tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45964951583747744422024-03-05T03:56:35.701-06:00La ViboraJimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-50949370594149867252010-04-06T19:43:00.003-05:002010-04-06T20:35:06.236-05:00Signs of Spring (In the Inflation Building)<div style="text-align: justify;">Through the years, I've learned to always look DOWN when entering the inflation building at work in the wee hours of the morning. You never know what's going to be scurrying, crawling, hopping or lurking on the floor at that time of the morning. That doesn't even take into account what might drop on you when raising the overhead doors! I've encountered rabbits, opossums, millipedes, centipedes, scorpions, countless numbers of tarantulas, Gulf coast toads, insects of all shapes and sizes and even a snake or two. So it was nice to finally see signs of life late last week, after our colder than normal, seemed like it would NEVER end, El Nino winter. Our overnight lows had finally inched up into the lower 70s, optimum for all creatures, large and small, to emerge from their winter naps. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">As I entered the building last Friday just after 5 am, an odd shape immediately caught my eye on the unfinished cement floor. It was no bigger than the end of my thumb but I knew it wasn't supposed to be there. Suddenly, a short hop and I recognized the odd shape as a Narrow-mouthed toad. I had never seen one in my 16 years living in Brownsville although I had heard their distinct calls from our infamous "moat" that surrounds the office. The moat is nothing more than a poor attempt at a drainage ditch that fills up when the resaca across the street overflows during a heavy rain event. But, when filled, it teams with all kinds of creatures, including crayfish, frogs and even carp. So after finally seeing my first Narrow-mouthed, the first thought that went through my mind was "photo subject!" I easily caught the tiny amphibian and dropped it temporarily into a balloon bag while I went about the business of inflating the weather balloon. Back in the office, I transferred my subject to one of the many plastic containers, conveniently tucked away in my cubicle for such situations.<br />
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On-line references suggest that Narrow-mouth toads actually share burrows with tarantulas where the two (apparently) live in harmony. We have a large population of Texas tan tarantulas living around the inflation building so that probably explains why the toads have chosen to reside on Weather Service grounds. And despite their miniscule size, they project a BIG sound. Their call can best be described as a high pitch buzz, much like the sound of a summer cicada. On quiet, calm nights, the chorus can be heard some distance away (click to hear.)<br />
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After a quick series of photos, I'm happy to say I released my friend early this morning in the culvert that stands in front of our inflation building. I hope to see more in the future and I hate to think it might take another 16 years! Regardless, I know I'll enjoy a chorus of toads, maybe as soon as tomorrow evening, when the threat of rain again brings out their song.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSkS5weQRPQqbS1fAu53tFFfWAHJOVmZqtE9_kafU-Rxtzqk0gojqbCyRFJFesEqfhdmT5HqOJ0yJX4vmVlhpYg7jpeT-h-gdkGFLiUCUcIcvZuAk2Oh3_HfqvJS8iqgCB9df7AD2gPU/s1600/040510NarrowMouthHand+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSkS5weQRPQqbS1fAu53tFFfWAHJOVmZqtE9_kafU-Rxtzqk0gojqbCyRFJFesEqfhdmT5HqOJ0yJX4vmVlhpYg7jpeT-h-gdkGFLiUCUcIcvZuAk2Oh3_HfqvJS8iqgCB9df7AD2gPU/s400/040510NarrowMouthHand+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Narrow-mouthed Toad in Darlene's Hand</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4DVUgngZtwqa8a3WNi2EMgttcMLRidsn9olLko6MluCkPkUZpJw-tObRprt92pGHiTyLigsMRup_d09qNUx_rWAEows-BwRK8fNsHvI1pFAdl3M6YxOVmOFxa9RjMtEErY6oTXItLf4/s1600/040210NarrowMouthed+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4DVUgngZtwqa8a3WNi2EMgttcMLRidsn9olLko6MluCkPkUZpJw-tObRprt92pGHiTyLigsMRup_d09qNUx_rWAEows-BwRK8fNsHvI1pFAdl3M6YxOVmOFxa9RjMtEErY6oTXItLf4/s400/040210NarrowMouthed+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">My Subject, the Great Plains (Western) Narrow-mouthed Toad (Gastrophryne olivacea)</div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-37395253562559783822010-01-01T00:01:00.001-06:002010-01-01T00:01:02.136-06:00~*~Happy~*~*New~*~Year~*~<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8OfOw1b96bBm-EXSaEfmphWtckTwWIEWb73JKecfn693Y3WH33UvCGEI1P94HLDTu2kQdKxCu7kj-GeiY5sx12HGUwlD34pMhny2mB626gD2VEDMhMFUmtPtaQ3ul7ph6LCHSq5geEM/s1600-h/123009RedEyelash+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 332px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8OfOw1b96bBm-EXSaEfmphWtckTwWIEWb73JKecfn693Y3WH33UvCGEI1P94HLDTu2kQdKxCu7kj-GeiY5sx12HGUwlD34pMhny2mB626gD2VEDMhMFUmtPtaQ3ul7ph6LCHSq5geEM/s400/123009RedEyelash+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421532681808544882" /></a>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-46966805081879265262009-12-23T16:30:00.002-06:002009-12-23T16:31:09.784-06:00~*~*~ Happy Holidays ~*~*~<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLJKfEfHa64NGe5yBP6ftPogceTnmVkYHNalLt2ObCmbX2_jdUdnZB2HbyeId7bym-Ei5bpeMB-VnRRkLO2LJpCx0twfNBqvKqctagjoUiPwizvJfqOlhqxSY2ox1V9b81eITduTfMM/s1600-h/122309ChristmasCard.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLJKfEfHa64NGe5yBP6ftPogceTnmVkYHNalLt2ObCmbX2_jdUdnZB2HbyeId7bym-Ei5bpeMB-VnRRkLO2LJpCx0twfNBqvKqctagjoUiPwizvJfqOlhqxSY2ox1V9b81eITduTfMM/s400/122309ChristmasCard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418562775639477474" /></a>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-43400844242254351352009-12-02T13:43:00.016-06:002009-12-29T09:05:19.424-06:00Charlie Don't Mosh<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6czCGTj-HXoEgclyQLHrhP4b-vapdOTk7WsQjAOmfQxM8C07-rAXwuQLJNkwybShc0D7gIuieL6VliR0xD2smZMnwE0YaGJV3QzThKMckTvL-dKykUtC5k-v8xoqsVhcktiRDI7-FJr4/s1600-h/MegadethTicket.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6czCGTj-HXoEgclyQLHrhP4b-vapdOTk7WsQjAOmfQxM8C07-rAXwuQLJNkwybShc0D7gIuieL6VliR0xD2smZMnwE0YaGJV3QzThKMckTvL-dKykUtC5k-v8xoqsVhcktiRDI7-FJr4/s400/MegadethTicket.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419981436317328082" /></a><br /><div align="justify">I've never been more out of my element than at the Megadeth Concert this past Monday night up in Corpus Christi. Don't get me wrong, in spite of the cold, wet weather, I enjoyed Megadeth. It was the three "death metal" bands (as Darlene called them) that proceeded Megadeth that made the night that much more miserable. I've never been a fan of the so-called speed metal bands so I've never had the "pleasure" of seeing any in person. But, Darlene has always wanted to see Megadeth so when she got the e-mail alert from <a href="http://www.concretestreet.net/">The Concrete Street Ampitheater</a> that they were coming to Corpus, she bought tickets on-line immediately.</div><br /><div align="justify">The gates opened at 6 pm and, of course, we where there on time. The first band, "<a href="http://www.myspace.com/arcaniumband">Arcanium</a>" started shortly after we arrived. Honestly, I don't remember much about them because we proceeded over to the Megadeth merchandise "shack" to browse the tee-shirts and such. I bought Darlene a $45 "tour" shirt (long sleeved) and then we headed down to the stage area. We were happy to see the area covered since there was a 100% chance of rain that night. There were even flame heaters spaced across the back that a few people were already gathered around. As we found a place to stand, the lead singer said there were 2 more songs in their set. Honestly, I really couldn't discern any real music so it could have easily been just one long song. I'm not sure. They incited the sparse crowd to make enough noise so that Megadeth could hear the cheers in their tour bus then they were gone. One down, two to go.</div><br /><div align="justify">The crews efficiently changed the stage sets, exchanging drum kits and microphones. Two large posters of a bloody woman laying on a rusted box spring were spaced evenly on both sides of the drums. They were hung on flimsy PVC frames and it reminded me of the first banner stand I made for the Venomous Expo. In other words, CHEAP! The final touch to the stage was a large, black wooden box, placed in the middle. The lights dimmed and the crowd was suddenly a lot bigger than just a moment ago.</div><br /><div align="justify">"<a href="http://www.suicidesilence.net/">Suicide Silence</a>" erupted into an unintelligible, screaming rage that caused me to cringe. "I don't get it!", I screamed to Darlene (she reminded me later that our parents once said the same thing about the music we listened to growing up). If the guy was singing, I never understood one single word and I KNOW the Beatles never sounded this bad to my parents! As a matter of fact, all I heard the entire set was a high pitched scream that sounded like, "rah, rah, rah, rah, RAH!" Between the first and second song (I think!) the lead singer incited the crowd to "open this place the f*** up!" When he started screaming again, the place suddenly erupted into a huge mosh pit. Finally, something entertaining! I was amazed to see the kids, and I do mean kids, slamming one another to the ground. The person on the ground would get up, hug the person who knocked him or her down then the whole killing-one-another thing would start over again. </div><br /><div align="justify">By the time the 3rd band, "<a href="http://www.machinehead1.com/">Machine Head</a>", did their set, the pit seemed to have become a bit more sophisticated. The circle pit, as the singer from Machine Head called it, began to rotate in a counter clock-wise movement. Then, as if someone dropped a flag to begin a drag race, the pit would erupt into a killing field. I zoned in on one person who constantly walked back and forth, seemingly untouched, as the people around him smashed their bodies against each other in total chaos. For some reason, I found myself thinking back to the scene in "Apocalypse Now" when Robert Duvall's character, Colonel Kilgore, walked along the beach unafraid and untouched as incoming rounds from Charlie hit the ground around him. My mind wandered further and suddenly, Kilgore was trying to get me in the pit.