Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Critter foo
A job for the young and immortal
Back when I was in grad school, my program sent me to a one-week workshop on all aspects of cancer. Not surprisingly, we all called it Cancer Camp. It was a hoot. We flew to a convention center in Keystone, Colorado, where it’s cool even in summer, and we got to do all kinds of fun stuff while we were there — a whitewater rafting trip, a hike, some serious hot-tubbing, even a dance.
They housed us six to a condo. One of my roommates was a big Floridian who seemed ancient to our crowd of twenty-somethings. Guy must have been 40. First night we were all hanging out in our living room swapping stories, and he told us how he and his buddies used to make some spare cash back in high school: hunting alligator eggs.
I don’t recall how much they were paid per egg, but this 2007 story in the Times Picayune says that nowadays, the city makes $12 to $13 per egg. Perhaps back in the 50s, kids were making a buck or two per egg. Good money*.
One guy, the high school track team’s captain, had the job of drawing off the mother gator. He was fast and nimble enough that he had to limit himself, in fact — if he lost her too quickly, she would only return to the nest in time to nail his friends as they raided her nest. The kid found this to be great sport. How far could he lure the female? Or, phrased differently: how slow could he run and not get caught?
One day, his friends (of which my storyteller was one) heard a high-pitched shriek, and they feared the worst. When they got back to the car, they found him in a state of near-catatonia, unwounded, but missing most of the denim from the left calf of his Levis.
Sometimes I wonder if the runner ever went out again. I’ll bet he did. I’m thinking of all the times I body-surfed as a kid (a kid who swam about as well as he played basketball), got pummeled by a wave, yet always had faith that I would be carried into shallow water, not deep. This, despite some nasty instances of undertow and riptide. Even one near-drowning didn’t slow me down; I went right back in.
I’m not sure when I lost my own sense of immortality . . . but I think fatherhood had a lot to do with it.
D.
*Alligator populations go up and down. I’m guessing that at the time, the People of the State of Florida felt there were too many gators for their own good.
Frogger
Long-timers here (and folks in Crescent City and Brookings) know I’m a frogger. I keep poison dart frogs. Hmm, I haven’t really talked about that since 2006, so if you didn’t know about the frogs, or you forgot, you’re forgiven.
As I write this, I have Stickam up and running so y’all are welcome to sign on and say hi. Over in another window, I’m perusing Black Jungle for plants and other terrarium gear. You see, I’m revamping the frog tank*. I do minor maintenance (water changes, plant-trimming, furniture-rearranging) every few months, a bigger cleanout about once a year, and a major revamp every few years. We’re overdue for the big revamp.
This time, I want The Perfect Waterfall. I always manage to screw up my water feature, but this time . . .
I started with floral foam bricks. Today, I glued them together (using aquarium silicone) in an irregularly staggered stair-step, and now I’m letting them “cure.” I also went to a retail quarry and begged a few scraps of slate. The idea is to mush everything together with the aid of aquarium silicone and Great Stuff. My tank is already plumbed for the pump. Basically, it’s a huge false bottom setup, but there’s a drainage grommet in the big tank that drains down to a small tank in the aquarium stand. There’s a pump in the small tank which pumps the drained water back up to the big tank through a separate grommet. That’s going to be the source of my waterfall, my No Longer Lameass Waterfall.
I want better plants this time, too — I’m tired of that philodendron (or whatever it is) with the enormous leaves. It took over EVERYTHING. I want my tank to look like this. Wish me luck!
Yes, I’ll take pictures.
D.
*No, I don’t have time for this, but the sight of my beloved frog tank in such disrepair has been weighing on me. And my poor frogs are stuck in little Sta-in-Pets, waiting for me to do my thing. Of course, it’s a good question whether I should transfer them back. The frog tank is in our garage, which during the summer months was an OVEN.
Life extension
Nature recently published a review on the science of life extension. TWe can make a nematode (C. elegans) live longer; we can make mice live longer. We now know enough about the genetics of aging to stimulate the drug companies into frenetic bursts of research (although the FDA has already stated it will not approve drugs exclusively intended to extend the lifespan). I often kid people that I have no intention of dying, but more and more, it’s beginning to look plausible.
We’ve known for more than 100 years that dietary restriction extends the lifespan in mammals. No one knows if this applies to humans, but that begs the question (would you want to live like that?) Free radical inhibitors like superoxide dismutase are not the answer; recent studies have shown these drugs do nothing to reduce disease, and may in fact inhibit our defenses against certain infectious diseases.
What would the perfect pill accomplish? Not enough to add more years, else we’d all end up like Swift’s Struldbrugs. We would need youth, too.
***
Season three of Dexter debuted tonight. He killed someone.
Shoot! I ruined it for you!
