The First Bloom and the First Frog

Spring is a time of renewal, and I love to watch for the “first” each year in several categories. First on my list is watching the first cactus bloom. The cacti that I have are all either gifts from my wife and daughter, or ones that I have bought on my own. Funny thing is, the ones that I buy for myself never make it, while the ones I receive as gifts seem to thrive.

The first one is from Sarah, my daughter. She got it from the sand dunes on the outer banks of NC in a town called Duck. That was 15 years ago and it has been moved 3 times to 3 different houses where it continues to thrive.

The one pictured at the top is the latest addition. Sue picked it up from a woman named Mona, who has sold us some very beautiful plants and even some cacti and palm trees over the past few years. Her prices are outrageously fair. That planter, with the pot, was only $8. And it will give me years of enjoyment. As a matter of fact, Sue and I are planning on stopping by to show Mona how quicly and beautifully this new cactus has bloomed.

The second thing I wait for is the arrival of the first frog. Now, this isn’t the greatest photo, but it does capture the spirit of the frog’s yearly return to our house in Concord. Each year it’s like a pilgrimage. Scores of these little toads descend on my front porch to visit the great Green Shrine of the Frog, which is visible in the background. We like frogs.

Sue swears that she saw the first frog last week, but without the photographic evidence I am a bit skeptical. When I spot the first frog I usually wrap it up in a handkerchief or towel and bring it in to show Sue. At the very least I take a photograph. So, I have to wonder why she didn’t call me out to look. Hogging the frogs!

Actually we have a small group of these frogs which live somewhere on the property, or in the nearby creek, during the winter. I’d swear I recognize this guy from last year, although he has put on some weight. I wonder what they eat all winter, as I haven’t seen a fly since early October!

No matter, the frogs are back, which is reason enough to celebrate. I can never greet the return of the frogs with enough joy. After the frogs and cacti have arrived the turtles come; my favorites. Along with the lizards; who like to hide in the siding during the cold weather; the whole neighborhood seems to come alive again. There’s something very comforting in watching the world come back to life each year. May it ever be thus…

Death from Above - A "Midnight" Story

This is a story about the cat who adopted us. His name is Midnight and he gets into all kinds of stuff he shouldn’t. For instance, there are several “strays” on my street; and even some “housecats”; but Midnight is the only one among them who can actually claim to have flown. Not once; but twice.

Now, there may be a cat somewhere in the neighborhood that has been “transported” via plane while locked in a cat carrier; but that hardly qualifies as real flying. Midnight has actually flown; although his 2 flights were mostly freefall. Let me recap those adventures and explain the picture above, which is the result of his 2nd; and latest; “solo.”

Midnight’s first flight occurred in the middle of the afternoon. He was traversing the open area in back of our house; which is about the length of two football fields; when a large shadow loomed over him; and then; in an instant; lifted him off the ground; higher than he had ever been.

A hawk had been circling overhead, and with his infra-red, heat sensing capabilities, said hawk spotted Midnight and came roaring down to snatch him up for a meal. Luckily we feed him too much; he is very spoiled; and so the hawk was unable to hold him for more than about 200 feet horizontally, and about 40 feet vertically. Midnight was very spooked by the whole thing and I have to say that he put up as much of a fight as one can while being suspended by the scruff of your neck 40 feet in the air.

In the end his first flight lasted about as long as the Wright Brothers did at Kitty Hawk. The only real difference is that I had no camera at hand. Midnight suffered a torn ear which has never really healed properly; causing him to have a very strange “meow” as a result of some hearing loss. Doesn’t matter; he still lets us know when he’s hungry. He just doesn’t play in the back anymore.

Now; as for the picture above; we are actually only guessing that this latest injury was the result of another “air raid.” We’re basing that premise on the fact that if it wasn’t a bird which attacked him, then it would have to have been a very large coyote; about as big as a Great Dane; or a bear so weak that when he bit Midnight’s head he didn’t quite break the skin; just ripped off all his fur and left two white patches of skin, which have swelled a bit. I’m betting on the hawk.

Midnight’s reaction to this latest outrage has been pretty interesting. He came home and ate a tremendous amount of food; which is not all that unusual when he has been out all night. Then he went to sleep; waking up to be sick. He actually left the garage so as not to make a mess. “Bless his little heart”; as we say here in Dixie. Then he wouldn’t eat for a day or so, before disappearing again; with Sue and I thinking he had gone off somewhere to die.

Well, I guess we were wrong; or maybe it was the fact that we bought him a new bag of food and some tuna, betting against the odds that he wouldn’t return. At any rate, he came home the next day; along with his appetite. And we were really glad to see him.

