Kilo and I got up early to walk in the drizzle and fog and now she is invigorated and ready to play. I am still cold, wet and shivering, and not.
I'm no longer as grateful for the abundant moisture as I probably should be. I've quit emptying or even checking my rain gauge, because lately I get the feeling that rain is creating a monster in my back yard. I've spent many years building a very uncomplicated and very leisurely, "do whatever I want and only whenever I want to do it" life for myself, and when we started this project I could actually visualize "beautiful Spring mornings enjoying great coffee in a neat area by a waterfall".
HA -
It's nothing but weedeaters, lawn mowers, clippers, rakes, shovels and wheel barrows from the first of March until the end of November. And I do the work from behind foul tasting quick cups of coffee from the convenience store because I can't take the time to make it myself.
I get it now. The noose of responsibility is tightening. Until Kilo came to live with me full time I had never accepted responsibility for another living thing, not even a house plant. That was a difficult decision at first because she was a guard dog and is pretty much attuned to one person, but since I've known and loved her for years, and I'm not around very many people anyway, I let her move in. At the time I worked in a restricted office in a secured building so I just took her to work from the first day. I still take her anywhere I go and the end result is a great friend and companion for only minimal inconvenience. The pond is another story. I walked into a trap while day-dreaming about the next new thing that I might enjoy, and although we did build the nice place to sit by a waterfall, by activating this ecosystem we also took on the responsibility for a whole variety of living things (fish, frogs, birds, and a few ornamental plants). They now depend on us on an almost daily basis, and just as with Kilo, I could never take that lightly. It would be sinful to neglect them in any way.
I'm doomed.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
My Rock Collection
About 28 miles West of here is one of the most remarkable places on earth, and one of the main reasons that I've chosen to live here. For me it has always been a doorway to another dimension, but in reality it is an escarpment that runs for hundreds of miles north and south, is the western edge of the Llano Estacado, and is referred to along most of its length I would guess, as the Caprock. It doesn't have very dense vegetation or much water, but the cliff face has hundreds of small caves that my friends and I have explored and camped in since we were children. At the bottom of the escarpment and on to the West are numerous sand dunes (the white ones are hallucinogenic in themselves on a full-moon night), and, just to keep everyone alert, what occurs there is known as an ecotonal situation, which is where two biomes intersect and is an area of intense predation. There are more of more kinds of plants and animals, including lots of venomous snakes. Just the intense primitive beauty of these elements are magnetic, but probably what has drawn me there the most is that it has been a highway for many thousands of years. You can find everything from a hubcap off of one of this year's cars to pieces of pottery so ancient, and so far from where they were made that the implications are mind-numbing. From the amounts and varieties of pre-historic occupation sites and artifacts, the place was more than just a highway, it was a freeway. Shards from every pottery type ever described and named, practically litter the place. Since childhood I've known people who hunted the region for arrowheads throughout their lives, and many had impressive collections. So did I, then several years ago I was showing a method of introducing high school students to Anthropology and used my personal arrowhead collection in the demonstration. At the end of the presentation one of the audience asked to speak to me privately and I instantly recognized him as the graduate assistant from my Physics classes in college. He is an Indian from one of the Northern Pueblos and I remembered him as an excellent instructor and a nice, but reserved, person. When we were alone he very seriously asked if I would consider parting with one of the arrowheads that I had shown. My first reaction was confusion and it must have been obvious because he said that he needed one for a medicine bag that he wanted to give to his son. I remember thinking "but you're an Indian, isn't your house full of arrowheads", and I guess that showed too because he said that when the Museum collectors had invaded the pueblos and created their collections, they started a flood of collecting, and there weren't many arrowheads left for people who used them in the traditional ways. He then said that his people felt they should be used almost like medicine (and explained how), but instead we were holding them captive and putting them on display. He said that he just needed one, preferably one that emanated kill point characteristics and that he might feel that if he could examine them. For some reason, at that point I was believing everything he was saying, and feeling terrible about having captured something that he understood, needed, and should have easy access to but couldn't even find. I gave the entire collection to him. Although I do feel that some stone tools (a perfect Clovis or Folsom point) are unsurpassed works of art and that it's remarkable to experience them - I didn't like how the "capture and hold captive" thing that I was doing made me feel. My friends who later wondered where the collection went, mainly felt that I was taken, but I never have. I've never believed in anything except that anything is possible, and on the strength of his convictions I felt that it is possible that some grains of corn and an ancient tool in a small leather pouch could protect certain people through the centuries. I actually only halted what I suddenly perceived to be my unwitting interference in a process unrelated to me. The whole point for the story is that I recently experienced similar feelings, but because I made the opposite decision. I loved the rocks seen in the photo and I remember the day I started collecting them 35 years ago. I can bring up an instant memory of the discovery of nearly any of them and I've always kept them near. I moved most of them with me to different houses in different places (hard work), I kept them clean and positioned to show their best features, and I would have fed them if they had needed it, but the most important thing was, no matter where we were I let them be free. Then I chose expedited personal concerns (the fill pipe to the pond was ugly and I don't have enough years left to have waited for Bill to locate the materials to build the waterfall) and now they are cemented into a mound for water to splash over and moss to grow on. I almost feel bad for them.
