Last gasp of summer

The long, dry summer has ended. The soggy BC weather we're accustomed to is back. Outside my windows, the petals have blown off the roses, the cosmos that last week caught the morning sunlight in their petals are lying in the water-logged grass, the plum tree dances in the wind. On my doormat, wet leaves, orange and yellow and still green come to rest, even a couple of big-leaf maple leaves from far down the block. Chia, the cat, goes out and comes back, dripping wet and purring madly; she's a true we(s)t-coaster; she loves this weather. So do I.

It was a quick changeover. These flowers were basking in the sunshine only last week.

Cosmos catching the light.

A jumping spider on a half-opened rose, keeping all her eyes on me.

One of only two dahlias that bloomed this year. Making up for it with the dramatic colour.

Crocosmia. A volunteer plant in its second year.

Bee on bacopa. These will keep on flowering until the first frost; they love the rain.

Another sign of fall: the days are shrinking. Sunset today was at 7:08, with less than 12 hours of daylight. Tomorrow we lose another 4 minutes. We've lost 4 hours since mid-summer; we'll lose another 4 before Christmas.

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Septiembre. Ya pasó el solsticio de otoño, y ya puso fin al verano tan largo, tan seco de este año. El clima de los bosques pluviales ha vuelto. Fuera de mis ventanas, la tormenta se ha llevado los pétalos de las rosas, las plantas de cosmos que hace dias resplandecían bajo el sol matutino ahora yacen tumbados en el césped empapado, las ramas del ciruelo bailan con el ritmo del viento. Hojas caídas, amarillas, anaranjadas, y algunas todavía verdes, aterrizan en el tapete a mi entrada; algunas son de los arces de hoja grande, árboles del bosque al final de mi calle. La gatita, Chia, sale y regresa salpicando todo con gotas de lluvia, ronroneando fuertemente; es una nativa verdadera de la costa; le encanta la lluvia. A mí, también.

Fue un cambio rápido. Hace apenas la semana pasada, estas flores y bichos aprovechaban el calor del sol.

1. Las flores de cosmos, a pleno sol.
2. Una araña saltarina en una rosa, mirándome con todos sus ojos.
3. Dahlia. En una de solamente dos dahlias que llegaron a producir flores este año, pero sustituye cantidad con los colores dramáticos.
4. Crocosmia. Una planta que apareció voluntariamente, ya en su segundo año.
5. Bacopa, hisopo de agua, con una abeja. Estas seguirán floreciendo hasta la primera helada. Les gusta el agua.

Otro cambio que viene con el otoño; los dias se acortan rapidamente. Hoy se puso el sol a las 7:08, dándonos menos de 12 horas de sol (eso si el sol pudiera penetrar las nubes). Mañana perderemos otros 4 minutos. Ya perdimos 4 horas desde el solsticio de verano; para la navidad habremos perdido otros 4.

Parking lot scavenger

 I save crumbs of dry cat food. You know the kind: those little pillows with the corners bitten off, the "You expect me to eat that? It's old, stale, inedible! Are you trying to poison me?" kind of crumbs. Perfectly good, healthy, fresh, vitaminized, nutritionally balanced, new this morning, I tell the cat; she doesn't believe me.

So it goes into a container in the car to treat stray crows when I find them. They don't think it's inedible at all. This morning, there were two crows waiting as I left the grocery store, so I rolled down the window and tossed them a handful. And a flock of gulls materialized out of thin air, hogging the largess, pushing aside the little crows.

Among them was this one:

One-legged gull.

One-footed gull.

It looks like he has lost the entire foot, in some sort of accident, maybe an entanglement with the plastic detritus we humans insist on leaving on our shores, maybe an escape from predation. Whatever it was, he manages quite well on the one foot. Good thing he has those powerful wings, though.

And once the crumbs were gone and there were no more being offered, he wished to register a complaint.

"Hey, that was just an appetizer! Where's my breakfast?"

