Big Ass Year Mania

Man alive!    It's a Big Ass Year Big Ass Day.  Already Crumby has espied four new species and it aint even noon.  The four new species are Swainson's hawk,  cliff swallow, clay-colored sparrow and one of those plain winged, squinty eyed vireos that Crumby failed to espy enough to call.   Probably a Philadelphia, but that's a tough call in these parts.

Yes.  The Swainson's are migrating.  Crumby has espied three so far.  No big kettles yet.  The Stinky Valley cliff swallows are back.   Sadly, water for mud is in short supply.   Clay-colored migrant depicted.

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A Druid Easter

Here comes Peter Cottontail, hoppin’ down the bunny trail.
Hippity, hoppity Easter’s on its wa-ay.

What a great song!

I fondly recall my first Easter at the orphanage. There we little orphan bastards labored one early morning, chained to our little desks, each with an onerous task to perform. I was sorting through onion specimens I was supposed to identify and mount before bedtime. Yet suddenly a Great Rabbit appeared before us.

All righty then!, proclaimed the Great Rabbit. I am fixing to release you from your chains. Once I do that, you shall all proceed outdoors in tandem, that is, two by two. The fact is, you are fixing to get to go outside. Yet you all have buddies you are responsible for, especially you Rayetta. You Rayetta, must make sure that Ray, ventures not astray.

Excitement gripped all us child laborers. What the heck was going on? It must be an unscheduled fire drill, many surmised.

As soon as the Giant Rabbit freed us, we all buddied up. Rayetta gripped my hand tightly. Then off we marched in tandem through the dusty, near stygian corridors. The journey was long and arduous.

Yuck Ray! You sure have a sweaty hand.

I can’t hep it Rayetta. I’m nervous.

Suddenly, as we marched forward, making fair progress, I looked up. There, up ahead, was the Great Rabbit silhouetted by Ogma’s fickle gaze. We were almost outside!

All righty then!, proclaimed the Great Rabbit. You children each require a basket. All of you pick up a basket. Do not squabble over a basket. All those baskets are the same difference.

Anon, we were outside, clutching our baskets in one hand, holding on to our buddy with the other hand, squinting in the unaccustomed light of day. As my eyes gradually accustomed to the unaccustomed light of day, I espied that besides the Great Rabbit, there was also a Great Chicken, a Great Serpent and a Great Sea Urchin variously disposed about the pasture facing the porch upon which we all now assembled.

All righty then!, proclaimed the Great Chicken. You are all fixing to enjoy an Easter egg hunt. All of us Great Animals have laid eggs out in the pasture as a special treat for you little orphan bastards, I mean children. All you have to do is run around and find all the eggs. Then, once you find those eggs or ovums, you get to keep them. They are your eggs. Won’t that be fun! Are there any questions?

I had a question. Great Chicken or Hen, please maam, I am afeared that if I venture off the porch that Great Serpent yonder shall certainly get me. Is that Great Serpent a good snake or a bad snake? Ow! Whut did ye pinch me fer, Rayetta?

The Great Chicken answered up for Rayetta. Ray, we are all kindly Great Animals here. We have, all of us, including the Great Serpent, gone to a lot of trouble, ovapositing all over the pasture so you may go find some delicious eggs. Your very smart sister pinched you Ray, because you asked a stupid question. Are there any more questions? No. Good. Then let the hunt begin.

I had some more questions. But all the other children tore off the porch at a great pace. Even Rayetta tore off the porch. Yes. My sweaty hand betrayed me. There I was, all alone on the porch with the Great Rabbit.

Run along Ray. You need to go find some eggs before they are all gone.

Reluctantly I warily departed from the relative safety of the porch. Keeping one eye peeled for the Great Serpent, I ventured on out into the pasture. OK. I need to find an egg. Suddenly I espied an egg. Yet my sweaty hand betrayed me. I could not get a proper grip on that particular egg. Lo and behold, it slipped away and another child stole my egg. Then, seemingly before it began, the hunt was over. All the eggs were found, ensconced in the baskets of the other children, my basket empty, except for a little hay in the bottom.

Yet my torment had only begun.

