Catching the food is only half the battle.

It's been a while: it was last May when I last saw an adult carpet beetle around here. Today I found two.

This one was in an awkward corner of the kitchen. When I tried to trap it, it dropped, bounced off the paper towel I was holding, and fell onto an antique aluminum thermos that sits beside the stove.


I went after it immediately, but by the time I was on the floor, it was caught in an invisible web, and this spider was on his way.

Carpet beetle, about 2 mm. Spider, even smaller.

Good enough. The object was to put the beetle out of my misery; if it also served as spider food, so much the better. But I brought the thermos up to the table to watch the proceedings.


The spider rolled the beetle over, then left, dragging a line; I could see the beetle move, slightly, in the direction the spider had taken.


Once the line was anchored, spidey came back, crawled all over the beetle, prodding at cracks,


then went off to anchor a line again. I watched while he repeated this sequence several times.

The idea is to immobilize the prey, both with webbing and venom, maybe store it in a protected place, then eat it when it is properly "cooked". But these beetles are difficult; with the legs and antennae securely tucked into their slots, and armored plates over the belly, the spider may not be able to find a vulnerable spot for an injection.

After some time, the spider must have decided that beetle was safely tied up, and he went off to explore his new surroundings. I shooed him back onto the thermos, and moved it back to its place, spider, beetle and all.

But first, I looked back at the beetle (I had been following the spider around). It was moving:

See the two legs waving?

It wasn't going anywhere, though. The webbing was holding it. It would do.

Spider, unidentified, as yet.

I checked on it later this afternoon. There was no sign of spider or beetle. I wonder; did the spider drag the beetle off to his lair? Or did the beetle work its way out of the web? I'll have to be on the lookout for it, just in case.

(And I had no idea my old thermos was so badly scratched up.)
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Drive-by

Patchwork barn:

Delta farmland. Taken from the car window.

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A new addition to MacLean Park's amenities.

A quick look at MacLean Park, Sunday morning:

I had to cross this to get there: the intersection of Hawks and Keefer.

But the park is still white.

Picnic table, idle swings.

Homemade snow love-seat, life-size. Note abandoned bottle. Careless housekeeping.

Side view of the love-seat.

Crows discussing the weather.

Someone lost a leg.

And I'm back home in Delta, looking at a 75 cm. deep pile of snow in my back yard.
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Hot and sour soup and crab on ice.

Christmas Day was a quiet one; just Laurie and me.  We went out for lunch in Tsawwassen. But I was sluggish after the riotous night before; I slept in and lazed around all the remainder of the morning. Then the chosen restaurant was closed, and so was the alternate choice. We ended up in an almost empty Chinese restaurant at 3:00 PM. I had hot and sour soup, the best spring roll I've tasted in years, and a whole pot of green tea. (Laurie drinks black.)

So we were late coming down to the beach. The sun was setting already.


We came to the end of the road to the beach, and gasped; the shore was swarming with birds.


At first, we saw only the seagulls and ducks.  The ducks were resting quietly, in rafts and lines here and there all over the bay, or taking an leisurly evening constitutional; the occasional one up-ended to pick up a last bite of supper. The seagulls were mostly by the shore, squabbling and shrieking as they do when there is anything to grab.

Second raft of ducks and gulls, just beyond the post. Another behind that, barely visible.

Assorted ducks. 

The ducks were mostly mallards, but there were a few smaller ones. The colours were indistinguishable in the fading light. I think I saw a few shovellers, too, but I can't be sure.

Mini-bergs

The snow on the shore ended at the high-tide line, as expected. But there was another line of snow further down. And in the water, what I took at first to be seaweed turned out to be floating chunks of ice. I've never seen that in these waters before.

It was getting hard to distinguish the birds; the light was failing. We walked closer to the waterline to get a better angle on them, and after a bit, I noticed movement in the shadows almost at my feet.


Sandpipers! A constantly-moving, peeping, dancing flock of sandpipers. Or dunlins, or ... It was hard to know; they blended in with the rocks and sand so well. Now, looking back at the seagulls, we could see that in places the stones seemed to be moving around their feet; more sandpipers.


There seemed to be two kinds; an occasional larger sandpiper, and larger groupings of little starling-sized waders. Dunlins?

But what was attracting them? Along the sand, I could see daubs of orangey colour; I turned on the flash.

Crab on ice.

The orange bits were pieces of crab. Shells and broken claws, pieces of leg.  They were all over the sand, tangled in the eelgrass, floating in the wavelets. Clumps of sandpipers gathered around the bigger pieces; seagulls few past with their bills full of dangling crab entrails.

A blurry shot, panning with the movement, but not fast enough.

Among the crab parts, we found several dead starfish. 


Most of them were of the purple variety, like this one, but very faded, so that even with flash, they blended into the grey of the stones. All were obviously dead. I didn't see any of the sandpipers working on them; I'm sure the seagulls would be.

