All the dumb things

A cautionary tale in development

Archive for the ‘Animals’ Category

This blog has moved

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 13, 2007

I’ve moved this blog to my own domain 

http://blog.allthedumbthings.com/

Posted in All the Dumb Things, Animals, Art, Carnival, Carpentry, Climbing, Dams, Food, Gardening, Kites, Masks, Music, People, Photography, Planes, Recipes, Theatre, Travel, Uncategorized, Worthy things, Writing | Leave a Comment »

Elephants know right from wrong. Pak Lay, Laos. 1974

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 12, 2007

Not very many foreigners were visiting Pay Lay back in 1974 and why would they? The nearby Plain of Jars was inaccessible due to the civil war, so there was almost nothing worth seeing; it was and probably still is a sleepy postcolonial backwater.  Pak Lay is the sort of place travellers sometimes find themselves in, that provokes one of the great questions that one faces at some stage in their lives; that of “what the f#%k am I doing here?” Also the Pathet Lao with various rag tag elements of the government’s forces had been taking turns, holding at gunpoint, robbing or kidnapping likely targets that’d come down the Mekong from Luang Prabang on the local riverboats.

 So there I was walking down the street of dusty old and forgotten Pak Lay when I saw a guy on an elephant coming towards me.

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 The mahout steered his behemoth the side of the road and parked it in front of a shop. He then dismounted and went inside to do some shopping.  On the sidewalk in front of the shop were woven palm frond mats with what looked like some kind of root similar in shape to ginger that had been laid out in the sun to dry. I watched as the elephant waited for the mahout to go out of eyesight and then with a quick look around the elephant started to move it’s truck slowly sideways, left and right near the drying roots in a very nonchalant way. The body language seemed to be saying, I’m just swinging my truck; I’m not doing anything bad; I’m not touching anything. After about a minute or so it quickly snatched up a root and ate it, then it returned to the; I’m not doing anything-wrong ruse.

The elephant went through the fake and snatch routine about five times until the storeowner noticed what was going on and started yelling at the elephant, which brought out the mahout with his stick. The elephant instantly flinched at the hullabaloo and stopped moving, bracing itself for a confrontation with the mahout. The mahout walked straight up to the elephant and gave it one sharp rap with his goad, right between the eyes and then barked some words at it.  The elephant just took its reprimand meekly and stood quietly in mute compliance. The mahout and storeowner went back into the store to finish their business.  After a few minutes the elephant did a quick look around and went through the same the fake and snatch routine again.

The Elephant knew that it shouldn’t be taking the roots but it did, when it knew it could, without getting into trouble. The pilfering stopped when the mahout came back out with the storeowner in tow, carrying his purchases in a rough basket. The mahout mounted the automatically keeling elephant, the elephant then stood up and reached for the basket of goods that the storeowner had in his arms, gently picked them up, raised them over its head and passed them to the mahout who then put the goods in the large basket behind him. The elephant knew the drill.

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 I can remember thinking to myself at the time how cool it was to go shopping with an elephant.

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Collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris). Hovenweep, Utah, USA 2005

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 11, 2007

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Black Iguana (Ctenosaura similis). Kabah, Yucatan, Mexico

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 10, 2007

These metre (about 3ft) long monsters can be seen basking in the sun, amongst the rubble, at many of the old Mayan ruins of the Yucatan.

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You can approach quite close to them and they will keep very still.  Get too close and they burst into life with surprising speed as they make their escape. When they panic the iguanas will crash through anything in their way and you can hear them as they smash through the undergrowth long after you’ve lost sight of them.

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Hey! Little girl! Wanna pat my snake? Castle Hill, Sydney, Australia

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 6, 2007

On the way home from flying our kite today, my wife and I saw a frog and reptile show being advertised from the roadside at the Castle Hill Showground so we thought we’d have a look.  Basically it was a sort of trade fair for frogs and reptiles.  There were plenty of cold blooded animals on display and for sale. Both my wife and I found the experience quite odd.  It had never occured to me that there was a whole industry built around frogs and reptiles.  There were snake handling displays and places where you could handle snakes if you wanted to.

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The little girl is patting a “Centralian Carpet Python” Morelia bredli.  The amazing thing, besides the girl’s total lack of fear, was how docile the snake was considering how warm the temperature was.  I got within about 10cm (approximately 4″) of the snake to take the picture below, with flash, and it didn’t move a muscle.

