Responding to the Bat Signal

In the course of exploring Forgotten Brewery Caves and other underground places I occasionally encounter bats.  This has led to collaboration with the Department of Natural Resources and their "bat people".  With the emergence of White Nose Syndrome and its disastrous impact on hibernating bats I sometimes show them new places where bats exist.  In return they've taken me on the occasional bat counting survey.  So I know my Wisconsin bats pretty well.

I can't say I'm a big fan.  They are still creepy, and if they bite you there is the matter of painful rabies shots.  Also, they have issues with boundaries.  More on that presently.  But I'm appreciative of all the bugs they eat, and on some level I am rooting for the under loved underdog species.

Recently I've gotten acquainted with some Big Brown Bats.  In the last month or so there have been five that have turned up in our house, usually doing frantic circles around our bedroom.  Here's a pleasant face to abruptly wake up to:

Yes, no fun to have that whispering squeak nothings in your ear, even if they are largely out of the range of human hearing.

In an old house this happens, so there's a routine.  I'm alerted to the presence of a bat.  I get out of bed, collect my gear, don additional garments, catch the bat with a fish landing net, then release it to the Great Outdoors.  How exactly they are getting access to our Great Indoors remains a mystery.

The other night I did a nifty mid air interception and brought the captive out to the front porch.  But his wing was pretty tangled up in the netting.  I tried this and that, eventually putting on gloves and snipping some parts of the net free.  Bat hopped, flopped and chittered away.  I hope all is well, there still seemed to be some net stuck to one wing.  I'm only going to do so much for my squeaky pals, not gonna risk rabies shots.  But it was time for an upgrade.

The landing net was now basically useless for fishing purposes.  Guess I'd snipped a few more strands of net than I'd figured.

So I decided to modify it as a dedicated bat catcher.

On the right is an old pillow case.  It almost but not quite fits over the aluminum parts of the net.

I affixed the pillow case to the inner aspect of the net, with the extra ballooning out the now enlarged holes in the net.

This way I can dispense with the trash can I generally bring on bat missions.  With this it should just be net 'em, then flip it over and trap the bat in the long "tail" of the net.

Various things could be used to make the attachment.  I had brown duct tape on hand.  And I figured Big Brown Bats might like it.

And of course, I asked my long suffering but occasionally appreciate wife to take a picture of me kitted out for the next Bat Capture.  Probably this level of preparedness means they'll quit sneaking in.  That would actually be ok.

Frog Mummy

 

I was up north the other day, doing a bit of prep on the new deer hunting property.  There are two nice box stands, each about 15 feet up in the air.

Unfortunately they seem to have been built by and for a guy who we figure was 7 feet tall and preferred to stand for hours on end waiting for a deer to maybe saunter past.

As this can sometimes take a while, it's preferable to have an option to sit down.  But normal chairs, while they might give you a shot at passing flights of ducks, do not get you anywhere close to being able to sight out those ridiculously high up windows.

So I built this out of various stuff.  Free swiveling bar stool, steel milk crate, etc.  Works pretty well but we'll have to add or subtract a bit more underneath plywood to accommodate hunters of various heights.  

As I was taking this picture from the door way I looked to one side and saw something rather alarming.....

Yikes, it's a mummified tree frog!  Although it has a rather zombie like appearance I guess its just part of Nature.

Hank and the Coyotes

Hank is a dog with large ears and a small brain.  So while he loves being up at the cabin he gets a bit confused.  Happily confused for the most part.  So many things to sniff at, so many things to roll in!

Sounds confuse him.  When hummingbirds come to the feeder he can hear their noisy approach but not immediately spot them.  Non specific barking ensues.

The other day my wife was playing crow noises on her ipad, in an attempt to chase away a pesky family of same.  Hank cocked his head in a bemused fashion.....more bird noises without evidence of birds.

So I decided to play him some coyote sounds.  Here's his reaction....

Hank got his name from a series of books featuring Hank the Cow Dog.  Apt, as that Hank also was a dim bulb, ever goofing up in his tireless efforts to guard the ranch from non existent threats.

In one of the books Hank went Outlaw and ran off to join a pack of coyotes.  One of the coyote gals was pretty taken with that Hank.  For this Hank, I don't see that working out for him.