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Guardo las migajas de la comida seca del gato. Ya sabes como es: esos bocados con las esquinas mordidas, eso que me dice la gatita que es — ¡Totalmente incomestible! ¿Qué, esperas que yo vaya a comer esos despojos? ¿Me estás tratando de envenenar? — Y yo le digo que es perfectamente sana, fresca, con vitaminas, con sus nutrientes balanceados, nueva esta misma mañana. Ella no me cree.

Así que los guardo en un botecito en el coche para regalar a los cuervos cuando los encuentro. Los cuervos lo aprecian. Esta mañana, saliendo del almacén encontré dos cuervitos esperando en el estacionamiento, y bajé la ventana y les arrojé un puñado de las migajas. Y de inmediato aparecieron de la nada una bandada de gaviotas, acaparando los bocaditos, empujando los cuervos a un lado.

Entre ellos, vino éste:

Fotos:

1. Una gaviota con una sola pata.
2. Y con un solo pie. Parece que ha perdido una pata, tal vez en un accidente, enmarañando la pata con las basuras de plástico que nosotros los humanos persistimos en abandonar en las playas, tal vez como resultado de una predación. Lo que fuera, se las arregla bien con una sola pata. Las alas poderosas ayudan.
3. Y cuando ya no les proveía de mas "goodies", le pareció importante registrar una queja: — ¡Oye, eso fue nada más un tentempié! ¿Y ahora, dónde está mi desayuno?

Cats are made of liquid

 I don't know; Corsa seems to be falling apart:

She's missing one leg, too.

Should I call her family? Or a chiropractor? Or is this just a new cat yoga position?

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Algo le pasa a Corsa. Está toda retorcida, y le falta una pata. ¿Qué debo hacer? ¿Llamar a su familia? ¿O a un quiropráctico? ¿O es que esto nada más es una postura nueva de yoga para gatos?

Making herself at home.

She's not my cat. Corsa lives next door, but she drops in here every day for a snack. If the weather's bad, she stays a while, napping in a chair or on a shelf by the door. Today she decided to extend her territory.

She found a basket on top of the fridge, knocking over my miniature Christmas tree on the way, pushed aside the (luckily fake) plant inside, and settled in.

"Nice! Thanks, I like this basket!"

But then I got out the camera and there was more exploring to do:

"Nah, I don't think I'd be comfortable here."

A bit more exploration, a snack to keep up the energies, and she left. Time to go home for supper.

Chia, reflecting on the effontry of some youngsters!

She'll be back. And it was time to put away that mini-tree anyhow.

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La gata del vecino viene todos los dias por un tentmepié. Si está lloviendo, se queda un rato, durmiendo en una silla.

Hoy se le antojó  buscarse otra camita. Encima del refrigerador, halló una canasta. En camino, volteó mi arbolito miniaturo de Navidad, luego empujó a un lado las plantas (por suerte falsas) que llenaban la canasta, y se instaló.

Foto: Corsa en la canasta. —¡Gracias, me gusta este lugar! — dice.

Pero abrí una puerta para sacar la cámara, y tuvo que bajar para explorar de nuevo. (Foto #2) — No, este sitio no me queda bien. — Y dió vuelta, fue a comer un poco más para mantener las energías, y se fue. Ya era hora de cenar en su propia casa. Mañana regresará.

Foto #3: Chia, la gata de la casa, pensando en lo descarado que son los gatos jóvenes hoy en dia.

Here's looking at you

I scrubbed the walls of the aquarium free of algae, leaving a tiny bit for the snails to eat while it grew back. And the hermits hurried over to watch me through the clean glass. One even startled when I walked across the room too quickly.

Hairy hermit, Pagurus hirsutiusculus. Their eyes are in shades of green and brown.

Grainy hand hermit, Pagurus granosimanus. Freshly molted. And they have red eyes.

As time goes on, their colours are dimmed, covered with algae and grunge caught on their hairy or bumpy legs. The shells turn dark. When they molt, they show up again fresh and bright. I bring them new, clean shells, and they accept them gladly.

Another grainy hand hermit, also freshly molted.

