Told ya!

An effect of global warming? Crocodile species moving their range north? Crocs in BC already? See:

"Woody", Pacific crocodile, with turtle hitchhiker.

Alligators live in fresh water, crocs are salt-tolerant. That water in the background is salty ocean.

Green-eyed turtle.

Not a carved creation; just a few stones added where "Woody" was missing teeth, (And a glass eye.)

So far, this is the third crocodile I've seen here.

There was this one, Old Mossy-Back, in 2024.

And 2010, "Sandy", on Miracle Beach.

Previous range; tropics worldwide, no crocs on this continent north of the tip of Florida. But they've found fossils off the coast of Greenland, in the Arctic Sea.

What next? Coconut palms? Howler monkeys? Bananas? 😄

~~~~~~~~~~~~

¿Una consecuencia del calentamiento global? ¿Algunas especies de cocodrilos extendiendo su territorio hacia el norte? ¿Cocodrilos en Columbia Británica? Miren:

1. "Woody", el cocodrilo del Pacífico, con una tortuga de pasajero.
2. Los aligátores viven en agua dulce; los cocodrilos toleran la sal. El agua en el fondo aquí es del oceano; agua salada.
3. Y la tortuga.
   
   Esto no es una escultura; alguien añadió unas cuantas piedritas a un tronco natural. (Y un ojo de vidrio.)
4. Hasta ahora, este es el tercer cocodrilo que he visto por aquí. Este lo encontré en 2024.
5. Y este, en 2010, en Miracle Beach.

El territorio donde se hallan los cocodrilos se ha limitado hasta ahora a las regiones tropicales mundiales, y en este continente, no se registran más al norte que el extremo sur de Florida. Pero se han encontrado sus fósiles cerca de la costa de Groenlandia, en el Mar Ártico.

¿Y ahora qué? ¿Palmeras cocoteras? ¿Monos aulladores? ¿Plátanos? 😄

Heron shoes

This is making me laugh every time I walk past.

I bought this wooden heron in a garage sale many years ago, and he has been standing in my garden year round, with his feet in the mud, sheltering slugs. Last year, his feet broke off at the ankles, rotted through. I cut them down a bit, and replaced them in the base.

A couple of weeks ago, his ankles gave out again, and the wood base is rotten, too. He'll need a new one. While I'm finding the right material, I've been touching up his paint job and giving him a few coats of polyurethane.

I cast about for some way to keep him standing while his paint dried and finally found these tarp clamps which fit his legs perfectly, without wobbling.

But he does look strange.

Prosthetic feet?

Or Arabian Nights slippers, curly toesies, and all!

(Maybe I should just paint the new shoes, glue on some beadwork, and call it a day.)

Backyard cat

I love those eyes!

Beach Grove watch cat.

Li'l blue eyes

I've been too busy this year to devise a costume for Hallowe'en, so I've made myself a mascot for the night. Meet Petey:

Papier-mâché and pipe cleaners. 5 inches long, small enough to ride on my shoulder.

Bead and dressmaker pin eyes.

No attempt was made at matching any known species. She's a law unto herself.

Patterns at low tide

Wading around the eel-grass beds in Boundary Bay, we watch our feet in case of big crabs. And the tide makes pretty patterns for us.

Clam-shell graveyard, ankle-deep. With unexpected art.

Line drawing from the photo above. (Inverted)

Crab molts, eelgrass, sand and wave fronts.

Deeper water, with eelgrass and a few shells

More shells. Gull dining room. With more artwork.

I see a few faces in that photo; a blond guy with a Pinnochio nose, a disgruntled alien, several cartoon characters. What do you see?

Bubbles over eelgrass.

We got too close to a heron, and he flew away indignantly, leaving behind a token of his displeasure.

This I'd never seen before: heron poop, underwater, not washed away yet.

Untitled 57

The tide was low again at Boundary Bay, and the sands stretched far ahead. As we hurried out, to get to the eelgrass beds before the tide turned, we passed a man carrying a couple of long, twisted branches across the bare sand. Something to do while the kids splashed in the pools, I guessed.

An hour later, on our way back, we could see some sort of structure ahead near the shore. I laughed, thinking about our human propensity to build, wherever we are, with or without a practical purpose or even a hope of durability. Small children on the beach make sand castles; a bit older, and they're building driftwood shelters and even small shacks. Adults usually just set out chairs and umbrellas; sometimes they mark off their "territory" on the sand with sketchy driftwood corner posts or erect a leafy shelter from the sun.

Sometimes they're more ambitious.

Driftwood and crab design, artist anonymous

The driftwood collector was nearby, with a group, children and adults, parents and (probably) grandparents. "I love your creation!" I said to him, as we passed.

A white-haired man with him turned, laughing. "It's called, 'Untitled 57'," he said. "And it's for sale; offer a few thousand, and we'll talk."

"Untitled 57", detail

Unfortunately, we weren't carrying cash. Nor were any of the other beachgoers we talked to at the boat ramp. The deal of a lifetime, available only until the tide came in and carried it away, missed!

Thirteen steam irons ...

... and a shirt.

After a long day, driving in slushy snow, lunch with three babies while discussing a granddaughter's wedding plans over bouncing young heads, more driving (rain and slush this time), and other family matters, this is a fair approximation of the state of my brain:

This was the decoration overhead in the restaurant. Steam irons, with wires and plugs, a shirt ...

... and an improbable blue butterfly. Can't forget the butterfly!

I'll be back to normal tomorrow, I think.