Thursday Night
It was dark, overcast, and raining lightly when I left for work at 6AM, and dark, overcast, and raining moderately - maybe, skill at determining how much it's raining is a relatively new necessity - when I got back about 7PM. We walked briefly anyway and I noticed that in sheltered areas by the pond, the bioluminescent creature, and I'm sure it's Diplocardia, was on display again. My first thought was that maybe the effective annual precipitation is actually increasing here and new plants and animals are showing up. (These images and their numbers are relative. I know that even at double the normal moisture amount this is still a plateau at the southern end of the Great Plains and a variety of factors determine what can live here.) My second thought is, maybe the worms have always been here and just weren't luminous for whatever reason. I'll get Cashmere to come over tonight and try to photograph them.
The wind is tremendous today and it's very cold, but I can tell a difference in the plants. They are developing an attitude of green (more substantial than an aura but still not a visible color).
The wind is tremendous today and it's very cold, but I can tell a difference in the plants. They are developing an attitude of green (more substantial than an aura but still not a visible color).
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Walking after Dark
It's 7PM and we just got in from the walking path. I picked Kilo up as soon as I pulled in from work and we got to the pasture probably 15 minutes after the moon came up. After this morning's attempt at a moon-set photo, I didn't even bother with the moon-rise, but for at least the first 10 minutes, it was huge, then settled down to normal size. The full moon, or maybe almost full - I haven't looked at a calendar lately, made it easy to follow the pathway but I still tend to lose Kilo fairly easily. I don't worry because I know that she doesn't lose me.
I love being in an place where no man-made lights are visible. It does something to my sense of where I am in time.
I love being in an place where no man-made lights are visible. It does something to my sense of where I am in time.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Monday Night
Perfect Spring-like weather and I enjoyed every bit of it, but I flooded Bill's shop again. Three long work days and then I'll fix it.
Monday Morning
Perfect day. Even at sunrise there was no wind. It should be in the upper 60's today and for the rest of the week with the possibility of rain showers starting this afternoon.
I just started the pond water and am going to divert some to the large pines. I bought those trees for $6 each about 20 years ago when the people started a tree farm on the property to the West of Bill's. I bought seven trees that were maybe 3ft tall and they have had a strange existence until the past couple of years. Last year I discovered that it was relatively easy to water them with the nutrient rich water from the bottom of the pond, and that when I did, they instantly became healthier and grew several feet in height. I've always read about such things, but to see them in action is amazing.
Once again I did something for no real reason that turned out to be the correct thing to do. The last time I shut down the aeration system to clean it, the weather was cold, I didn't want to get wet again setting it back up, and the pond oxygen level seemed to have stabilized for the Winter, so I put it away instead. Last night I was reading about ponds in cold weather and discovered that aerators should be shut down during this time - and why. The process changes the temperature of the water and the shock of that can be harmful to the fish, among other things. I also read several articles relating to the accumulation of organic debris in the bottom of the pond. We knew that having trees and plants on the pond bank would lead to that, but finally decided that there are really so few plants in this environment, the decomposition process would even out and negative effects would be minimal (very few or no parasites and dangerous bacteria living in the dead leaves). Still hope that is true but there are days when the water is extraordinarily dark. Within the next two months we will replace a large portion of the water to get ready for Spring and that should neutralize any bottom debris problems.
