Limitations

One of my limitations—as discovered at 6:00 this morning—is that I cannot catch a cricket popcorning around by living room.

I gave up after two stooped (and rather tottering) laps around the place.

As long as the cricket doesn’t drink my coffee, I can live with him.

—Mitchell Hegman

Wildlife in the Park

Yesterday, before leaving for home following my teaching engagement in Yellowstone National Park, I drove partway down through the Lamar Valley to see if I might spot either a grizzly bear or a wolf. 

I did not manage to spot either of the apex predators, but I still enjoyed a lovely drive and spotted plenty of other wildlife.

Bison Close-Up

Bison

Antelope

Coyote and Magpie

Elk on the Run

Grouse

—Mitchell Hegman

Last Night

At 1:49 AM last night, an entire herd of door-slamming elephants entered the floor above my sleeping room in Gardiner, Montana.  The elephants did not stay long, but they certainly brought me out of a deep sleep.

—Mitchell Hegman

Into the Park

I woke this morning inside a room in Gardiner, Montana.  The Yellowstone River rushes along (dark from spring runoff at this point) just below a balcony outside my back door.

I am here on purpose, mind you.  I am teaching a class at Mammoth Hot Springs for electricians employed by Yellowstone National Park.  This is a yearly gig.  One of my favorites. 

In response to the Covid-19 pandemic, the class was pushed back more than a month later than normal.   I am not sorry about that.  The drive down through the Paradise Valley and into Yellowstone National Park provided with me will all kinds of beautiful images.

The Absaroka Mountain Range

Emigrant Peak and the Yellowstone River

High Waters in Yankee Jim Canyon

“Jockey Birds” Riding an Elk

The Yellowstone River From my Room

—Mitchell Hegman

Uh Huh

A rather lively song by Jade Bird.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dx4CQa5tHaI

The Soda Geyser

If any consistent trait persists in the St Clair family (the East Helena variety) down through the generations, it is an affinity for explosions and soft-edged mayhem. 

Not long ago, a member of the latest generation of St Clair boys, Cooper, saw a video of someone dropping Mentos mints into an open bottle of Diet Coke.  If you have somehow missed one of these videos in your internet travels, an eruption of some magnitude is the result.

Yesterday, as a few of us met at the lakeshore, Cooper wanted to try his own hand at dropping some Mentos into a Diet Coke.  Posted are two photographs of the resultant geyser.  Cooper, by the time I captured the images, had scampered off to a distance.  You can see his father, Tad, standing in the background.

I have also posted a short video explaining what causes the Coke to spout into a geyser.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjbJELjLgZg

The Hummingbird Did What?

I am amply impressed with hummingbirds.  They are the smallest migrating birds.  Hummingbirds arrive in the forests around my cabin in late spring and whiz about until the end of July.

The average hummingbird weighs less then a nickel, but is equipped for fulltime racing.  They do everything fast.  An average hummingbird’s heart rate is more than 1,200 beats per minute (a human's average heart rate is only 60 to 100 beats per minute).  While in normal flight, North American hummingbirds average around 53 wing beats per second.  When sipping nectar, the diminutive birds move their tongue in and out about 13 times per second.

And they need a lot of energy.  A hummingbird can consume up to double its body weight in a day.  Their diet, in addition to sipping nectar found in flowers and feeders, includes small insects and spiders.

Though hummingbirds cannot hop or walk, they are the only bird capable of flying backwards.

A flock of hummingbirds (I have never seen such) can be referred to as a bouquet, a glittering, a hover, a shimmer, or a tune.

Yesterday, I saw a single hummingbird near my cabin.  While standing near the creek, chatting with four of my mountain neighbors, one of them pointed up.  “Look, there is a hummingbird!”

Sure enough, about ten feet above us and just a little off to the side, a hummingbird was hovering in place.  The bird remained there for twenty of so seconds—seemingly standing against the sun.

Guess what that little bird did next?

