There’s something about the look on Grendel’s face in this picture.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s as though he’s trying to look innocent.  Trying perhaps a bit too ernestly.

Truth be told, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I think the look came from my sudden turn in the chair in order to get the picture.  He was probably taken aback by the quick move and felt it possible he’d inadvertently done something wrong.

No harm, though.  He got plenty of lovin’ for always usually being a good boy.  In fact, he’s least likely to cause trouble, although sometimes he stirs up a hornet’s nest when he asserts his alpha status.  Thus is life with a pride of felines.

I awoke shortly before six this morning feeling as though an explosive had detonated in my head.  Before my back surgery in 1996, I used to get migraines every day.  They were great debilitating assaults from which very little could offer reprieve.  So I’m no stranger to them, although since then I generally don’t get them often.  But when I do . . .

So ouch.

It has clung to me all day like a suckling parasite.  The malaise that accompanies them bestows its own suffering by way of mental stupor.  It’s been difficult to find motivation or inspiration.  Yet hope is not lost as it’s now slowly fading away, the blinding light of a train finally disappearing down a dark tunnel.  Meanwhile, I’ve napped.  A lot.

But this morning had more to offer than the headache from hell.  Ay, poppets, we had a wee touch of the winter—again.

I suppose it was around eight when I first realized it had begun sleeting.  Mixed in with the icy pellets were occasional flakes of snow.

As the morning progressed, we saw less sleet and more snow, and around ten the sky was alight with cold confetti silently falling in heavy curtains, large, beautiful white flakes coming in droves as they followed spiraling paths toward the ground.  The scene was tranquil, quiet in that snowy way that is most admirable, most agreeable.  I stood and watched as the air filled with the stuff.  They journeyed so elegantly, so serenely.

Because our temperatures hovered right at or just above freezing, no one feared treacherous road conditions or accumulation, but oh what a show while it lasted.

There comes a peace with snow that cannot be found in any other kind of precipitation.  It’s the hush of the thing.  Unless driven by tempest winds, snow brings with it an unhurried, leisurely feeling, as though all the worry and stress of the world can wait for but a moment while nature puts on her dazzling white gown for all the world to see.

What a welcome sight it was.  Migraine or no migraine, those few hours of heavenly decorating soothed and comforted like nothing else can.

But it’s all gone now, I’m afraid.  Most of it melted the instant it reached the ground, although a bit here and there remained long enough to look more promising than it actually was.

I could almost hear the earth pleading needfully, “Let me hold it to my bosom for a minute or two more.  Please, allow me this frigid caress from the clouds.  Even if only temporarily, let me wear this frosty blanket so that you might see the loveliness cold has to offer.”

But it was not meant to be.  Now the streets are dry, the ground carries no signs of the event, and no promises of more to come will be made . . . at least not yet.

Several weeks after torrential rains had caused significant flooding in this area, I took a walk at the lake (more from that walk here, here, and here).  That the flooding had been extensive is uncontested.  In fact, a week later the floodplain was still a lake unto itself, and that provided an interesting canvas for freezing temperatures.

But during my walk before the weather turned cold, the results of the flooding lay everywhere.  Most of it was natural debris, such as twigs and sticks and leaves.  Occasional tidbits of litter also could be found, yet the flood’s most apparent traces were pieces and parts of local flora.

My walk took me close to the pier in Sunset Bay, and I spied a large number of ring-billed gulls (Larus delawarensis) standing upon it in the morning light.  They were preening and gabbing, and then gabbing and preening.  I made my way toward them to see if I could get a photo or two.

From that vantage, I could also see double-crested cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus) further out in the water and a few American coots (Fulica americana) bobbing along under and beside the pier.  Something else caught my attention, too.  Behind the brush and tucked away on top of a large pile of flood-related debris that had been washed ashore, I spied a dab of white in the lower-left corner of the frame, something too large to be a bit of flotsam.  Besides, it was moving.

I ventured further out on the pier for a better look.  What I discovered was a beautiful white duck.  Like the gulls, it had nestled down in a comfy spot to preen and enjoy some early sunshine . . . you know, something to take the chill out of the morning air.

This appears to be the same species of duck I’ve seen before but could not identify.  White ducks come in various flavors and . . . wait for it . . . they all look alike: white, and like ducks.  There are many of this particular breed at the lake.  In fact, I also caught a few of them doing a drive-by while I took some video of an egret.