</div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Kilgore - You can either mosh or you can fight!</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Me - Are you crazy? Don't you think it's a little crazy for some R&R?</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Kilgore - If I say it's safe to mosh this pit, Sailor, then it's safe to mosh this pit! I mean, I'm not afraid to mosh this pit, I'll mosh this whole f****** place!</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Me - I don't know sir, it's a..</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Kilgore - What is it Sailor?</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Me - Well, I mean, it's pretty hairy in there. It's Charlie's pit.</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Kilgore - Charlie don't MOSH!</em></div><br /><div align="justify">I know, it's a bit far-fetched but that's what actually went through my mind at the time. After all, the music was unintelligible and we were really never safe from getting punched anywhere we stood. As a matter of fact, during one of the sudden mosh outbreaks, I took either a fist or an elbow or maybe even a knee in my left rib cage before Darlene drug me to safety!</div><br /><div align="justify">It was finally time for Megadeth to take the stage. We eased up as close as possible but once Dave Mustaine took center stage, the pushing began. We had positioned ourselves where we could make a quick exit so we dropped farther back and to the right of the stage where we stayed safe the rest of the evening.</div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">I'll be the first to admit, I'm not a huge Megadeth fan and during their set, I recognized MAYBE four songs. But the recent addition of lead guitarist Chris Broderick made me pay close attention and I left the concert feeling glad we made the trip. </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzGfTkJPgmybq17EZN8fCl5APIfSGrhhXa6di1vHOyrCE7cuaKhcAYIHHf2jwfGqscoJmdJ4QRCxatk7Ac5ji1cOZ54prFBMfkfhSPTym65RL21agKUL9bIvFUpgxW6ckNe99fYdIN54/s1600-h/113009Megadeth+copy.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410728261288878050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzGfTkJPgmybq17EZN8fCl5APIfSGrhhXa6di1vHOyrCE7cuaKhcAYIHHf2jwfGqscoJmdJ4QRCxatk7Ac5ji1cOZ54prFBMfkfhSPTym65RL21agKUL9bIvFUpgxW6ckNe99fYdIN54/s400/113009Megadeth+copy.jpg" /></a></div><p align="center">Dave Mustaine and Megadeth Rock Corpus</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-62203953047050452632009-06-22T14:00:00.004-05:002009-06-27T09:36:20.563-05:00Gone But Not Forgotten<div align="justify">The streetlight outlined an unmistakable image as I left for work around 3:40 this morning. The mallard drake that adopted us to be with his new mate, lay dead in the street in front of our driveway.<br /><br />This year was the first in the past three that our "pet" mallard hen brought a mate to our door. He had been by her side ever since. I cringe at the thought of how close she must have come to being hit too by the uncaring soul who took her mate's life. I thought about her all day, while at work, and worried that she might be injured somewhere. But, as I got home just now, I was greeted by a forelorned quack, as if she was trying to tell me her mate was gone. Darlene and I will repay the joy she has brought us with comfort now and we won't ever forget her handsome gentleman. <br /><br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhCMs_O_OYRr7OTsSfdPI9MBLhPPFJv0DcuQ43TMvponbVj4O6_BoHIZe48b0krRAp2otrQGeIicc0sv1CzasPI3D1ifl7hc_hXodUQIOHDNnDeKn3rGbcxufqMCRRIAWapjysrnuPnI/s1600-h/040309DucksLife+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350229172852129170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhCMs_O_OYRr7OTsSfdPI9MBLhPPFJv0DcuQ43TMvponbVj4O6_BoHIZe48b0krRAp2otrQGeIicc0sv1CzasPI3D1ifl7hc_hXodUQIOHDNnDeKn3rGbcxufqMCRRIAWapjysrnuPnI/s400/040309DucksLife+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="center">A Sprinkler Bath in Early April</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-91835815183620994642009-04-29T14:01:00.006-05:002009-04-29T15:02:33.635-05:00My Dad Left Me a Present on His Birthday<div align="justify">Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday. You'd think each year would be easier but, since his passing in 1997, I still miss him as much as the day he died. It was his gentle and forgiving nature that I admired most. He chose to see only good in everyone he met.<br /><br />I still have many regrets regarding my dad. For example, I regret not taking the time to let him teach me how to play the guitar. I remember my aunt telling me matter of factly, "you have the greatest teacher in the world and you need to take advantage of it". I never did. I was always too busy running through the woods that surrounded our house. But, he seemed to take some satisfaction of my interest in all things living and he never seemed to mind building yet another cage for whatever came out of the woods with me.<br /><br />When the day came to make the now infamous choice for my Christmas present one year, I took a 20 gallon aquarium over a Hoffner bass guitar. I refer to that day as "my fork in the road". I went down the "nature" road and turned my back on the "learning to play the guitar" road. He never seemed to mind. I think that's why he dropped yet another present in my lap this morning on his birthday. What better way to let me know he's still not upset with the road I chose.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHGa0VLtK_D3DNlnUy18nr6NFTnG8DYx-rCSf6hCBxU-hsJtZYPfe2fHvaYB8ZrHLgAJcCGClJq952w90D8a2ErpJD127v5v64IrF3ooCZME_iXBxpbtdBSxd2bfU15wPYt9L5oiLvcw/s1600-h/FamilyDec1957.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330195305744852898" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHGa0VLtK_D3DNlnUy18nr6NFTnG8DYx-rCSf6hCBxU-hsJtZYPfe2fHvaYB8ZrHLgAJcCGClJq952w90D8a2ErpJD127v5v64IrF3ooCZME_iXBxpbtdBSxd2bfU15wPYt9L5oiLvcw/s400/FamilyDec1957.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The Campbell Clan in December of 1957<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcn1hCTPqwNNWZ_HOsvdnjSJyjkaUYOodkLoNnLm066V1hF2z5r6X_BX1mqfWjNQVu2CuAaN3m_d0k2JJdXAehM70w0jaA3trgBEjybJ8dLwDS9uGylRMufyGjUveLsIx4QpaqKbWNvs/s1600-h/042909Opossum2+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330195167853579970" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcn1hCTPqwNNWZ_HOsvdnjSJyjkaUYOodkLoNnLm066V1hF2z5r6X_BX1mqfWjNQVu2CuAaN3m_d0k2JJdXAehM70w0jaA3trgBEjybJ8dLwDS9uGylRMufyGjUveLsIx4QpaqKbWNvs/s400/042909Opossum2+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Rescued From the Pool This Morning </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Happy Birthday Papa! Thanks for the 'possum!</div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-79131413040046492372009-04-11T18:02:00.010-05:002009-04-11T18:50:04.501-05:00Happy Easter!<div align="justify">It's said that Easter eggs symbolize the renewal of life in spring. Easter came two days early for us this year and the eggs we received definitely fit that description. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Just outside our snake room window is our tortoise pen. It houses a pair of Venezuelan Redfoot tortoises that I bought from an online reptile friend several years ago. Other than local box "turtles" I kept as a kid, I had never kept tortoises but had always been intrigued by their personalities and relatively "easy to care for" husbandry.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">After I got home from work Friday, I took time to do my regular rounds about the house. The routine consists of turning on lights, checking various cages and opening the blinds in the snake room. When I looked out into the redfoot pen, I noticed the female in an odd posture, making side to side movements. As I watched through the window, I realized she was digging a nest. I quickly grabbed my camera and headed outside. Sure enough, she had already dug a small hole and I could see the unmistakable shape and color of eggs.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjiX7dfndKCOhAPKJmQGWWT5GZ0ap6NNgPX-_0qTv-RglL6kVDfhwTe6H8Y0UkdXzUffFL00Snb_lb8ifbiym2wlmFpM3WlzbKQGBIlNUu3xPKaVNyicNqqa186h8wAzD56kEU9EBWW3M/s1600-h/041009FemaleRedfoot+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323574324764087074" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjiX7dfndKCOhAPKJmQGWWT5GZ0ap6NNgPX-_0qTv-RglL6kVDfhwTe6H8Y0UkdXzUffFL00Snb_lb8ifbiym2wlmFpM3WlzbKQGBIlNUu3xPKaVNyicNqqa186h8wAzD56kEU9EBWW3M/s400/041009FemaleRedfoot+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Mama tortoise digging her nest.<br /><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnuvvDeu6sTDgFxIhWxGNgGawRSvbh9V1uK84NKs_YzOKUl4E_XscmKndBxHLi1z5g1XFbgeHxdhY0XusUI8-QClVqACCDOHTBndDMXZpt9zXOr2CayezhIkYpg_RS-8TgNM6h3I_AT6A/s1600-h/041009Eggs!