"It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison"

Most of my 3 readers will not enjoy this.

I like animals. They're all really amazing in the way they interact with one another, what they can do and how they're built to do it well.

Today, I came across a creature so unique in the niche that it fills, and so bizarre, that I just had to share it. Honestly, it's so weird I've put it on my list of questions to ask God.

It's also really gross, so you'll have to see what I mean after the jump.

This is Cymothoa exigua displayed in a cut-away of the jaws of a Spotted Rose Snapper. It is not being eaten. On the contrary, cymothoa exigua is the one doing the eating.

It is a parasite about 3-4 cm long when fully grown. They live in the ocean waters off the coast of California. They infiltrate the buccal cavity of Spotted Rose Snappers by way of the gills, or mouth, and latch onto the base of the fish's tongue. Their first three sets of claws are used to puncture and extract blood from the tongue, nourishing the parasite. After some time, the tongue atrophies due to the lack of blood and falls away, leaving behind a stub. Cymothoa exigua then latches onto the tongue-stub and replaces the fish's tongue, both in location and function. It continues its existence feeding on blood, or the mucous lining from the mouth. The common name for cymothoa exigua is the tongue louse.

The more pragmatic among us can see how this is a pretty sweet deal for the tongue louse. The human equivalent is like living the rest of your life in a pink minivan, with food in front of your face all day, and a constant flow of water washing away whatever waste you produce. You're sheltered from the elements, hidden from natural predators (except for the ones that eat pink minivans) and you get to see the world every other second. Chances are, your friends have found other pink minivans to shack up in and you guys can travel together.

Mystery Bug 2: in the Office

I got into work early this morning. At the doorway to the bathroom I frequent, I beheld an amazing sight. There was a sizeable, light-coloured insect in a state of disassemblage on the floor in front of the door. Picking through the wreckage was a slightly smaller dark insect with a chitanous carapace.

I wanted to stay and watch, but I also had to use the bathroom. After I finished my business, they were still right there on the floor. I hopped back into my office (next to the bathrooms), grabbed a piece of paper, and scooped them up for closer examination on my desk.

Of course, once they were placed on the desk, the still-living insect bolted for the nearest cover (a Compaq Presario v5000). I played hide and seek with it for about 6 minutes, but quickly tired of its survival instincts. What I wanted to see was its gluttony so that I could capture the feeding on camera, so I proferred the remnants of its meal, still on the paper, to the scurrier but to little avail.

Clearly it was not comfortable eating in plain sight where it preceived imminent danger. So I relocated them to the floor under my desk. Under relatively darker evirons, the black bug was content to return to feeding. I filmed it with a point-and-shoot camera (Casio Exilim Z55) that was woefully ill-equipped to handle dark and close-up work. Nonetheless, I faithfully captured the moment the best I could, partially lying on the floor of my room while some automated processes were running.

Fig. 1: Video of Feeding

Naturally, the mystery of the identities of the insects began to draw my attention after the novelty of watching one insect dig through the innards of another, less fortunate insect lost its appeal. For posterity, I took a few snapshots. Again, it must be reiterated that my camera is not built for close-up work, so sadly, the quality leaves a lot to be desired.


Fig. 2: Feeding in the Dark


Fig. 3: Really getting in there


Fig. 4: Nom nom nom nom

During the course of the composition of this post, I did some research into the insects I observed. The living one was easy enough to identify, as I had a specimen that had been stepped on, but remained largely intact (COD: thoracic rupture). It looked like a black beetle that lived on the ground; this was verified by a quick Google Image Search for "Black Ground Beetle".

The edible one proved to be more difficult, owing to several of its body parts being detached and likely missing. Its most striking feature, apart from its ability to separate into pieces, was the pair of filament-like structures protuding from its abdomen. Such a feature is fairly rare in the insect world, allowing me to rule out about 90% of them right away. From this point, I just had to look up pictures for known insects with tail-like structures.

At first, it seemed like Bristletails fit the bill, but closer inspection revealed that bristletails did not have the same kind of long legs seen in the photos. I've finally settled on Mayfly. Mayflies have the filamentous tails and long-ish legs seen in the photographs.

