vaccine or birth control medicine.

In summary, if the Capitol of the ROT is inevitably fixing to get another water treatment plant, we should at least try to make the treatment more interesting. We owe it to Jesus. Yall say it with me. Purraise Je-sus!

The Peektures Espied in This Venue

Here’s what I understand, or do. I have a choice. I can upload the peektures as small, medium or large. Because Druids believe in balance. Because Druids swear by the average. I nearly always pick the average, otherwise known as the medium size format. Yes. Due to my religion, I almost always upload the peekture as a medium or average size. But then when anybody, or any potential peekture viewer, single clicks on one of my medium pictures, that picture automatically zooms to 100%. That’s a bunch of magnification for a picture taken with an old model Olympus camera like the E 330 plus cheap lenses. Mercy!

Noise issues. Focus issues. Everything may appear all out of whack at 100%. It’s like when you first got glasses. Oh no! My pores are clogged up. Mercy!

That’s why, when Ray uploads a peekture to the venue, he makes sure those peektures have a purpose, or contribute to a Druid moralism, or somehow have potential to further our cause, despite whatever peekture quality shortcomings may be readily apparent.

What is our cause? Well. Our cause is a lost cause. Yes. Sadly, our cause is lost, lost in the wilderness of time and space. Much like the cause of the secessionists, or secesh, our cause is lost. Boo-hoo. Yes. Our cause was lost, long before the secesh lost their cause. That fact automatically makes Druids way superior to the secesh white trash in terms of lost cause longevity.

So given the afore mentioned theme somebody needs to upload another picture. Here it is.

Now the deal with this picture is, the wing venation is readable. That’s the moral. Or maybe the moral is, the interesting bee genus, Megachile. Megachile could be an entomological code word referencing fat children everywhere. Megachile!

Want Popeye Arms?

If you do, get a Sigma 150mm macro. In just a few days of toting that mofo around your forearms will look just like Popeye’s, probably minus the anchors. Mercy!

Crumby purchased this lens when nobody was monitoring him. Crumby sneaked off and bought this lens used. Although, upon careful inspection the lens appears barely used. But that’s no thanks to Crumby. Crumby wanted it and he went and got it, used. Crazy! Crazy behavior! Crumby admits that he forgot to take along the E330 hook up cord so he could only check for focus of this lens on the wretched E330 LCD. How worthless is that? Worthless!

Then when Crumby got it back to the CB, he developed a huge case of buyer’s remorse. The lens refused to auto focus. Yet after we cleaned the contacts and put in a charged battery, it made a stab at auto focusing, most of the time. Obviously, the jury is out on the used Sigma 150mm macro. The Oly mount ones seem to cause more grief than any of the others that go on any of the other camera brands. That is, as presented in the so called camera literature of the internet.

Interestingly, in the literature that comes with the camera, instructions are provided for auto focus on all the major camera brands except Olympus. Even Pentax gets some personal instructions. Jeez Louise! That’s probably why this lens is goofy on the Oly mount. That and the fact that the E330 is not the camera to help out much with auto focus. But clean contacts and a fresh battery help.

Is this lens fixing to be useful for photos of the smaller, less spooky insects? Maybe, maybe not. Here’s the only marginally useful one so far. Sarcophaga, which we already have plenty of decent pictures for. Dern mooseface!

Sometimes we need to

put on a happy face.

Yes. Even Druids may get depressed. Especially in the ROT where the Republican lame brains, hair balls, scum bags and silly whores of Babylon are totally in charge. Yes. That's why a Druid like me seeks out happy or optimistic companions like this cheerful, cartoon butterfly.

Amorpha juglandis

Some time back Ray and I repaired our trusty butterfly net. You may know that the wedding veil material that butterfly nets are constructed out of, eventually rots. Yes it rots just like many shall rot in Hell. Once the wedding veil material begins to rot, it also begins to fall apart, just like a stinking corpse assigned to Hell or Hades.

Ray and I figured that once we had our butterfly net repaired we might get to spend many happy hours traipsing about among the forbs, swishing this way and that with our net. Yet the forbs cooperated not. Those fields of forbs, afflicted by the paucity of water, never put up much of a show.