+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323574135066578770" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnuvvDeu6sTDgFxIhWxGNgGawRSvbh9V1uK84NKs_YzOKUl4E_XscmKndBxHLi1z5g1XFbgeHxdhY0XusUI8-QClVqACCDOHTBndDMXZpt9zXOr2CayezhIkYpg_RS-8TgNM6h3I_AT6A/s400/041009Eggs!+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />A couple of eggs are barely visible.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Fuz6Z8Ssf23K_PEAjuKb1MtZJ6qmHIyqsyW3ADgkMFz93bS8otJCiKK9KasUlxBAurzymBYiuqbei19ZMGPskv0xoaZV9xnpAPUAIsdGHmojUJTFHnFNDGk-wbV0xdDdBbgkBJHJDO0/s1600-h/041009MaleRedfoot+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323573974430694914" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Fuz6Z8Ssf23K_PEAjuKb1MtZJ6qmHIyqsyW3ADgkMFz93bS8otJCiKK9KasUlxBAurzymBYiuqbei19ZMGPskv0xoaZV9xnpAPUAIsdGHmojUJTFHnFNDGk-wbV0xdDdBbgkBJHJDO0/s400/041009MaleRedfoot+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The proud papa had to come see what I was doing!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhVZVZvOgy8PHkaaPkaakR0B0hMwxll-2cj-NNL9qxXThyphenhyphenOaprz_KesjUETxn2cvfnug9KgX7nn_9D5eE7azsjKNt1x1GdyqBiMFn348GYWzro-KdKN7LIaIGmGooIXF5vZh90i4e_nA/s1600-h/041009Eggs!2+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323573822194379170" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhVZVZvOgy8PHkaaPkaakR0B0hMwxll-2cj-NNL9qxXThyphenhyphenOaprz_KesjUETxn2cvfnug9KgX7nn_9D5eE7azsjKNt1x1GdyqBiMFn348GYWzro-KdKN7LIaIGmGooIXF5vZh90i4e_nA/s400/041009Eggs!2+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Later that evening, I dug up the nest and found 9 perfect eggs.<br /><br />This is our second clutch of eggs in less than 7 months. The first clutch of 3 eggs (one was punctured and had to be discarded) was laid September 24th of last year. After incubating 150 days, the first baby hatched February 22nd and it's sibling began hatching on April Fool's Day.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSWyaXjLzqB_LN1B7W2rMr4KvE9Pe_QCGmzzXW9RgNfafLm3B9ObUvIW9sBrknW4edmtGngaIjIVJeSHEp1iQNm8TyFB79VPwKsNp509eGTjsBCcV2FuuxIxg8mb6qKceMq5MowFfuAk/s1600-h/032909BabyRedfoot+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323573698547900786" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSWyaXjLzqB_LN1B7W2rMr4KvE9Pe_QCGmzzXW9RgNfafLm3B9ObUvIW9sBrknW4edmtGngaIjIVJeSHEp1iQNm8TyFB79VPwKsNp509eGTjsBCcV2FuuxIxg8mb6qKceMq5MowFfuAk/s400/032909BabyRedfoot+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Baby number 1 after hatching 2/22/2009.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKyBz0zX6CKzKwucjmzQigrLCxpRrhlK92lGxMnr08IGrX-Ev66FSWyeNozWoEIqB3dAOY9QJx5MsOFoyumpAIV6lusy7G20hj-BAKIyOWx9AgSJOnuW-hg3F1plvsieicxooLTbSPMU/s1600-h/040209RedFoot+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323573424019361954" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKyBz0zX6CKzKwucjmzQigrLCxpRrhlK92lGxMnr08IGrX-Ev66FSWyeNozWoEIqB3dAOY9QJx5MsOFoyumpAIV6lusy7G20hj-BAKIyOWx9AgSJOnuW-hg3F1plvsieicxooLTbSPMU/s400/040209RedFoot+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Baby number 2 still mostly in the egg on April 2nd.<br /><br />The Easter Bunny was indeed good to us this year. Darlene and I wish you all a Happy Easter!<br /><br /><br /></p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-67560011775318804882008-12-25T06:00:00.000-06:002008-12-25T06:00:00.625-06:00Merry Christmas!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxWIbdhnIzVc9Diu0z41jGRKshooHdPGm34eeKLfVh0dj60vtCOhHhqAyHAB60c9gG2p9p8ssnXYNz0mWyOcVUoFT7ftZCREetOiDGLyfhLRVK1zOz78WMu_pIY0OzlDXnmeh4gxCccgM/s1600-h/ChristmasCerat.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxWIbdhnIzVc9Diu0z41jGRKshooHdPGm34eeKLfVh0dj60vtCOhHhqAyHAB60c9gG2p9p8ssnXYNz0mWyOcVUoFT7ftZCREetOiDGLyfhLRVK1zOz78WMu_pIY0OzlDXnmeh4gxCccgM/s400/ChristmasCerat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283493947967370242" /></a>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-66185486505091918392008-11-25T15:11:00.003-06:002008-11-25T15:13:37.386-06:00Happy Thanksgiving!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy49IBTa6fw0mT8lTG4lcPhhz3iYUEfw2VtZqrsCbAWXTKUq6ogzQrXoQGcc9bJF2mltpeX9Oh0oG4_fkawQg_Dq_Hg1FsVTlkfWChgzDKuU70WWQnJPbwmGNW8Fv2OaALNLW_8-dtPOs/s1600-h/102708HypoMaybe.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272706038485971762" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy49IBTa6fw0mT8lTG4lcPhhz3iYUEfw2VtZqrsCbAWXTKUq6ogzQrXoQGcc9bJF2mltpeX9Oh0oG4_fkawQg_Dq_Hg1FsVTlkfWChgzDKuU70WWQnJPbwmGNW8Fv2OaALNLW_8-dtPOs/s400/102708HypoMaybe.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Darlene and I wish each of you a Happy Thanksgiving!Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-67568541372341608082008-10-18T19:47:00.012-05:002008-10-18T22:51:28.623-05:00Getting Acquainted<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx79Sb_9aJMmmFGPfKPyqd78OgCCLMMu4rp2UJQ8fUxv0LyfTKshLntYR63rp5soww6vzQbEV6v0tKd9Ufg8Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br><div align="justify">It's that time of year again! Each day, I check the breeding cages for newborn eyelash vipers. The first litter of the season was born this morning with mom here giving birth to even more after Darlene shot this video. As you can see, this vividly banded baby took the opportunity to hitch a ride on it's mother's head.</div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-20165660176813860602008-09-28T14:23:00.015-05:002008-09-29T08:08:51.794-05:00A Sad Goodbye<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2q2vZTKACG3os8EYahj_MKfSFwQOwNc9pJL7FX8O6jXF8xsqW3J0qeFk8R3nAQi6NkvrjwY_T16Aa-AqWyTVCqI_Z-SaGIPLCAo2goqnP4p6bRBs1ULUVXJnftrHVphbRaxrZQC83Tw/s1600-h/092408WhiteLandCrab.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251166553855908034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2q2vZTKACG3os8EYahj_MKfSFwQOwNc9pJL7FX8O6jXF8xsqW3J0qeFk8R3nAQi6NkvrjwY_T16Aa-AqWyTVCqI_Z-SaGIPLCAo2goqnP4p6bRBs1ULUVXJnftrHVphbRaxrZQC83Tw/s400/092408WhiteLandCrab.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="justify">As Darlene mentioned in her <a href="http://mssnakeman.blogspot.com/"> blog</a>, this past week we became emotionally attached to a crustacean, a beautiful Giant white land crab we dubbed "Ms Thing". We came upon her crossing Highway 4, near Boca Chica Beach, last Tuesday night during a light rain. Trying to catch her was no easy feat and I'm sure if Darlene had gotten it on video, we would have been hard pressed not to win the grand prize on America's Funniest Home Videos. Of course, I probably should have used something larger than a 16oz deli cup to subdue something that big. I was finally able to get her into the back of the Jeep but she decided to cram her body between the seat backs. I decided enough was enough and coaxed her into a 33 gallon garbage bag for the quick drive back home. I guess it's a good thing the agents at the Border Patrol checkpoint DIDN'T search the car. Imagine their surprise if they had grabbed the suspicious looking black plastic bag in the back of the car!</div><br /><div align="justify">Wednesday morning was spent at the zoo where Darlene and Patty took LOADS of photos of this amazing animal, in the rain, no less. Brian and I became crab wranglers as they took photos of Ms Thing in the herpetarium's photo set. </div><br /><div align="justify">Later that afternoon, after an emotional tug of war aimed at Ms Thing's safety, we drove back out to the salt flats to release her, where we found her the night before. Even as she walked towards the shallows, I felt a sense of sadness and worried that she was too visible from the road. We watched until she disappeared from view.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZ5d1F9e-XhzsLqvX5pKzYd9j6Sfe8fLBv60V8RY9iJk3y63XRgvsAZG70YG6xZ-9DKlupDoxVOVDPQ1Q7PnqVF58cF1pDptOAU0qOqsdGRNjbT7npnxyunx7MVsanZYIERePgHkbwuE/s1600-h/092408WhiteLandCrab2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251166557940461346" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZ5d1F9e-XhzsLqvX5pKzYd9j6Sfe8fLBv60V8RY9iJk3y63XRgvsAZG70YG6xZ-9DKlupDoxVOVDPQ1Q7PnqVF58cF1pDptOAU0qOqsdGRNjbT7npnxyunx7MVsanZYIERePgHkbwuE/s400/092408WhiteLandCrab2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><i>A Closing Shot as Ms Thing Returns to the Shallows</i></div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-34606684381905378422008-08-17T19:58:00.006-05:002008-08-18T14:20:26.959-05:00The Family That Photographs Together, Stays Together<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmQuXgY-irxrINluT2Gf6zbLpNWkjN6Lsuq7KgbQ56ZWHRjKArDPZ3UJBu2uYW_OPeCGXBOQyxiP6Z08GOKgbA_cXRYL_qdV6ia4d__YdoNAHNEG9gaOuLaMXPxK8tbYE583Q3B7eF7U/s1600-h/Darlene.