The ground beetle was likely scavenging the remains of a dead mayfly, as beetles generally have a tough time tackling airborne prey. Adult mayflies live only a couple of days, devoting all that time to reproduction. The wings were likely bitten off at the first opportunity to reduce dragging weight.

Now You Know: Bats

Through the course of conversation at dinner with my family last night, I uncovered a few glaring misconceptions that some of my family members had. This is through no fault of their own; not everyone watches the Discovery Channel. Below is the only one I care to address today.

Misconception: Bats are blind.
Fact: Bats are not blind. Misconception #1 is a common one. It is a reasonable assumption to make for cave dwelling creatures with echolocation capabilities. By that same token of logic, dolphins also ought to be blind because they live in the dark ocean and also have echolocation. The truth is that not all bats echolocate. There is a suborder of the bat family, informally referred to as Megabats (how cool is that?), that relies on visual acuity to identify their food -- primarily inanimate fruits and flower nectar. The echolocating suborder, Microbats, are also capable of seeing, but rely more on sound than sight when targeting highly mobile prey in the darkness of night. There is a species in Belize that actually catches fish (video).

We had a bat in our garage for a few nights.

Pygmy Orca (Orcinus pygmaeus)

Not to be confused with the Pygmy Killer Whale (Feresa attenuata), the Pygmy Orca is a docile, hand-sized cetacean generally found in sub-tropical waters. Its name stems from the uncanny resemblance to the full-sized Orca (Orcinus orca), known to the Inuits as the Sea Wolf, and more colloquially as the Killer Whale.

Pygmy Orcas, like their larger cousins, congregate in pods of up to 32 for safety. Their communal nature and higher than average intelligence is also evident in their feeding patterns. They work together to herd and swarms of krill into a waiting subset of the pod. Pygmy Orcas are the only toothed whales to actively predate on krill, as it is the only food that will fit into their mouths. Like their larger cousins, Pygmy Orcas employ echolocation to navigate the seas and to find food. Each pod has a designated alpha couple who coordinate feeding and migratory paths. Pods of Pygmy Orcas are often seen coasting in the slipstream of full-sized whales, allowing them to traverse vast distances on minimal energy.

Pygmy Orcas are very familial and mate for life. A couple can produce up to 3 babies per litter, but are only fertile every 3 years. The pups take about 14 months to reach full maturity and size. The adults take turns tending to the pod's nursery, while others hunt. The average lifespan of a Pygmy Orca is about 15 years.

As they are mammals, Pygmy Orcas can live out of the water for brief periods of time, but their skin is delicate in the air and will dry and crack if taken out of the water for too long. They are not large enough to have large stores of blubber, so they live in warmer waters than their namesakes.

thx b2 da Ceiling Cat 4 seshun reestor

still a viable career option*

i visited the mall for the third Saturday in a row today. of course, the previous two trips were not of my own accord, but because i was accompanying someone who wanted to return items to Best Buy.

while trolling the stores for something interesting, i found my parents stopped in the middle of the mall looking up at something through the skylight. my dad called me over to take a look. a few thoughts crossed my mind: perhaps it was a crack, or a decal sporting an interesting pattern.

it turned out to be a large black bird. and i mean LARGE; like, turkey-sized. bigger than any city bird has the right to be. it was bigger than a raven, with a hunchbacked profile and a tiny, bald, wrinkly red head.

"what is it?" my dad asked.

i quickly polled my mental roster of North American birds, filtering for birds that were big and black with bald red heads.

"it's a vulture! or a buzzard. they're the same." i replied.

i wasn't positive at the time, but as i continued to gape up at the magnificent, but ugly creature, i felt pretty sure that it was a turkey vulture. it had colouring and shape that was similar to the more famous Californian Condor, but it was definitely not big enough, nor was it in the right range to be the condor.

as i stared, i wondered why i hadn't seen a turkey vulture in Toronto before. as this thought passed, a second turkey vulture joined the first. they waddled around on the glass, leering hungrily into the mall.

i watched them until they flapped off.

in other news, i finally used the GAP gift card i recieved in 2003.

