Tag: raccoons

By Your Leave

jono55

This past week has been interesting from a rainfall perspective. We’ve had several sharp rains around the state, brief in duration, but with beaucoup water. This has led to one of Colorado’s more delightful highway happenings, mudslides.

In the past few days we’ve had mudslides blocking interstate 70, which is the main east-west Highway across the state. Locally there were mudslides in Black Canyon National Park blocking the East Portal Road that winds steeply down to the Gunnison River, and inundating the small campground that was at the bottom of that road. Another mudslide blocked the highway to Telluride. This all within a period of only six days.

Black Canyon Park managers have actually been anticipating such a slide. When you have soil being held in place by a sketchy and scant network of plant life, and that plant life is burned away as happened in the park fire last summer, you are almost guaranteed to have some problems with mud eventually. You just have to wait for the hard rains.

In the case of the present event there were 20 people that were temporarily trapped down at the East Portal and had to be rescued by Park staff. Three of them spent the night down at the East Portal, apparently preferring staying in place to traveling up a muddy and now more hazardous road to the top, in the dark.

******

I think that I should get this bracelet for myself. Can’t think of a better expression of my present state of mind.

.

******

Twelve Thirty, by the Mamas and the Papas

******

Robin and I took in a matinee on Wednesday, driving through a blinding (but brief) rainstorm to see The Odyssey. I have nothing to add to the superlatives that are flooding entertainment news sources. Worst criticism I have is that the movie is nearly three hours long and I possess a 2.5 hour bladder. So I’m not too sure about the ending with my attention being elsewhere. What happened with the suitors? Did Odysseus die or what?

There was one thing that I noted about the movie. The characters didn’t speak in some stilted interpretation of an ancient language. They spoke in today’s vernacular. Even, occasionally, in using what amounted to slang. I never actually heard anyone say “Wassup?,” but they came pretty close.

******

Screenshot
Screenshot

******

I had another close encounter with a raccoon Thursday morning around 0430, in our kitchen/dining area, where the cat dishes are kept. The critter had come in for food, of course, and I was alerted to its presence by the sound of loud munching on our cat’s dry rations. I went from the office out to greet my visitor, but as soon as it saw me coming it quickly took its leave and went back out into the dark and the light rain we were experiencing.

That’s one of the problems with interacting with raccoons, I’ve found, is that it is very difficult to have a meaningful dialogue with them. One look at you and they are off to somewhere more interesting or profitable, without so much as a by your leave.

Here are some bits of raccoon lore:

  • In captivity they can live up to 20 years, but only up to three years on average in the wild
  • They can climb down a tree facing forward, a feat unusual in such a large animal
  • Related females often share a common area, while unrelated males live together in groups of up to four raccoons
  • Their hearing is good enough to hear earthworms underground
  • They are omnivores par excellence with a diet consisting of about 40% invertebrates, 33% plant material and 27% vertebrates.
  • The first edition of The Joy of Cooking, released in 1931, contained a recipe for preparing raccoon.

******

A sobering episode unfolded this past week in the wonderful world of AI. An AI something (they called it an “agent”) that was not supposed to be able to get out of its “sandbox,” got out of its “sandbox” at a research facility.

.

Next, that same something that was not supposed to be able to get to the internet, got to the internet. Then, that same something hacked into another AI company’s website and messed around while it was there. It was not supposed to be able to get into that site.

No harm, no foul? What if that same something wanted to do other stuff, let’s say meddle in the Department of Defense or a major banking institution or hospital? It obviously can go pretty much where it wants to. When children don’t take care of their toys, friends, what do we do? Why, we take those toys away from them and put them someplace safe and secure.

******

Uncle John’s Band (live), by the Grateful Dead

******

The depressing numbers are in for social media and their toxic algorithms, especially for young women. More psychological damage, more suicides, more eating disorders, etc. The depressing part comes from the fact that the developers of these algorithms know what they are doing, and keep doing it. Bringing in customers, after all, is at the heart of capitalism.

I have dropped Facebook and any others of its sordid ilk and I have switched away from Google as my search engine. Both of these giants have their hands deep in the bloody till. Too big to fail? They are far too big to trust.