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235655851124175714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmQuXgY-irxrINluT2Gf6zbLpNWkjN6Lsuq7KgbQ56ZWHRjKArDPZ3UJBu2uYW_OPeCGXBOQyxiP6Z08GOKgbA_cXRYL_qdV6ia4d__YdoNAHNEG9gaOuLaMXPxK8tbYE583Q3B7eF7U/s400/Darlene.jpg" border="0" /></a> Darlene has a saying, "the family that (whatever we're doing at the moment) together, stays together". That saying came to mind this past Friday when we struck out with cameras in hand with no real itinerary except to drive to Port Mansfield. We hadn't heard much about the town in the 3 weeks since Hurricane Dolly. Most of the damage occurred on South Padre Island from the wind and in other points in the Valley from the rain. We were eager to see if our favorite fishing village survived the storm. It was on this excursion that we began to hash out ideas for another web presence, one that would show others our hidden paradise here in deep south Texas. After spending the day taking photos together, we launched "<a href="http://laviboraphotos.blogspot.com/">Photo of the Day</a>" that evening. We plan to alternate days, one day my photo, the next day Darlene's. We hope you'll enjoy our photos and the stories behind them. </div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-76438969706168403052008-07-31T10:39:00.001-05:002008-08-04T16:40:37.658-05:00Never Doubt the Purple Sage<div align="justify">Summer is flying by and I'm playing catch-up. It seems like summer just started and we're already going into August. June flew by because we kept Anevay. She attended Summer Safari Classes at the zoo where she learned about different classes of animals and their habitats. July has flown by because of the weather. It started off with a bang when 6.17 inches of rain officially fell in Brownsville during the first 8 days of the month. Some parts of the city received over 10 inches. We quickly returned to the hot, dry weather pattern we're accustomed to in Brownsville but the unusual rain event made everyone happy and made for great conversation. </div><div align="justify"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvbcvtoBzyJczpC6jMHdPQoMtVqFcEXpA_-TbSdw4io6AU56ZYoKXVNBhI0ypU_yAG15voi4iNCrROT95M8RU5RkPwh3Fc6rbwFBzrvzkW3R1u8hXazRKKC8WUEq1OvJTIOOt5AOerL0/s1600-h/080108PurpleSage.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230732668134754802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvbcvtoBzyJczpC6jMHdPQoMtVqFcEXpA_-TbSdw4io6AU56ZYoKXVNBhI0ypU_yAG15voi4iNCrROT95M8RU5RkPwh3Fc6rbwFBzrvzkW3R1u8hXazRKKC8WUEq1OvJTIOOt5AOerL0/s400/080108PurpleSage.gif" border="0" /></a> Fast forward to the evening of July 16th. Darlene and I attend the Summer Social at the zoo. We enjoy a wonderful Cajun supper and casually chat with friends. As the event begins to wind down and folks begin to leave, we spot Carol, one of our favorite people in the world. Carol is a local artist, a noted naturalist and absolutely one of the nicest ladies I've ever met. We all chat about this and that before the conversation turns to the heavy rain event earlier in the month. At some point during the conversation, Carol nonchalantly says, "we'll have another heavy rain soon, the purple sage is blooming". I absorb the information but never follow through with any questions about how this weather proverb originated. However, during the next few days, everywhere I look, purple sage is blooming, including the one I have in a pot in our back yard. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br />Fast forward to July 20th. Darlene and I are in Hope to celebrate her mom's birthday. I'm gathering oak limbs to use in my eyelash viper cages when Darlene walks out and hands me my cell phone. The voice on the other end is Rob, our intern from work. He tells me about "Dolly" a storm that has quickly formed in the northwest Caribbean and is forecast to make landfall near the mouth of the Rio Grande River around Wednesday. We gather our belongings and around noon, begin the drive back to Brownsville.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSIDDuEFcyVk9yMwBxsiGShE7t1Ph5jSfVSvRTE3FfysMzjzlKtP3rxE7Mv6Y05sz06kQnsg7vOR-Zr30-PE5zWIRjykvpvBL3HKJ1eVX4amP53sxjZZ859ZYqHRDMUQYfVoJH0D8aM0/s1600-h/072308HurricaneDolly.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230754521889373138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSIDDuEFcyVk9yMwBxsiGShE7t1Ph5jSfVSvRTE3FfysMzjzlKtP3rxE7Mv6Y05sz06kQnsg7vOR-Zr30-PE5zWIRjykvpvBL3HKJ1eVX4amP53sxjZZ859ZYqHRDMUQYfVoJH0D8aM0/s400/072308HurricaneDolly.jpg" border="0" /></a> Fast forward to Wednesday, July 23rd. Dolly, now a Category 2 hurricane, makes landfall just north of Brownsville. Her slow forward motion of 7 mph is our worst nightmare. Over 7 inches of rain falls in Brownsville (officially 7.02) while other parts of the county receive up to 18 inches. Most of the mid and lower Valley easily receive over 8 inches of rainfall. Even today, some areas are still under water. </div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Weather lore has been around forever. As a child, I clearly remember my father saying, "if the sun sets behind a bank of clouds on Sunday, it'll rain before Wednesday". More times than not, he was right. When I was in the Navy, it was common to hear, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morn, sailor take warn". I never quite figured that one out. If weather lore is to be believed, July is a good example of how Mother Nature can predict the weather and how we should look for the clues. I know from now on, I'll pay close attention to the purple sage! <weather></div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-13613218627361137612008-05-29T14:22:00.000-05:002008-05-30T15:09:27.317-05:00My Lateralis Are Blue, But That's a GOOD THING!<div align="justify">Every once in a while, Lady Luck hits you right smack dab in the head with something that's just too good to be true. That was the case when, in June of 2006, I purchased a pair of newly imported, weeks-old <em>Bothriechis lateralis, </em>more commonly known as the Side-striped palm pitviper. From time to time, I had seen freshly imported adults for sale but, from bad past experiences with imported, wild-caught snakes, I never took the chance. Imported babies, on the other hand, were too tempting to pass up.</div><br /><div align="justify">They arrived promptly in McAllen on Delta Airlines on June 26th at 12:52 pm. But, anyone who has ever shipped live snakes knows the nightmares that evolve during the process and this shipment was no different. Even before leaving Brownsville for the hour-long trek to McAllen, I had called Delta Cargo to make sure the snakes were en route. Yes, I was told, and the flight from Atlanta was on time. Upon arriving at the Delta Ticket Counter in McAllen, I was told no live animals were on the flight. Before I pitched too big of a fit, I asked them to check for a Delta Dash package. Yes, it was on board and the air bill number matched. I started to wonder exactly where they had put the box since "no live animals" were on the flight. Was it actually in the plane or stuffed in the non-pressurized luggage hold. Would the snakes even be alive?</div><br /><div align="justify">Once the box was brought to the counter, I was asked to sign off on the air bill. By signing, you're giving your assurance that the contents are alive, undamaged or whatever the case may be. Since I didn't know where the box had been during the flight and the gentleman at the counter couldn't tell me, I refused. I then asked if I could open the box to check if the snakes were alive. "<em>NOT IN THE TERMINAL</em>", which was exactly the answer I expected. I quickly walked to the car and unscrewed each wood screw with my re-chargeable screwdriver. Upon removing the lid, two small brown heads looked curiously up at me from inside their individual deli cups.</div><br /><div align="justify">In their native habitat of Costa Rica and Panama, <em>lateralis</em> (as they're known in the herp world) are typically emerald or bluish green. A very few prized specimens in private collections are brilliant turquoise blue. When I purchased mine, I had no way of knowing that with each shed of their skin, a special color would emerge. Lady Luck has indeed smacked me.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJm79fz2OdgZq4_4aO4Yn2Q2szWs6jsQ9HLWij8-cUj08dd37C3AI-H1Vo-BwtNJs8NNaOWY5wSA7W-2NYK1yEH-JbCUZ9Adebfju06lL8pvYQqKMUE-za1uasP2nSao16kYvzPvkGqsA/s1600-h/052708ADM1Greenlateralis2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205888614940184402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJm79fz2OdgZq4_4aO4Yn2Q2szWs6jsQ9HLWij8-cUj08dd37C3AI-H1Vo-BwtNJs8NNaOWY5wSA7W-2NYK1yEH-JbCUZ9Adebfju06lL8pvYQqKMUE-za1uasP2nSao16kYvzPvkGqsA/s400/052708ADM1Greenlateralis2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="center">The typical color phase of the <em>Bothriechis lateralis. </em>This is one of our "normal" males.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBCrki6H17zJ80OBRwUnQ25UCC38655QPCpX-1A0NFzpr9i4yOz6DqnieVIyN2S9YJmn9wZaJFgbO4etgoytaZB55K4Fzd0YZJnYzSlPy02CaKwxg4Z_TgiL20egZCifk_G8FcMTGvDM/s1600-h/DSC00072.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205887283500322594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBCrki6H17zJ80OBRwUnQ25UCC38655QPCpX-1A0NFzpr9i4yOz6DqnieVIyN2S9YJmn9wZaJFgbO4etgoytaZB55K4Fzd0YZJnYzSlPy02CaKwxg4Z_TgiL20egZCifk_G8FcMTGvDM/s400/DSC00072.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div align="center">After a few meals, the new babies pose for photos. This is the male.</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMw0NCz5AFFlE_xLSZlTihWuxbFP-2RxVxi7KEDXWvWjRNceKiTyFpH4nIPl2uXNNovSQKw7BnTswP-m-N4DA2UFwOxC16tRlQAqEiM8C3WLYbC6zfqSAIF8UpnHYVDFmsG3yHNGp_X3Q/s1600-h/DSC00073.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205886892658298642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMw0NCz5AFFlE_xLSZlTihWuxbFP-2RxVxi7KEDXWvWjRNceKiTyFpH4nIPl2uXNNovSQKw7BnTswP-m-N4DA2UFwOxC16tRlQAqEiM8C3WLYbC6zfqSAIF8UpnHYVDFmsG3yHNGp_X3Q/s400/DSC00073.JPG" border="0" /></a>This is the female.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBpuY3c6x5sdVJjmJd53G6TvW7BJ-k_Ncp610PzpgcYO8gTPv0KJ8Qzl15re4hJPLcAZwoaIvs2pAE4ir13qt6sJ77z82QUuS2kIi8c_D0VnUHjjYgo1VCYTLFPA6S3M5RF9gmT6yB-kM/s1600-h/DSC00073.JPG"></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVDj-xUaAGvkm5exH1pH0x7qi1L_sDDmZNA2QvWRmlRsJZzbfl3u_qL2odt_pwZtDRCnkL9aDkV9SLlio5_igY_T0yWynRtk8I2kzZfj0aIug_09SXmiPNqoOYleUNFLHbohyphenhyphenGqSZI2s/s1600-h/DSC00507.