Never mind that though. The butterfly net has become a handy or indispensable household appliance or combination simple machine. For example, the butterfly net gets used more than the juicer, but less than the toaster.

What for? Easy that, for catching birds and flying insects that come into the house. That's right. We need to catch those birds before the cat gets them. Imagine coming home from a hard day at the track, then finding bird guts on your pillow right after you lost your poor old mother's life savings. Mercy! Or maybe you got rolled by a harlot. How will you feel about bird guts on the bed right after a harlot rolled you?

Anyway, the insects are not in quite the same category as the birds. Yet a cat can do considerable damage to private or personal property chasing around after a lively insect like this one. So it behooves Ray or me to catch the insects too, in a timely fashion.

This probable walnut sphinx spent a couple of days in the house before we could catch it at last. Once we got it in the butterfly net, we took it outside. Instantly, once released, it flew to the porch light. Ray then did this artist's conception of how the moth looked affixed to the light.

How much rain?

Seems like about 4.6" fell on the Cow Barn this week. What happened to that rain? Easy that, the ground soaked it all up. That’s right. The ground was so dry, it could have been blotter paper. There was no runoff. Now, sadly, the rain has stopped. The rain has stopped again, alas.

Not long ago some huisache seed fell under my aegis. Now huisache is pretty much the wetland Acacia. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Huisache likes saturated soil. Yet I figured, what the heck, might as well grow some huisache at the CB just for the heck of it. I can water my huisache, Crumby surmised. That’s right. I shall water my huisache and thus deprive the little children of water. Yes. Those little children shall shit out little turds. But then alas, those turds shall petrify in the commode. Alas. No water shall come to float those turds forward to a temporary watery destiny. No. No Dillo Dirt destiny for those turds. Those little nasty turds shall become Paydirt for some archaeologist, many moons from now. What do you call petrified turds that the archaeologists find eventually? Not Hittites. Uh, Hellgrammites. No. Trotskyites! Course not. What the heck is it? Wait! Hold it! It’s uh coprolites. Yes those petrified turds the archaeologists shall find in the commode at the elementary school are called coprolites.

So I put up some huisache seed in a plastic bag. The very same plastic bag a newspaper once came in. See, recycling.

Then like yesterday, all of a sudden there were all these little crazy beetles in my huisache seed bag. Yes. Beetles had been in many of those seeds all along, disguised as baby whatevers. What the heck do you call baby beetles? Not maggots. What? Uh, Jebusites. No. Uptities, Baptites, or Methodites. No. No. No. You call them, grubs, maybe?

Yet those tiny vermin or grubs had chewed their ways out of the seeds. Once out there was nothing left to do but metamorphosis, from a grub to a beetle.

Dern it! I should have taken some pictures of those diminutive beetles before I let them loose. Well, there’s more where that bunch came from. I shall get some pictures of those beetles anon, maybe.

Yes. Those beetles ruined or ate more than half my huisache seeds. However, there were still some intact seeds left over so I put a few up in four inch. We shall see if any, hatch out.

I bet a great many different bees like huisache. That’s good, because lately, I have taken a keen interest in the shocking diversity of bees that seasonally inhabit the CB. Bees, bees, bees and more bees. What’s aggravating is, I can’t even identify a majority of all those different bees. But like much that many take for granted, that could change.

Serious Rain in the Republic of Tejas Capitol

Praise the Merciful WG. Praise Upup the Magnificent. Yes that same Upup who allows rain to fall down instsead of up. Praise Tiny Rain Goddess and all the other deities we Druids worship, have worshiped, or may worship in some future nonce. Serious rain has fallen on the miserable Cow Barn at last. This serious rain has been two years coming. Mercy has come to the CB at last. Good Goddess!

Only a few have ever heard of Tiny Rain Goddess. That’s because I just invented Tiny Rain Goddess this morning. You may see that invention works like this. I see a need for a tiny rain goddess. So I make up a tiny rain goddess and I call Her, Tiny Rain Goddess (TRG). Were I to anthropomorphize TRG, She would appear to mere mortals like maybe a hybrid of the Morton Salt Girl and Tinker Bell.