Karma of the Caterpillar

What a remarkable summer.  It started early, and just kept on going. We are still enjoying warm days even as the October shadows lengthen.  The deer are grow plump, and alas, clever.  And wooly bear caterpillars are everywhere, crawling hither and yon on their enigmatic missions.

I write something about the woolies every fall, as they are said to be a harbinger; an oracle.  Their color pattern allegedly predicts the severity of the upcoming winter.  

A few days ago while out at The Homestead I saw my son's lunatic dog jumping about and snapping at something on the ground.  She's a bit like a malicious cat in this respect, she'll capture baby bunnies and such and toy with them.  I do not approve.

So I went over and found that the object of her taunting was a curled up wooly bear caterpillar.  Well, I rescued the little guy, took him off to a safe location and said: "Hey, how 'bout a mild winter?"

I knew this was a big ask from a little guy, but it is rather their forte, so what the heck.

An hour later I went for a stroll down their dirt road.  Just enjoying the day and getting some fresh air after an afternoon breathing through a respirator while installing insulation.  And right there on the road I found something extremely implausible.  This:

It's a box of ammunition.  Now you might think this is not totally implausible as there is a rifle range down the road a bit and yes, things do bounce out of pickup trucks.  But I've never found ammo laying around - other than my archaeology experience at Ypres - and to have this appear just when I'm getting discouraged about hunting prospects.....and to have it be in the somewhat atypical caliber that I actually hunt with????

Thanks Wooly.  I know one small bug does not have the power to change the climate for a continent.  But hey, a box of ammo that retails for around $37?  You've out done yourself.

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Addendum.  Lest any one doubt the Power of the W-Bear it should be noted that the spot where I got a deer (albeit with the crossbow) was about 75 yards into the woods directly even with where I found this gift of the caterpillars!

Hank versus that Snooty French Squirrel

Hey, all squirrels are punks.  On that humans and dogs concur.  My dog Hank is particularly antagonistic to them.

On a recent walk we came across an unusual one.  Very snazzy dresser, sleek black and white trim.  And snooty.  Barely gave us the time of day.  I've encountered this attitude and fashion sense mostly in Paris, so I figure its a French squirrel.

In the interests of international amity I did not let Hank off the leash, so he had to content himself with giving ol' Monsieur LePeu an earful of canine cursing.

Eve's Revenge

Seen at a surplus store.  Evidently a real product, but alas, nobody named Eve actually associated with the company.

And no, there is no connection to last Friday's post on Rattlesnake Junction.

Hank Versus the Rodents of Unusual Size

Hank loves walks so much he's willing to compromise on some basic dog instincts.  I do not care to have my shoulder pulled out of its socket just because he sees a squirrel a block away.  So I issue the command:  "Leave 'em."  Sometimes for extra emphasis I remind him: "They're punks!"

It works fairly well unless one of them is extra insolent and/or appears suddenly and at close range.

You can't just have him chasing any old fur bearing critter.  Some of them would likely take a piece out of him.

The other day we were walking when this critter was prowling around in the tall grass.  It's a wood chuck, aka ground hog.  He did not give Hank any respect at all....

But this was at least a teenage punk 'chuck, not a full sized one.  On another section of our route Hank was very curious about this.  Hmmm, smells like a really big Squirrel!

Really big is right.  Beavers can be bigger than Hank, and have teeth sufficient to gnaw down trees.  

As the silly mutt shows evidence of Dog Bravery towards bears, Amish horse and buggies, UPS guys, etc, its best he does not get close to Rodents with Attitude.

Dead Worm Number Five

When I'm off on archaeology digs I have a pretty good "eye" that lets me trowel away at a brisk clip and still detect changes in soil color, texture or the presence of small artifacts.  The problem is, I can never turn it off.  So on my daily walks with Hank the Dog I'm always seeing things.

Here a worm did not make it off the sidewalk when the sun got hot.  Farewell, Worm Number Five.

When I see worms struggling across sidewalks and streets I always - in the interest of Karma - pick them up and toss them to safety.  Of course I can't save them all.

Home with the Turkeys

Back home.

It's a long journey.  We woke up at 6am back in Northern England.  A fellow excavator gave us a ride to the Newcastle airport for a flight leaving at 9:30. 