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205906417579626338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVDj-xUaAGvkm5exH1pH0x7qi1L_sDDmZNA2QvWRmlRsJZzbfl3u_qL2odt_pwZtDRCnkL9aDkV9SLlio5_igY_T0yWynRtk8I2kzZfj0aIug_09SXmiPNqoOYleUNFLHbohyphenhyphenGqSZI2s/s400/DSC00507.JPG" border="0" /></a>Several months later, the female, in the middle of her color change.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLwUB8vFj1UDKhINuQWg07nulSx3YGnOgrJsAQ5HjUAjPxUtBkEkY4jJIyYgCcA4ncYrHq24AdCer7pFqrYjrQ5B3ToCkZBRUK0uK1OewPKC0mHHX5OZnm4kq0TgsfsLIqQWoy9hQ9KE/s1600-h/052508JMlateralis.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205883370785115874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLwUB8vFj1UDKhINuQWg07nulSx3YGnOgrJsAQ5HjUAjPxUtBkEkY4jJIyYgCcA4ncYrHq24AdCer7pFqrYjrQ5B3ToCkZBRUK0uK1OewPKC0mHHX5OZnm4kq0TgsfsLIqQWoy9hQ9KE/s400/052508JMlateralis.jpg" border="0" /></a>The male showing off his adult colors this past Sunday evening.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisid80dXxS0drdNJgpAXwCQRNsmacxlZ0QGUCuurnGY3T3MeTAfkUd5lRdJ9QbpWZL8r53xFt6TR-e3CLT-TpDHo7MLP6Rm84ICnCcp0sPqs7xbm4Qu0FkpXJfvExjy2ZL8kfQ9CAStDg/s1600-h/052508JFlateralis.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205883147446816466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisid80dXxS0drdNJgpAXwCQRNsmacxlZ0QGUCuurnGY3T3MeTAfkUd5lRdJ9QbpWZL8r53xFt6TR-e3CLT-TpDHo7MLP6Rm84ICnCcp0sPqs7xbm4Qu0FkpXJfvExjy2ZL8kfQ9CAStDg/s400/052508JFlateralis.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">The female with her black mask and smoking "gun-metal blue" color. </div><br /><p align="justify">Recently, I've posted the female's photos on two different venomous snake forums so people around the world can see her special color. So far, no one has seen this color in an adult <em>lateralis</em>. Just how rare is she? That's the question I hope to soon answer.</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-18402364540437000242008-05-20T14:16:00.000-05:002008-05-21T14:56:49.021-05:00What's That Smell?<div align="justify">Several times a year, Mother Nature plays a prank on me. The smell of rotting flesh sends me into a panic, making me wonder if someone has placed a sizable dead animal in our yard to make some kind of point. The classic "horse torso" scene from <span style="color:#cc0000;"><em>The Godfather</em></span> usually comes to mind. I quickly come to my senses after I realize our <em>Stapelia</em> <em>gigantea</em> is blooming.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">The <em>Stapelia gigantea </em>is 1 of around 90 species of succulents called Carrion Plants. This particular species is native to southern Africa but was given to us many years ago as a house warming gift by a fellow herper. Several times a year, and typically after a heavy rain, it produces huge buds and flowers, which measure 8 to 12 inches across. Each flower is 5-pointed. A number of common names have been derived from the star-like appearance such as Hairy starfish flower, Star cactus and Starfish cactus. The last two names are a bit misleading since it's not a cactus at all. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">So why the odor? These flowers have evolved to produce properties that attract flies. As I mentioned earlier, the odor is strong and putrid, similar to decaying meat. The flies are lured to the flower and, in turn, pollinate neighboring flowers as they move on in their search for a host to lay their eggs. Personally, I like the good ole bumble-bee and simple wind pollination systems better but, you have to admit, the flower is something to behold.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovEXzx__BPVA3wTavWQz5vEWokZ4IXEC_mIEmP_uV3A72TX_DIPahPWBjvWhFpQu9vGNmNvp1oufKqKo0KODeAhIKnVIRrN6V7R3kgT4rHHgkSJn9dEWpI2CWuSqaZDsPJySZwk0XuUk/s1600-h/052008IndianStar.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202542102435204530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovEXzx__BPVA3wTavWQz5vEWokZ4IXEC_mIEmP_uV3A72TX_DIPahPWBjvWhFpQu9vGNmNvp1oufKqKo0KODeAhIKnVIRrN6V7R3kgT4rHHgkSJn9dEWpI2CWuSqaZDsPJySZwk0XuUk/s400/052008IndianStar.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>The <em>Stapelia gigantea, </em>also known as the Zulu Giant, Carrion flower, Hairy starfish flower, Star cactus and Starfish cactus.<br /></p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-6541860210812259982008-05-12T12:27:00.000-05:002008-05-12T13:10:04.436-05:00Surely, You've Made a Mistake!<div align="justify">I've always admired writers. I don't mean "bloggers" like myself who attempt to write. I mean real writers. People who are good enough to put words into meaning and can even make a living doing what they love. I envy such gifted souls. So what a surprise it was when Darlene showed me a "Google Alert" she received this morning that La Vibora had been given the <em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Blogging With a Purpose</span> </em>award from a REAL writer, <a href="http://www.la-mitchell.com/">L.A. Mitchell</a>. What? La Vibora has a purpose? Surely, she made a mistake!</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">OK, it probably helped that we had supper with her and her husband last Tuesday night in Port Isabel. You see, we've actually known them for some time but, like most people in today's rat race, we really haven't kept in touch that much for over 8 years. It's sad now that I think about it. We had such good times together back in the mid and late 90s before they left Brownsville for greener pastures. After all this time, it was a pleasure to catch up on their lives and family.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I know I'll have an even bigger complex about my writing now, knowing that a real writer is reading it. I encourage you to take time to visit L.A.'s website and be sure to spend time reading her <a href="http://www.la-mitchell.blogspot.com/">blog</a>. You'll recognize she has a gift for writing from the first sentence.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Like so many of her peers have stated, "one day I'll be able to say I knew her when".</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-15871381346517539362008-04-07T20:07:00.000-05:002008-04-08T14:30:27.225-05:00The Aaron Catastrophe<div align="justify"><em>Catastrophe - a violent and sudden change in a feature of the earth.</em><br /><br /></div><div align="justify">There was a violent and sudden change in my world last Saturday night. For weeks, no make that months, I had worked on a plan to make my life simpler. That all changed in the blink of an eye. From now on, the event will be referred to simply as the "Aaron Catastrophe". </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">The evening had been planned for weeks, and was even given a name, "The Probing Party". The name was tossed around and refined and became "Dinner and a Probing". It should have been quite simple really. Friends from the zoo, specifically the herpetarium, would arrive around 6:30 in the evening. We would socialize, look at snakes, have an informal meal then probe snakes. What had been an annual event, with mainly just Brian and myself, was expanded to include everyone from the "herp", as it's affectionately called. After dinner, the real business of probing (sexing) 76 baby snakes would get down to business. It never happened that way.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Two invitees to the event were late and, as it was discovered later, even had supper at a local restaurant. They weren't just a little late, they were 2 hours late! While we patiently waited, alcohol was introduced. As soon as the rum and coke started flowing, I knew the probing would never take place. You don't mix alcohol and venomous snakes, it's just not a good idea. But what happened next would take me a full 9 days to correct. Yes, I'm talking about the "Aaron Catastrophe".</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows about my attention to detail. That attention really comes into play regarding the husbandry and care of my snakes. Over the years, a method has evolved that lets me give the greatest possible care in the limited amount of time I have during my work week. That same standard of care had come into play with last year's sizable amount of babies that needed to be fed on a regular schedule. So, to not totally overwhelm myself, I devised a plan where equal rows of babies would be fed on a certain day and, by keeping notes on an everyday wall calendar, I would have detailed records on when they fed, shed their skins, etc. Simple and efficient, correct? I thought so until the "Aaron Catastrophe". As soon as I heard "<em>Aaron, Jim is going to be upset</em>!", I knew there was a problem. I had NO idea how big the problem actually was...</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0lqbu2r3zbDmcqKCtiEsxSX2gLz-h3_JiT3TXAZRXLhddBpDxb2B-X2I3T1nvO8yUxDj74S93vuWWF5d9UFLkLnxD_ZuarMD2TN8iPTi0jhzTF5bHeZfEO97WMyIJePkgBDG9SVoEfA/s1600-h/032908Aaron.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186675380086197426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0lqbu2r3zbDmcqKCtiEsxSX2gLz-h3_JiT3TXAZRXLhddBpDxb2B-X2I3T1nvO8yUxDj74S93vuWWF5d9UFLkLnxD_ZuarMD2TN8iPTi0jhzTF5bHeZfEO97WMyIJePkgBDG9SVoEfA/s400/032908Aaron.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>The "Aaron Catastrophe". My neat, equal rows of babies (The Viper Bouquet) were now in shambles because Aaron was left unsupervised.