Category Archives: Wildlife

The Mighty Nimrod

Frederick Courtney Selous is a name synonymous with hunting, adventure, conservation, and Africa. At least in some circles, that is.  Born in 1851 in Regent’s Park, London Selous became one of the greatest white sons of Africa.  His life epitomizes that of the regal English birth, with his father one time chairman of the London Stock Exchange and his mother a published poet.  The family was in all ways quite well off, but he felt the call of the Dark Continent at the age of 19.  He would travel back and forth from Africa to London to attend to business and family matters as well as meet at the Shikar Club which he co-founded in 1909.  For all other considerations he lived, worked, studied, and died in Africa.  His brother, Edmund, became a noted ornithologist and poet, in fact many of Frederick Selous’ poems and collected works reveal a depth of character that many take for granted.  Selous loved Natural History and exploration from a young age and studied any living thing that he could. During his expeditions and hunting safaris he collected many of the first specimens to come out of places such as Namibia and Sudan.  He also hunted big game across Europe and North America, but he will always be remembered as Africa’s Great White Hunter.

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The Original Blue-Bloods

I recently had the great fortune to deal with those kind individuals who help you move all your earthly possessions to another part of the globe.  U-HAUL has a neat little program of ignoring how much stress you are under and creating more annoyances for you to deal with.  But, they can be forgiven for their extemporaneous (and large) decals they smear on the sides of there water resistant (not water-proof) trucks. These include all kinds of Americana facts, many have great places to visit, sightseeing, famous happenings, etc. We got the one featuring the Hagerman Fossil Site in Idaho.  There are others however and one that got me thinking of something to share with the world at large is that of the Horseshoe crab: how it’s magical blood is helping the pharmaceutical companies test their products, and how it has been around since at least the second day of creation. (I made that up) But these guys have been around for at least 300 million years generally not giving a damn about human beings for most of that time.

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For the Birds: Part One

After a dreadfully long absence from the blogging scene, I return with something a bit out of character for the presets of this blog. At least on the surface.  As I have been writing and rewriting my Master’s Thesis, things have been a bit back burner lately.  However in todays riveting episode I will be talking about two movies that ARE NOT the Avengers.  Not that I am knocking the Avengers, I just never got up to the fever (okay, any) pitch to go see it. These two, however, did pique my interest some time ago. Shall we begin? Part I.

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The day of the whistlepig

 

I had fully intended a post on woodchucks on the second as is customary for Groundhog day, however a death in my wife’s family has put me a few days behind.  With all the services ending today, it is nice to be able to sit and talk of nothing by pointless nature facts and look up pictures of groundhogs on the internet.

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Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Mole.

 

     My wife and I chanced to have dinner and a movie with some dear friends of ours.  Briefly, the film Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is far from the edge of your seat thriller.  My friend’s wife slept through it all, my wife tried to, and my friend said that he had seen many independent movies and that this was particularly hard to follow.  I enjoyed it for what it was. That being said, the movie was dreadfully slow and painfully precise.  Since I am neck deep in thesis material I haven’t had time to read the book so I called my grandfather.

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The Considerate Mongoose.

Apologies to my follower(s) Graduate School, applications for PhD programs and other diversions have led me astray of my blogging duties, but I take a break from writing thesis to share with the interverse this little gem. 
 
Following is an article from the New York Times dated June 5, 1906. Anyone with an interest in wordplay, or the english language should take a moment and read this. I came across it working on my thesis. Enjoy… 
 
 
 
The Considerate Mongoose
 
     “This Republic was until Saturday, the embarrassed possessor of two mong–, that is, it had one mongoose at the Bronx Zoological Park, and another mongoose at the Rock Creek Zoo. The Rock Creek specimen considerately died on Saturday, thus relegating to the academic shades the infuriating and perfectly insoluble question of the plural. With one mongoose we can get along; two consitued a linguistic anomaly, and were certain source of profitless dispute and harrowing doubt.
“Send me a tailor’s goose, and eleven others just like it,” was the form finally adopted by the retail hardware dealer after successive rejections of tailor’s geese and tailor’s gooses. What is the plural of moose? It is not meese, of course, and nobody would say mooses. The statement of a tenderfoot who should declare that he saw seventeen moose in teh forest would be instantly questioned by the experienced hunter, but not on grammatical grounds. Moose goes as plural. But mongoose?
 
 
I want to be a mongoose,
And with the mongeese stand.
 
 
     A proper and laudable aspiration, but the unlamented little beast of the Rock Creek Zoo kne he mustn’t do it. You can’t stop there. The anserine anaology bears you irresistably on to the mongoose and her mate, the mongander. The tribe of mongoose would never “stand for” that. The Rock Creek animal was driven back upon the metaphysical device of the ego and the non-ego. I, this mongoose, who sit here vainly barking up the grammar tree, and the other mong– there it goes again. In the intervals of pursuing his favorite preym the boot-haunting ophidia, the mongoose of Rock Creek, thought much and deeply on yjis subject. Condemned to a life of loneliness for in English-speaking countries must never be seen in company with another mongoose, he was unspeakably miserable, and he saw no way out. His accomplishments went for nothing. He could rob a henroost with a silent deftness that left the feathered ones spared quite unaware of their bereavement. He possessed consummate skill in the art of depleting an eggshell of its contents by that method in which the common law of repartee assumes ever man’s grandmother to be an expert. But what of that, if, so long as there was another one, he had no place in the structure of English speech? It made mongoose-flesh come out all over him. Let his martyred bones, whereve they mayy lie, be a warnin to those who henceforth may enrich our fauna by this addition of alien vertebrates, that they must import an animal from the language of his nativity a practicable plural.”
 
Stand with the Mongeese!
 
 
 This article is 105 years old. Just something to think about.

The Thing about Bats

Batty Koda from Ferngully.
 

     I suppose if I hurry this weekend with a short entry I can get a one in for July. This will at least mean I have done one post a month in the last two months.  We have finished moving and finally settled in enough to have the internet and a path to the computer.  This is one topic that deserves way more time and intellect than I have for it, but hopefully you will come away with a better understanding of bats and the peril they face in the US today.

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The Ant and the Aardvark, er, um Anteater

   My apologies to my reader(s) about the long drought of blog material.  Many people I know would say this was just a time to gather information with which to wow my readers with; this however, is not the case.  Moving, class, and money have all gotten in the way of actually sharing points to ponder with the world at large.  Hopefully, when I get my laptops repaired, or my desktop close enough to a wifi station to access the internet, the posts will take on some sort of rhythm and actually combine to make some kind of tangible, coherent thought phase. I wouldn’t hold my breath.

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The Great Northern Penguin and other bird brains

      There are no penguins in the arctic, at least not anymore.  In the 1960s Robert Silverberg wrote a hat trick of books about natural history and science.  Funny thing, when I ordered them from Amazon they came discarded from Jr. High libraries.  After reading two of them I realized that Jr. High students must have been capable of much higher degrees of thinking than the standard secondary children are forced to endure today.  They are written in a plain spoken and easy to understand manner, that in no way detracts from their scholarly contribution to knowledge.  But enough about the state of education in the 21st century, back to the northern penguins.

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