Saturday, November 24, 2007

Unexplained Purple Nemises


And then there is this, the unseemly attack of the medusas in Ireland, killing farmed Salmons. Imagine the horror of being trapped in cages, unable to escape the stings! Poor citified creatures. And what are those jellyfish doing up there? Who dumped them? Are they dead now? They must have been lost! One hardly knows how to begin to empathize with this event, it is so out of tune. Now just about every word of the foregoing seems wrong and weird, but those are our times, it seems. I have put out a word with some wing-y guys I know, with big curved bills (and kind of a puffed up attitude, if the truth be told) that have been wading around here all summer. "Oh, I knew that" is just their attitude all the time, and having backed themselves into the know-all corner, they can just darn-tootin' go looking for an explanation for this event. They claim they know, or at least know of, some curlews that go to Nova Scotia from time to time that might have heard what really happened. Human news is so inadequate! Like looking in a pail for the sun. Robbie told me these know-it-all birds are what he calls "whaups," which I think is a nicer word. Apparently, it's hard to get any kind of word from Ireland, it's a walled-off zone for some reason, a refuge of sorts for birds and animals and people. No snakes there, very odd. Some kind of special zone, at any rate, but if one can get word to Newfoundland, whatever that is, apparently you can just sing out and everyone will hear you calling. That Robbie, he is full of communication surprizes! It may take a while, but maybe the whaups will be able to tell us what is going on in the Irish Sea, which is supposed to be sainted and safe, after all. Snotty birds, but they do seem to have an international conspiracy, and an excellent means of communication. Those beaks do rather frighten me, however.

Hazy On The Concept

What is wrong with this picture? Smokey's friends should be joined by many fish, sea mammals, and salps that are choking on the smoke-depleted ocean waters of the Pacific. Dead critters are washing up here in Oregon, starved from the toxic smoke that blew out to sea from the fires inland. I am half-blinded by the smoke, myself, but made a hasty trip north for the very high tides, to visit with my friends north of Tillamook Head.