All righty then!, proclaimed the Great Sea Urchin. Now we shall count the eggs in the baskets to see which child found the most eggs. The child with the most eggs, shall receive a special egg.

Naturally, the results followed a normal curve with Rayetta on one end and me on the tail end.

All righty then! proclaimed the Great Serpent. Rayetta wins the special egg. Everyone give up a great many coyote yips for Rayetta. The children and all the Great Animals yipped for my sister.

What are we to do about Ray!, proclaimed the Great Serpent. Ray found no eggs. His basket is empty. I know, I shall have to eat Ray. Ha! Just kidding Ray.

But it all worked out OK, anon. Rayetta explained it all. All the Great Animals were just faculty members shape-shifted into those particular animals. Plus, Rayetta shared her eggs.

Crumby's Big Ass Year Continues

Planet Earth continues in its seemingly endless orbit.  Meantime,  over the Earth's surface, much of Class Aves heads north with nothing more on their tiny minds than facilitating Crumby's Big Ass Year.   Which should mean that the birds need to stop at the CB so Crumby may espy them.  Unfortunately,  it's not happening.  Only a few of the dozens of migrants winging their ways northward have been espied at the CB.  Shucks!

So Crumby went from March 11 to March 28 before managing additions to the Big Ass Year list.  And none of those avians or feathered aviators were actually espied at the CB.  Blame it on the so-called drought, which has the birds moving through swiftly, not stopping for shit, since nice drinks of cool water are scarce in these parts. 

Yet Crumby is forging ahead with his Big Ass Year.  Now the count has zoomed up to 114.   Here is 113.  A pectoral sandpiper that did stop for shit.

An Early Acmaeodera

Acmaeodera is the same difference as "cry me a river."    Here are a great many Acmaeodera crowded on to a Taraxacum officinale.   This is a very small acmaeodera,  possibly neglecta. 

dc cormorant mugshot

Historically,  Crumby has never much cared for cormorants.  That's because we only really have two in these parts.  Plus, the two we do have seem to have long bamboozled the local birdwatching talent.  Which, in company with Crumby, consequently, generally ignores them. 

But all that is fixing to change.  Because Crumby is now finding cormorants interesting.  Especially when nothing else is available for company.  Like here is an interesting cormorant.  It is mature,  and that alone makes it more interesting than the ridiculous hoards of moron teenagers one normally encounters. 

Panicstarrs, I mean Panstarrs

For twain evenings in succession, the 12th and 13th, Crumby and Ray have been out in force fixing to view the dopey Comet Panstarrs.  Well.  So far, we espied it both evenings, yet we failed to get a picture.  That's because the particular comet we are now discussing is about 4 mag in mega-light polluted Stinky Valley, and consequently invisible to the naked or nude eye.  Thus, while we may espy it with 10x42 bins and of course the teles,  we have not been able to get it on a camera lcd. 

Yes.  This comet is dim.  But inadequate equipment is also messing with us.  Like our camera tripod is inadequate for tracking an invisible object when burdened with the 60d and 40mm 5.6.   Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy!  Plus, while we were desperately fixing to rig up the camera on the telescope, some asshole loosed pet dogs on us and then began shining a flashlight on us, we guess to better espy the damage those dogs were accomplishing.

Are you happy now, asshole?  Now that your moron Labrador slobbered all over the C-5060 wide-zoom.

Yet the tele tripod is plenty stable and the invisible comet is trackable with the small Lomo, but when we go to attach the camera to the ep in the tele, we lose the comet and can't find it again before it goes behind a house's roof.  Mercy!  There's not much time as that comet drops plenty fast. 

Dang!  We shall persist.  But only because a wag on Cloudy Nights dubbed this particular comet, Pornstars. We got to get a peekture of Comet Pornstars.

The DNA or Genitalia Crowd

As prophesied, Ray was drawn to the lights of the barn on March 9.  However, few moths appeared.  Of those moths (muths) that did appear. only this moth was fairly big, an important interest generating criteria for a moth picture.  Alas, this particular moth may be a card carrying member of the Eupithecini.  And Ray, after espying or maybe glancing at all the Eupithecini on Bugguide, concluded that this particular moth is not present among all those others.  But Ray was too embarrassed to submit this image because Ray feels like he has come hat in hand to often to Bugguide lately.  Yet this moth could be lurking among all the others, only waiting for a responsible party to successfully pair this image with another already ensconced among the Bugguide Eupithecini. 

