Predatory Stick

Day 50: Nobody ever told this kid that you're not supposed to expose your tender tummy to a predator. "Stick" is Merry's favourite interactive game. As soon as I have my first cup of coffee warmed up in the morning, I ask him, "Do you want to play with Stick? Let's go play with Stick!" and he responds by running into the living room and laying down beside it. "Stick's gonna getcha!" I say, and run the tip of it across the carpet. He leaps on it, grabs it with all four paws (and trust me, he can hang on as tight as any monkey) and bites on it. When I finally get it away from him, I tap it on the floor beside him. What follows is a series of writhing contortions as Stick eludes him, Merry rolling from side to side. Sometimes he comes to rest in this position. "Stick's gonna get your tummy!" I say as I lay it across his exposed underside and wiggle it back and forth. He folds up like a clam...a clam with a shiny mouthful of sharp teeth. But it's all a game, and he knows and respects the limits. When his poor old mama is worn out of playing, he happily...make that "Merrily"...goes off to see what other kinds of trouble he can get into.

Stick Art

Day 165: First and foremost, Mother Nature is a scientist. Of that, there can be no doubt, but it is not always about improving design to make it more efficient or durable. Sometimes her creative side surfaces and then, if we are privileged, we may witness an exhibition of her art.

I had several goals in mind when I left home yesterday for a hike. Very few of them bore any fruit. I did manage to cover five or six miles without seeing or hearing another human being, although the buzz of a chainsaw was audible from the top of the hill. It temporarily drowned out the chorus of Pacific Tree Frogs who were singing their spring anthem in the wetland below, though not the voices of Canada Geese flying overhead. Once back in the forest, the chips and cheeps of woodland birds were the only sounds, and I was left to enjoy visual immersion in uncountable shades of green. Here and there, the Cardamine inserted a pale pink accent, its flowers nodding, unwilling to fully wake into the light, damp chill of the morning, and a few Trillium who had had too much rain at last night's party tried to shake off the aftereffects with limited success. There were no spring mushrooms, not yet, and the nettles were too far advanced to pick for tea. They were quite defensive, and expressed their sentiments toward being gathered by biting me through nitrile gloves. With "gathering" removed from my list on those two counts, "exercise" was the next best option. I decided to cover as much ground as the weather and mud would permit, with "photography" a given as it is any time I am out and about.

The wildlife area near Mossyrock Dam affords a variety of ecological niches. Managed by Cowlitz Wildlife under the auspices of WDFW, it offers woods, ponds, grasslands and thickets spaced throughout roughly 14,000 acres. There are only a few maintained trails and no "destinations," rendering it less popular with hikers than other areas. I have observed a number of interesting plants and fungi there, and a wealth of lichens, many of which I have yet to identify. I was walking the ADA trail when I found this stick, barely recognizable as such beneath its lavish embellishments of lichen and moss, Art in its purest form. The scientific half of my brain registered Ochrolechia (little round dots), Usnea (wiry threads), Platismatia (ruffled lobes) and a moss even as the artistic side exclaimed, "That's beautiful!" Ma Nature had succeeded in engaging my full appreciation, a feat no human artist has ever managed. All other considerations aside, the Stick was the highlight of my hike, and I don't say that lightly.