This little guy has been in a fight, and lost all but the first segment of his antennae. It's a good thing he also has sensory organs in his feet; losing your antennae is almost like losing your sense of smell and taste. (As if you'd caught Covid.) With this recent molt, he's grown back a bit of antennae, but they're still really short. Full length, probably after the next molt, they will reach well beyond his leg width.

Andf also looking at me, but not as approvingly, here's Chia:

Because I'm sitting in her chair.

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Restregué las paredes del acuario, quitando toda la capa de algas, aparte de un poquito que dejé para los caracoles por mientras el alga vuelva a crecer. Y de inmediato, los cangrejos ermitaños se formaron frente al vidrio para mirarme. Uno hasta se sobresaltó cuando crucé la cocina rapidamente.

Primera foto: Ermitaño "peludo", Pagurus hirsutiusculus. Los ojos de estos vienen en diseños en verde y café.

Segunda foto: Ermitaño "de manos granosas", Pagurus granosimanus. Recén mudado. Y estos tienen ojos rojos.

Al pasar el tiempo, los colores de los ermitaños se oscurecen, se cubren de basuritas y de alga. Las conchas se ponen casi negras. Al mudarse, salen con todo nuevo, en los colores originales. Y yo les traigo conchas nuevas, limpias, las que aceptan muy contentos.

Tercera foto: Otro ermitaño de manos granosas, también recién mudado.

Este ermitañito se había peleado, y perdió casi todo de sus antenas, quedándose con solo los primeros segmentos. Por suerte, estos animales también tienen órganos sensorios en las patas, porque sin antenas, están como si hubieran perdido sus sentidos de olfato y sabor. (Como si les habría pegado el Covid.) Con esta muda reciente, ha recuperado parte de las antenas, pero siguen siendo muy cortas. Con la próxima muda, espero, llegarán a su largo normal, que se extiende más lejos que las patas.

Y otra también me miraba, pero no con el mismo entusiasmo.

Cuarta foto: Chia, enfadada porque yo estoy sentada en su silla.

Murdering cat food

The cat wants her cat food fresh and unbroken. She leaves her dish half full of bitten pieces; inedible, she says, how do I dare expect her to eat that stuff? I bagged some up and put it in the car; it's supposed to be healthy food, right? I saw one crow and emptied the bag out the car window. This is what happened next.

The beginnings of a murder of crows.

How do they gather so quickly? I had seen only one, but the second arrived a few seconds after the first. And within minutes there were several dozen.

Looking both ways before crossing the street?

Defending his find.

So, I tell my cat, that food was perfectly edible! Will she stop being so fussy? No.

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La gatita exige que su comida sea nueva y sin mordidas. Deja su plato cuando está todavía media llena, pero de pedazos. —Totalmente incomestible — me dice —¿Cómo te atreves a servirme tales desperdicios?

En vez de tirarla, pues es buen alimento, ¿no? aunque esté en pedazos, vertí el contenido de un plato en una bolsa y la dejé en el coche. Cuando ví un cuervo, vacié la bolsa en el suelo. Y esto es lo que pasó.

Primera foto: los cuervos empiezan a congregar.

¿Cómo es que los cuervos se comunican tan rapidamente? No había visto más que uno, pero el segundo llegó apenas momentos después del primero. Y dentro de pocos minutos había varias docenas de cuervos.

—Pues, verás, —le digo a la gatita —¡esa comida estaba perfectamente bien! —¿Y por lo tanto, ella dejará de ser tan quisquillosa? No.

Nota: en inglés, una bandada de cuervos se llama un asesinato, "a murder".

Because you asked

I was asked a few days ago about the microscope I am using. Mark thought I had done a post on this before (I think I did, ages and ages ago), but it's time for an update. I'll include the camera and lens info, too.

My equipment is basic, bare-bones, not expensive. The camera I'm using now is the Nikon D7500, upgraded recently from the old D7000 that was becoming increasingly temperamental.

I have several lenses, but mostly use the basic kit lens, 18 - 55 mm, for outdoor photos, because I never know if I'm going for a scenery shot or a mushroom, and I will not change lenses on the go; I'm sure to get dust inside. Inside, for casual shots, I'll use this lens, too.