There you go. TRG is responsible for the tiny amounts of rain that infrequently fall in deserts. Then, once everybody is totally exhausted by actual, serious thirstiness or low humidity nervousness, TRG allows a deluge to drench everyone, lathing all the thirsty throats, ducts or orifices at last in cool water, sometimes mixed with Bourbon.

Maybe you don’t believe in TRG. Maybe you believe instead, that you are one of God’s chosen people. Why would you believe that, but not believe in Tiny Rain Goddess? Are those concepts or beliefs mutually exclusive? Course not. Course they aren’t. You could easily believe in both. Yet sadly, many believe they are one of God’s chosen, while only I believe in TRG. But like many, many, many chances are, that could change.

According to the Bible, King James version, the Jews are God’s chosen people. Yet I can see how any person of wealth and privilege might, considering circumstances, assume, I am the pick of the litter. I won the blue ribbon. I’m number one. I am, the chosen-uh, of-uh, God-uh, Almighty-uh! Or is it chosen-ah? Whichever.

OK. I can easily see all or espy, all. Yes-ah. Hallelujah-ah. Hallelujah-uh. Gee whillickers. Were you born to privilege? Were you born to wealth? Were you born with a big-ah, thing-ah or two? If so. Yepper-ah. You have been chosen-uh, by God-uh to represent-ah, the glory-uh, of God-ah, incarnate-ah yowsa boss, on the Planet-ah, Earth-uh. Wooly-boop-boop-boop!

OK. A rational, rich and privileged person might easily assume that all the riches and privileges enjoyed came from God. That’s because, for sure, they never came from work. Well, maybe buying cotton. But that’s it. No other work except maybe buying cotton or real estate. So where else could the wealth and privilege come from, other than cotton, real estate or God? Where else? It has to be like either super natural or sub normal.

You may know, fetching up as God’s chosen has not worked out so swell for a bunch of the Jews. So maybe it is time to pass that mantle on to the Secesh of the Americano Southland. Let the Secesh suffer the travails God has inflicted upon the chosen ones. Let the Secesh don the sackcloth and ashes of the miserable Jews. Let the Secesh like-uh be dispersed to friendly foreign horizons including Paraquay. Yes-ah. Lots of the Secesh would need to get dispersed to Paraquay or maybe Antarctica. That’s right. Antarctica already has plenty of AC. Plus the AC in Antarctica is free. But that could change. You know? Global warming caused by something besides people-uh could screw up the free air conditioning. Yet maybe, free AC would last a long time in Antarctica if Antarctica was occupied by God’s chosen ones, instead of Penguins.

Last Year's Nostalgia

Last year, seemed like a Demon from Hell had me by the short hairs like 24/7. No. That's not accurate. Multiple Demons from that region known as the Christian Netherworld where Demon Inhabitance is common had me. That's right many Demons from the Christian Netherworld, known as Hell or Hades had me. To reiterate, a great many of the miserable Christian Demons from Hades were on me like fleas on a dog's weenie, or like those tiny flying insects that commonly hover around dog weenies, but only when the humidity is fairly high. Once the humidity drops off, even the dog weenie flies pack it in. But I didn't know that last year. Boo-hoo-hoo. I only learned that this year, DY 3. Mercy! Last year, 2008 of the Julian, was miserable, but nothing to compare with 2009. For during 2009 of the Julian, even the dog weenie flies packed it in.

This interesting photo, from 2008, indicates the relative bounty of nature for that year compared to thus. Check out that bug. Druids dislike bugs. That bug is only in the picture by accident. But liking bugs, like fires and thorns, could change.

My Tree is Dead. I’m Gonna Get a Mesquite!

Sadly, this refrain, my tree is dead, is upon many lips. Yes. Certainly, a Druid like myself can relate to people who forgot to water that favorite tree. Then, that favorite tree, died. Mercy! All your tree ever wanted was to provide you with shade and maybe some nice fruit or nuts. Maybe you put a table under it. Maybe you put in a tree house, or a tire swing. But now you have mercilessly killed your tree. Now you must hire a bunch of cheap labor to come over, saw your tree up, and haul it off. Boo-hoo-hoo.

