Dodging a Bullet

Apparently, we have dodged a bullet. 

I am talking about the candiru fish (sometimes called a toothpick fish).  The candiru is a small parasitic catfish found in the fresh waters of the Amazon Basin.  In simple terms, this fish is a kind of leach—a blood-sucking vampire.

Worse, the fish is said to follow the urine streams of men urinating in the water so it can enter the urethra of a man’s penis.  Once inside the penis, the fish fastens itself in place with barbs so it can go to work.

The first time I heard about this fish, I had two thoughts.  First, my buddy who owns a swimming pool, would love to stock some of those in his swimming pool for those times when boys are swimming.  Second, maybe I have been hanging onto myself (so to speak) during times of duress for good reason.

According to bbc.com: “German botanist Carl Friedrich Philipp von Martius was the first European to document candirus in the Amazon. He described how local men tied their urethras shut when spending time around the water.”

Cutting to the chase here, it seems the stories of candiru fish entering the penis are mostly exaggerated.  There was, however, one incident documented in 1997.  That year, an unfortunate man from Manaus, a city in the Brazilian state of Amazonas, was wheeled into an emergency with a candiru in his urethra.

Investigations of that story have led to skepticism.

In the end, pun fully intended, the candiru fish does not seen near as threatening to a man’s penis as myth might suggest.

Jungle spiders, on the other hand, are real.

Candiru Fish

—Mitchell Hegman

Bird Identification

I have had a productive year at my birdfeeder.  Along with attracting my standard supply of chickadees, pine siskins, and house finches, I have been hosting a lot of goldfinches and the occasional western tanager or lazuli bunting.

A new kind of bird appeared at my feeder yesterday.  I managed a few photographs with my smarter-than-me-phone before it vanished.  I am wondering if someone can help me identify this bird.  I have posted two photographs for use in identification.

—Mitchell Hegman

Naked and Crazy

I watched another episode of Naked and Afraid last night.  A female survivalist featured on the program ended up alone.  I have watched enough episodes to know that most people forced to survive long term all alone struggle greatly from lack of human companionship.

Most survivalists tend to go a little crazy when stranded alone.

Within a few days, the solitary survivalist on last night’s episode was muttering nonsense and screaming in anger at pretty much everything.

I don’t think I am capable of surviving alone.  I am already talking nonsense with my begonia plant and trying to reason with a leaky toilet.  I am pretty sure the jungle would overwhelm me.

—Mitchell Hegman

North American Racer

You are unlikely to find a North American Racer on the starting line of the next track event.  They are pretty fast, mind you, but they are also a type of snake.

I see North American Racers fairly often near my house.  They prefer somewhat open habitats, including shortgrass prairies of the type around me.  Racers also tend to be quite active during daylight hours.  And they definitely live up to their name when fleeing a perceived enemy.  They whip away at astonishing speeds.

Racers make their living by preying on insects and small vertebrates such as mice and birds.  These snakes are non-venomous and non-aggressive in behavior.

Yesterday, after prancing around outside (in more technical terms: watching a septic dude pump unmentionable goo and floaties from my septic tank), I nearly stepped on a North American Racer.  This particular snake—a three-footer—had decided to climb up onto the concrete steps at my front door.

I had to poke the racer a couple times to shoo it back out onto the prairie.  That, after capturing an image with my smarter-than-me-phone.

—Mitchell Hegman

My Peculiar Project

I have a peculiar project underway.

For the last year I have been collecting bird droppings of a sort.  Very specific droppings.  Before you run off in shock and disgust, allow me to explain.

I am collecting seeds from Russian olives that have been “processed” in the digestive tracts of birds.

I am not sorting through bird poo with a stick to find the seeds.  I am, instead, always scanning the ground and concrete surfaces around the outside of my house to find them just sitting there on display.

The seeds, you see, handily survive the digestive tracks of the mid-size to large birds that gulp down the olives for lunch and dinner.  The seeds soon pop out on the ugly end of the birds in an intact and rather polished condition.

My plan is to collect enough seeds to string together lengthwise on a fine fishing line for a necklace or some such.

I looked online.  You can purchase several hundred Russian olive seeds for, like, two bucks.  But where is the story or challenge in that?

So, for now, I am looking for the seeds.  Yesterday, I found another near my hot tub.  At the end of this blog, I have posted a photograph of my collection thus far.

As a final note, I should mention that Russian olive trees have been designated as an invasive species in some places.   Native to Southern Russia and extending into Turkey, the trees thrive in bitter cold, intense heat, dry climates, poor and even salty soils.  On the downside, the trees tend to create monocultures in riparian areas if given the slightest opportunity.  Here in the West, thousands upon thousands of Russian olive trees were planted from New Mexico to Canada in the wake of the 1930s Dust Bowl era.  Now, in some areas, the olive trees are on the march.

In Montana, along many of our rivers, our native cottonwood trees are ceding real estate to the olives.  Some jurisdictions have begun cutting down and eliminating the olive trees along the rivers in efforts to promote the growth of cottonwoods.

I will admit to liking the trees outside of riparian zones.  They offer a sweet scent when filled with blossoms.  The birds like the olives.  I like the seeds.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Brief Self-Assessment

Finally, I have arrived at a point in life where I have enough scissors I can always find a pair.  I have a spare igniter for my boiler and extra pillow cases.  I have no need to set my alarm clock.  Most importantly, I have learned to do exactly what my cat wants.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Carrot Wore a Wedding Ring

In 1995, Lena Paahlsson lived on a farm near Mora in central Sweden.  To the best of her recollection, she took off her wedding ring while baking treats for Christmas with her daughters.  The ring disappeared from the work surface where she recalled placing it.

In 2011, some sixteen years later, when Mrs. Paahlsson was pulling up carrots in her garden, she pulled from the rich soil a carrot with her gold band fastened tightly around it.

"The carrot was sprouting in the middle of the ring. It is quite incredible," her husband Ola told a local newspaper.

The couple believe the ring dropped into a sink back in 1995 and was swept up with vegetable peelings that were turned into compost or fed to their sheep.

Swedish Carrot

What are the odds of such a thing occurring?

Maybe better than you might imagine.  Particularly, if you live on a farm.   

In 2004, Mary Grams lost her ring while pulling weeds on the family farm in Alberta, Canada.  Mary, both embarrassed and devastated by the loss of the ring, kept the loss a secret.

In 2017, Mary’s daughter-in-law literally unearthed the secret.  While digging carrots in the farm’s garden plot, she spotted a carrot with a particularly odd shape.  A closer look revealed the carrot had grown straight through the ring, enabling it to be plucked out of the garden after many years buried in the soil.

Canadian Carrot

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: bbc.com