Newcastle has a weird airport....you have to get there early as with any international flight.  But after clearing security you wait in a large, heavily commercial hall until 20 or 30 minutes before your departure time.  I guess they want you to buy all kinds of duty free swag.  The smell of high priced perfume is pervasive.  But its sort of fun.  There are always Stag Parties and Bachelorette Parties heading off to various destinations.  Elaborate and often embarrassing costumes are often involved.

One hour flight to Amsterdam.  With a tight connection on the other side it was nice that they read out the gate connections for you before landing.

We walked straight from the Newcastle flight to the Minneapolis one which was already boarding.  International transport is really quite remarkable.

I spent the 8 hour flight watching movies.  I had not previously seen Barbie, which I mostly enjoyed as unserious satire.  

Short walk to the shuttle which took us to the larger town near us, then a short drive home.  

6am to 6pm, although of course we were flying west and crossed five or six time zones.

When we got home there were wild turkeys walking around on our front lawn.  Having never seen such critters in town before I did consider the possibility I was hallucinating.  But the photographic evidence suggests otherwise.

A few days of catching up are in order.  I'll have additional thoughts on travels and digging over the next couple of weeks.

Magna 2024 - Amphibians

No update yesterday.  It rained all day and the site could not be walked in much less excavated.  We had talks in the morning and a nice walk in the afternoon.  

Today, our last day of the session, started out better.  I was delighted when at start of work a wheelbarrow was turned over and a rather handsome toad had taken up residence under it.  I guess Thursday was even too wet for him.

And of course, no opportunity for a silly photo should ever be missed.....

Then it was most of a day of digging.  Everything was just a little harder.  The trowel comes away coated in mud.  Makes you remember that they are usually used by brick layers to slather on mortar.  Every bucket and wheel barrow clings to its load of extra heavy stuff.  And you have to step carefully on slick surfaces.  Still, a fair bit of work got done.  I was just too busy to take pictures of it.

I'll have some follow up thoughts on the dig in a few days.

Cheers!

Crrroooaaakkkk!

Non Zero Odds of a Stinkbug

I'm occasionally advised that turning a Dixie Cup upside down is Wrong, yet another example of the Error of my Ways.

To which I'd respond that the odds of a Brown Marmorated Stink Bug  (YUCK! ) crawling in there, while not high, cannot be regarded as zero.....

FIRST Robotics 2024 - Tournament Bound Again

And here we go again.  The FIRST robotics competition season runs for six weeks.  This year we had the longest possible gap between two events, doing a Week One and now a Week Six event.  And boy howdy, we needed every day of the interval to pull off a complete rebuild of the robot.

Elevator...gone.  Number of motors, down from 17 to 15.  Lots of pulleys, cables, brackets, wires....adios.  It is a cleaner robot and one that has survived several in testing impacts with solid objects.  We'd like more time of course, but here's what the critter could do with four days to deadline....

Actually not bad.  There's fine tuning to do.  We'd like the spin up to taking a shot to be a little shorter.  And the velocity is certainly enough to take shots from further out once the auto tracking systems are tweaked a bit.  In fact it has enough power that it broke the board on the top of our testing target.  Our drive team are confident they can handle it.

The glitches, and the promise of excellence, both are related to the robot's ability to "see" where it is on the field.  It does this with cameras, processors and software algorithms.  It can find, navigate towards and inhale game pieces.  It can go the the right spot on the field.  It can lock onto a target and adjust angles to make the shot.  Usually.

So, how many eyes does this require?

The robot needs binocular vision for three different kinds of targets, so like many spiders it has six "eyes".  Two of them - BETA and GAMMA - are right on the front of the intake, constantly searching for things that look like large, orange bagels....

Well, we'll see how it all works out.  Of course the main goal is the kids learning things.  By that standard it has been an outstanding season.  Building robots is sort of a secondary....

Beached Whale

So here's something I had not seen before.  And likely never will again.

Near one of the areas we fish at a 70 foot long Sperm Whale had run aground on the rocks just off shore.  Poor guy couldn't get free even with a rising tide.

Obviously this sort of thing draws a crowd.....

