Last month, I posted (here) a photo of a gold dust day gecko drinking from a bird of paradise flower. This photo, taken last week, is from that same clump of plants. This flower is past its prime, but the gecko has not yet reached adulthood and has already had at least one narrow escape judging by its missing tail. It kept its eyes on me, probably wondering if I represented another threat.
I spotted this giant African land snail in the yard a few days ago, moving purposefully through the wet grass. Unfortunately, it was moving in a straight line toward one of my truck’s wheels. Since I was about to get into the truck and drive away, the snail was perilously close to getting smushed. Instead, I picked it up and moved it out of the way before driving off.
Given that the giant African land snail is an invasive species I should probably have just run it over. Next time maybe.
I was taking photos of birds in the yard – northern cardinals, Japanese white-eyes, and saffron finches – when I noticed that I wasn’t the only one watching them intently. A neighbor’s black cat was following their every move, until it realized that it wasn’t the only one doing that. Then it turned its stare on me.
The long-tailed blue butterfly (Lampides boeticus) is believed to have been accidentally introduced to Hawaii in the 1880s. Accidental or not, it wasn’t a good thing. Its common name, bean butterfly, gives a clue as to the problem. It damages a wide variety of bean and pea plants, both domestic and commercial.
These photos were taken on the Puna Coast Trail in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. The plant is Vigna marina or beach pea, an indigenous plant that grows well in the harsh, exposed coastal area that the trail passes through.
Two days ago, while driving home after my daily walk, I was thinking it must be almost a week since I actually took a photo (Never mind that when I got home I found that I’d taken a couple of photos earlier, during my walk!). Then I saw a patch of white in the grass beside the road, realized what it was, and thought that I should at least get a photo of that.
The nearest of the cows was some distance away, but this was the pasture of the local dairy and these cows are pretty mellow. I’ve seen other calves, seemingly abandoned, but actually just resting in a quiet spot while mom catches up with some grazing.
This was a marked contrast to my last cattle encounter, which was that almost-a-week-previous occasion of taking photos. I went for a hike up Pu’u Wa’awa’a. This is a public trail, but the land is also used for grazing so there can be cattle, horses, sheep, goats, and even a donkey or two sharing the area with hikers. Bear in mind that these cattle are being raised for beef so they’re big. Also, the cows among them are there to produce future beef cattle. They’re not giving milk to anyone other than their calves.
On this day, the first part of the trail, an old road, was littered with cattle of one kind or another, including several small calves. I grew up on a dairy farm and I’ve walked through many a field of cows and the occasional bull. I’m used to them, so this array of cattle didn’t bother me. As I walked up the trail, the herd thinned out. Soon all I saw in front of me were a couple of younger animals. These looked bigger and older than the calves lower down, perhaps yearlings. As I got closer I noticed a couple of full-grown animals grazing in a ditch on the other side of the road. They were mostly obscured by grass so I couldn’t see if they were cows or bulls. It seemed to make no difference as they appeared to ignore me as I passed.
I marched on up the road, and as I got closer to the two yearlings, I realized that one of the full-grown cattle (the large, black one in the photos below) had moved in my direction. This didn’t bother me. Often times cattle run towards me as I pass. Then they pull up and just look, or even turn and run away. I kept going. So did the large animal. I still couldn’t see whether it was male or female, but as it started snorting at me, I began to think female. I looked ahead to the two yearlings, then at the cow. She came closer, still snorting. I stopped. For the first time in my life, I thought I was probably going to get charged by a cow. This might seem silly, but people get killed by cows every year. A cow will charge, especially if someone comes between her and her calf.
By this time the cow was about 10 feet away. I decided this wasn’t the time to get a photo of a charging cow and instead clutched my metal water bottle with a view to swinging it at her snout. But the cow didn’t charge. Instead, she snorted one last time, glared at me as she stomped past, and headed up the road to what was clearly her calf. She was followed by the other large, brown cow.
Once the four were reunited, they just stood in the old roadway. I thought they might amble off, as cows will often do, but they stayed put. I didn’t feel like threading my way through them in case the two big ones were still riled up, so I marched into the scrubland to the side of the road and worked my way around them. The footing was uneven, but it wasn’t hard going and I soon came out on the other side. They’d watched my passage with more typically bovine expressions and once I regained the road surface they lost interest and meandered into the trees on the opposite side of the road.
I watched them go and figured I’d have a drink of water before continuing up the trail. I reached for my water bottle and pulled it out with a bloodstained hand … bloodstained hand? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Both hands were smeared with blood. My shorts had a giant patch of blood on one side. Just above my wrist, a small scratch continued to gush. Somewhere in my short trek through the underbrush I’d encountered something sharp without noticing, which is fairly typical for me.
I washed the blood off my hands and held a tissue to the cut. It quickly stopped flowing, so I carried on up the trail having rediscovered the wisdom of not getting between a mother and her offspring.
The top photo was my last of April and is posted in response to Bushboy’s Last on the Card photo challenge. See more responses here.
Also posted in response to this week’s Friendly Friday challenge theme of ‘Covid Discoveries.’ See more responses here.
And if those four cattle ever get together and release a record, perhaps Music To Moooove To, I think the bottom photo would make a great album cover for them.
The tropical-looking bird of paradise plant (Strelitzia reginae) is actually a native of sub-tropical South Africa. But it certainly has the pizzazz of a tropical plant, especially when being visited by a colorful gold dust day gecko seeking to sup on the flower’s nectar.
Posted in response to Becky’s April Squares challenge theme of ‘Top.’ See more responses here.
I saw this green bottle fly perched on top of a washing line. Every time I pointed my camera its way it would rotate to the other side of the line. We played this game for a little while before I was able to snap a couple of shots with the fly still in the picture. This was one of them.
Posted in response to Becky’s April Squares challenge theme of ‘Top.’ See more responses here.
This week’s Friendly Friday challenge theme is ‘Something Good.’ See more responses here.
These three little pigs have been my top source of entertainment over the last couple of weeks. They’ve been regular visitors, looking for fallen mangoes and tangerines, or just foraging for worms and the like in the grass. The littlest pig seems the most adept at finding things and, when it does, the others try and get a piece of the action. Usually the littlest pig runs off with its trophy and the others chase it.
A couple of days ago they met Hopalong, a rooster thinking about making the yard his territory. Usually, when a rooster does that, I make a point of ushering it away every time it shows up and eventually it gives up. But Hopalong has a bad foot and doesn’t get around well, so he’s reluctant to move on. He wasn’t sure what to make of these pigs trotting toward him, so he retreated into the neighbor’s yard, looking affronted.
The three little pigs are easily spooked, scooting into the cane grass at the least disturbance. I think that’s where they live. I ventured in there one day and saw three little houses, one made of straw, another of sticks, and a third of bricks. I was going to investigate more, but I heard a low growling noise followed by some huffing and puffing, so thought better of it.
Also posted in response to Becky’s April Squares challenge theme of ‘Top.’ See more responses here.
Graham's Island 