I've been wondering since; what caused the sudden influx of dead crabs and starfish? Is this normal? Were they killed by the sudden cold snap? Or is it just the time of the year for a die-off?


One last shot, before we left; these were visible in the dark only as blurry whitish blobs. (All of these photos have been lightened considerably; they showed up at first as grey on black. Most were unusable; the cameras couldn't manage to freeze the action with that little light.)

Talking of freezing; we were on the edge. We drove home with the heater on full-blast.
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The after-dinner drowsies

Boundary Bay, after dusk, Christmas Day;

Caught in the flash. They'd been stuffing themselves until the light failed.

The sign said, (a little bird told me):

Christmas Day Banquet

Boundary Bay Beach

Mixed seafood menu

All waterfowl welcome! 

Free!

"The best Christmas gift," said Laurie. Pre-dark photos, tomorrow.

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Snowed!

Two feet of snow, and more coming. I'm getting quite handy with the shovel.

The weather took our neat plans for Christmas Eve and ripped them to shreds. We were to meet in New Westminster, and travel in a 4-car convoy, in case of trouble. Supper would be around 5:00, in Chilliwack.

Early on, a tow-truck slipped and rammed my grand-daughter's car, leaving it non-operational.  I was closest; I arranged to pick her up. ("At least," I said to myself, "I'll have someone to help with the digging if I get stuck.")

I heard on the news that the highway was closed. But we decided to go ahead; it would probably be fine by the time we got there.

Then another grand-daughter needed to be picked up in English Bay. Fine. Can do.

#1 g-d needed to be on the road earlier, though; she arranged for family coming through from the ferry to pick her up, delaying them by an hour. So supper would be late, but we'd cope.

#2, Auj, phoned to ask to be collected downtown; the buses weren't running, nor were taxis available. OK. Another delay; we split the convoy; my son in New West would wait for Auj and me, the first car would go on ahead.

My car was under a foot of new snow. I paid a kid to shovel it out for me, but I still had to shovel a bit when I left an hour later.

Then it took the better part of an hour just to go a few blocks downtown. It was raining, now, on top of the snow; instead of the usual roar of traffic, I was hearing spinning tires and revving motors. There were few cars actually moving, but fewer cleared streets. Around English Bay, where Auj had to pick up her presents (another delay), most streets had two deep ruts in the snow, no more. I made several runs at one hill, and finally had to back down, and around the corner into a snow bank. On another street, a neighbour had to drop his shovel and push me over a traffic bump.

I told my son that I didn't think I'd make it; I would drop Auj with him, and the "convoy" would be one car only.

Laurie said maybe we could put Auj on the SkyTrain; it would be quicker. But while I waited for her, I heard the news that a tree had fallen on the SkyTrain tracks; it was "temporarily not in service".

It was well past 5 when we got to New West. It was snowing again. The kids had been eating peanut butter sandwiches; they gave Auj a gingerbread cookie. (And Auj remembered that her dessert was still in her fridge. I wasn't about to go back for it.)

I came back home, after over 4 hours spinning the steering wheel. And had to dig myself back into my parking spot through a two-foot retaining wall of hard-packed snow, a contribution from the side-walk shovellers. I fried up a sausage for Christmas dinner. I was too tired to do veggies.

My son's car load arrived in Chilliwack a bit before 8. He said the last hour was "white-knuckle" driving.

I phoned to see if everyone was safe; my son-in-law told me everything was fine, if chaotic. "It's good chaos, though," he said.

How fortunate we are! Even getting to the party is an adventure! Even when we don't make it! Getting home in one piece is an accomplishment to be proud of! Yay, winter!

Crow's nest. Also snowed in.

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Dinner with the family

The festivities begin! I'm off to Chilliwack in a snowstorm tomorrow for Christmas dinner with the assembled family. If the weather so dictates, I may stay over, and probably won't be blogging until Christmas day.

Family tree

And to all you wonderful bloggers and readers:

Have a joyous Christmastide,

surrounded by all your favourite people

(including four-legged and winged ones)!

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Beautiful. But...

... deadly.

It snowed all day yesterday. There was no hope of getting the car on the road, so I went for a walk in the snowstorm.

Prepared for the fun to come.

Branch dumping its load of snow.

Just before dawn this morning, I went out again.

Palest hint of pink.

Tree lace.

Still sleeping.

It was tough walking, over mostly unshovelled streets, but I kept going until the sun was fully up.

Then I dug out the car. The snow was knee-deep on this narrow street. I had to use a broom; my daughter has no shovel. (Now she has no useful broom, either.)

Sensible people were walking, not driving.

I drove back to Delta, rocked the car into a parking space, rocked it out, went Christmas shopping with Laurie, rocked the car back in, and out, and came back to Strathcona after dark.