The bird issued a sparkling little spray of poo that drifted down toward where we stood clustered in the green grass.

A bird is a bird, no matter how small.

—Mitchell Hegman

Sources:  https://www.kaytee.com, https://www.thespruce.com, https://www.nps.gov

Return of the Rainbows

The other day, following heavy rains, the clouds parted just above my house.  Sunlight poured back into the valley before me. Out on the prairie, last year’s cured grasses turned golden and the leg of a rainbow appeared footed between the low hills and the Elkhorn Mountains at mid-valley.

You can’t have too many photographs of rainbows.

I leaned out my front door and captured a few images with my smarter-than-me-phone.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Theory of No Return

For as long as people have been peopling peopled places (see what I did there!), they have sought a simple way to determine if a person is a “good” person or a “bad” person.

Enter a shopping cart stage left.

Recently, the ‘shopping trolley theory” splashed across Twitter in Great Britain.  The premise of the theory is shockingly simple.  Here is the shopping trolley theory as expressed on Twitter:   

"The shopping cart is the ultimate litmus test for whether a person is capable of self-governing.  To return the shopping cart is an easy, convenient task and one which we all recognize is the correct, appropriate thing to do. To return a shopping cart is objectively right. There are no situations other than dire emergencies in which a person is not able to return their cart.

Simultaneously, it is not illegal to abandon your shopping cart. Therefore, the shopping cart presents itself as the apex example of whether a person will do what is right without being forced to do it.  No one will punish you for not returning the shopping cart, no one will fine you or kill you for not returning the shopping cart, you gain nothing for returning the shopping cart.

You must return the shopping cart out of the goodness of your own heart. You must return the shopping cart because it is the right thing to do. Because it is correct.

"The shopping cart is what determines whether a person is a good or bad member of society."

The theory post attracted more than 680,000 likes and 5,500 comments as people debated the premise of the theory.

So, here we arrive at the obvious question.  Are you a good person or bad person?

—Mitchell Hegman

Source:  www.mirror.co.uk  

Battery Life

All batteries, as we presently know them, decline in their ability to store energy over time.  They have a finite number of charge and discharge cycles.  Constantly draining a battery down to close to zero percent will dramatically reduce battery life.

The battery in my smarter-than-me-phone is showing some signs of weakening.  For this reason, I have developed a habit of trying to keep my charge level well above thirty percent.  Last evening, following a day of heavy phone use, I placed my glass of wine on my wireless charger and my phone on a drink coaster.

After a few sip cycles of wine, I realized my charging efforts were, as my father used to declare, “bass-akwards.”

And, no, my wine did not accept a charge.

All humans, as we presently know them, decline in their ability to charge phones over time.

—Mitchell Hegman

My Calling

I think I missed my calling.  I think I was meant to be a philanthropist.  All I lack is a lot of extra money and the willingness to part with it. 

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Humorous Abraham Lincoln Said

—If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee.

—If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?

—How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it a leg.

Above Rimini

Yesterday, at midday, four of us rode four-wheelers up through the mountain town of Rimini and into the high mountains.  Our mission?  Drive up the road until we encountered snow deep enough to halt our progress.

Within an hour we accomplished our mission. 

We drove back down through Rimini (technically a living ghost town) and climbed another road up toward the Continental Divide.

Mission repeated.

We have had a fairly cool spring here in Montana this year.  Several feet of snow, and some substantial drifts, remain in the forested areas of the high country. 

And getting stuck is more fun than you might imagine.  At least, that is so when you plan for it.

Two Machines Taking a Pause on the Climb Up

Plowed Section of Road

Stuck

Me Taking a Break

—Mitchell Hegman

Naked in Montana

I always hoped an episode of the reality program Naked and Afraid would be filmed here in Montana.  I mean, I have seen plenty of naked folks around here and there is plenty to fear in the nearby wilds.  So, I knew it could be done.

Last night, I got my wish.  I watched an episode of the show filmed near Trego, Montana.  Trego lies a bit west of Glacier National Park.

