Here’s a pair of creatures who get blamed for all the wrong reasons. This loved-up couple are crane flies, most likely of the Tipula oleracea persuasion.
They’re too big for any regular mosquitoes, check fingers for scale, which only makes it worse because they get accused of being giant mosquitos and swatted out of existence.
But these clumsy insects don’t bite at all. Their larvae on the other hand, do bite alright – they have a taste for plant roots and can chew their way through vast swathes of grass and crops, leaving huge dried patches in their wake.
As is often the case, good biodiversity goes a long way. If baby crane flies are giving you a headache, know that birds and ground beetles can help you keep their numbers modest and their activities focused on munching decaying plant matter, which is a good thing because it keeps nutrients cycling.
Just keep your pots and pans covered when the adults pay you a dinner visit – they have an uncanny talent for falling into open dishes.
Nastala je tako, da smo izkopali kotanjo za ribnik, ki pa ga zaradi lanskoletnih ujm nismo mogli dokončati. V izkopu se je nabrala voda, ki so jo naše rezidenčne dvoživke vzele za svojo in v njej naredile več mrestov. Za letos kaže, da bo to pač ostala mlaka, zato moram njene prebivalce nekako zaščititi. Lokalna termodinamika je taka, da nad nami kroži vse živo perjadi, nedaleč pa so reka, potoki in jezero, tako bo zagotovo prihajalo do plenilskih pohodov vodnih ptic. Na srečo nekaj malega varnosti zagotavljajo ujede, ki tukaj gnezdijo. (Pozorno oko bo na zgornji fotki opazilo kanjo, ki ravno inšpicira teren.)
Iz zgornje slike se da razvideti, da mlaka leži na dnu globokega dela kotanje, ki je na severu zamejena s strmim bregom, na jugu pa z nasipom. V bistvu je to zelo široka terasa s poglobljenim srednjim delom. Leži na sredini pobočja, ki se z vrha hribčka (420 m n.v.) spusti v grapo (320 m n.v.). Trenutno meteorne vode prosto tečejo v kotanjo. Teren je iz laporja, ki vsebuje nekaj gline in gleja, nasip, ki zapira kotanjo na južni strani, pa je iz mešanega materiala. Vodostaj, ki ga vidimo na fotografiji, je tista količina vode, ki vztraja ne glede na vreme. Viški pa hitro poniknejo, za moje pojme še prehitro.
Kotanja ob nalivih funkcionira kot polsuhi zadrževalnik, ki prestreže vodo s pobočja, da ta ne odteče prenaglo. Takole je bilo videti, ko so povsem sveže izdelan, skrbno oblikovan izkop za ribnik zalile in zverižile ujme. Če ne drugega, pa se vsaj ni vse skupaj odpeljalo v grapo, tako kot so se drugod po državi cele vasi, temveč je lepo počakalo, kjer je. Tudi to je ogromno vredno.
Kotanja je dolga vsega skupaj 30 m in široka 10 m, globoka do 2 metra. Mlaka (približno 3,5 x 8 m) je nastala v njenem najglobljem delu, ki je vkopan v glej, torej tisto modrikasto sivo glini podobno prst, ki jo vidimo tudi na levi strani fotografije; ta najgloblji del je vodotesen, preostalo pa očitno ne. Mlaka doseže globino približno 40 cm.
Prvi paglavčki. Na posestvu živijo krastače, žabe in močeradi, tako da ne bi bila presenečena, če bi v mlaki migotalo potomstvo vseh. Vse črno jih je bilo, a ko sem prišla čez nekaj dni, sem pa komaj kakšnega našla. Morda so se poskrili, morda pa so mlako obiskale race. Sumljiva mi je tudi odsotnost odraslih primerkov v bližini mlake, in upam, da jih ni kaj pojedlo.
Trenutno se sprašujem, ali je kakšna realna možnost, da se kotanja v doglednem času “samozatesni”. Prvotni načrt je bil zatesnitev s folijo, zdaj pa razmišljam, ali bi morda šlo po naravni poti. Seveda skušam ugotoviti tudi to, kako opremiti mlako in kaj zasaditi, da bo sistem čim stabilnejši in da bo omogočal osnovno varnost za svoje prebivalce (zavetje, kisik, kemijsko ravnovesje).
First of
all, a belated happy Brexit & Megxit to everyone. Also, I’m sorry to hear
about Adele and hope she cranks out a few more generation-defining hits before
going the Amy Winehouse way.
Well, Slovenia is between governments again and, different to the last time it happened, there’s barely any excitement about; the guy who got the most votes the first time around, but nobody wanted to form a coalition with him, will now have a crack at governing this thing and that’s about it. Our country is also beginning to tackle the corona scare and it’s a miracle it took this long, considering we have a border with Italy where the zombie apocalypse is already well underway. Needless to say, the media are pissing themselves with excitement and politicians are busy pretending to believe there’s anything they can do to put a damper on this mess. So, here’s a few more Snopes-type bits from the sunny side of the Alps before they shut down the internet.
Typhoid Mario, MD: Did a Slovenian doctor infect
god knows how many of his patients and colleagues with corona?
Yes, that indeed happened, and you couldn’t find a more perfect illustration of our general attitude to the virus de jour, i.e. the old and the weak should watch out but it doesn’t concern the rest of us and we’ve got enough pensioners and hospital bed-blockers anyway. Unless you’re blissfully oblivious to dark undertones, you’ve probably noticed this ageism-meets-eugenics undercurrent in your country too. Anyway, a doc returned from his ski trip to Italy, went straight to work in a community health-care centre and a home for the elderly, generously sharing his viral load with the fit and the frail alike. Accounts differ on the details; some say the good doctor never even considered getting tested on his return from the European corona hotbed and others say he offered to get tested but his superior said ‘nah no worries’. It was when he started sweating and shaking while doing his rounds of dementia patients that the penny dropped. He got scooped up into quarantine and his whole health-care centre went into shutdown.