Or,  this particular moth may not be among those Eupithecini depicted.  And, it might be a new to Bugguide Eupithecini. Or, it may not be a Eupithecini at all.  And even if it is a Eupithecini,  the picture may not suffice for its identification, which might require its DNA or genitalia.  Mercy!

Whatever,  it is a cuter than average moth.

A Big Night for Moths (Muths)

Back on March 4 or 5, 2013, for the first time in a while, Ray decided to photograph moths on the barn windows at night.   On that night, 4 or 5, Ray photopgraphed the ten largest moths, handy.  Later, through the morning of March 9th, Ray attempted to identify his moths on Bugguide.  Eight of those moths Ray identified by himself.   Yet twain of those moth identifications eluded Ray.  And at last, Ray gave up on those twain, begging for help on the Bugguide id request line.

The twain Ray could not id by himself are Aon noctuiformis and Lactura subfervens.  Here they are.  Aon first, then the Lactura. 

Now that Ray has, with help,  identified all ten of those original moths to his satisfaction, tonight, Ray shall seek out a new group of larger moths at the windows of the barn.  If there are no larger moths, Ray may do littler moths.

The other eight species of the group, not shown, are Chimoptesis pennsylvaniana, Cissusa spadix (probably), Costaconvexa centrostrigoria, Diastichis fracturalis, Isturgia dislocaria, Maliattha synochitis, Mimoschinia rufofascialis and Platynota stultana.  Ray still needs to work out which are new CB muth records.  

Sandhill Cranes over CB

If you happen to be doing a Big Ass Year,  the best is when the dern birds of Class Aves come to you.  After all, most of those birds can fly.  Easy! 

So when the cranes flew over at about  11:02AM this morning, Crumby figured they were free.  Free birds! 

NIce that the cranes holler as they go along.  They spooked the cat with their hollering.  Anyway, he acted spooked at the same time the cranes were hollering or hallowing. 

Part of the flock, circling to catch a thermal.

Crumby figured today would be a good day for hawks too.  Yet, he has not seen a one yet. Not one!   Probably, the nice low sky with plenty of mid-level clouds made the hawks decide to wait for when conditions for hawk watchers would be sub par to impossible.

The Big Ass Year

As Earth, the tiny planet many call home, hurtles through the depths of space, forever circling Ogma Sunface, Crumby's Big Ass Year continues.  But for Crumby, a Big Ass Year is frought with stress.  Like back on January 12, Crumby recorded the olivaceous cormorant as the 85th species of his Big Ass Year.   Yes.  He espied twain of those particular cormorants being chased down the Colorado River by a humanoid in a kayak.  Mercy!

But then Crumby, though he espied high and low, could find no other references to olivaceous,  or for that matter,  neotropical cormorants, at this nonce, at this time, in these parts.  Nevertheless, Crumby knew that the WG had not deceived him.  No.  Those twain cormorants flyiing downriver with the other cormorants were olivaceous and no other. 

So Crumby set about documenting his olivaceous cormorants.  And today, that documentation, fruited or, bore fruit, or was actually documented.

Plus,  Crumby also documented the black-crowned night-heron.  Yes.  Mass quantities, maybe six ,  of those stygian herons were espied today, including this one.

Last week at the same location, below Longhorn Dam,  there were migratory water pipits, ca 100,  and swarms of  migratory swallows.  Goodness!

Spodoptera dolichos

Many may assume that the dearth of rainfall in these parts corresponds to a similar dearth of insects.  And that is right.  No rainfall equals hardly any herbs flowering and few bugs.  Yet though life without rain is totally evil, a few bugs bravely turn up anyway.  Like this sweet potato armyworm that wound up in the Parlor of the Goddess. 

Crumby had a hard time identifying this particular moth.  It's not a good specimen either because before Crumby took its picture, it was sat on  by a cat for about two hours and almost smothered.