Because she seemed comfortable and busy with her morning routine, I left her where she was and bothered her no more.  Although I’ll add she didn’t seem bothered by me much at all.  After one quick look when I first approached her, she went right back to grooming and cleaning without a second glance.

[Update] I have since identified the white duck as a pekin duck (a.k.a. domestic duck, white pekin duck, or Long Island duck; Anas domesticus).

Because I awoke this morning with a severe migraine that won’t go away, I’m feeling a bit like this.

peevish (pee·vish): / PEE vish /
adjective

(1) querulous in mood or temperament; fretful; cross
(2) demonstrating an ill temper, bad mood, irritation, or annoyance; cranky
(3) obstinate or perverse

[From Middle English 'pevysh' meaning "spiteful."]

Usage: No one could believe the peevish child’s incessant screams throughout the entire movie.

Now we know the hobbits were real: “The three-foot human ‘flores hobbit’ who lived on the Indonesian island of Flores more than 13,000 years ago had a sophisticated brain which was rewired internally to compensate for its small size, a study has found. An internal cast of the brain case shows that the hobbit possessed rare cranial features that would probably have conferred unusual intelligence on such a small creature, scientists said. The findings pour cold water on the idea that the hobbit was not a new species of human but an ordinary person suffering from microcephaly, a disease that causes stunted growth and small brain size. Ever since scientists announced in 2004 that they had discovered the skull and partial skeleton of a tiny human female on Flores, experts have argued about whether she belonged to new species of human or was just someone born with microcephaly. The latest study confirms beyond any reasonable doubt that the Flores skull belongs to a new species who was probably intelligent enough to make and use the tiny stone tools found alongside the bones, said Professor Dean Falk of Florida State University in Tallahassee.”

This could provide more answers than we presently have.  “Archaeologists have uncovered what may have been a village for workers or festival-goers near the mysterious stone circle Stonehenge in England. The village was located at Durrington Walls, about two miles from Stonehenge, and is also the location of a wooden version of the stone circle. [. . .] The village was carbon dated to about 2600 B.C., about the same time Stonehenge was built. The Great Pyramid in Egypt was built at about the same time, said Parker Pearson of Sheffield University.”

More bad news about the climate.  “Mountain glaciers are retreating three times faster than they were in the 1980s, says the World Glacier Monitoring Service. On average, they lost about 66 centimetres in depth in 2005, according to the latest report from the UN-affiliated body, released on 30 January. This loss rate is 1.6 times more than the annual average for the 1990s and three times the 1980s average.”

Tangled Bank #72 is focused on “biological classification, taxonomy and nomenclature.”  Head on over for plenty of great science.

Saying what we think gives us a wider conversational range than saying what we know.

— Cullen Hightower

You have undoubtedly heard by now that Barbaro was euthanized yesterday because the horse’s medical woes simply resulted in too much suffering for the equestrian celebrity.  While I do not intend to belittle the animal’s suffering and do not intend to disparage those who felt something for this horse, I absolutely intend to step all over the melodramatic and offensive brouhaha that has resulted since the horse first was wounded, and especially since his death was announced.

I have seen deep and heartfelt outpourings of emotions from around the world, lamentations on par with that fit for the greatest humanitarians and conservationists, or the most prolific philanthropists.  But instead, like bloody molasses dripping uncontrolled from a fatally wounded tree, a great many people are gnashing their teeth and declaring horrific sorrow at the loss of one horse.

I find the entire ordeal offensive in ways heretofore unheard of.

Hundreds of thousands of innocent animals are intentionally killed each year in the U.S. alone because they are homeless, unclaimed, and unwanted.  It’s not that they’re sick and suffering; it’s that there is no one to love them.  So they die.

Millions of children around the globe suffer and die each year at the hands of war, famine, disease, and broken homes, yet they are mere statistics, inconvenient tidbits of cultural detritus, the victims of progress and an uncaring species called humanity.

Millions more adults likewise languish in horrendous conditions like homelessness, starvation, illness, and the devastation wrought of conflict, sectarianism, and an uncaring, unsympathetic world, and too many of them leave this life without notice.

Our environment is nearing collapse.  The oceanic chain of life is due to implode in less than fifty years.  Thousands of species are on the verge of extinction.  Forests are being laid waste in great swathes that cannot be recovered in time to stem the devastation that will result.  Our climate is spiraling out of control at an increasing rate.

Dare I go on?

I find it so entirely contemptible to see and hear the plethora of histrionic mourning, and I find myself drowning in a flood of shallow tears.