*in grade 3, i wanted to grow up to become a birdwatcher.

i have finally decided...

on a favourite animal: the breathtakingly gorgeous snow leopard.

from BBC's Planet Earth:


WANT.

lost and found

i was printing something today when i noticed a notebook off to the side. i peeked inside. they were my high school notes from grade 12! sweet! free teacher resources! and look! doodles!!!!

click for more

if life were like this, you wouldn't need a Visa

under the right conditions, your mind can wander to exotic places and ponder irrelevant things ad nauseum and ad infinitum, like at the top of mountains, where nothing happens. in such meditative states, we often ask the questions that would stump the common man. we reserve them for God, who being the Creator, knows all things down to the finest detail. in His infinite wisdom, God sometimes answers immediately. it is in these moments that we encounter the sublime and the ineffable.

speaking of ineffable, what would you consider the most ineffable animal? by this i mean, when you see a baby of this species, you think, how'd they do that? what are the logistics? the angles? the procedures?

the animal that comes to my mind is the porcupine; porcupines look pretty ineffable. and one day, at the top of a mountain, i asked this very question, to which i was provided an immediate answer. here's a more thorough answer.

and now you know too, and can share this powerful knowledge with your friends.

peace by piece of muffin

of all the courses i'm taking, physics is the one that scares me most. the workload seems to be building up momentum, without me having to actually hand anything in yet. all the preparation for those big assignments are like the shadows that loom ominously as a sign of impending danger. every physics class, while fun and engaging and thoroughly edifying, is another chance to freak out about the future and the possibility of failure. my expectations for myself as a teacher are high, but i clearly have not fully considered the steps necessary to achieving such lofty heights.

as i ate my lunch and did some reading, suddenly very motivated to do course readings and take notes and prepare for future assignments (thank you motivational fear), my mind wandered. my mind wandered to the animals in the courtyard in which i sat (Munk building, pointed out to me by Catherine) and so i watched them.

i watched a squirrel nibble on berries in the bush along the building wall. i watched it climb into a tree and confront the incumbent squirrel; they stared at each other for the longest time before parting ways to different branches of the tree. i watched the sparrows flit about, dipping their heads below the grassline to pick up unseen food. i watched them chirp and chatter to each other.

i had a muffin; it had nuts.

i couldn't finish the muffin, so i disassembled bits of the stump and casually scattered little bits around the bench (the 'bench' was actually a long cement block and i sit there to eat on sunny days). first at quite some distance away; then a little closer and closer and closer. one sparrow saw the first offering and swooped in for a bite. more arrived to feast, never fighting, but noone waiting in line.

i tried to get some to land on the bench next to me so i could see them more closely; it was too early in the relationship for that. they did not mind hopping close along the ground though. at one point, i had about 4 birds within 14 cm of my foot. i stopped seeding the ground with muffin crumbs for awhile, but about a dozen birds remained in the vicinity, hopping around, occasionally peering at me with inquiring gazes.

22 [...] "For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on.
23 "For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.
24 "Consider the [sparrows], for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! [...]
29 "[Do] not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying.
30 "For all these things the nations of the world eagerly seek; but your Father knows that you need these things.
31 "But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you." - Luke 12

and so i was reminded.

squeam

hidden due to disturbing content.

this morning, i got to church early for service. on the footpath leading from the parking lot ot the church office there lay a dead mouse. and it wasn't just a mouse who had a very good night and died of a heart attack. this mouse would've been cute (as mice tend to be) had it not been for the unfortunate decapitation. now decapitation creeps me out the usual amount, but only if it is clean, insofar as getting your cappa detated is ever clean. the head was not cut off, it was torn off. about a third of the mouse's back skin was shorn from the musculature. if its head was on proper, it would have been face down in a pool of its own blood. i did not take a picture.

anyway. since it was early, i felt it was necessary to dispose of the body prior to kids arriving. now i generally love fuzzy animals, so seeing a dead mouse is no fun. seeing anything dead is no fun. seeing a dead fuzzy something that's showing inside bits is the least fun of all. i saw a dead raccoon behind the church office 'garage' once; it was slightly disemboweled and totally rigor mortised. i ran away like a freaked-out leperchaun.