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtk6_GhMf4GaT2FRuBM5bDyOj5t4boBxwlxZON566QYAsaf8GFa1PnjpffW9hTtujJOoVP83jNx8waN46d4y7aYp2x294vaBXzx8EAMSdc7uBAofuTa02uHPDfdolLl6U8HncOPzEPCi4/s1600-h/032908Aaron2.jpg"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186675259827113122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtk6_GhMf4GaT2FRuBM5bDyOj5t4boBxwlxZON566QYAsaf8GFa1PnjpffW9hTtujJOoVP83jNx8waN46d4y7aYp2x294vaBXzx8EAMSdc7uBAofuTa02uHPDfdolLl6U8HncOPzEPCi4/s400/032908Aaron2.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Nine days later, peace is restored to my universe. All babies have been fed and placed back in the proper order.</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-79121330077844607892008-03-29T17:01:00.000-05:002008-03-30T11:27:16.159-05:00Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy<div align="justify">I'm not sure if all the country is privy to the Bud Light "Real Men of Genius" commercials. Each one-minute commercial pays mock tribute to some "unsung hero". A couple that stand out in my mind are "Mr Foot-long Hot Dog Inventor" and "Mr Really Bad Toupee Wearer". However, the most recent commercial that's making the airwaves here in deep south Texas is aimed right smack dab at us Native Texans. It's simply called "Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy".</div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Announcer: Today we salute you Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy.<br /></span></em></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Horrific singer: Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy!<br /><br /></span></em><span style="color:#006600;"><em>Announcer: Men from lesser states might know their state's capital, but you? You know your state's bird, tree and even reptile.<br /><br /></em><em>Horrific singer: Love that horny toad!</em></span></div><br /><p align="justify">OK, this is where I sort of got lost because I began going down the state's check list in my mind. State bird. Mockingbird. Check. State tree. Pecan. Check. State reptile. Horned <span style="color:#ff6600;">LIZARD</span>! Check. </p><p align="justify">The Texas horned lizard is the earliest reptile I remember seeing or catching as a child growing up in Bedford. They were always a welcome site in dad's garden and were quite abundant in the school yard of the <a href="http://www.oldbedfordschool.com/">Old Bedford School</a>.</p><p align="justify">Even while living in Midland in the early 80's, it was not uncommon to find them in the alleys behind our house and on most farm roads going south out of the Midland/Odessa region. My daughter, Angela, will attest to this because I frequently made her jump out of the car to see if she could catch them. She was barely 5 years old at the time!</p><p align="justify">Because of habitat loss, the novelty pet trade and the spread of the imported fire ant, the Texas horned lizard's numbers have steadily declined over the years. They are now considered a threatened species across their range in Texas.</p><p align="justify">Since living in deep south Texas, I generally see one or two a year, mainly on the roads in Brooks, Jim Hogg, Starr and Zapata counties. It's still a treat to see one stand up as the car approaches, then dart across the road to safety. I still send my sightings to the <a href="http://hornedlizards.org/">Horned Lizard Conservation Society.</a></p><p align="justify">The names "horned frog","horned toad" and "horny toad" (re: <em>Love that horny toad!</em>) come from the round body and blunt nose which actually give it a toad or frog-like appearance. But this is no toad and it's sure not a frog! The most recent one I found was near Escobas, the most God-forsaken patch of earth I think I've ever seen. Survivorman couldn't survive in Escobas, much less a frog! We're talking Hell on Earth folks! But the hot, sandy habitat along with an abundance of harvester ant mounds (their preferred food), makes it an ideal location for the "horned toad". </p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjND9JwBbWg1HtrII0U6CPRcwyYYfrZpcMr3vhkThgMCwDA0IMYsWHDCFWQY4JBlPfKPrQJhWQx70B_7ad6MLZNrSmNtrUeY_pw1ewCUAqfUj4QRrW1RJJzYKiTeGvsTpheFCfHEunpIpk/s1600-h/TexasHornedLizard.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183287887840234642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjND9JwBbWg1HtrII0U6CPRcwyYYfrZpcMr3vhkThgMCwDA0IMYsWHDCFWQY4JBlPfKPrQJhWQx70B_7ad6MLZNrSmNtrUeY_pw1ewCUAqfUj4QRrW1RJJzYKiTeGvsTpheFCfHEunpIpk/s400/TexasHornedLizard.jpg" border="0" /> </p><p align="center"></a>Texas horned lizard photographed last year near Escobas.</p><br /><p align="justify">By the way, I looked up "Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy" on the Internet. I'll pick it up from the Horrific Singer: </p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Love that horny toad!</span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Announcer: You display your pride with your Lone Star tattoo, "Native Texan" bumper sticker, and contempt for any state that doesn't start with "Tex" and end with "as".</span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Horrific Singer: That spells Texas!</span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Announcer: Sure, there are 49 other states in the Union, but they are smaller, wussier, and the people talk funny.</span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Horrific Singer: Yankee wussies!</span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Announcer: So crack open a nice cold Bud Light, oh lover of the Lone Star state. Because all that flag waving must have made you thirsty! </span></em></p><p align="justify"><em><span style="color:#006600;">Horrific Singer: Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy!</span></em></p><p align="justify">OK, guilty as charged.<br /></p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-70600150352328575112008-03-08T18:19:00.001-06:002008-03-11T12:31:17.263-05:00Would Someone Tell These People it's Just a GAME!!!<div align="justify">An innocent lunch with a good friend has changed my simple life as I once knew it.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em>Darlene: Oh my GOD! Rambo just brought me a promise ring!</em></div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Her "Oh my GOD" rattles me from concentrating on the eyelash viper in front of me. I should be use to it by now. These outbursts have been going on pretty much daily and sometimes several times an evening since that fateful day when it was suggested that Darlene get "Nintendogs" to play on her Nintendo DS.<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxrd-XJSKt-kSZPpcbU6vjd_K2c2iqqhvQANpc68zYZ5A6oPfIOi59ly_sh5o_R4so8LXjPcTDqZ8HYZaoKk-vssjBGUtXggq1vY14HE9AP3B1CmgdNMjC0KybXeNrK5luxKsjKkvffY/s1600-h/030808Nintendogs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175530181601113858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxrd-XJSKt-kSZPpcbU6vjd_K2c2iqqhvQANpc68zYZ5A6oPfIOi59ly_sh5o_R4so8LXjPcTDqZ8HYZaoKk-vssjBGUtXggq1vY14HE9AP3B1CmgdNMjC0KybXeNrK5luxKsjKkvffY/s400/030808Nintendogs.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Don't let this cute face claim you as another victim!</p><p align="justify">It started with one dog, a boxer she named "Rambo". Of course, one dog wasn't enough and now there are three. Along with Rambo, she "owns" a Dalmation named "Cookie" and a Beagle named "Cartman".</p><p align="justify"><em>Darlene: Cookie has already won 1st place in the beginner level obedience trails.</em></p><p align="justify"><em>Me: Blank stare while hoping someone will pass me a can of gasoline and a match.</em></p><p align="justify">If that's not bad enough, now there's a "several times a day" e-mail thread that's passed between Darlene, our GOOD FRIEND who started all of this and now, another good friend who folded to the temptation of owning a "dog". Of course, I endure the misery because I'm ALWAYS cc'd on the e-mails. Example:</p><p align="justify"><em>1st Friend: Daisy (Golden Retriever) will be participating in the Championship disc toss today. Wish her luck. Maximus will be in the championship agility trial. Wish him luck. Crazy (Siberian Husky) still insists on not lying down. Maybe she really is crazy. Jim, why are you resisting? :)</em></p><p align="justify"><em>2nd Friend: Mitzy's update:2 championships for obedience and disc, beginner of course. she's learning tricks quickly too, but the training "mic" doesn't come up sometimes when I want to teach her what she just did, frustrated with that.- got my first stick (umm, yea?)</em></p><p align="justify">Darlene's response is TOO LONG to post here but she congratulates both friends on their "dogs' " accomplishments and gives any "doggie" updates that have happened in the FEW minutes since the last e-mail.</p><p align="justify"><em>Me: Delete, delete, delete.</em></p><p align="justify">Don't get me wrong, I'm happy Darlene is having fun and corresponding more with our friends but this is one of those interactive games where one actually talks to the "dog". OK, now she's got me doing it...talks to the GAME! Our African grey is already mimicking Rambo's bark. It's only a matter of time until he mimics Darlene, saying "<em>sit</em>", "<em>roll-over</em>", "<em>spin</em>", "<em>paw</em>" and my new favorite, "<em>hiney</em>". </p><p align="justify">Can someone pass me a match?!