Oyster Bay, long-range shot. 18-55 mm., shot at 18 mm.

I usually have the camera set to automatic everything; again, I want to be able to switch from a look at a flower to swivel and attempt to catch a bird before it dives, and have the camera adjust for the constantly changing light direction and strength. I usually keep moving, so I don't have the time to sit down and wait with the camera on fixed focus; sometimes I try it, although with poor results; the diving birds absolutely refuse to come up in the spot I've focussed on.

Chia in a bag. 18 - 55 mm, shot at 28 mm.

For aquariium photos, I switch to my 40 mm. lens. Although the kit lens will do 40 mm., the fixed lens allows me to get up to within an inch or even less of my subject. For unplanned shots, the camera and lens are on autofocus, because my critters are constantly in motion. For real close-ups I set the camera to manual and zoom in the view screen to focus on smaller points. Mostly, I take dozens of shots to get one decent one; did I mention that these beasties are constantly moving?

Sometimes I do a minor focus stack, when two or three photos manage to get a critter in one position, with different areas in focus.

I have a tripod. I rarely use it.

Asian mud snail, Batillaria attramentaria, in aquarium. 40 mm., manual focus, with flash, two shot stack.

The 40 mm. lens is greedy for light. I use all the light I can get: flashlights, daylight from the window, house lights, tank lights. Sometimes I use the flash, with a second flash slaved to it, but at really close ranges, the lens itself casts a shadow just where I want the light. I keep telling myself I should buy a ring light, and never get around to it.

The microscope is a cheap hobbyist toy, the Celestron MicroCapture Pro. It zooms to 200x, is a bit difficult to focus, but connects to the computer, which my other handheld did not.

Mud snail operculum, under the microscope.

I use Photoshop Elements to process the photos. I shoot in RAW, to be able to make sure the colours are as close to what I see as possible. The camera's JPEGs are widely variable.

Basically, I correct the colour and lighting, reduce noise, and sharpen. Sometimes I take out a bit of extraneous material, like the plastic bottle I left in yesterday.

Moss on a rock. 18 - 55 mm. 55 mm. bright sun. Two-shot stack, with minimal editing.

On aquarium shots, I also have conflicting algae spots on the glass, bubbles and speeding copepods, a messy background, uneven lighting, a shallow range of focus. Sometimes I have to spend more time cleaning these up.

One thing I've noticed. I'm getting older. My hands shake more than they used to. I get tired sooner. I find it harder to balance on rocking logs or slippery seaweed; then it's not only my hands that are shaking; it's all of me. I lose more photos because of the shakes.

But my eyes are still good. And the world around me is still as beautiful and fascinating as ever.

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Me preguntaron la semana pasada qué microscopio estoy usando. Mark pensaba que había escrito sobre eso en algún tiempo (creo que sí, pero hace siglos); ya era hora que me pusiera al corriente. Voy a incluir también los datos de la cámara y las lentes que uso.

Mi equipo es muy básico, económico, sin extras. La cámara que ahora tengo es el Niikon D7500, una nueva para tomar el lugar de la vieja D7000, que ya operaba cada vez más de mala gana.

Tengo varias lentes, pero uso principalmente la del kit original, de 18 a 55 mm., para fotos tomadas afuera de la casa, porque nunca sé si voy a estar tomando fotos de montañas o de honguitos, y me rehuso a cambiar lentes fuera de la casa; seguro sería que se me metiera algo de arena dentro de la cámara abierta. En casa, para fotos al azahar, uso esta lente también. 

Primera foto: Oyster Bay a marea baja, una distancia larga. La lente es la 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 18 mm.

Casi siempre tengo la cámara puesta en modo automático, para todo; enfoque, luz, color, porque quiero poder cambiar instantáneamente de tomar una foto de una flor a voltear y tratar de capturar un pájaro antes de que se desaparezca, de mirar hacia la luz a dar la vuelta hacia las sombras. Casi siempre estoy en movimiento; no acostumbro sentarme con la cámara puesta en modo de enfoque manual. Algunas veces hago el intento, casi siempre con malos resultado porque los pájaros malcriados nunca salen a la superficie en el punto hacia donde estoy enfocando.