it took me 3 minutes of staring at it to commit to cleaning it up. i went into the kitchen to search for possibly helpful supplies, preferrably things that would prevent me from making direct contact with the body. i found some work gloves that Art normally uses to mess around with the fire pits. i found a ziploc sandwich bag that looked big enough to hold and seal the corpse. i went back outside to grab a small branch so that i would not have to make contact with the gloves.

i put the gloves on and flipped the sandwich bag inside-out over my left hand. stick in hand, i stood over the poor little thing and spent 6 minutes screwing up the courage to proceed. i formed a pocket with the bag on my hand and positioned it behind the mouse, spreading my fingers wide so that i wouldn't actually have to even feel the body. i lifted the rear of the mouse with the stick and shifted it halfway into the bag. the front stuck to the sidewalk a bit because the blood had congealed. at this point i noticed that the head was still intact and had its eyes been open it would've been looking at me. fully committed, i torqued the body fully into the bag and quickly flipped it to hold the mouse on the inside. then i dropped the bag and silently squealed and skipped away (like a freaked-out leperchaun).

after i had composed myself, i picked up the bag, sealed it and dropped it into the dumpster. the stick i chucked away. back at the sidewalk, i pulled up the hose and sprayed away as much of the blood that i could. there were two patches: one was the original point of attack and the other was the final resting spot of the body. and that was how i started my day.

mystery bug

on Friday, i roamed around the church parking lot with my camera, hoping to get a few shots of anything interesting. the wind was rather gusty that day and it apparently picked up a bug and flung it at me. the bug struck my shirt around the abdomen and clung on for dear life. naturally i brought my camera to bear, toggled the focus to macro and tried to get a good shot of it.

normally i'm pretty good with identifying animals, but this one completely eludes me. it defies any categorization of insect that i am familiar with. it is not a butterfly/moth, not a beetle, not a social insect, not a flier... i can only describe it as... a kiwi bug, on account of its resemblance to a kiwi bird.

it is about the size of a large housefly, but denser. its 6 legs (making it an insect) are rather muscular, like grasshopper legs, indicating some jumping ability. this might explain why it was on the wind in the first place. its carapace looks fairly sturdy with all its parts arranged very compactly. the eyes are relatively large in comparison to its head, suggesting that it relies mostly on sight to do its business. its business seems to have much to do with its huge red proboscis, from which some antennae seem to be attached. i initially believed it to be some sort of bloodsucker, but it doesn't appear to have the penetration power, nor the storage capacity. the drab colouring suggests that it is a tree dweller, so the proboscis could be for more benign use, such as sap sucking or nectar drinking.

through the course of writing this post, i did some digging around online based on the above information. there is no dedicated search engine to finding insects based on physical characteristics, so i had to search the hard way. i looked up "tree insects" can came upon a list of the most common types. a quick image search of the closest type yielded the answer i was looking for. the mystery kiwi bug pictured above is the pecan weevil. i knew all those hours spent reading The Boxcar Children and Nancy Drew in grade 3 would pay off.

comfort zone

do you know how rhinos mark their territory? they take a big dump and then kick it to spread it around. people are like rhinos.

i shared this before at the last Aletheia Winter Retreat, coincidentally where i made this sign.

normally, at church/fellowship overnight events (camps, retreats, etc), i don't have to -- how do i put this politely? -- evacuate my colon drop a dookie plug the plumbing shed some weight. this happens without any conscious effort.

for one weekend, my body will instinctively know that there is no comfortable seat to make my deposit, and thus closes up shop. it doesn't matter how many vegetables go in, nothing comes out. walk into my house and i'll shoot for the nearest porcelain.

at Aletheia Winter Retreat, i finally felt comfortable enough to sink some treasure -- in the bathroom with the door that did not lock no less. it wasn't a big deal, just a mild psychological breakthrough. during the campfire sharing time, after most people had done the serious stuff, sharing about loneliness and finding God or whatever, i told them about my catharsis and how it was an indicator of how close to them i felt. i'm not sure they were comfortable enough with me to hear it in such candid terms, but when you're comfortable you can put yourself out there like that without a care.

i knew i was comfortable in Longlac because after the first night, i inaugurated the bowl upstairs. by the second week, we were so comfortable with each other that we didn't mind other people listening in on our symphonies (at least the three guys had no problem with it). dude, some people have rhythm. no duets though (out of courtesy).