</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-42037292725579399732008-02-24T12:08:00.000-06:002008-02-24T20:05:35.144-06:00The Viper Bouquet<div align="justify">I'll be the first to admit I have a problem. When it comes to lines, they have to be straight. I still press my pants, including shorts, with military creases. My shirt sleeves, long or short, have to be creased right down the middle. Pictures are constantly straightened about the house and in the workplace. I feel sure it goes back to Boot Camp. I learned how to properly fold socks, shirts and pants quickly after finding the entire contents of my locker on the floor a couple of times. Bed sheets and blankets had to be "line tight" with "hospital corners". I just can't get beyond it, to this day. So when Darlene commented on my last post that I had created a "bouquet of vipers" in the kitchen, she wasn't kidding in the least. The remaining 76 eyelash vipers and bush vipers born late last year are all positioned in perfect order in one corner of the kitchen.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170610783092908146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3T-12Ofe15re7HDcdp99ymaI6hubkUPOgBx1thdLUXk7FhcWf1GwNWg90TpnL7J6kGjBGepKRcsYevi7ZJBZ_UE266Oipmz63Ue8oaWhn9CFeiy9Ais0TBx-Rgig4FvEw5VOwL1QbU1w/s400/022408Bouquet.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center">The "viper bouquet". Each baby is housed in 16oz. clear, pre-punched (air holes) deli cups purchased from superiorenterprise.com</div><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITixcTNVd0DhcBgpS-IxKl5P-CWEWQ7jI0SHzVPW95caxW6pQnIkuMC6ItTaI6auxE1z-XiTl50yDqyoIgacoNv8nCcGfI7eak7rZ1PgYI0j_y71OxmU7tXgvNzX2XR72YcuiqWx4jQg/s1600-h/022408DeliCupTop.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170610680013693026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITixcTNVd0DhcBgpS-IxKl5P-CWEWQ7jI0SHzVPW95caxW6pQnIkuMC6ItTaI6auxE1z-XiTl50yDqyoIgacoNv8nCcGfI7eak7rZ1PgYI0j_y71OxmU7tXgvNzX2XR72YcuiqWx4jQg/s400/022408DeliCupTop.jpg" border="0" /></a> Each deli cup is labled, identifying the birth mother and date of birth.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEDbD-VCWz43pbuks73eG5hLE6B3g_LFr_8n29R-w2lBSYLuHwypCkrpT97RjLPN0o7JyP4Q8SKlOWDH-hN8OsletoGs75pDLJ_01uCUkpxUjPDqJDLwE45XtXFG6fe9vIL9n34NK3jg/s1600-h/022408DeliCup.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170610529689837650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEDbD-VCWz43pbuks73eG5hLE6B3g_LFr_8n29R-w2lBSYLuHwypCkrpT97RjLPN0o7JyP4Q8SKlOWDH-hN8OsletoGs75pDLJ_01uCUkpxUjPDqJDLwE45XtXFG6fe9vIL9n34NK3jg/s400/022408DeliCup.jpg" border="0" /></a>A 2oz. "portion cup" is used for a water bowl and to help maintain humidity. Paper towel pieces are used for substrate. Here, a 5 month old baby eyelash viper perches on the edge of the portion cup.</p><p align="justify">Now each of you should be able to create your own lovely viper bouquet. Granted, you'll need a very tolerant and understanding mate like Darlene, who doesn't mind venomous snakes in the kitchen. Oh, just one more thing, inscribed wine glasses are optional.</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-17988763321156449652008-02-17T15:41:00.000-06:002008-02-19T05:55:15.322-06:00How Do I Choose?<div align="justify">I'm faced with a dilemma around this time each year. To most of you reading, it would seem trivial for sure. But to an eyelash viper connoisseur, it can mean the difference between average and spectacular. The simple dilemma is that I'm faced with the task of deciding which babies to keep for future breeding stock. Sounds simple, you say? I can't tell you how many times in the past I've been burned by shipping out what looks like an average or even ugly snake, only to see a knockout (why didn't I keep that!) eyelash viper a few years later. So now that a few months have passed and more than a few meals have been fed, I've come to the time when I constantly pull animals aside and wonder if I should keep them or sell them. The photos below are only a few of my favorites so far.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMohGVD-epQZ_9Mh3DUk2QJAq-Cm-i-FW9vzMJSDYJscuNifnujvF240YTNpTkD3u9GnYvp1XPL_cfQ3rWr4wRmE__AypHd35fIup9hwgnUdiuNVlPgmyVC_6H3csvb-dmM0HpPtfHY4Q/s1600-h/021708HetxXTree2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168068591950405698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMohGVD-epQZ_9Mh3DUk2QJAq-Cm-i-FW9vzMJSDYJscuNifnujvF240YTNpTkD3u9GnYvp1XPL_cfQ3rWr4wRmE__AypHd35fIup9hwgnUdiuNVlPgmyVC_6H3csvb-dmM0HpPtfHY4Q/s400/021708HetxXTree2.jpg" border="0" /></a>Born from a Christmas tree to Christmas tree pairing, this "reduced" patterned baby was born here September 27th, 2007. I like the faint pattern as well as the obvious mid-dorsal stripe that will only become more dominate with age.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOj6KwJxIeHvRbkxtF9ptqusS-hqajEOHPueNm3y4_KkjmOR6oLxCiYKYmXfk_m4gau0PqCfr5y75_9q8RXCjPzZgFwqmui3Pcf37sjjTymt6whtz0btBxPbqv1AZMStycn6R21HEEHE/s1600-h/021708Pink.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168068278417793058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOj6KwJxIeHvRbkxtF9ptqusS-hqajEOHPueNm3y4_KkjmOR6oLxCiYKYmXfk_m4gau0PqCfr5y75_9q8RXCjPzZgFwqmui3Pcf37sjjTymt6whtz0btBxPbqv1AZMStycn6R21HEEHE/s400/021708Pink.jpg" border="0" /></a> This odd looking fellow came from a "Pink" male crossed with a Christmas tree female. I like him for the bloodlines alone but the light pastel pinks and greens along with the dominate mid-dorsal stripe lead me to believe this guy will be a knockout as an adult. Born here October 21st.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPAk19V_nHCzNPkWyc0piomiHa-dGioh6MIbekWXHV3iJPuc31GL8UL9mbFjUXhtNiSReKtJxEbJh31sBmStfNJdoN0dbHQZoiCgqU9xDlpuJr_ctVVsSxzGIho-Fw8QUFhU2VkHJXKo/s1600-h/021708Het.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168068098029166610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPAk19V_nHCzNPkWyc0piomiHa-dGioh6MIbekWXHV3iJPuc31GL8UL9mbFjUXhtNiSReKtJxEbJh31sBmStfNJdoN0dbHQZoiCgqU9xDlpuJr_ctVVsSxzGIho-Fw8QUFhU2VkHJXKo/s400/021708Het.jpg" border="0" /></a> Another oddity produced from a Christmas tree male bred to a Heterozygous tiger female. The pattern is nearly perfect and, although dark, from my experience will turn multi-colored with yellow and green bands by 3-years of age. Born here October 6th.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9QsBMgOModpFq_lo1NU0bOG_2DGkObDPGiOm-UoJZLBizKZacvT7evi8uW7Ts3MBj-kcKBFqCrMosKv9z5sFBrCeAuiF6VD6QkYyt4oTAif5ug-nrj6NXKIJsSd9RtQRLfbxbds-zBQ/s1600-h/021708XTree.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168067857510998018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9QsBMgOModpFq_lo1NU0bOG_2DGkObDPGiOm-UoJZLBizKZacvT7evi8uW7Ts3MBj-kcKBFqCrMosKv9z5sFBrCeAuiF6VD6QkYyt4oTAif5ug-nrj6NXKIJsSd9RtQRLfbxbds-zBQ/s400/021708XTree.jpg" border="0" /></a>I keep coming back to this one as my probable favorite. This is another baby produced from a Christmas tree to Christmas tree pairing, born here October 9th. The almost perfect bands will turn gold to lemon yellow within a couple of years.<br /><br />So do you see my dilemma? With just under 70 baby eyelash to pick from, how do I choose? Let me see, eeny, meenie, miny, moe... </div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-66812036161534759522008-01-14T19:48:00.000-06:002008-01-16T06:47:49.586-06:00Sure Doesn't Feel Like January<div align="justify">While other parts of the country are buried under snow and ice, we are experiencing a down right mild winter here in deep south Texas. December and January, so far, have seen daily averages nearly 5 degrees above normal. The mild temperatures have even brought the tarantulas out early. I found this young female at work, in our upper air building, where we inflate weather balloons. I have to admit, I didn't see her clinging to the bottom of the overhead door until it was all the way open. Fully open, the base of the door is approximately 13 feet overhead. Had she fallen from even a fraction of that height, her delicate abdomen would have exploded like a dropped light bulb. So, I eased the door back down and was able to pluck her from her predicament before she fell to a certain death.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJy8RE5IwG7eSuThiVhFHVGX3BzUnE3gO2M-OLq05mXjQ59V9q5BjyzYWURonDAQ78B6vmUMsxvVZNS7pjqJ8eSxuzIIEMYS4dgXcJaGpWeWylFDdvNxLIv-T0YkVC-CON1c45ietx5Q/s1600-h/010308TexasTan.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155514565232320962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJy8RE5IwG7eSuThiVhFHVGX3BzUnE3gO2M-OLq05mXjQ59V9q5BjyzYWURonDAQ78B6vmUMsxvVZNS7pjqJ8eSxuzIIEMYS4dgXcJaGpWeWylFDdvNxLIv-T0YkVC-CON1c45ietx5Q/s400/010308TexasTan.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="justify"></a>In my experience, female Texas Tan tarantulas have always been relatively calm and have never offered to bite while being handled. Males, on the other hand, nearly always display aggressive behavior and have even jumped on my shoes as I've tried to move them on their way. This little lady was a pleasure to work with as I positioned her for these photos.</p><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWrkkegN3TXK7XYByhujPbhuURiiG42ihMJqN2YQ3lqLEoyX805ACeyf2FzvdXjx4HNNcJ9QZqV0EzXCGc-KsUUKUqIuJUIQ0N1hU-Qnv3rhVCuCKfX9Xxu73ebvJUSpCxZu64sp51ho/s1600-h/010308TexasTan2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155514475038007730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWrkkegN3TXK7XYByhujPbhuURiiG42ihMJqN2YQ3lqLEoyX805ACeyf2FzvdXjx4HNNcJ9QZqV0EzXCGc-KsUUKUqIuJUIQ0N1hU-Qnv3rhVCuCKfX9Xxu73ebvJUSpCxZu64sp51ho/s400/010308TexasTan2.jpg" border="0" /></a> I hope our mild winter continues and long range computer models show it will. Living in deep south Texas definitely has it's advantages and seeing wildlife throughout the year is only one of them.</div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Happy New Year everyone! </div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-16051244013819206752007-12-24T11:45:00.000-06:002007-12-24T11:51:11.901-06:00Happy Holidays!