Segunda foto: la gata Chia en una bolsa de papel. La lente es 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 28 mm.

Para fotos en el acuario uso la lente fija de 40 mm. Aunque la lente del kit podría enfocar a 40 mm., la lente fija me permite acercarme hasta a 2 cm. del sujeto. Si no tengo foto planeado, está puesta a enfoque automático, porque mis animalitos están en movimiento continuo. Para acercarme más, cambio a enfoque manual, y aumento la vista en la pantallita. Y saco docenas de fotos así para salir con una más o menos útil; ¿habré mencionado que estos bichos siempre se están moviendo?

A veces hago una unión de dos o tres fotos cuando un sujeto se queda casi sin moverse por unos minutos, así logrando tener enfocada una mayor parte del animal.

Tengo un tripode. Casi nunca la uso.

Tercera foto. Una caracol marino, Batillaria attramentaria en el acuario. La lente es 40 mm., enfoque manual, dos fotos con flash.

La lente de 40 mm. pide mucha luz. Uso todo lo que sea posible: luz del dia, luz de lámparas, luz del acuario, linterna. A veces puedo usar el flash, con un auxiliar que dispara al mismo instante, pero para fotos tomadas muy de cerca, la lente misma añade su sombra justo donde necesito la luz. Me digo siempre que debo comprarme una luz redonda para la lente, pero por alguna razón, siempre se me olvida.

El microscopio es casi un juguete, un microscopio "hobby", el Celestron MicroCapture Pro. Hace zoom hasta a 200 veces el tamaño natural, enfoca con una poca de dificultad, pero se conecta a la computadora, lo que no hacía el microscopio que antes usaba.

Cuarta foto: Otro caracol, mostrando su opérculo (la tapa que la encierra para esconderse).

Uso el programa de Photoshop Elements para procesar las fotos, porque saco fotos en formato RAW, para asegurar que las fotos salgan con los colores y la nivel de luz tal como las vi. En formato JPEG, las fotos salen muy variables.

Corrijo el color, la luz, bajo el nivel de ruido (manchas producidas por la cámara), y ajusto en enfoque un poquito. A veces borro un detalle que no debe estar en la foto, como la botella de plástico que no borré de la foto de ayer.

Quinta foto: musgo en una roca. Lente 18 a 55 mm., enfocada a 55 mm. Luz natural, dos fotos unidas, con modificaciones mínimas.

En las fotos en el acuario, también hay puntos de alga creciendo en el vidrio, burbujas, y copépodos nadando alrededor, un fondo algo enredado, niveles de luz variables, y una profundidad de enfoque limitado. A veces tengo que pasar más tiempo limpiando estas fotos.

Una cosa que se me ha presentado: me estoy haciendo vieja. Las manos me tiemblan más que antes. Me canso más. Se me hace más difícil balancearme sobre troncos inestables o sobre algas marinas resbalosas; en estos momentos no solo son las manos que tiemblan; me tiembla todo el cuerpo. Pierdo más fotos por estos temblores.

Pero los ojos todavía me sirven. Y el mundo alrededor es tan bello y fascinante como siempre.

The innocent look

Those sleepy eyes, that gentle pose. She's pretending.

Don't mess with Corsa! She's lightning fast and her claws are sharp.

Corsa is my landlord's cat; I kitten-sat her when she was tiny and therefore she assumes it is my responsibility to provide soft sleeping spots and full food dishes forever more. But ever since I had to hold her down to cut her out of her collar when she got her leg caught in it and her head all twisted because of it (I can't figure out how), she growls and slashes at me any time I come too close.

What's for dinner?

She's not even my cat; just comes in to visit. But she likes my Mexican rice pot.

Thanks! Just my size! she says.

Kitty loves snow

I'm cat-sitting. My landlord's teen-age (on a cat schedule) kitten will be staying here for a week. And it's snowing outside. So she comes in, climbs on me, shakes off the snow onto my face, goes to eat a bit, then cuddles up in my best chair until she's dry. Then she asks to be let out again to play in the wonderful snow.