It's a weird sensation.  You want to do something to help.  Maybe have everyone wade out there, grab a fin and roll the poor beastie out into deeper water.  But of course, logically, an adult sperm whale of this size can weigh 45 tons, and there is nothing you can do to help them out of a situation like this.

We hung around a while.  Once the novelty wore off it felt rather sad.  On our way back up the beach a couple of sheriff's deputies in an ATV had gotten stuck in some loose sand.  Our party of hardy Midwesterners having plenty of experience with vehicles and snow drifts was happy to put a shoulder into things and help get them unstuck.  It made us feel a bit better after not being able to do anything at all for the whale.

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Update. Sadly, but predictably, the whale did not survive.  Evidently it was only 45 feet long.  I don't think that beach will be a popular destination in the next few warm, sunny days.

Random Wanderings in Florida

It feels a little weird to take an "escape winter" trip to Florida in early March, as we've barely had a winter to escape from!  And it is a journey with no defined agenda.  Relax.  Try not to get sunburned.  Do some things we've enjoyed before, maybe a few new ones.  Don't expect a theme.  Well, there will be another Strange Fishing theme but other than that it will just be whatever happens.

Staying in a beachy area I suspect we'll not see many examples of true Florida Man.  I did spot this nifty service vehicle in the grocery store parking lot and thought the cartoonish version of "Boomer" looked a bit F.M.

That is Boomer by the way.  We had a nice chat.  Like many in the local service industries he is a transplant.  A Michigan Man specifically.

Same store, an outdoor kiosk with all manner of beach supplies.

Of course the alligator floaty raft catches the eye.  At first glance it appeared to have a phenomenal number of safety precautions.  But on closer inspection....

It is really just the same basic instructions in about 18 different languages.  The image in upper left pretty much says it all.  Well my goodness, I'd not have ended up floated dead in the water if you'd thought to include RISIKO FOR DRUKNING.  What, it was there?  Well I thought it was saying I should get drunk, which I of course did.....

I did make it to the beach after that.  I kept my feet on dry land at all times.  There are gangs there.  Bird gangs.

Each species has its own "turf" and its own comfort level when humans draw near.  The little birds skittered away.  The Cool Birds, well, they know they are Cool..

Hangin' out, tryin' to look Cool.  More Florida stuff for a few days to come.

How Archaeologists Fill Bird Feeders

You'll either understand this at a glance or never understand it.

Just as ancient Rome had free bread for the fickle, noisy proles, so also do I provide for a collection of feathered idlers and the furry scavengers who follow in their wake.  

Tales of the Old Lieutenant

Now and then I do a bit of housekeeping, cleaning out drawers and such.  Recently I came across a big stack of cards.  It was a mixed batch.  Sympathy cards after my dad's death.  Thank you cards from families of robotics students.  Well wishes on my retirement from family practice 16 years ago.  When you switch over to the less personal ER work you don't get quite as much in the way of personal thank yous.

One note was about 20 years old.  It was from the family of a long time patient and thanked me for a story I had told at his visitation.  This was something I had entirely forgotten about, but I sure remember both the patient and the story.

The Old Lieutenant was a classic example of The Greatest Generation.  Small town boy.  Joined the Army.  Became a combat officer in Italy.  Came home, started a career, married his sweetheart and had a bunch of great kids.

Unfortunately he also was of the "smoke 'em if you got 'em" generation, and carried his pack a day habit with him when he took off the olive drab and put on civvies.  He had emphysema, and bad.

I took care of him for many years.  After a while he and I both had things pretty well figured out.  What combination of breathing treatments, steroids, antibiotics and oxygen would pull him through a flare up.  Usually we were on the same page.  But the man could be stubborn.

Once I had him in the office and could see that he was heading for trouble.  His color was not good. He was breathing a little faster than he should.  The long ago sweetheart and I both wanted him admitted but he refused.  Well I was always of the opinion that I work for him not the other way around, so we opted to try him with home treatment.

I was expecting to get a late night call that he was on his way in by ambulance but instead he turned up a few days later in the office doing better.

He did admit that it was touch and go for a while.  Between lack of sleep, low oxygen levels and the side effects of big doses of steroids he was both short of breath and feeling confused.  He found that at least the breathing aspect of this was better if he sat in his lawn chair in his garage with the door open.  A gentle breeze, a little cool air.....it was a minor bit of relief but a welcome one.