I just started the pond water and am going to divert some to the large pines. I bought those trees for $6 each about 20 years ago when the people started a tree farm on the property to the West of Bill's. I bought seven trees that were maybe 3ft tall and they have had a strange existence until the past couple of years. Last year I discovered that it was relatively easy to water them with the nutrient rich water from the bottom of the pond, and that when I did, they instantly became healthier and grew several feet in height. I've always read about such things, but to see them in action is amazing.
Once again I did something for no real reason that turned out to be the correct thing to do. The last time I shut down the aeration system to clean it, the weather was cold, I didn't want to get wet again setting it back up, and the pond oxygen level seemed to have stabilized for the Winter, so I put it away instead. Last night I was reading about ponds in cold weather and discovered that aerators should be shut down during this time - and why. The process changes the temperature of the water and the shock of that can be harmful to the fish, among other things. I also read several articles relating to the accumulation of organic debris in the bottom of the pond. We knew that having trees and plants on the pond bank would lead to that, but finally decided that there are really so few plants in this environment, the decomposition process would even out and negative effects would be minimal (very few or no parasites and dangerous bacteria living in the dead leaves). Still hope that is true but there are days when the water is extraordinarily dark. Within the next two months we will replace a large portion of the water to get ready for Spring and that should neutralize any bottom debris problems.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Could be the Grey Bird
The bird might be a Sandhill Crane. It kind of looked like this one, except I don't remember seeing a red crown and the wing tips were darker than the body. Also, apparently they aren't commonly found near water.
It looked more like the Great Blue Heron, a common Texas shoreline wading bird that occasionally moves to inland ponds and streams in the Winter. The breeding season plumage definitely wasn't there, but maybe it isn't Great Blue Heron breeding season right now.
I need to see it one more time.
It looked more like the Great Blue Heron, a common Texas shoreline wading bird that occasionally moves to inland ponds and streams in the Winter. The breeding season plumage definitely wasn't there, but maybe it isn't Great Blue Heron breeding season right now.
I need to see it one more time.
Enough with the Cold Already
I stayed in bed until almost 7:30 because the wind just sounded cold but it wasn't all that comfortable. I'm not sure when Kilo wakes up, but she is always waiting. The first move I make she is in my face asking if I'm ready to leave yet. There are days when I'm not, but that just brings out her heartless side - "we need to hurry up and go". And it's not like the place we go to is always inviting. There aren't ever any other people there but this morning it's 25 degrees and the wind is 30-40 mph. The really strange part is, no matter how rotten the weather, at some point I'm always glad I went.
The pasture I walk in the most often contains the last remnant of the original U.S. 380. We've always lived within a couple of blocks from the area and when I was a kid, the access to it wasn't fenced like it is now. To a 10 year old on a bicycle trip it was a piece of highway, maybe 1/4 mile long, that just ended at a fence for no apparent reason. I even remember watching it deteriorate through subsequent decades and regarding it as similar to erosion on a cliff face. And although the city maintenance has modified that area in the past five years, blading it up and taking out the remaining asphalt, there are still interesting indications of what it was. So far I have found two New Mexico license plates. The first was 1939 and in bad shape, but the second one is from 1930 and in almost perfect form (no paint). My first thoughts were of who it might have belonged to, why were they in this place, and what was the penalty back then for driving without a license plate. I find artifacts such as these interesting because of an overlay of personally relevant time-lines. A Century is actually not that long, my step-father and his family came here in either 1907 or 1911 (New Mexico was a Territory) in a covered wagon before there were any roads; and a half-Century (a little less than my age) is not that long, 18 was just a short time ago; but the changes that have occurred are astonishing. I never feel "frozen in time", but I sometimes feel frozen in a space, watching time stretch in both directions.