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The snake was so exquisite that I found it easy to understand why people wanted to be near them. It was like a living jewel.

There was a teen aged guy minding the snake and I asked him about feeding the snake and if it was difficult to buy live food for them.  I was told one could train most snakes to eat dead mice or rats that could be bought frozen from select pet suppliers.  Sure enough there was even a stand that had bags of frozen mice and rats for sale.

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Who would’ve thought? Goes to show what a diverse world we live in.

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Heron, Vancouver, Canada

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 2, 2007

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Panning at the horse races

Posted by razzbuffnik on May 1, 2007

Sometimes a blurry photo is more expressive and has more impact than a sharp one.

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My great shark hunt

Posted by razzbuffnik on April 19, 2007

This is another episode in the “All the dumb things” series

When I was about 15 in 1971 I got interested in going to Queensland. At the time, I had a friend called Karl and I talked him into going up (we lived in Sydney) there with me during our school holidays in the summer.  Back then airfares to Brisbane were very cheap so we caught a plane.  From Brisbane we decided to take a train up to Cairns, stopping off at Proserpine on the way.  I wanted to go Proserpine because from there we could go to Airlie Beach, which was near a few well-known resorts and the Great Barrier Reef.

The resorts had names like Daydream Island and South Molle Island. As a small child, growing up in the city, places with exotic names, evoked in me, visions of “Adventures in Paradise” a show that I used to love. Also as a kid I was fascinated with the idea of small islands and I used to fantasize about living a subsistent life on one.

It never occurred to me that the tropics were, about the last place on earth that a pasty, freckled, red haired, white boy should try and make a home. It was only years later when I lived in Vancouver, Canada did I understand what habitat my genes were suited to.  Long periods of rain and overcast skies made me feel “right”. I suspect my gene sequence was evolved as a good survival strategy in the last ice age by one of my mammoth hunting ancestors. As a teen, such realities never intruded into my thoughts.

Another reason why I wanted to go to Airlie Beach, was that at the time I used to do a lot of skin diving.  I even learnt how to scuba when I was 14.  The scuba course cost me $11 and was taught at a Y.M.C.A. indoors pool over a couple of nights. FAUI? PADI? Decompression tables? Never heard of them!  We were told; ” just don’t come up faster than your bubbles and you’ll be O.K”. Every one knows that the Great Barrier Reef is a Mecca for divers and I considered myself one, so I just had to go.

When I look back, I’m amazed that my parents let me go, at that age, with only another teenager as a companion. Come to think of it, what was Karl’s family thinking? Letting him anywhere near me, never mind traveling up the coast thousands of kilometers away, with me.

The plan was that when we got to Airlie beach we’d hire a boat and live in it for a week and when we got there, that’s exactly what we did.  We hired an open fourteen-foot aluminium (sorry you Americans out there but I just can’t bring myself to write it your way) dinghy equipped with a small outboard motor for eight dollars a day. After 5 minutes of instruction we were in the water and heading out to sea for the nearest island.  Lifejackets?  Never heard of them!

Enough of all this intermediate stuff and onto “all the dumb things”!

One day, while out in the boat, Karl and I saw some bad weather closing in so we headed for shelter in a fairly protected bay about 10kms north of Airlie Beach. We anchored in about 2 metres of water and swam ashore.  We did this because the tides in that area are quite high and when the tide goes out you can be stranded on a tidal flat until the next tide comes in. The looming weather wasn’t as bad as we expected and we spent the next couple of hours ashore exploring the nearby bush.

Yep! You guessed it, when we came back to the boat the tide had started to go out and the dinghy was sitting in about 30cm (about 1’) of water which was too shallow to use the motor or row, so we started pushing the boat as fast as we could, towards the receding water.  The problem was, was that the seafloor in that area has an incredibly level surface with not much of a slope for kilometers. This all meant that no matter how fast we pushed the boat, the water quickly went down to a level where we couldn’t push it any more. So there we were, stuck out in the middle of nowhere on a tidal flat for the next 8 hours which meant that we wouldn’t be able to leave until after dark. Food? Water? Didn’t have much of that. Contingency? Never heard of it!