Day 3 at St. Florence: The Visit

not by the Pope, which would've been a funny experience for me (watch out for Force-lightning), but by the district Superintendent. the reason for this visit was last year's pitiful EQAO scores. apparently there was a 3rd grade teacher in over her head and the scores reflected this. so the Superintendent dropped by and chatted up the principal and the 3rd/6th grade teachers. it was pretty cool seeing the teachers band together in a show of solidarity -- not that our visitor was a bad guy -- in the face of inspection. the principal shadowed him while other teachers would peek out of their rooms once in awhile. some made excuses to be in the hallways at regular intervals and raised signals when the Superintendent was spotted. the school halls were like gopher tunnels.

apart from that, my day was the usual dose of miscellany. i started off the day plainly enough by marking arithmetic (gotta get that mental math back up to speed). then i donned a SARS mask and cleaning gloves to spray acrylic sealer (matte finish) on some molded plaster flowers (soon to be Mother's Day fridge magnets). there was a lot of construction paper cutting as well.

lunch time = listening to conversation time.
today's topics: American Idol, Grey's Anatomy and the story of that time the teacher i'm working with took the grade 1s, 2s and 3s up north for a 2-night camping trip. she shared a tent with someone notoriously high maintenance, and after a day of activity, they unzipped the tent to find swarms of squirrels and chipmunks pouring out of the tent. apparently, HM woman had packed a bag full of chocolate.

A Tribute to the Early Bird

i thought it didn't upload when i first tried, but after a couple of months of not logging onto youtube, i found that it actually made it online. huzzah!
yes, i know, it is ironically 2 months late.

dream interpreted

Setting: some of my best late-formative years were spent running around the portables of CHPS. some of my other dreams feature this type of setting, although only in the peripheral.

The Game: the lockout part seems familiar, but i was on the other side

The Green Water Balloon: reminiscent of that time some young hoodlums shot Roman Candles at me and my school friends on one of those fireworks nights. a green one nearly hit me but i sidestepped it and it hit someone behind me (not in the face). i felt guilty over that for some time. i should have caught it, or kicked it out of the way. why else would i spend all that effort honing coordination with hackysack? i think i have a hero complex.

The Unpopped Balloons: i think these are my delusions. sometimes when i think about it, i realize that i am thinking out of phase with most other people. there are days where i honestly feel like Michael Scott, saying totally off-the-wall things that are absolutely normal to me, but result in shifty glances. i keep observations like this in balloons and leave them in there.

The Kids: i didn't recognize any of the faces, but i knew i knew them. that's how dreams work. it was like day care. along with my hero complex, i have a fairly strong desire to be a dad that can romp and play like a kid. option a) marry and spawn young(er than the norm nowadays). option b) stay become as fit as David Suzuki.

Weasels: here is where i go, "what the deuce?" i've never dreamt of animals before. once i dreamt of a foldable pocket-hoverskateboard (patent pending!) that i rode to school. and then i saw Back to the Future and was like, "no way, stealers." another time i dreamt i was flying without wings and did a stoop (in birds that means: fold wings, fall fast). there were a bunch of electrical lines and i had some good fun weaving my way through a net of them. i got tangled in the end, but i want to dream that dream again. i have recurring nightmares that the aliens from Aliens had landed on earth and were chasing me around my grandparents' (mother's side) house.

anyway, back to the weasels. the only weasel that sticks in my mind is that line from Amelie (see banner). Amelie's landlady is reading her letters from her ex-lover that cheated on her with his secretary and flew off to South America and died in a car crash. he used to call landlady "my little weasel," so the landlady, sniffling, asks Amelie, "isn't that beautiful? has anyone ever called you that?" to which Amelie replies, "i'm nobody's little weasel."

also, from the last song on Weird Al's album, "Running with Scissors", Albuqurque, the narrator/singer meets his true love after buying a box of weasels from the donut shop (because they were out of all the conventional donuts). the weasels attacked him and he rolled out into the street. this woman stops to look at him and says, "hey. you got weasels on your face."

