full_metal_ox: A National Geographic cover mock-up, with three marigolds in an analogous orange-yellow color harmony. (Nature)
[personal profile] full_metal_ox
Taken last year, this is pictorial tax for my previous post; this little guy was one of a family headquartered in a vacant lot along one of my habitual shopping routes.





Note the ropes cordoning the space off, as well as the designated perch set up for the owls. In the upper background, across the path, is another staked-off owl nesting site; unusually for birds of prey, Burrowing Owls are social animals who sometimes form communities of multiple families.

(If I’ve slipped into Earnest School Essay Mode, it’s because this is stuff I myself am very much newly learning.)
full_metal_ox: A National Geographic cover mock-up, with three marigolds in an analogous orange-yellow color harmony. (Nature)
[personal profile] full_metal_ox
Lizards have been somewhat fewer in the apartment complex than last year, and the other night I learned a possible reason: a Burrowing Owl (Athene cunicularia) couple have set up housekeeping on the back lawn next door! (No pictorial tax as yet: their nest, less than five feet from the curb, overlooks a back alley heavily travelled by garbage, service, and delivery vehicles as well as human cyclists and pedestrians—meaning that they’re probably experiencing botherance enough without amateur paparazzi. (1)

Burrowing Owls are regarded as local mascots and rigorously protected here; standard procedure upon discovering an inhabited burrow is to erect a little designated perch for the owls and cordon it off, crime-scene style, halting any human construction until the young have left the nest.

(1) Rule of thumb is that if the owls are reacting to your presence, you’re too close; the risk of attracting gawkers is one reason that doxxing Burrowing Owls nesting on private property is frowned upon around here. Schools, museums, and other such facilities, however, will encourage on-site nesting, observable by remote cam.

I’m finding varying accounts of how capable they are of digging their own burrows, but certainly the owls prefer the convenience of found housing when they can get it, not only taking over burrows constructed by other animals but occupying such human artifacts as PVC pipes; it’s quite possible to build artificial burrows to attract them.
full_metal_ox: A National Geographic cover mock-up, with three marigolds in an analogous orange-yellow color harmony. (Nature)
[personal profile] full_metal_ox
I sure do!

I’m something of an astronomy nerd; you have to understand that the great solar eclipse of 8 April 2024 was something I’d been counting down to my whole life. In my native Dayton, Ohio, I’d gotten to witness the strange begrimed 40-watt sunlight (1) and dappled crescent shadows of the partial solar eclipses of 10 May 1994 and 21 August 2017, after having gotten a fleeting confirmatory glance through SolarShields under welder’s goggles: the exercise was a bit like hunting basilisks or Medusa.

Another point is that I’m acutely homesick for the seasonal markers of the place where I spent 90+% of my life: the violets and wild chives and flowering crabapples, and the two equinoctial yellows of Moraine honeylocusts: neon chartreuse foliage in the spring, and in the fall flaming saffron—turning to orange piles of cornflake crunch beneath the feet. Even the lawn weeds here are unfamiliar.

Until a couple years in advance—by which time it was too late—I had not anticipated that, by the time the total solar eclipse at long last came to Dayton, I would be gone; behold the southern Gulf Coast of Florida’s experience of the Grand Portentuous Celestial Event.

Continue. )
full_metal_ox: A National Geographic cover mock-up, with three marigolds in an analogous orange-yellow color harmony. (Nature)
[personal profile] full_metal_ox
https://visdeurbel.nl/en/

The Fish Doorbell in Utrecht in the Netherlands is an interactive online Citizen Science tool:

The Fish Doorbell is an initiative of the municipality of Utrecht, Hoogheemraadschap De Stichtse Rijnlanden (HDSR), and Mark van Heukelum of Dutch Wallfish. The municipality of Utrecht and HDSR manage and maintain the water quality in the Vecht, Kromme Rijn, and Utrecht’s canals.

Every spring, thousands of fish swim through the Oudegracht in Utrecht, searching for a place upstream to lay their eggs. But the Weerdsluis is often closed. You can help the fish continue their journey! If you see a fish, press the doorbell. This alerts the lock operator to open the lock.


Pressing the doorbell button also snaps a picture of whatever’s in the live camera field, helping the researchers record fish species and numbers.

The time displayed is Central European Time (UTC +1) until March 30, when Central European Savings Time (UTC+2) begins; the Fish Doorbell will continue through mid-May.

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