I am quite sure that my leaving these tawdry enterprises behind has struck terror in their hearts, and somewhere on their campuses there are teams working frantically to restore my confidence in their good intentions. After all, it is well known that octogenarian males are their target audience.

******

Up a Tree

jono55

A couple of weeks ago, on a single day, 274 people summited Mount Everest, a new record. The average cost of such a trip is around $70,000. What kind of extraordinary accomplishment can it be if 274 persons do it in one 24 hour period? It has become little more than an entertainment for the very wealthy, as the risks have been systematically reduced and the mental and physical fitness required are less than they once were.

I’ve never understood the attraction of climbing mountains, and thought the recurring phrase “I conquered the mountain” more than a little overblown. The mountain was there before being “conquered,” and was still there unchanged afterward, caring little for the specks of humanity crawling around on its surface. But I have had respect for the effort, planning, and risks involved in such ventures. Now it is becoming a matter of writing a check, putting on the new outfit you bought for the occasion, and joining the throng in line.

******

America, by Simon and Garfunkel

******

As I was typing this early on a Thursday morning something really disappointing happened. Willow and I were sharing the futon in the unused bedroom that I call my office when we heard unmistakable munching noises coming from the kitchen. I leapt to my feet and rushed to find a half-grown raccoon making its exit. I pursued the beast into the back yard, calling out silent imprecations so as not to rouse the neighbors. It simply climbed twelve feet up the ash tree and looked down at me impassively.

The villain. The interloper. The masked mammal from Hell sent to perplex the faithful and the well-intentioned.

After a minute or so of us staring at one another the raccoon carefully descended and took off running toward the west and over the fence to safety (at least from me). Imagine my chagrin when now that I had the chance to think about the matter I realized that it had marched right past my flashing red intruder alarm as if it were nothing. Aiieeeee! One more unhappy discovery. One more bright idea come to naught. It’s back to square one, at least where this species is concerned.

I think these critters are rather cute when on the proper side of my kitchen door. But only there.

******

Screenshot
Screenshot
Screenshot
Screenshot

The last cartoon in the set above pretty much summarizes why many rank and file Democrats are seeking more aggressive leadership.

******

Across The Borderline, by Ry Cooder with Harry Dean Stanton

******

After a couple of rejections, I once again had a Letter to the Editor published in our local paper. The rejections I completely understand and sometimes even agree with. I can be a bit of a smart-ass when I write (which I know comes as a great shock to you) and there are moments when immediately after I push the button “Submit” which sends the letter off to the Montrose Daily Press that I wish I could get it back.

Anyway, here’s what I said.

I had the pleasure once again of attending the Montrose City Council meeting on June 2.  The mayor opened the proceedings by using the time worn technique of trying to put lipstick on a pig when he read a self-congratulatory statement describing how fair and balanced a guy he was. The “pig” on this occasion was his refusal to issue a traditional proclamation naming June as Pride Month.

Where was the pleasure?  That came from when one citizen after another walked up to the microphone to give heartfelt, moving, and sometimes blistering testimony on the importance of showing that marginalized groups like the LGBTQ+ community are accepted and valued in Montrose.

When we should be taking every opportunity to deplore the violence, bigotry, and exclusion that we can see being visited upon these citizens on a regular basis, it is unacceptable when elected officials hold back on any form of support they can provide. Their mean-spiritedness makes Montrose look small indeed to observers.

BTW, even though the MAGA faction on the City Council wishes the whole subject of non-heterosexuality would just go away, the third annual Pride Festival took place on Saturday and was a great success.

******

To RLF in 2011

There may be time to be away in Winter
But not in Springtime
Then I will need you here

To watch the stars gather
To walk the path up to the point
To listen to the whip-poor-wills at night
To watch herons hunting in the channel
To paddle silently across the lake at twilight
To share the feeling of the wind blowing through the bedroom window

******

And I Am Still Searching, by Pete Seeger

******

Triviality

jono55

Robin and I started with a new physician this week. The doc we’ve had since moving to Paradise is retiring, and we wish her well.

The new MD is thirtyish, asks all the right questions, gives lots of solicited advice, and has definite opinions about things she should have definite opinions about.

I like her.