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBl67ts5n3SAlORMmbbcF_OZ_8jeyhfHMRH49Oh0R9nHQt1XkcKgU-nXHyiIKOGetNWVYOKSd8toSxmHfhS_dW80xNlNkR6CQUTLGaPpgB6dPGu04MeLC8NEWlE-f6tNOAY2r7naOlz4U/s1600-h/122407XMasWreath.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147597705505292066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBl67ts5n3SAlORMmbbcF_OZ_8jeyhfHMRH49Oh0R9nHQt1XkcKgU-nXHyiIKOGetNWVYOKSd8toSxmHfhS_dW80xNlNkR6CQUTLGaPpgB6dPGu04MeLC8NEWlE-f6tNOAY2r7naOlz4U/s400/122407XMasWreath.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">May your Christmas Wreaths be full of eyelash vipers! Darlene and I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and the best for the coming New Year!</span></div>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-52396296659152609072007-12-17T20:47:00.001-06:002007-12-19T20:33:05.503-06:00If You Feed Them, They Will Come!<div align="justify">In my previous post, I mentioned how living on a resaca afforded us the opportunity to see many forms of wildlife while living in the city. In an even earlier post, I told of my fondness for opossums. It's plagued me since childhood so I doubt I'll ever get over it. So, it should come as no surprise that when I recently saw one walk by the patio door, I decided to try and get a closer look by offering it food. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I began leaving red grapes, bananas and even sliced oranges as an offering only to find the plate empty the next morning with no sighting of an opossum. That all changed last week when suddenly, there was the opossum eating it's nightly offering of fruit right in front of the sliding glass door. It was a nearly all black specimen and, I feel quite sure, the sibling of the one I rescued in the pool earlier this year. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">The nightly ritual continued as the opossum began to show up on the patio just after sunset. Although still shy, it seemed comfortable watching us watching it eat. Saturday evening, I went through the routine of preparing a meal for the opossum, including some cat food now for protein. It showed up right on time. About a half hour later, another opossum suddenly appeared, much the same size but obviously lighter in color. For the first encounter, it seemed totally at ease watching us and it even looked up at the television a time or two! I feel sure, too, that this is another sibling because of the size similarity.</div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">If you're at all interested in learning more about these fascinating animals, check out the <a href="http://www.opossum.org" target="blank">National Opossum Society</a>. I totally agree with their philosophy, "it's nice to watch an occasional opossum waddle by". It's even nicer when they spend time with you in the evening.</div><div align="justify"><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnL6XKKOoQmSM6XMwEXO2c35AFSdjNF8yyJXiUkIvIBlx1vJzsmrGjufBESzVpQS_N75a7hdk5hnWHmdOfgZEkGsfPCmliT14-A2-39x5XKSX9jqcFbruTptEEmVK9F4OuvlDoURwkVs/s1600-h/121707LgtPossum2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145139511038197522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnL6XKKOoQmSM6XMwEXO2c35AFSdjNF8yyJXiUkIvIBlx1vJzsmrGjufBESzVpQS_N75a7hdk5hnWHmdOfgZEkGsfPCmliT14-A2-39x5XKSX9jqcFbruTptEEmVK9F4OuvlDoURwkVs/s400/121707LgtPossum2.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>The opossum that showed up this past Saturday evening. Since then, it has been a nightly visitor but always AFTER the black opossum.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IfukVoZ6cN3Bv8lqiTqO4mYPIox80r8NQjxDifcM1HBz6iSINiPHFB6EkkmSUlFIsaeCfn43f2HW5kKozfki565R_Kgu6lels96DC3PGNfZy0H5V_xuAgKiCV01qJMUzvqRZTEiz-QU/s1600-h/121707DrkPossum2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145139339239505666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IfukVoZ6cN3Bv8lqiTqO4mYPIox80r8NQjxDifcM1HBz6iSINiPHFB6EkkmSUlFIsaeCfn43f2HW5kKozfki565R_Kgu6lels96DC3PGNfZy0H5V_xuAgKiCV01qJMUzvqRZTEiz-QU/s400/121707DrkPossum2.jpg" border="0" /></a>The nearly all black opossum that began visiting last week. He/she shows up minutes after sunset.</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4596495158374774442.post-43398274518681302612007-11-29T18:31:00.000-06:002007-12-02T07:44:33.039-06:00Right in Our Own Backyard!<div align="justify">Living on one of Brownsville's beautiful resacas allows us to view many forms of wildlife, literally in our own backyard. Numerous species of insects, birds, mammals and even reptiles have taken time to visit us as they move along the natural corridors the resacas provide through the city. Our latest visitors are a large flock of Black-bellied whistling ducks.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">The Black-bellied whistling duck is native to tropical Central and South America and has steadily moved northward in it's range to deep south Texas. Sightings seasonally in the desert southwest and in southeast Louisiana are a welcome sign that their range and numbers continue to expand.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">This particular flock arrived on our resaca last week, just prior to our last cold front. What convenient timing considering I had just begun putting food in the bird feeders for our winter friends from the north. Now, without fail, they wait for me to put out food each morning. First comes the unmistakable noisy whistling that echos along the entire resaca. Then they congregate just outside the fence that separates the yard from the water (put up to keep BIG DOGS from tumbling into the resaca). They then take turns on the fence, almost jockeying for position. Finally, the procession begins into the yard, one after the other, until the entire flock is inside the fence.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Now it really gets interesting. How do they get the food from a small feeder you ask? They actually take turns flying up to the feeder to tip it, spilling seed onto the ground. And several times, including today, I've found the bottom of the feeder on the ground. How they've mastered this technique is beyond me but with one lucky hit, the bottom drops out and the entire contents of the feeder is on the ground for the morning feast.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I don't know how long this flock will stick around our yard but I hope they stay awhile. They're becoming braver day by day and have even come all the way around the pool to just outside the back patio where they watch me watch them. It's almost as if they're asking, "Can't you give us just a little more food?" Now that I think about it, it's a good thing Darlene works all day. She would probably already have them eating INSIDE the house, next to By-Tor! </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d3TnLdEBkMF0PKJMyo5_A5vHxMI8m1UNcRRhuL95pjgfunsCS0AQCoAadnP9Lt4bcHi-WJXj7093mn9aTLzgg4BicQdWhHbw9-i7XHWnynaXCgMvLUAyYKkv2dwWiojVt1FUVxLkmIA/s1600-h/112807WhistlingDucks2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138425235897450722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6d3TnLdEBkMF0PKJMyo5_A5vHxMI8m1UNcRRhuL95pjgfunsCS0AQCoAadnP9Lt4bcHi-WJXj7093mn9aTLzgg4BicQdWhHbw9-i7XHWnynaXCgMvLUAyYKkv2dwWiojVt1FUVxLkmIA/s400/112807WhistlingDucks2.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Early morning light casts a perfect silhouette of Black-bellied whistling ducks waiting for their daily feeding.<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNmb1hfjMZByNQbwaHOvYzuZ60pqVl8FzDvmf6rptJn3h3WXBaFs446aiYGozXSAJONPN1DxBm-KL9Kwz2x9sfXo92Eo9VgOEveR2wWIhrsnvZxlegmBdak4fqcKU4pwmokou75PeRro/s1600-h/112807WhistlingDucks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138425149998104786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNmb1hfjMZByNQbwaHOvYzuZ60pqVl8FzDvmf6rptJn3h3WXBaFs446aiYGozXSAJONPN1DxBm-KL9Kwz2x9sfXo92Eo9VgOEveR2wWIhrsnvZxlegmBdak4fqcKU4pwmokou75PeRro/s400/112807WhistlingDucks.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Hey! I was here first!<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GdlGaQ9R1kRxyxIOWhacjCMfWn6dhaiPN4pbGbmwWJS3SKJvjDQW9JnUx_QezZBbWQbQRL-OTPYHLHx9qiS_dcAXMH-7REboW5DrKkMswGLXAzkY4ST8CzKl-dhMjqN8W8K_4u3ZQ80/s1600-h/112807WhistlingDucks4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138424943839674562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GdlGaQ9R1kRxyxIOWhacjCMfWn6dhaiPN4pbGbmwWJS3SKJvjDQW9JnUx_QezZBbWQbQRL-OTPYHLHx9qiS_dcAXMH-7REboW5DrKkMswGLXAzkY4ST8CzKl-dhMjqN8W8K_4u3ZQ80/s400/112807WhistlingDucks4.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>The flock converges on the pool. Note the two on the bird bath and the one on top of the chair! The unmistakable yellow breast and black mask of a Greater Kiskadee can be seen on the fence in the left of the photo.<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDmdMrvlw7Vi2U8brtLudh_-o4-qcefL45hn0-bcQ9HqaWpIpYalcH4fxvsvh7edgSMQEKaAo2rFeN4mP55_ijhmED4EQXvaSkJoERy2t-3RT2j8vQtaN82xY_KVYCozWNR1GNppjOzU/s1600-h/112807WhistlingDucks3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138424819285622962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDmdMrvlw7Vi2U8brtLudh_-o4-qcefL45hn0-bcQ9HqaWpIpYalcH4fxvsvh7edgSMQEKaAo2rFeN4mP55_ijhmED4EQXvaSkJoERy2t-3RT2j8vQtaN82xY_KVYCozWNR1GNppjOzU/s400/112807WhistlingDucks3.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>After emptying the feeder, part of the flock moves closer to the house, patiently waiting for a re-fill.</p>Jimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01023798760184773635noreply@blogger.com13