Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Omnipresence of Lizards
Okay, so we established that I love crabs, a slow, unexpected love affair that blossomed over long contact. But I immediately fell for the lizards.
We call the ones that live in our apartment "Tara". Tara is a non-color, a bit transparent so you can see her veins and organs if you looks closely or she has light shining through her. I saw her eat a wasp larger than the side of her head. Needless to say, we appreciate her presence here. I have only once seen a Tara on the floor, she is usually to be found clinging to the ceiling and walls.
The iguanas are naturally the most impressive, and remarkably quick, running to a hiding place when startled. There is one that consistently lives in a drainage pipe near Salvatore's. We saw one as roadkill on Calle Litibu, it's head flattened, and three other iguanas surrounding it, whether offering help or anticipating feasting on it, I cannot say. The first is a bit more romantic.
A laundry day several months ago>> I was rarin' to go on our hand-crank Amish-made washing machine, and my clothes were even more ready for a good wash. I uncovered the quaint little device and opened the lid, to discover a sizeable lizard relaxing in the base. I told it sweetly that it would need to leave, because I was in need of its new home. It took this news very calmly, without moving. So I prodded it with the agitator and it still neglected to move. This is highly unusual behavior for a lizard, which are usually quickly agitated (no pun intended). Then it dawned on me...this lizard was dead. And I had just killed one several days earlier by accidental suffocation while I was shoveling soil. I had never used the washing machine, but had constructed it several months earlier, and I supposed that the latency period had caused a drawn-out starvation and a very unpleasant death. This was devastating and I wasn't up to dealing with it, so I abandoned my bag of laundry of Salvatore's porch, and ran away to recount the story to Sascha in horror. He agreed to take care of the situation the following day. We trooped up and I stood away so as to not witness my hapless victim. He moved it around and got a plastic sand castle shovel out to scoop it up and carry it away. De repente, it scuttled to the other side of the washer! It was extremely dehydrated and hungry, I'm sure, but not willing to be buried alive. Sascha yelped and hollered and we laughed. We laid the washer on its side in the sun to give it some energy, but the next day it hadn't left, so I finally scared it out and I hope it is currently living a happy and profitable life.
I will miss the lizards. I probably see an average of six per day, and the record was eight at one time, within six feet of each other by some outdoor lights at night. Reptiles are amazing.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Got Crabs? Too Cliche?
As our time in Litibu has been winding down, Sascha and I repeatedly ask each other the question, "what will you miss the most?"
He lists of names of fruit and fish which are succulently fresh, among many other things. I find the question more challenging. After five and a half months in Mexico, what have I learned to love about it?
Before I get too reflective, I would really prefer this post to be a story. It's the wildlife that I love.
Sascha and I took a walk today, an unusually cloudy day in Litibu, down our beach. We are privileged to live on a beautiful sandy beach, with little windrows of stones, and relatively few visitors. It stretches past the Litibu community into what is called Punta Negra, where a huge semi-abandoned resort full of hotel skeletons looms eerily, with a shiny 600 ft long swimming pool and sea-side showers. It's quite a hike over there, and today we walked to where the sidewalk ends.
Today also happened to be day one of the big crab season. I would categorize the crabs in our area in three ways, all with varying sizes within:
1. Hermit crabs
2. Crabs that dig perfect holes in the sand and have their eyes located on the top of their heads to peek out for predators
3. Crabs that dig caves in the sand and have eyes on the front of their heads
Hermit crabs are an easy win, it's adorable when they curl up into their tiny shells until their legs resemble an armed fortress and frolic across walkways only to get scared and roll away accidentally.
#2 crab types have been seen in abundance, the most frequent resembling spiders in size, shape and color, as they are perfectly camoflauged to the sand. Their little homes fill up with water at every changing tide, but they are always there to rebuild. I would have to add that having an eyeball on the end of a veritable tentacle seems to be a distinct advantage, and all around pretty darn cool.