Two survivalists—a man and a woman—were dropped off in the wilderness at the onset of winter.   They each scampered naked through snow to reach a clearing where they found a few furs, a pot, a fire starter, and a machete.  After hastily covering themselves as best they could with furs and making moccasins, they trudged off to attempt survival in the mountains for fourteen days.

Things did not go particularly well.  After shivering in a makeshift shelter for a couple cool days, and nights that dropped temperatures into the teens, the woman tapped out.

The man, a Montana native, continued on alone.

A day later, producers dropped off a second naked woman.  She shivered for two days and similarly tapped out.

The man pressed on alone.  He even managed to catch a few trout from a clear stream.  But, just a few days before reaching the end of the allotted time for the challenge, he became ill from eating some mushrooms he found.

The cold didn’t take him out.  A grizzly didn’t run him off.  A slimy clump of mushroom rendered him debilitated and confused.

I give this survivalist much credit.  I have enough trouble with my own naked scramble from my back door to the hot tub.

It’s scary out there.

—Mitchell Hegman

More Strange Facts

— You are 10 times more likely to get bitten by a New Yorker than a shark.

—Female rodents lose their interest in sex when exposed to the tears of their babies.

— Apples are made of 23 % air.

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: https://letsgetsciencey.com/weird-science-facts

Favorite

I have a “favorite” for just about everything.  I have written about this in at least one previous blog entry.  My favorite color is blue.  My favorite constellation is Orion.   My favorite number is eight (if you flop eight on its side it becomes infinity).

I could go on.

The other day, I ran across my favorite photograph of a cat.  I captured the photograph of Soda in the mid-1990s as she peered into the house through the window at the front entry to my house.

Back in the early 2000s, just to be weird, I taped a copy of this photograph inside the electrical switchgear on several jobs as we completed the connection of our electrical distribution system.

Soda was a sweet little thing.

Soda

—Mitchell Hegman

Dune (The Color)

The other day, I went shopping for an automobile.  I wanted either an SUV or a sedan.  I was hoping I might find a preowned vehicle with low miles.

I looked at a couple of Ford models with a young salesman but didn’t find anything that impressed me.

While the salesman went inside the dealership to locate the keys for two more rigs so I could to look inside them, I poked around a bit more.  In doing so, I bumped into an SUV of a pale tan color that seemed both familiar and very pleasing to me.  I like the car’s style, too.

The SUV was a 2016 Lincoln MKX with less than 30,000 miles on the odometer.  Most impressively, the MKX was loaded with luxury options.  When the salesmen returned, he found me beside the Lincoln.   “I want to drive this one,” I told him.  “I really like the color.”

Long story short, I purchased the car the day before yesterday and drove it home.

Yesterday morning when I stepped inside my common bathroom, it struck me why the color seemed familiar.  My new car matches my toilet!

My New Car

My Toilet

—Mitchell Hegman

Note:  The name of the car color is “dune”

Flowers in the Foreground

I have been watching a documentary series about World War II.  The series is comprised almost entirely of actual film clips from the war.

It’s ugly.

I am most bothered when the films capture children caught up in the horrors of the war.  Amazingly, though, some of the children still manage to maintain a certain level of innocence and an eye for beauty.

In the late 1990s, children were caught up in a war in Kosovo.  I recall reading an article about the children and how they dealt with the war.  The article included a few drawings produced by the children.  The children were asked to depict the trauma of war they had witnessed.  Some of the children, using crayons, drew images of stick people being shot.  They drew warplanes, tanks, and houses bombed and on fire.  But sometimes, in the drawings, the children made sure to place a bright sun in the sky or flowers in the foreground.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Roadmap to Your Future

What if the line you prefer to follow on your personal roadmap to your future is the same as the conspicuous crack in the concrete apron at your garage?  The crack appeared after an earthquake that rattled all your knickknacks off their feet and tipped over the delicate soap dispenser bottle in your bathroom. 