I don’t mind at all being ordered about by a female physician, it fits well with the pattern of the rest of my life. It turns out that I do better at taking orders from women than my own gender because, in general, those orders have a higher sensible/thoughtful score and rank lower on the bluster/buffoon index.

(Actually I’d rather not take orders at all, but that part seems unavoidable.)

******

I mentioned a couple of posts back that our house has been recurrently invaded by three young raccoons.

They’ve been back several times since that first visit and I’ve been straining my brain trying to figure out how to get them to stop coming in without harming them. Then I remembered that farmers and gardeners have been using the urine of predators sprinkled around their trees and plants to discourage deer and small animals (including raccoons) from eating or damaging them.

So we left the cat door open as it’s always been, but I’ve started putting the T-shirt that I’ve worn during the day right by the door at night. Interestingly the raccoons have not come in since.

I don’t know if they’ve given up on us or if they’ve just decided to wait me out, but our home is presently raccoon-free. I feel that I should add for the sake of propriety that there is no urine involved in this operation. None whatsoever.

******

Last evening Robin and I watched a 2016 concert on PBS where some of the stars in the country music world paid tribute to Kris Kristofferson. People like Willie Nelson, Reba McIntire, Martina McBride, etc. It was nicely done, and the performances of KK’s songs were excellent.

***

Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down

***

Kristofferson’s music has played its part in both of our lives, starting long before we met and I’m pretty sure that it will continue through the rest of our personal stories. What stands out in his writing is truth and honesty. If he’d only written Me and Bobby McGee, just that one tune, he’d be on our fave list. But there is so much more.

***

Loving Her Was Easier

******

The irony of one of this week’s events on the political stage … you couldn’t make this stuff up, honey. When a man avoiding an international arrest warrant for criminal acts of war comes to Washington DC to announce that he has officially nominated President Cluck for the Nobel Peace Prize.

My, my, my. Another chapter in the malignant fantasy that is Cluckland.

******

The two friends in the header photograph have moved on to camping and paddling in another part of the cosmos. I wonder how the scent of woodsmoke registers there.

******

Psychedelia

jono55

One more tag-end to our recent trip. On the return leg we overnighted in FairPlay CO. I believe Fairplay, Colorado might be one of the least gentrified communities in the entire state. Perhaps the entire country. We sought advice from the motel desk clerk and went to Otto‘s for supper. Otto’s was located in one of my favorite sort of venues, a simple wooden-frame structure whose bathrooms were approached by going out the side door and around the back. The kitchen was very busy with young men working hard at preparing a large number of their signature dishes which are fried chicken sandwiches.

Robin and I each ordered one of those and sat down at a table to wait. The music coming at us from the small Bose speaker in the corner was straight out of a late sixties psychedelic playlist.

It was all wonderful stuff, but there was one particular song that came on which I had never heard before and admired greatly. I went to the desk where we had ordered our food to ask the gentleman if he knew what was playing on the overhead. He immediately came up with the answer, which was Fearless, by Pink Floyd, from their album Meddle.

I have included that gem in today’s post.

******

Fearless, by Pink Floyd

******

From The New Yorker

******

Robert Reich reposted a message a couple of days ago that I wish I had written. It brings together what was an inchoate mess of thoughts ricocheting around in my own cranium and then organizes them. It calls for action by all of us who are sickened by current events, and does not at any point suggest that we sit back and watch in bemusement.

It especially calls for the leaders in the Democratic Party to be … well … leaders. To leave their comfort zones so far behind they can’t remember where the keys are and really dig in while digging is still possible.

As the graphic indicates, democracy is not a spectator sport. The house is on fire, friends. The next right thing to do is to grab a bucket and join a brigade!

******

From The New Yorker

******

It’s a bit after one a.m., and while I am computerscribbling in my office I hear a scuffling noise out in the kitchen area. The pet door is open to the outdoors, and rarely another feline will wander in to sample whatever we’re feeding our own cats. So I walk quietly to that room and discover not one, but three young raccoons, each the size of a small kitty.

They took poorly to being discovered and went out the door, across the yard, and over the board fence in a dignified hurry.

That’ll be about that for a while, I say as I button down the cat portal. I do like these intelligent critters, but only outdoors. They are quite good at probing human defense systems, and it is likely that our home is now on their list of good places to visit.

Oh well.

******