dream interpretation

last night i dreamt i was at a summer camp with TJCAC. it was ghettofabulous. there were cabins that resembled the school portables at Churchill Heights PS as they were elevated and required little stoops, but wooden all around (perhaps more like the cabins at that camp i went to at the beginning of grade 8 where we sang Chantal Kreviazuk's version of Leaving on a Jet Plane, kayaked and peed in the woods).

i was in a group of people walking out to the large group activity site. we were told very strictly to be on time. i was a straggler so when i got there, the fence just closed (there was a fence). we were told we could join in a few minutes. everyone who was on time were playing a game that involved hurling water balloons. perhaps it was a water balloon fight because they started throwing them at us after awhile. someone threw a green one towards me but i sidestepped it and it hit someone behind me in the face -- he did not appreciate it.

i threw a few unpopped balloons back and they remained unpopped. i thought this game was mighty unfun, so i wandered off to see what some other kids (little'uns) were doing. they were crossing a little bridge over a tiny creek. why there was a bridge was beyond me as this creek came from one of those open sewer pipes coming out from the end of a ditch where there was perfectly good land to walk over.

i was about to start a game with them when i noticed there were other kids (who seemed to live in the woods) playing with some weasels. i initially saw three black weasels, but it quickly became apparent that there were at least three others who were striped grays and otherwise pale.

i told the kids i knew to be careful to not startle the rambunctious weasels. they noticed us anyways, so we ran like the dickens. a weasel jumped onto my left calf and it gave me a scratching. i wondered if it would give me rabies; the cure for rabies involves jabbing a huge needle into the abdomen -- who would look forward to that? maybe i was thinking of lycanthropy, which you can contract with a scratch.

anyway, the weasels were jumping on the kids, so i woke up.

do

i hadn't driven up Reesor at night for a few weeks and i got the chance tonight. it was darker than i remembered. i got to use the high beams. i like high beams because it makes me feel polite when i lower them for traffic ahead. i like using them when going up hills and then turning it down as i crest the top so that the light points to the road ahead.

i zipped along at about 96 kph. fast enough so that i could pass the 60 sign without it registering in my mind. i slowed for the railroad tracks because they were bumpy. and there was a blind bend after the second one. back on straight road i let the Yaris play, dodging pair of raccoons who had dirtied the road with their hemoglobin. they hid their bandit-faces. possibly in shame for the mess they made.

i wondered what would happen if a deer crossed my path. i was already pushing 100 and even on high beams, i was probably overrunning my headlights.

i eased off the gas.

a flash of white and russet caught my eye and she came into full view, padding elegantly across the road with eyes lidded from the sudden light as i neared. i glided to a stop just as the doe finished crossing the opposite lane. she tossed a look over her shoulder and flicked her tail as she waded into the grass, out of the glare and back into the night.

EDIT: Sunday, November 19
Driving home along 14th Ave today after church, i encountered another deer, a juvenile buck that traipsed across a few fields and the road. i stopped to watch it bound away to the north over the corn stalks that had been cut down for winter. where his herd was, i do not know.

if you could be...

any existing animal in the world, what would you choose to be?

on land, i would probably be a cheetah.
by sea, a dolphin. or maybe a thresher shark.
in the air, definitely a peregrine falcon.

Steve Irwin(Febuary 22 1962 - September 4 2006)

While filming for his upcoming tv special Ocean's Deadliest, the 'Crocodile Hunter' Steve Irwin, was most unconventionally felled by a stingray. He was doing some shallow water segments when he swam just a little too close over the stingray. The ray's signature barbed tail speared the fearless Irwin in the chest, piercing his heart. While stingray barbs are coated in venom, it is hardly enough to kill a man outright. Irwin died of massive cardiac trauma due to the 20-inch spike impaling him in the heart. He is only the second person to die of an Australian stingray attack following the first reported case in Melbourne, 1945.

He had an uncanny way with animals of all sorts and was heralded worldwide for his quirky, but humane treatment of dangerous creatures (most notably the salt-water crocodiles of Australia). His celebrity status fell briefly after his first feature film tanked, and fell further when he put on a public display of feeding a crocodile while cradling his one-month old child in the other arm.

Steve Irwin is survived by his wife and co-star Terri, and their two young children.