What is wrong with you people?  Can you not see the trivial, superficial nature of this commotion?  Has everyone taken leave of their hearts so that they might weep a bitter tear for the loss of a single horse while our planet suffers and dies a slow, agonizing death, while more animals than can be counted are killed because they cannot find a home, and while people young and old fall by the wayside in vast numbers only to die lonely deaths?

Again, what is wrong with you people?

I simply cannot fathom this petty, pathetic, repulsive, nauseating spectacle.  I find it all quite repellent.  It is absurd to the point of being sickening.

I am so very sorry the horse died.  That is a tragedy, yes, but it pales in comparison to the greater and ongoing tragedies that take place around us all day, every day, around the world.  Yet none of those warrant this level of attention and concern?  None of those lives lost are important enough to elicit even the smallest bit of maudlin feeling?

Times like these make me think our species truly is not worth saving, worth any investment of time or energy.  How small of all of you for this gross farce you have created.  The world is a stage, I see, and it’s replete with vapid actors incapable of overcoming their own tawdry and small selfishness.

This has proved Joseph Stalin correct when he said, “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.”  What a shame.

While I’m on the subject of the intriguing reflective and refractive properties of cat eyes, let me offer two more examples of how, very much unlike most species, felines offer a myriad of colors and intensities when it comes to light bouncing around inside their eyes.  In this case, let’s look at two photographs of Kazon.  In both cases, I used the flash on the camera.  Also in both cases, the direction he was facing and the direction I was aiming were both different.  You can see those variations caused disparate results.

Don’t Call. Don’t Write. Let Me Be.  This is an excellent article by the New York Times outlining the many opt-out mechanisms available to reduce unwanted solicitations and the sharing of personal information.  “The popularity of the do-not-call list unleashed a demand for other opt-out lists. A consumer can now opt out of the standard practice of their banks or loan companies selling their information to others. Other opt-outs stop credit card companies from soliciting consumers or end the flow of junk mail and catalogs. While most of the opt-outs are intended to make life less annoying, they can also have the side effect of protecting personal information that can be misused by identity thieves or unscrupulous merchants. ”

I can’t recommend enough that you go read Chris Clarke’s latest about his ailing dog Zeke.  It’s beautiful and heartfelt, and it should certainly touch the coldest of hearts.

This is chilling in far too many ways.  “President Bush has signed a directive that gives the White House much greater control over the rules and policy statements that the government develops to protect public health, safety, the environment, civil rights and privacy. In an executive order published last week in the Federal Register, Mr. Bush said that each agency must have a regulatory policy office run by a political appointee, to supervise the development of rules and documents providing guidance to regulated industries. The White House will thus have a gatekeeper in each agency to analyze the costs and the benefits of new rules and to make sure the agencies carry out the president’s priorities.”

Grand Rounds: 3.19 is focused on consumer-driven healthcare.  There’s plenty of informative writing from the medical blogosphere, so be sure to check it out.

Experts Call for Monitoring of Cats, Dogs for H5N1: “The discovery of Avian influenza in cats and dogs has heightened concerns about a virus that experts had thought was basically infecting chickens, ducks and other fowl. Health experts have called for closer monitoring of the H5N1 virus in domestic animals after Indonesian scientists detected it in stray cats near poultry markets in some parts of the country. They worry that if the virus adapts to mammals it could more easily spread among people.”  It’s also important to point out they’ve discovered the virus in pigs.  While still not indicative of a looming pandemic, these findings warrant close scrutiny.

Developing The silence of snow and going through those wonderful photographs has brought back a great many memories, especially of snow and ice when I was a child.  Part of my fondness for those times stems entirely from the magical play in winter wonderlands that can occur at no other time and under no other circumstances.  Snowball fights, for instance . . . and this word, which immediately jumped to mind.

glissade (glis·sade): / gli SAHD /
noun

(1) a controlled or skillful slide down a snowy slope without skis made by someone in a standing or crouching position
(2) a gliding or sliding ballet step

verb (intransitive)

(1) to slide down a snowy slope in a controlled or skillful manner without skis and in a standing or crouching position
(2) to perform a gliding or sliding ballet step

[From French glisser meaning "to slide, slip," from an alteration of Old French glier meaning "to glide" (probably influenced by glacer meaning "to slide"), from Old High German glitan meaning "to glide."]

Usage: One of the most common venues for winter entertainment in Dallas is to visit Flagpole Hill after it snows, which provides one of the best places to sled and glissade.