Monday, October 31, 2011
A time comes when a mind asks what it was that drove members of my species from the somnolence of perpetual warmth to those places on earth which fall into the category of containing winter. Were we once that furry and well blubbered, I wonder, or have we always been preoccupied by clothing and foot wear and a restless fascination with other heating or warming devices.
It is one of those questions that usually produces excitable answers about the genius of our species, its ability to adapt and make things, our curiosity, our magnificence and so on. We didn't just sit there waiting for Saber-Toothed Tiger to make breakfast out of us. And it's strange how proud we are of these capacities. Yet I am beginning to think Eden with its Apple and Snake a better and better explanation for them.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Ladybird in the room where I sleep. He's been pottering around for number of days. He needs an Aphid or something else that's juicy. Probably he will carry on until he succumbs to starvation or sleep, and I like to think there are no Mealybugs or Mites or other soft shelled insects up here for him to feed upon. Of course he's very welcome to stay, but if he doesn't settle down, follow the rules about flying at night coffee cups, keyboards and friends staying over, I might have to introduce the vacuum cleaner.
By some estimates a Ladybird can only eat up to fifty Aphids a day, they can live for up to only nine months, which means that in the course of their life a Ladybird may only consume around thirteen thousand Aphids. A female Aphid lives for about thirty days. In the warm weather she can give birth to around twelve live children a day. And each one of those children is a female who can also give birth to up to twelve live children a day. Either way we are looking at billions and billions of Ladybird meals. Then, as I understand it, when the weather gets cool, girl Aphids grow boy parts, eggs are laid and Ladybugs look to the indoors for lodging.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Outrageous the Northern Mockingbird snipping at me for frost on the ground, horrible cold and what from inside I am told is freezing fog, but which from outside I cannot see at all because I am wearing socks and have on the romper wear Inuit feel at home in. It's not my fault I look like this, but he seems to think it is. So I snip back and we stare at each other, and probably I should get some exercise to encourage circulation which on a cold morning appears to avoid those vessels that take blood to the brain.
I don't know how other comrades live without tobacco and coffee, but there they are on the television, smoke free and bright-eyed like school prefects in charge of the cold baths. I think it the duty of a good comrade like "Up with Chris Hayes" to at least make the attempt to appear hung over or foul minded or unshaven or deeply depressed. Otherwise how on earth is a person like me supposed to get beyond unnatural cheerfulness and down into the grit of who gets what and for god's sake why.