And then he looked up and saw a large, hostile raccoon staring at him.

Now, when you have been hallucinating there are limited options for deciding whether a sinister apparition like this is real or not.  He yelled at it.  Nothing.  He waited for it to go away.  It did not.  Finally he decided that either the raccoon was imaginary or it was a seriously ill and deranged critter.  The raccoon perhaps had a similar notion.

But what the raccoon did not have was a shovel.

Mustering his considerable determination he stood up, grabbed the nearest garden tool and beat the potentially rabid raccoon to death.

That's how he knew he'd make it through this flare up, and in fact I had the privilege of caring for him for several years after that.

Taxidermy Bar

Because tastes in such matters vary widely you'll find different "themes" in saloons, taverns, pubs and like establishments.  Biker bars.  Sports bars.  Gay bars.  It's all very egalitarian.

One interesting subvariant here in Wisconsin is the Taxidermy Bar.  And reigning supreme among them is The Moccasin Bar in Hayward.

A bit dowdy on the outside but don't be deterred.  Inside....well, it was something I simply had to show our visitor from England.

It looks to have had a tidy up and remodel since the last time I was there.  So on the surface it's now just your average Wisconsin bar.

But all around the walls....

Stuffed critters acting out various dramas.  Here's a dishonest poker game.

Tipsy ground squirrels belting out "Sweet Adeline".  I'm guessing some patrons confuse it with "Sweet Caroline" and expect the little rodents to add on "Bup, bup, Bah!"

A Kangaroo Court, sadly lacking kangaroos.

Although the implication is that he was framed, the Badger does look pretty guilty....

A boxing match.

There are also many large stuffed fish including what was once the World Record Muskie.  This status was always considered controversial so perhaps it is best that another and larger fish took the crown.

Ah well.  A chance to show our guest - yes, that's her up above - something she won't see in New York or LA.  Shockingly the Moccasin, cultural treasure that it is, is not listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  Maybe somebody should do something about that?  

A Scaly Enigma

Seen on a recent walk.  Empty cages, a wooden hutch of some sort, empty aquarium tanks and a sign indicating the house did "Rescues" of unwanted reptiles.  I wondered where they all were.  But evidently this is still a going concern.  Maybe its just a bit of housekeeping.

Our Companions and Jesters.....

I recall a quote by C.S. Lewis that describes animals as "our companions and jesters".  Of course I can't track it down, even with the help of the internet.  I think it is in Perelandra somewhere. * Well what the heck, if he didn't say it he should have.  And maybe made it specific to dogs.

Dogs have been there for us ever since their shaggy ancestors snuck up close to the fire beside our equally shaggy predecessors.  

I periodically get a chance to take care of our kid's dogs.  Two of them, Reba and Hank, were over the other day.

 

I know there are some people who identify more strongly with cats.  To each their own I guess.  But I prefer dogs.  They have all of mankind's major virtues.  Bravery, Loyalty, Patience.  They have none of our vices except Immoderation.  They will eat, sleep and procreate as much as is Caninely possible.

One of these days I'll have to get another dog of my own.  I figure I'll wait until I lose a step or two and am snoozing in the sun whenever possible.  Then I'll adopt an old dog with similar inclinations.

*As it happens the quote, when I finally tracked it down, is from the subsequent book in the series "That Hideous Strength":  

"We are now as we ought to be - between the angels who are our elder brothers and the beasts who are our jesters, servants and playfellows".

Family Reunion Part Four - Beer Rejected by Raccoons

We eat well at our family reunions.  One night it is brats, for which cheap beer is necessary for marinade.  Another night it is fish tacos.  This requires us to catch fish.  Once cleaned the fish guts need to be disposed of.

There have been several bear sightings in the area so I figured we'd take the fish guts out a safe distance into the woods and set up trail cams to see who or what came to eat them.  A can of the cheap brewski was added.  I do appreciate our local varmints.

Here's an after hours customer....

He was havin' none of that cheap swill....

I think this last image just shows him with the tail end of a bluegill sticking out of his mouth, but if you told me that raccoons have both large fangs and a demonic forked tongue I'd likely take your word for it.  Anyway, it seems he did not care for the beer.