I haven’t written much in a while. And guess I should figure out the new layout before I get started so here’s a picture of this wonderful creature I saw today.
Gorgeous black cock
The breed is called Cemani. Originally Indonesian, it is so striking in appearance and demeanor it made me wonder if I should buy a farm just so I could watch these stunners strut about in the yard.
A gorgeous black cockerel, portrait
(In other news: everything I care about seems to be going alright; a wordier post coming up soon.)
Just so that we’re clear, I came equipped with the usual set of pre-programmed physiological responses and they’re all here and accounted for; I assure you that I am just as fazed by the sudden sight of anything potentially dangerous as the next person. My fight, flight or freeze reaction is alive and well and easily triggered by creepy crawlies, the fact I am willing to extend my hospitality to an occasional charismatic arthropod notwithstanding. It’s just that I don’t continue panicking after having judged a stimulus mostly harmless and as far as I know, all central-European arachnids including my flatmate Brunhilda the diadem spider are harmless to the point of being helpless against humans, save for their potential to send us running by the sheer power of their presence. I am not fearful of Brunchy but if she catches me by surprise… Well here’s a video of what transpired when her delicate claw-foot made contact with my fingertip as I was attaching a snack to her web:
As demonstrated here, the FFF response of this particular human is accompanied by an alarm call. The volume of the distress signal may range from a loud gasp if the room acoustics are deemed adequate to a blood-curdling screech reserved for open spaces, but invariably there is some degree of vocalisation. (Yes I’m a shrieker and unabashedly proud of it. As luck would have it, one of my neighbours wails like a banshee when startled and hilarity ensues each time we unexpectedly bump into each other in the basement. Since the birth of humanity, it was people like us who had kept their fellow humans safe by instantly alerting them to threats real and imagined. These same individuals also excelled at obliterating the element of surprise from hunting expeditions whenever a scary bug moved into sight, which just might have been the driving force behind humans largely giving up on hunting for their meals and settling down to take up agriculture instead. So yeah, we shriekers have shaped history in ways you can’t begin to imagine.)Continue reading Brunhilda and the hand that feeds her→
I love it when Mother Nature steps forward to solve my problems. Until quite recently, a prominent grievance of mine were germ-taxies (houseflies). I’m locally famous for my knack at capturing them, which I suppose is fine. The thing is I’m keen on recycling and I felt bad for having little choice other than flush perfectly edible insects down the drain as I had no pet I could feed my prey to. That was, until Brunhilda came to my rescue.
The first time I saw her was when my darling lured me over to the bedroom by announcing he had something to show me and directed my gaze to the window above my side of the headboard. I was thrilled to see that while I was out, a newly-arrived friend had fitted it with a pure-silk, certified-organic flytrap that cut right through the airspace so cherished by insects. Brunhilda was sitting at the centre of her creation, looking a bit tense. I stood up on the headboard, inspected her up close, looked at my man and said, “Her butt looks flat, we need to fatten her up.” From then on, each captured fly has been presented to our new pal and she seemed to approve of this arrangement because Brunhilda, also known as Brunchy amongst her flatmates, is a diadem spider. And fatten her up we sure did.
It’s official, animals have lost their last remnant of respect for us. We people have changed and shed some of our feistier habits that used to keep them in check. In the old days, people went vegetarian only after they’ve run out of animals to hunt and any beast foolhardy enough to wander into a human settlement was facing two possible outcomes. In the highly improbable case it was judged too ugly to eat, the creature was greeted with a hailstorm of sticks and stones and sent from whence it came, its self-esteem curbed somewhat. Given that people weren’t such fussy eaters in days of yore, it was massively more likely the intruder was interpreted as a surprise food delivery and treated accordingly. After the humans were done picking its bones clean and rhythmically banging them together thanking the God of Foolishness for the feast, they tanned its hide and made it into warm slippers and a new handbag for the village First Lady, and if the creature had antlers or fangs of any consequence, they were repurposed as spear tips to welcome the next rambler of its kind with added efficiency.
It’s a tough contest but if I had to say which animal made me laugh the hardest, the honour would go to a dog I had when I was little, Fia the Doberman pinscher. It used to be quite common in Slovenia for parents to let their small children keep big animals. I suppose they hoped such a responsibility would instil some wisdom in either the kids or the pets, not to mention the added benefit of having would-be child molesters reconsider their life choices after losing a limb to a protective pet.
(Admittedly, keeping a dog wasn’t always the complicated affair it’s cranked up to be nowadays, as pooches used to have a set of clearly-defined duties – to chaperone the children, to protect the house, to abstain from mauling people without due cause and to refrain from passing gas indoors – which gave them a sense of purpose, and effectively prevented the likes of Cesar Milan from making a career trying to talk some sense into people who don’t know what a dog is for and what to do with it.)
In the rural areas where parents continue to expect their children to be smart enough to make it in the world without grown-ups constantly shielding them from all potential sources of harm, you can still see tots leading huge dogs, horses, cattle and whatnot, and when they’re not doing that they’re likely driving a tractor. From what I gather from my recent explorations of the Slovenian countryside, the age of eight is still considered ideal for country children to start operating heavy machinery. Anyway, my Fia was super clever about many things, a keen student of human nature and an astute exploiter of its soft spots, but like so many animals she tended to come up short when met with certain pitfalls of physics. Continue reading The breakdancing dog→
