It's That Day Again...

... Lump Day!

And who does Lump Day better than a panda?

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Flamingo Friday: Courtship Action Shot

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Another Close EnCOWnter at the Zoo

Nothing like a little cow-luring to brighten one's day.

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In Honor of Lump Day

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Flamingo Friday: 11

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For Valentine's Day...

...Some atrocious puns just for you!

I like lion around with you.



You belong to my hart.



I udderly adore you.



Llama give you a kiss.



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Beach Reading

The quahogs shells on the shore are riddled with scrollwork.

The tracery of worms or shell-boring clams, they are marine hieroglyphics, runes whose meaning—like the soughing whispers of the waves—I can almost, but not quite, make out.

What stories would they tell? Different ones in different seasons, perhaps: of storms tossing through the undersea beds like restless sleepers churning through nightmares; of low tides into whose calm waters the clams loose bursts of sperm and eggs; of currents rich with summer blooms of phytoplankton; of the rasp of a moon snail’s tongue-like radula as its scrapes through a hapless quahog's shell and sucks out the sweet quick flesh; of longer nights slowly leaching the heat from waves and shifting the eager tug of tides.

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Not-So-Wild(?) Wildlife: Four Stages of Schnerrier Lounging

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Flamingo Friday: Are These...

"...Are these my feet...?"

(Some days, they look so unfamiliar...)

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Negative Space

It was the very end of the year, which meant the dog’s morning walk occurred before full dawn. While the sky had begun to pale towards translucence, night still gathered like a low-hanging fog over the lawns and tangled among the trees’ bare branches. Earnestine pranced and snuffled her way along the deserted street; I followed more blearily, letting the leash pull me forward.

Earnestine paused in front of a lot between two houses, sniffing intently at the grass beside the curb. In the distance, something caught my eye.

At the very back of the lot two rabbits were grazing, lolloping across the lawn in uneven starts and stops. Their figures were barely discernible, like black felt cut-outs against a black screen, as if they had sprung from the soil or formed out of the dark air. They were a part of this landscape; the dog and I were simply visitors.

Earnestine, satisfied with her olfactory investigations, gave a final snort and tugged us eagerly onward, blithely unaware of these creatures shaped from the fabric of the newborn day.

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If Wednesday is “Hump Day,”

...Shouldn’t Monday be “Lump Day”?

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Flamingo Friday: What Time Is It?

It's head-flagging time!



Courtship season is upon us--at least for the zoo's flamingos, and I got lots of photos, so stay tuned...

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