The crack is noticeable enough to always attract your attention.  And if you follow the jagged line to the end, you soon veer off into weeds.

—Mitchell Hegman

Natural Abilities

I thought about how we use dogs to sniff-out drugs or track people by scent.  These practices put to use the natural abilities of a dog.  And then I thought about cats.  They have natural abilities, too.  Maybe we can use cats to find the best places to take a nap.

—Mitchell Hegman

Uyen

Nine years ago, on this date, Uyen slipped away from us.

Uyen and Helen, 1984

Uyen lighting an incense coil, 2009

—Mitchell Hegman

Mother’s Day

First thing after waking today, I counted back.  I have been motherless for thirty-four years on this Mother’s Day.  Thirty-four years is enough time to become a notorious serial killer or become a billionaire.  In thirty-four years, a sapling planted alongside a house will grow into a tree shading the roof of that house.

In another year, the loss of my mother will be old enough to run for president of the United States of America. 

A strange and sobering thought, that.

—Mitchell Hegman

From Knocker Uppers to Roosters

My brother-in-law, Tony, traveled to Bayawan City in the Philippines just in time to get stranded there during the present Covid-19 lockdown.

Funny thing.  He is happy there. 

Tony loves the climate and is near the ocean, which is a must.  The food is unusual and sometimes surprisingly good.  Most importantly, he has made good friends with many of the locals.  Conversations are interesting, informative, and often confusing in charming ways.

Now, let’s talk about waking up in the morning.  More precisely, waking early enough to seize the day.  Before alarm clocks were an actual thing, knocker uppers roamed the streets of Britain’s cities early in the mornings.  The knocker upper would tap a few times on the windows of the homes or apartments where those required to rise lived.  To rap on windows above ground level, a knocker upper might use a long fishing rod-like stick or even pea shooters.

In more recent decades, the knocker upper has been replaced by alarm clocks.

Back to Bayawan City.  That city, as most in the Philippines, is filled with roosters that overfill the early morning air with their crowing.  You can pretty much count on one of your neighbors having a rooster.  Tony has regularly been waking early in the morning to the sound of a rooster’s cock-a-doodle-doo.

Funny thing.  He likes waking to that.

Tony recently found a new place to rent.  The place has something of a yard.  Given that, he purchased a rooster of his own.  He named the rooster Foghorn.  He is pretty proud of his bird.  Posted is a photograph of Foghorn.

—Mitchell Hegman

Names

“What’s in a name?” asks Juliet in her famed soliloquy.  “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Yet, the name of a person is a thing.

Some people stuff their name in their pocket and shuffle away quietly.  Some wave their name about as if an honored flag.  Other’s feel a need to change their name for recognition.  In this scenario Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner becomes “Sting.”  Dwayne Douglas Johnson becomes “The Rock.”    Prince Rogers Nelson, after proudly strumming his guitar under the singular banner of “Prince,” transforms his name into a weird symbol.  Equally notable is Arnold George Dorsey assuming “Engelbert Humperdinck.”

Just as there is big infinity of space all around us, there exists a small and ever declining infinity of fractions between the numbers one and two.  And, I suppose, there similarly exists an infinity of names we might choose because, after all, we are free to choose numbers for names.

While I often pluck a collection of Sylvia Plath poems from my library and raptly read poems of bees or troubled women; while T.S. Eliot dragged me in amazement through The Waste Land ; and even though Wallace Stevens gave me Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, my favored book of poems is a thin and unheralded collection written by children.  The book is titled I Feel like Touching Something That’s Not There.  It is a collection of poems written by elementary and secondary school students from all across Montana between 1975 and 1976.

I love the book and the poems within it.  The smallest poems are most amazing.  One poem, written by “Susan” from Whittier Elementary in Bozeman is this:

BURYING MY NAME

Sue

Uses her

Shovel

And Nickname

Whenever I hear the word “poetry,” that poem is the first thing to enter my mind.

—Mitchell Hegman