He depends upon us for so much. He doesn’t know how to kill or hunt. He watches birds take the food from his bowl. He plays with grasshoppers; swatting them with his closed paws; gently prodding them so that they will hop. He’s basically helpless. So, he really needs us to survive. And when he’s gone; we realize how much we need him, too. I wish he could read this, just to know how important he has become…

The Swimming Elephant

This footage of a baby elephant swimming on the beach at Phuket, Thailand made the rounds last weekend on the internet. Though it is from 2008, it is still a wonderful sight. Elephants are very special to me. For all of their lumbering size and strength, they possess; and display; a keen sensitivity which I usually associate with dolphins and whales. They’re all stronger and faster than we are, yet somehow I feel as if they look upon us humans with a bit of pity. We do such odd things in their eyes.

The baby elephant; who was on the beach at Phuket for a wedding party; just couldn’t understand why everyone was dressed up in the sweltering heat. The ocean looked so inviting that he naturally jumped in, to the delight of all present. Turn up the volume and you can hear the reaction of the people who were watching this in person.

I have seen the whales, swam with the dolphins, and even had a slight disagreement with a monkey once; but I have never seen an elephant enjoying himself quite as much as this fellow. The funniest part of the whole thing is that while the people on the beach couldn’t understand why he went into the water; he couldn’t understand how they could stay out! 

"Rascal" by Sterling North (1964 Newberry Honor Book)

I have reviewed this book here before. I read it for the first time in 5^th grade, and many times since. Mrs. Denslow, the most saintly woman who ever taught a class, was my teacher at the time. She wore her hair in a halo braid around her head, with white blouses that buttoned up to her neck. I only mention it because she reminded me so much of the era in which this book takes place. Mrs. Denslow was born about 1904, and would have been the same age as the author, and so I must have felt like I was getting a peek into her world.

“Rascal” is the story of author Sterling North’s 18 months caring for a raccoon whom he named “Rascal” for all of the mischief he got into. He was abandoned by his mother and adopted by the author, who lived with his father in a Victorian house on the edge of a lake in Wisconsin. His father having been widowed when the author was a boy, made for an adventurous childhood, one which included building a canoe in the parlor, much to the chagrin of Mr. North’s older sister Theo. Although she did not live at home any longer, she felt the need to come and visit, criticizing all that she could.

Mr. North bonds with his new friend and they spend the next year and a half getting to know one another. Eventually, as Rascal matures, he hears the call of another, female raccoon and the author is confronted with a dilemma – should he keep the pet that he loves, or love the pet that needs to be set free?

The story takes place in the closing days of the First World War, which is probably another reason this book has endeared itself to me. Along with classics such as “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”, “Penrod-His Complete Story”, and many others, this book really takes the reader back to a much simpler time, one which you will want to re-visit again and again.

"The Beaver" - A True Life Tale by Michael Hoffman

My daughter Sarah, and her husband Michael, were out paddling about in the creek which runs behind their apartment. The creek leads to a part of Lake Norman which is filled with wildlife of all descriptions. It is not all that unusual to see a heron, or groups of geese (I think that's called a "gaggle")as well as various wildlife ashore, which include deer, raccoons, groundhogs and, in this case, the occasional beaver. This is the text of the e-mail from Michael, sent while still paddling about. Technology, ain't it grand?

IT'S A BEAVER!!!

During our excursion over the nearby portion of the lake, Sarah and I were relaxing when your daughter glimpsed something just peeking from the water's surface, moving across the inlet.

"A water-dwelling mammal!"she exclaimed and led the way as we took our individual inflatable rafts to follow in the creature's wake. After it disappeared beneath the surface, Sarah spotted it once again, eating leaves calmly as it edged out of the water. For nearly one half of an hour we watched the beaver eat, and I endeavored to capture it's presence with the low quality camera on my cellular phone. What I have attached to this e-mail is the best of my attempts, and while it may not be visible here, we guarantee you it's tail was flat, and glorious.

"Rascal" by Sterling North

I had never heard of the Newberry Award until I was 10 and saw this book in the school library at PS 255 in Brooklyn, New York. I was in the 4th grade at the time. Now I'm 55 and I just read this 189 page book for the first time in decades. But it still has that indefineable something that holds you fast to each page.

The author, Sterling North, was raised in Wisconsin in the early part of the 20th Century. His mother passed away when he was about 7 and his father raised him alone in a large house near a lake. The authors father was always on the verge of writing his great novel, which was never published. The two lived alone and did pretty much as they pleased. Young Sterling even built a canoe in the living room.

Mr. North had a managerie of pets. But his main companion was his St. Bernard, Woowser. Together they roamed the woods and streams near the authors home. One day they came upon a surprise. A mother raccoon and her 4 babies were nestled near a tree stump. Woowser senses them and digs them out. The mother raccoon manages to escape with 3 of the 4, leaving the last one behind.

With the aid of his best freinds mother, and much to the disdain of his grown sister Theo, Sterling raises the raccoon, which he has named Rascal. The story unfolds over a one year period between 1918 and 1919, when young Sterling comes to understand that he must return Rascal to the wild.

Filled with amazing, but true, characters, both human and animal, this is the perfect summer book for the young reader. I only wish Mr. North were still alive today so that I could thank him twice for this truly wonderful story.