Ok. Time to go to the nursery and purchase a new tree. Uh. By the way, no tree can do without water, entirely. So, if you want your new tree to live, and not die, you need to water it a whole lot for the first month or two. If you don’t water it in good, you shall kill your new tree, just like you killed your old tree. That’s right. You killed your tree. Not the drought, not bugs, not disease, not ball moss. You, are the tree killer. You need to ask the WG for forgiveness. Dumbass!

The current Druid recommendation for new tree is mesquite (Prosopsis glandulosa). OK. Let’s just list a great many reasons why mesquite is your new tree of choice for these parts.

1) Mesquite is a native of these parts, having dwelt here far longer than white people. Contrarily, some white people may try to tell you that mesquite is not native. They may try to tell you that mesquite is Mexican in origin. Yes. They shall try to convince you that there were no mesquites in these parts until herds of Mexican cows were driven up the old Dumbass Trail by cowboys too stupid to administer a purgative to the cows before they crossed the Rio Grande. However, all that is lies made up to help justify millions of dollars of my tax money going to pay for brush control. Mesquite is native to these parts, end of story.

Or, if you live in some enlightened shithole like Midland, where landscaping with native plants is illegal, you can still use mesquite. Cause mesquite is Mexican in origin. Is it Midland, Odessa, or both?

2) Mesquite is the very tree you are least likely to kill due to neglect or not watering.

3) Mesquite has thorns. Formerly, the Druids figured that thorns presented way too much of a drawback. But this was because Druids like to manage the herbaceous vegetation that grows around and under the trees and we didn’t want the thorns stabbing us or puncturing our tires. But now, since all the herbaceous vegetation is likely to be dead, and therefore unmanageable, we figure the thorns don’t matter.

4) Mesquite has nice flowers that may draw plenty of interesting insects plus honey bees.

5) Mesquite has tasty beans. Did you know that monk parakeets eat mesquite beans?

6) Mesquite can grow as big, or stay as little as you can possibly imagine.

7) Mesquite has lacy leaves for the little girls, and uh, furrowed bark for the little boys.

8) Mistletoe grows like crazy on mesquite. Which means, you may harvest the mistletoe and sell it just prior to Winter Solstice. But remember, for the mistletoe to work correctly, post harvest, it must have been cut from the mesquite tree by a naked virgin wearing only leather gloves, knee pads and sensible shoes. Furthermore, that almost naked virgin should ascend into the nethermost branches only when the mistletoe is in fruit, and only when fickle Ogma has set, and only when the moon is full or nearly full. Like maybe three quarters full is OK. Then also the semi-nude virgin must also be equipped with a genuine Swiss Army knife or better yet, some hand snips. Yes. Hand snips are what is needed. But if no hand snips are around or handy, a Swiss Army knife may be employed, alternatively. OK. Once the probable virgin cuts the mistletoe, somebody shall need to be on the ground under the tree to catch the mistletoe as it hurtles earthward, Praise be to Upup the Magnificent, Lordette of Gravity. That mistletoe, accelerating earthward at 9.8m/sec squared must not be allowed to hit the ground. So an additional person must be in charge of arresting the precipitous downward journey of the mistletoe. That additional person should also be a naked virgin if any more can be found or summoned from a nearby county. If no more virgins are to be had, then a non-virgin of only limited experience may be employed.

Now listen. Virgins are pretty important in this process. But just because you need virgins to harvest the mistletoe, that should never indicate you need to go violating the child labor laws or guidelines. That’s right. Just because a child may be a virgin does not mean you automatically should get to employ that child in a dangerous nocturnal work environment like mistletoe harvesting. OK! Goddess Damn It! OK! Just see what happens if you abuse child labor. You are fixing to really get it, if you do!

9) Mesquite roots may grow for miles. This means that your mesquite can go over and use your neighbor’s water. And you won’t need to water your mesquite so much.

All righty then. That’s a great many reasons to choose mesquite as your new tree.

Close-Up Photography

Now edited for clarity and spelling.