The pasture I walk in the most often contains the last remnant of the original U.S. 380. We've always lived within a couple of blocks from the area and when I was a kid, the access to it wasn't fenced like it is now. To a 10 year old on a bicycle trip it was a piece of highway, maybe 1/4 mile long, that just ended at a fence for no apparent reason. I even remember watching it deteriorate through subsequent decades and regarding it as similar to erosion on a cliff face. And although the city maintenance has modified that area in the past five years, blading it up and taking out the remaining asphalt, there are still interesting indications of what it was. So far I have found two New Mexico license plates. The first was 1939 and in bad shape, but the second one is from 1930 and in almost perfect form (no paint). My first thoughts were of who it might have belonged to, why were they in this place, and what was the penalty back then for driving without a license plate. I find artifacts such as these interesting because of an overlay of personally relevant time-lines. A Century is actually not that long, my step-father and his family came here in either 1907 or 1911 (New Mexico was a Territory) in a covered wagon before there were any roads; and a half-Century (a little less than my age) is not that long, 18 was just a short time ago; but the changes that have occurred are astonishing. I never feel "frozen in time", but I sometimes feel frozen in a space, watching time stretch in both directions.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
"Working Can Wait, This is Paradise"
I am supposed to be working on a project at home, and intend to start again any time now, but Kilo thinks that when I am here we should either do what she wants or I should give her a snack every few minutes. That bothered me to the point that I decided to just give up earning an income, feed her snacks, and try to understand how the weblog template works. So I did, but she still bothered me anyway. She'll regret it when we run out of money and can't afford T-Bonz. Until then, I tried to make the page a little more readable and it seems to have worked. I also turned on the comments. I never wanted to do so because this is mainly photos and it seemed pointless to allow comments on them. We'll see how it works. Cashmere is signed on now and will be posting her own things under her own name (after all, it will be her pond some day).
Then we went walking in the pasture shown above. It was cold and the pond felt just like the picture. It never got above 40 degrees today, but it should be in the 70's again tomorrow. What interesting weather. The catfish are so lethargic that when they surface to be fed in the morning it's like watching whales in slow motion (not that they need to be fed but Bill is a pushover for whining fish and hands out snacks whenever they want them). The other fish hardly seem affected and I still can't identify the grey bird.
Then we went walking in the pasture shown above. It was cold and the pond felt just like the picture. It never got above 40 degrees today, but it should be in the 70's again tomorrow. What interesting weather. The catfish are so lethargic that when they surface to be fed in the morning it's like watching whales in slow motion (not that they need to be fed but Bill is a pushover for whining fish and hands out snacks whenever they want them). The other fish hardly seem affected and I still can't identify the grey bird.
Saturday Morning, 7AM
For the past two days the temperature has reached the upper 70's with very little wind. Today is was below freezing when we started walking at the "wind gym" (a pasture outside of town), and it was intense. Days like this are frequent in the Winter and early Spring and generally my brain is numb as I go through the exercise, but occasionally an odd thought will surface. Today as I headed into the Artic gale, barely able to gulp enough air to remain conscious, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't start showering before the walk instead of (or as well as) after. Then I was numb again. Now that I'm back in the house and warm it makes perfect sense. I have always lived by the "don't be in a car wreck with yesterday's underwear on" rule, and I seem to be adapting the philosophy for other situations as I get older.
When we got back to the house, as we started around the pond the large grey bird took off again. I got a better look this time and memorized the form and colors. As for size, it's large - somewhere between a big chicken and an ostrich. Another subject and I've talked about it sometime in the past, but I believe even more now than ever that the two large white birds that spend the Winter using the pond are Whooping Cranes. While searching for the bird I saw this morning I came across this. Several times this Winter and last I have stumbled on two birds that look exactly like them catching fish from the pond. They weren't quite as excitable as this grey one. If I instantly froze, then backed slowly away, they would continue what they were doing. Anyone I've mentioned them to can't believe they would be Whooping Cranes, but they could be, the Bosque del Apache isn't that far from here.
Still don't know anything about the grey bird.
When we got back to the house, as we started around the pond the large grey bird took off again. I got a better look this time and memorized the form and colors. As for size, it's large - somewhere between a big chicken and an ostrich. Another subject and I've talked about it sometime in the past, but I believe even more now than ever that the two large white birds that spend the Winter using the pond are Whooping Cranes. While searching for the bird I saw this morning I came across this. Several times this Winter and last I have stumbled on two birds that look exactly like them catching fish from the pond. They weren't quite as excitable as this grey one. If I instantly froze, then backed slowly away, they would continue what they were doing. Anyone I've mentioned them to can't believe they would be Whooping Cranes, but they could be, the Bosque del Apache isn't that far from here.