***
One thing I always hate about moving: many of our pets die. They simply can’t handle the change. My water dragon died while I was in Chicago — not unexpected, since she had been off her food for quite a while. And at least three of my poison dart frogs have died, too. I found one of them this morning in his cage, a withered corpse, his legs filamentous. Karen insisted I try to rehydrate him.
You have to warm drowning victims; sometimes their hypothermia saves them. You’re not dead until you’re warm and dead. With amphibians, you’re not dead until you’re wet and dead.
Other people’s bathrooms, you’ll find a flower floating in a bowl of water. In mine, you’ll find a frog.
The mammals are doing fine. Cats, ferrets, even the degus are healthy and happy. The cats and the ferrets are the only ones I really care about anymore. I’m becoming ordinary.
***
I tell myself that it’s the thought of the death of loved ones, family, friends — that’s what disturbs me the most. You’d think it would be my own death I’d worry about, but no. Is it that my own death is unthinkable?
Folks in my family have a real problem with the big D. Why is that?
D. (the little d, that is.)
Histrionic chimp, meet devious kitten
Have you seen this one?
Jeez, get over it already! It’s just poop!
An entirely different personality.
I love the way her head maintains the same position from one shot to the next, don’t you?
There ya go, your Cuteness Overload for the evening.
D.
PS What is it about the kitten that reminds me of this? When you can snatch the mouse from the palm of my hand, you will be ready for the catnip.
A very ferrety slide show
I don’t know if my photo of Ferret Bueller and the balloon has made it onto the slide show yet, but it should (eventually).
Plague Threatens Prairie Dogs, Endangered Ferrets in South Dakota.
Here’s a more detailed story at MSNBC.
D.
PS: It’s hot here. HOT. I don’t know how 95% of the rest of the country* manages with worse temperatures; I figure it’s a testimonial to the toughness of humankind.
*Figure pulled out of my, um, pocket. Yeah. That’s it.
LOLFERRETS
No, the idea isn’t original. Check out these guys, for example. Or this post.
Still, no one quite has my sensibilities when it comes to pets . . . or humor. Not that I’m at the top of my form tonight, but what the hell. Here goes.
Tonight’s LOLFERRETS is dedicated to Bueller’s obsession with footwear.
What do they find so fascinating about shoes? Stinkier the better, it seems. Perhaps . . .
Between cases today, I filmed the OR gals who have made my professional life bearable these last ten years. Once I cobble together a video, you (and they) will be the first to know.
It’s gonna be special.
D.
Miscellanea
Dan wins the Ferret Name-Off. Ferret Bueller it is. For his creative talents, Dan wins a $25 gift certificate to PetSmart, whether he wants it or not.
Know what’s cute? Baby ferrets.
As much as I would love to see these little guys firsthand, ferret breeding is not for the amateur. Unfixed female ferrets (jills) stay in heat until they’re bred, and if they’re not bred, they can develop life-threatening health problems. Unfixed male ferrets (hobs) are aggressive and they mark their territory — and themselves — “with a mixture of slimy oils and urine.” Yeah, I’ve know guys like that, too.
***
I have a new review up at The Fix: Hub Magazine issues 51-55. From this collection, there’s one must-read. It’s a poem, “The Real Tooth Fairy.” I loved it. Even my family of poetry-despisers loved it.
***
Speaking of reviews, I’ve dipped my big toe into Jackie Kessler‘s latest, the hopefully named Hotter than Hell. Jackie sent me an ARC a while back and I’ve been remiss. (I’ve been knee-deep in Sara Gran’s Dope and Come Closer . . . wow. Quite a bit different than Jackie’s work, though.) I’m still waiting to see how Jackie handles a full blown (heh) sex scene from the male POV. As I’ve said, oh, somewhere, a realistic sex scene from the male POV would be pretty damned boring. Equal parts yeah, do that, and one Mississippi two Mississippi three Mississippi, and what do you mean, don’t do that? and Good God, how long am I going to have to wait to do this again? and too fast too fast think think babies with kwashiorkor gangrenous toes Tom Cruise on Oprah’s sofa just about any photo of Amy Winehouse Tucker Carlson’s bow tie ooh yeah that’s a good one Tucker Carlson’s bow tie phew! that was a close one.
So um yeah waiting to see how Jackie handles this one.
But oy, Jackie, the cover art? If I were to catch Teh Gay, it wouldn’t be with this Rob Lowe wannabe. Yes, yes, I know you don’t get control over cover art. And I know your publisher doesn’t give a damn about the opinion of your hetero male readers. Just sayin’.
D.
Name that ferret (contest!)
Harmonica, our blond ferret, was getting depressed and neurotic, so we bought him a pal. Help us name him, and if we choose the name you suggest, you’ll win a $25 gift certificate to PetSmart.More below the fold . . .