There are cheaper alternatives, but the equipment required for these type pictures is also fairly cheap, relatively speaking, maybe, depending on your circumstances. Like I purchased this equipment when the equipment was cheaper than now. OK!

Jeez Louise! The wind is blowing. No tripod. No image stabilizaion. The photographer is old and unsteady plus possibly he has had maybe a drink or two to steady him down. The lens is a slow 35mm macro. Mercy!

Pyraustra inornatalis on Salvia azurea

Jeez Louise! The wind is blowing. No tripod. No image stabilization. The photographer is old and unsteady. Plus maybe he has toked a number to steady him down. The lens is a slow, plus cheap 70-300 zoom.

Lerodea eufala on Salvia azurea

They Say that Breaking Up is Hard to Do, and Now I Know, I Know that it’s True, Tra-la

Achtung Dumbkopfs: Boring Political Commentary

Even the silliest must remember that the Druids supported the Obama candidacy. We even gave three dollars. So what did we get for our votes plus three dollars, besides buttons, bumper stickers and a yard sign. Well, we got a president who speaks English as opposed to pidgin secesh. And we got a break on torture, maybe. Maybe because there is no way to independently verify whether the soggy sheik is still getting water boarded. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t.

But so far, that’s about it, a linguistic easing of the culture war and maybe the Druid tax dime is going somewhere else besides the pockets of Khalid’s bathtub buddies at the CIA. Everything else that super annoyed the Druids during the Bushnoid eight, is on-going and upcoming.

Correct-o-moondo! The imperialist occupation of the former Macedonian Empire continues. Correct-o-moondo! The Druid tax dime is still financing the Americano lifestyle for zillions of mercenaries faunching around over in the former Macedonian Empire. Correct-o-moondo! The mother fucking border wall is making progress. And don’t make any mistake. That border wall is a literal mother fucker. Just ask the WG. Finally, there are plenty of Republicans still in the executive branch. But Ralph Nader aint in the executive branch. Noper.

So the Druid support for Obama is gradually edging toward indifference. Oh well. However, when the alternatives are another goose stepper on the Supreme, the Kay and Rick Show, or the Tea Party Geriatrics, indifference may be a fairly strong endorsement.

You know, if a Druid like me was president, those attending Tea Parties might wonder, Where’s my Social Security check? No check would cut down on the already scanty attendance at those Tea Party events. The fact is, those old Tea Party fuckers are more examples of white people biting the hand that feeds them. Whatever happened to thank you for my Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, electricity, paved streets, sanitation, virtual protection from foreigners, cheap labor, etc.

Alas, in Americanoland there are no rational alternatives to the Obama Orama, yet. But just like the potential ecological importance of fire in central Tejas, that could change.

Scale Insects Afflict Salvia Azurea

One might assume that a mint might actually be fairly free of the many vermin that roam Planet Earth. But of course some vermin or other is liable to infest even a mint. Which is precisely what is going on here. The scales are those little black and tan things.

Oh! I almost forgot. These particular vermin or scales can walk. They have stubby little legs that allow them to go along a short distance, or even turn themselves around. Course they don’t set any speed records for progress. Their legs are too stubby for speed.

Those ants like to lick the little vermin scales. I reckon the scales produce honey dew during the ambulatory part of their life style or way of life. But once they weary of ants always licking their nasty woozles, they produce a white fuzz in which they totally secret themselves.

Naturally, I have no idea what species these vermin are, and little hope of ever finding out. Apparently there are jillions of different ones. As for those ants, they are lucky not to be headed to Ant Lion City. Baby please don’t go!

Xeri-scaping vs. Zero-scaping

Xeri-scaping is like when you have like living plants on your property versus like astroturf or pea gravel. But like dude, you may not want to water your plants like, ever. Also, you may want the stigma and style on your plant's flowers to look like a dick. If that is the case, you may need some Opuntia imbricata. Like you never need to water it. It gets great big. And the stigma and style look like a dick. Cool!