Meet Corsa. Long-haired and fluffy; a perfect coat for snowy weather.

"What big teeth you have!"

At least Chia prefers the rain to the snow. She's staying warm and dry. And keeps her tail tucked in because Corsa attacks it if it dangles.

Little Miss Mischief

I'm babysitting again. A handful of kitten.

"Costa"

Within fifteen minutes of arriving, she had eaten Chia's food, found the basket of toys and chosen one, and discovered Chia's basket. A few minutes later, she was killing Chia's sock full of catnip. Now she sleeps in Chia's bed.

Chia is not happy.

Short nap on the bookcase before she thinks of more mischief.

She has spent the evening trying to reprogram my computer. Managed to change the screen saver and call up an accessory I've never even seen.

Genius! Evil genius, that is.

And she looks so innocent!

First dibs

Chia the cat was purring. And something was hissing*. I went to see what was going on, and found her rolling a ten-lined June beetle around the floor.

I grabbed the nearest glass (IKEA) and rescued the beetle. Upturned it on a sheet of paper on  my desk and got out the camera.

Chia did not approve.

"Mine! Mine! I saw it first!

I did get some photos, but it was a struggle.

*They can make a hissing sound when touched or otherwise disturbed, which can resemble the hissing of a bat. This sound is made by their wings pushing down, forcing the air out between their wings and back. (Wikipedia)

Plain Jane

I have been kitten-sitting over the holiday season. One of Chia's babies, but not a baby any longer, has been making life interesting. Her new humans have named her "Jane", maybe in hopes of toning her personality down. Vain hopes.

Jane, the tigress, ready to pounce.

Score so far: Christmas decorations, 0, Jane umpteen; breakable collectibles, 0, Jane 4; small computer thingies, lost and found after several hours with a flashlight, 6; throw rugs, who's counting? recyclables, ditto. And she's claimed the most comfortable chair for her naps, exiling her mother to the second most comfortable, and leaving me with a stiff dining room chair or the stool at my desk. Thanks, Plain Jane!

But I'll be sorry to see her go. Sometimes I doubt my own sanity.

Rain lovers

From my computer's weather people:

11:46 PM. 11 degrees Celsius. Tomorrow's high, 13 degrees. Record high over the last 30 years, 12 degrees.

Warmer, then. A tiny bit.

And wetter?

It's raining. It has been raining. It's going to keep on raining. But in the last 30 years, it has rained 25 out of 30 times on this day. Nothing new here.

The cat goes out, comes back in dripping and purring madly. Stands over my keyboard and shakes herself, as a dog does. Raindrops spatter over the screen; I dry it off, wipe muddy footprints off the desk. Chia purrs. She loves this weather.

Slugs love the rain, too. I ventured out to refill the bird feeders (the birds don't seem to mind the wet), and found a baby slug on a rock. I brought him in to see his pretty patterns.

Hunkered down, moaning.

Under the light inside, I discovered that he was covered in racing mites. He didn't look happy about them, either. These mites, if the infestation is heavy enough, can kill a slug.

I took a few photos, then washed him off with chilled, filtered water. The mites ended up on the rock, and I washed them away before they could climb back on board.

"That feels better!"

Immediately, the slug woke up, stretched to his full 2 inches, and set off to explore, obviously happier. I took a few more photos, and carried his rock out to the garden again.

"Bye! And thanks!"

Sleeping quarters

A year ago, in mid-July, I posted a photo of Chia asleep in her favourite basket.

Chia, at 4 months old.

She slept in this basket for months. I moved it from the table to a chair, to a trunk, to the top of a cabinet; she followed it wherever it went. But, eventually, it needed to be washed, and while it dried, I put it away; it was too small for her by then, anyhow. She slept, instead, on a chair.

I cleaned and re-organized my cupboards last week, and the basket ended up for a while, back on the table. Chia claimed it immediately.

"Ahhhhh, now that's comfort!"

She can still fit inside, sort of, with only a bit of overhang at the back, if she scrunches herself up really tight.

Check out that raspy tongue!

So, for now, she has her basket back. She's purring!