Still don't know anything about the grey bird.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Strange Science meets Weird Society: Still a Pond Story
On January 3rd I started doing a project in another town during the week and didn't get home until after dark. I walk with Kilo every day, and there isn't very much traffic here during that time so we started walking at night. Apparently we are both creatures of habit because even in the dark we followed the same trail that we follow in the day, and without a flashlight. The first night we finished the walk and entered my yard through the pond gate, as usual. It was either overcast or there was no moon, and very dark. I leaned over to take Kilo's halter off and noticed something glowing on the ground on the other side of the gate. I released her into my yard and went back through the gate to the pond side. There were several quarter-sized spots of the substance and they were glowing like a new white t-shirt under a black light, except bluish-green. I remembered the blue glowing material that had traveled through Mexico for several months as a religious icon and had several "radiation" thoughts. I touched one of the spots and soon even tried to pick it up. I finally scooped under one and put it in my hand. I then went to my back door under a light - and there was nothing but dirt in my hand. I was too tired to bother with it that night, and the next night it was there again, and the next, and it was increasing. I told my sister and brother-in-law about it and Bill asked the first relevant question. "Where are you finding the material?" During the night, between the hours of 8 and 10 PM, Kilo and I walk at least one mile, and often two, in all directions, and as much on undeveloped pastures as on roadways. The only place I had observed the phenomenon was on his property - more specifically, in the area that was watered directly from the pond. It reached a point where we were leaving glowing tracks (not footprints, a definite trail) in every unlighted portion of his yard. One night I forced my niece to come into the back yard after dark and she was also amazed. The story actually took a bizarre turn that point and I distanced myself from even thinking about it, but several people saw that as they walked through Bill's backyard by the pond, on a dark night (and the nights during that time were also very wet), a phosphorescent phenomenon would display in the spots where they stepped. One of them told me they had found what was causing it, glow-worms. I never thought about it again until today but tonight I've been searching, and have only found one glow worm reference so far. This article also mentions bioluminescent plankton and then says that almost none are fresh-water.
Finally, an article that discusses bioluminescent earthworms. It states that their bodies don't glow but that they excrete a mucus that does. When they told me that the worms were causing the glow in Bill's yard, they also mentioned that if you rubbed your finger along them, the glow would transfer to your finger. Then if you immediately turned on a flashlight, nothing was visible. It also states that researchers have discovered that the mucus is squirted when the worm is disturbed, such as being handled. This all fits. Being stepped on by people walking around in the dark would be disturbing. Then stalked and captured, even more disturbing. The only part that doesn't fit is, the article is talking about Australia.
Found information about bioluminescent earthworms that relates to this area. This is a slide show. The first slide shows that a bioluminescent earthworm, Genus Diplocardia, can be found here. The forth one is a photo of a species of Diplocardia found in Georgia. The fifth slide is of an earthworm exhibiting almost the same glow (but a little more blue) that we saw. Well, now I probably know what it is, but why? Something about the pond water must attract them because you can almost see a perimeter around the area that it reaches. Will check on it again when the moon wanes.
Finally, an article that discusses bioluminescent earthworms. It states that their bodies don't glow but that they excrete a mucus that does. When they told me that the worms were causing the glow in Bill's yard, they also mentioned that if you rubbed your finger along them, the glow would transfer to your finger. Then if you immediately turned on a flashlight, nothing was visible. It also states that researchers have discovered that the mucus is squirted when the worm is disturbed, such as being handled. This all fits. Being stepped on by people walking around in the dark would be disturbing. Then stalked and captured, even more disturbing. The only part that doesn't fit is, the article is talking about Australia.
Found information about bioluminescent earthworms that relates to this area. This is a slide show. The first slide shows that a bioluminescent earthworm, Genus Diplocardia, can be found here. The forth one is a photo of a species of Diplocardia found in Georgia. The fifth slide is of an earthworm exhibiting almost the same glow (but a little more blue) that we saw. Well, now I probably know what it is, but why? Something about the pond water must attract them because you can almost see a perimeter around the area that it reaches. Will check on it again when the moon wanes.
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