Identifying Insects at the CB is Hard Work

Yes. Identifying those insects is way harder than keeping the Republic of Tejas (ROT) safe from foreign terrorists. That’s because there are way more insects at the CB than there are actual foreign terrorists afflicting the ROT. Even if imaginary foreign terrorists are enumerated, the CB insects still outnumber those imaginary or virtual foreign terrorists. Course, the domestic terrorists may rival or exceed the CB insects in total numbers. But whose job is it to keep track of the home grown terrorists? That’s not hard work, because in the ROT, those jobs don’t exist. Or maybe they do exist. But if they exist, they are probably more like hobbies than jobs.

There are at least three different bunches of small green hymenopterans. The three I personally know about or have heard tell of are the sweat bees, cuckoo wasps and Osmia sp., all of which are somewhat illustrated or discussed in my copy of the Field Guide to Insects of North America. However, I may not, having acquired a photo of one of these green hymenopterans, know, based on information provided in that book, which bunch the one I have a picture of, belongs to.

But sometimes hard work pays off. Like it turns out that An Introduction to the Study of Insects contains a line drawing of the wing of a halictid bee, including an arched basal vein that much resembles the arched basal vein in this picture. So. This is a sweat bee.

Trouble is, cuckoo wasps are supposed to have sculptured exoskeletons. Sculptured means punctate. Anyway, all my sweat bees appear a tad punctate. Boy howdy. I need to get a copy of the Insects of North America, North of Mexico.

Croton monanthogynous

These days about the only plant flowering is Croton monanthogynous (Cm), one-seed croton, prairie tea, the most abundant dove weed in these parts.

Cm is different from most of the crotons. For starters it only has two style branches. Its style is to produce one seed. Huh-huh. Also, Cm likes all soil, not just sand. The fact is, it may like clay better than sand. So in these parts, Cm is just about everywhere a weed can be.

The CB bar ditch seems like a good place for Cm. You may know that in the desert, the only green may be adjacent to the edge of the road. That’s where little weeds can catch run off from the pavement giving them an extra mouth full of cool water compared to unlucky weeds further off the pavement. That’s precisely what is happening here. The weeds right next to the street get a little more water.

Whoa! Be careful. Some, reading the preceding might conclude, Well shitfire then, we need to pave next to all the plants. That way all the plants shall get plenty of cool water.

Mercy! Thus do we discover a root of Republican science or land management methodology.

The common name, prairie tea, would seem to indicate that a libation made from Cm may be drunk at least once. Perhaps the stove up among the pioneers, desperate for any solution, gulped down a pot or two of delicious prairie tea. I hope so.

Most ungulates generally dislike Cm. Cows and sheep, for example, eat it sparsely. I’m not sure about goats. Goats may eat it, then get sick. Or they may not get sick. Maybe they just get purged. Perrisodactyls also, don’t much like it. So don’t try to feed your pet donkey exclusively on Cm. Pigs may not eat it. I’m not entirely sure though. Pigs may eat some by accident. Camels, present in the Repulbic of Tejas during recent historic times, probably ate some Cm. However, no one really knows if they liked it. Also, no one really knows if Cm is actually good for camels. What about llamas? Is it too soon to know about llamas?

Then one day I had to take some left over tacos to the vet. My vet has this program where average pet owners may donate left over tacos. The left over tacos are then distributed to starving Chihuahuas. Anyway, while I was at the vet, one of the ranchers in these parts happened to bring in his pet scimitar-horned oryx. Yepper. I was up in front helping to weigh some recovering Chihuahuas when I heard that rancher cry out, Can you save my foundered oryx, son? He’s all I got. Then the vet replied, Maybe I can save your oryx this time, but you have got to keep your oryx away from that one-seed croton.

So we see that Cm may be OK for consumption by both people and many of our most important and easily recognized large ungulate style mammals. Or maybe not.

What about birds? One of Cm’s common names is dove weed. That particular common name may tell us something. And how about those rattites? Reckon those ostriches and emus like Cm? You bet they do, probably.

Many small yet handsome insects, particularly Diptera and also Hymenoptera, are attracted to the tiny flowers of Cm. Others, like me, may just like to hang out where there is plenty going on. Still others may be fixing to kill and eat someone else. Most of the action is in the morning. So don’t go expecting much excitement after dinner.