And today there was some magical sign of nature which triggered #3 to come out of hibernation and get busy livin'. According to our full-time residents, this is approximately three months earlier than normal. There were crab caves, crab villages, and even a crab city. Why they would decide to shack up so close to each other is beyond my knowledge of natural food limits, but it was reminiscent of a prairie dog town, minus the chirping. They shoveled little clawfuls of sand out of their dwellings and rearranged the slipping crumbles until excavation perfection was achieved.
Our stroll-turned-hike revealed this wonder of nature, and Sascha amused himself by playing bullfight with a particularly agressive one, without the traditional ending. It grasped onto his shirt (removed from body) and hung momentarily when lifted. When we reached the end of the beach one and a half hours later, a magical cove awaited us. We were fortunate to be walking at very low tide, the best time for exploring and finding. Large flat rocks with channels carved in them housed little pools, which always house little sea creatures, like snails, and...well, crabs. A daring architect and even more daring inhabitant had built a house overhanging said cove, and at the foot of the steps there were little colonies of tiny hermit crabs. Sascha amused himself by pushing them into the sand and watching the climb their way back out, while I let them crawl over my hands and tried to avoid crushing them with my feet.
As a proclaimed seafood hater, I never expected to love crabs, but they are simply so loveable. So the first answer to the first question would have to be, I will miss the crabs. To be continued...
He lists of names of fruit and fish which are succulently fresh, among many other things. I find the question more challenging. After five and a half months in Mexico, what have I learned to love about it?
Before I get too reflective, I would really prefer this post to be a story. It's the wildlife that I love.
Sascha and I took a walk today, an unusually cloudy day in Litibu, down our beach. We are privileged to live on a beautiful sandy beach, with little windrows of stones, and relatively few visitors. It stretches past the Litibu community into what is called Punta Negra, where a huge semi-abandoned resort full of hotel skeletons looms eerily, with a shiny 600 ft long swimming pool and sea-side showers. It's quite a hike over there, and today we walked to where the sidewalk ends.
Today also happened to be day one of the big crab season. I would categorize the crabs in our area in three ways, all with varying sizes within:
1. Hermit crabs
2. Crabs that dig perfect holes in the sand and have their eyes located on the top of their heads to peek out for predators
3. Crabs that dig caves in the sand and have eyes on the front of their heads
Hermit crabs are an easy win, it's adorable when they curl up into their tiny shells until their legs resemble an armed fortress and frolic across walkways only to get scared and roll away accidentally.
#2 crab types have been seen in abundance, the most frequent resembling spiders in size, shape and color, as they are perfectly camoflauged to the sand. Their little homes fill up with water at every changing tide, but they are always there to rebuild. I would have to add that having an eyeball on the end of a veritable tentacle seems to be a distinct advantage, and all around pretty darn cool.
And today there was some magical sign of nature which triggered #3 to come out of hibernation and get busy livin'. According to our full-time residents, this is approximately three months earlier than normal. There were crab caves, crab villages, and even a crab city. Why they would decide to shack up so close to each other is beyond my knowledge of natural food limits, but it was reminiscent of a prairie dog town, minus the chirping. They shoveled little clawfuls of sand out of their dwellings and rearranged the slipping crumbles until excavation perfection was achieved.
Our stroll-turned-hike revealed this wonder of nature, and Sascha amused himself by playing bullfight with a particularly agressive one, without the traditional ending. It grasped onto his shirt (removed from body) and hung momentarily when lifted. When we reached the end of the beach one and a half hours later, a magical cove awaited us. We were fortunate to be walking at very low tide, the best time for exploring and finding. Large flat rocks with channels carved in them housed little pools, which always house little sea creatures, like snails, and...well, crabs. A daring architect and even more daring inhabitant had built a house overhanging said cove, and at the foot of the steps there were little colonies of tiny hermit crabs. Sascha amused himself by pushing them into the sand and watching the climb their way back out, while I let them crawl over my hands and tried to avoid crushing them with my feet.
As a proclaimed seafood hater, I never expected to love crabs, but they are simply so loveable. So the first answer to the first question would have to be, I will miss the crabs. To be continued...
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