I had to dig myself back into a parking space. At least, this time, Laurie had made sure I had a shovel in the trunk.

Delicate weed.

I ache.

I am going to bed.

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Gotta have my spider fix!

It's been a long time (or so it seems; it was December 7th.) since I found any tiny critters to blog about. It's too cold; even the sowbugs have made themselves scarce. I found myself wandering around looking at the corners of ceilings, and under flowerpots or under the outside chairs.  But they're all gone, sleeping or dead.

I thought, when I came to house-sit, that the situation would change; after all, it's a heritage house. (Translated, that means, "really old, with original lumber and lots of cozy cracks.")  And there were plenty last summer. (See "Fifty-six legs") I brought a couple of pill bottles to collect them with, and wondered if, maybe, I shouldn't have packed more.

But there's not a bug in sight. I checked under the sinks, and down in the basement and even the crawl space. All I found were a couple of tiny, pin-head-size house spiders. 

This seems to me to be an odd situation for the Lower Mainland. When I lived up north, I took it for granted that we would have no multi-legged critters from October to March, but here? In this damp climate, I don't think I've ever seen a winter without an invasion of sowbugs into the damp corners under sinks and behind bathtubs, and the spiders that hunt them. Or in these older homes in urban areas, a silverfish or twenty.

I took a flashlight and thoroughly inspected every cranny here. And finally, I found it; behind the furnace, where it's always warm and dry, a spider is hanging. Twisting, and making myself as skinny as possible, I could reach far enough to get a photo!

  

Ahhhhh! That feels good! And isn't she elegant!

Almost the same photo ( I didn't have much maneuvering room), and not as clear, but I got a face shot. 

This seems to be the same kind as one I found in the summer. Now, checking back, I realize that I didn't ID it because the computer went down.  It looks like it could possibly be one of the Longjawed Orb Weavers, the Tetragnathidae, but I can't be sure.  I'll send it in to BugGuide for an ID.

Now I'm wondering; what on earth is she getting to eat?

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Everyone's doing this!

(I never believed it when my kids said this. I was right not to.)

However, this voluntary meme is going around, and I've caught the bug. The idea is to copy this list of 100 things to do, and highlight everything on it that you have done.

Here's my list; I've counted some partials, and not others, based on criteria I can't explain, even to myself.

1. Started my own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than I can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world (1950s.)
8. Climbed a mountain (But not to the very top. Does that count?)
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo (No. And the world is better for it.)
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched lightning at sea
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child (Foster parented, only.)
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown my own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train (Long, long ago. On those old trains that wailed their mournful songs along the valleys.)
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked (Picked up hitchhikers. Up north, where we are all neighbours, whether we know each other or not.)
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort (And stockpiled snowballs, and absolutely wiped out my brothers' pitiful defense of their own fort. At least, as my memory tells it; their mileage may differ.)
25. Held a lamb (Not a lamb, but a baby goat, a kid. Same diff. Same heart tug.)
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person (Twice, once in the 1950s, once in the 1990s. What a difference! And not for the better.)
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt (1950s, again. Unforgettable!)
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant (If MacD's counts as a "restaurant". Because that's where I was, and where the stranger was.)
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business 
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching (Or, at least, stood at the rail on a two-day and return ferry trip, watching whales.)
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving (I wish. But I was chicken.)
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt  (Very badly.)
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible (Many times.)
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous (Mario Moreno Cantinflas. And three Mexican Presidents, and too many actresses and beauty queens. But Cantinflas was the one who counted.)
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a lawsuit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Ridden an elephant

46/100. Not bad. But I still wish I'd gone in for the sky-diving.

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Red snow, brown snow, blue birds.

I'm in Strathcona again, house- and cat-sitting. I arrived well after dark, but once I had settled in, I went out for a walk with the camera anyhow.

The camera does odd things, sometimes. This window had a red curtain, surrounded by deep red lights. The camera, on half a dozen shots, insisted on rendering the lights as white, the snow as red.

I had the camera set to "Available light", hand-held, which meant holding perfectly still for several seconds for each shot. Not easy, when you're shivering.

A little bare tree decorated with blue lights becomes a "V", with the quotation marks and all.

Or a flight of blue birds.

Other decorations, farther away, become check marks on the night.

MacLean Park, under trampled snow. The streetlights give a brown tinge to all the whites.

Lonely bench.

Telephone pole, with the remains of a local history in signs.

I had to use the flash on this one; there was no streetlight directly on it. Arnt Arntzen's "steel macaroni", again. With a light snow dressing, for flavour.

Anyone want a desk? With a nice screen? Freebie on the sidewalk.

And I'd had enough; my teeth were chattering. I came home to Sasha.


"It's about time!" she says.

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Can't get decent help these days!

What's this?


What have you done to my water?


Well? Are you going to do something about it? Huh?


Here's a drip. But no bath today, I guess.


No thanks to you!

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