The good thing was, that after the squall had blown over there were millions of butterflies migrating out to sea. It was sublimely beautiful and calm. Karl thought it would be a interesting thing to see how far out to sea we could walk.  We walked for what seemed like an age, following the butterflies straight out to sea. When the water was only half way up to my knees the dinghy was nothing more that a speck the size of a piece of dust. On we walked following the butterflies straight out to sea until the water was up to our knees, further and further we went.

Not looking at where I was treading, staring at the horizon and the butterflies, I stepped on what I think was a Giant Reef Ray (Taeniura meyeni). The ray was huge, about 1.8 metres (about 6ft) across and about 3 metres long (about 9ft).  As I stepped on the stingray, I barely had time to feel the ground move from away from under my feet, all I saw was an enormous mottled disc shape fly up out of the water with a tremendous splash, landing back in the water about 3 or 4 metres away with another big splash and then off it flew away under water. It frightened me so much that I just about ran over the top of the water all the way back to the boat without stopping or gasping for breath.  It was a real son of mammoth hunter meets monster of the deep, adrenaline moment.

Back safely in boat we waited for night to fall and the tide to come in. As soon as the water got deep enough to put the propeller in the water we tried to start the motor.

Yep! You guessed it. The motor wouldn’t start and in our continued efforts to get the engine going we succeeded in flooding it.  By this time we were both hungry and thirsty so we decided to take turns rowing back to Airlie Beach, which was quite a way off.  On we rowed into the night, occasionally trying out the motor. This went on for what seemed to be hours and hours. During my turn at rowing we hit a large soft floating object, which jumped up out of the water creating a gigantic splash, drenching us and almost tipping over the boat. Needless to say it scared the heck out of both of us. We didn’t know what is was but we assumed it was either a dolphin or a dugong.

By this time I was a shattered nervous wreck and Karl wasn’t a happy camper either, but probability snapped back like an overworked waitress and we finally had some good luck, the motor started.  Within about an hour we were back in Airlie beach dining on fast food.

Since the night was warm and the water was calm we decided, for a change to sleep in the boat while it was in the water. We usually dragged the boat up onto the beach (which is made up of finger sized pieces of coral in that part of the world). It was a beautiful balmy night, I felt safe, fed and comfortable. As I was lying in the boat enjoying the night, it came to me that a spot of night fishing would go down well. We rowed out a little further into deeper water and baited up our hand lines.

Both of us weren’t having any luck until I felt a weight on my line. Usually when you get a bite you feel the fish through the line take the bait. This felt like I’d snagged on old boot or something like it, so I reeled it in. As I got it close to the surface I could dimly see that it was a fish, a decent sized one at that, but it wasn’t fighting the way that fish usually fought and we didn’t have light so I couldn’t see what it was clearly. The only option was to lift it into the boat.  As soon I lifted the fish out of the water I could see it was a small shark (cool!) about 50cm (about 20″) long, but it wasn’t moving around much like hooked fish usually do. So I lifted the shark with the line into the boat and as soon as I did, it bit through the line and all pandemonium broke loose.

It was dark, and we had this small shark that had suddenly sprung into action snapping at us from the bilge. Both Karl and I fell over our benches backwards; Karl into the bow and me into the stern and the shark had the middle.  The shark was going berserk, jumping and snapping all over the place.  It took me awhile, but I finally located my diving knife and stabbed the shark.  That only annoyed it and the jumping and snapping were getting much more frantic. The situation quickly degenerated into a jumping, snapping, stabbing frenzy. The shark just didn’t seem to want to die (strangely enough), so I eventually ended up pinning the shark down with the knife and we waited for what felt like an eternity for it to stop moving.

The middle of the boat was now covered in shark blood and guts so we ended up dragging the boat onto shore and having an unpleasant sleep on the beach. In the morning when it was light we got a good look at the shark that was still in the boat. There, in the bloody bilge, lay a poor little shark that had been rendered inedible by my panicky ministrations. One side of the fish looked fine, the other side was a mixture of bilge, fish mince and guts.

 I didn’t go into the water again for the rest of the trip.

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pasty, freckled, red haired descendent of mammoth hunters
with monster of the deep

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Little frog (Litoria dentata)

Posted by razzbuffnik on April 17, 2007

Here’s a picture of a little frog I saw on the easter weekend. 

Litoria dentata

I think it’s a “Bleating Tree Frog” (Litoria dentata).  It was tiny, about the size of a thumbnail.

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