Abdi on This American Life!

 http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/560/abdi-and-the-golden-ticket

On July 4th our friend and newest family member Abdi Nor was featured on This American Life based on ongoing interviews with Leo Hornak from the BBC.

The story is a wonderful reminder about why people want to live in America, the value of incorruptible police, how difficult life is for refugees, and how much is added to America by it's "outsiders".
The comment section on Twitter and on the Facebook site for TAL are a heartfelt outpouring of goodwill just in case you need a boost for your faith in humanity.

One of my favorite lines is from Hassan Iftin Abdi's big brother, a university student, refugee, and wise fellow. He says "sometimes luck is fair".  It was echoed many times in social media in the days that followed.

Thanks to all who have supported Abdi and Hassan in small and huge ways over time including Dick Gordon, Paul Salopek, Cori Princell, Ben Bellows, Nene Reiley, Margaret Caudill-Slosbeg, Mark Yarnell, John Hiley, and Pamela Gordon. These are just some of the people in our particular Abdi support circle.

Leo reminded me of a message I sent to our Abdi team over a year ago as we were all fretting over his upcoming interview with the US embassy.

Because of the radio …. We met Abdi and started a thing.

What we all have in common is the ear tuned to a good story, a voice over the wire.

I was cleaning the chicken coop today, a job I like better than you might think. It's all real in a chicken coop. All the metaphor is concrete and amusing. I treat these chickens well — not extravagantly but decently. I cannot save the world of suffering chickens through these particular chickens but I can acknowledge that they deserve it and do my part in the ecosystem. One of my parts in the ecosystem.  There is something in how this all adds up in my mind that speaks to why it makes any sense to pick one Somali refugee and say "come" we will try to help". It is not a programme or even a project, it is just one live being that would be better off secure and able to work within his capacities and nature.

Abdi goes to the US embassy tomorrow for a 7:30 am interview. I am restless and alive with anticipation. Can so much and so many people be bound together by one civil servant sitting in an office for a 15 minute "interview"?  If you had 5 or 15 minutes to decide someones fate what would you ask them?

Please listen and enjoy. You may also want to listen to his interviews and shows on BBC and The Story from Dick Gordon "Messages from Mogadishu".

May you feel the love and support of your own circle. 

What are these called?

There is a group of animals that I do not know how to categorize.  For example, When you search for a picture of a wild animal you expect to see this

or maybe this

But you do not expect to see this

or this

Ok, so the latter group is a problem. We love these guys. They are not pets, they are not domesticated, they are wild but....??  It may seem like a trivial problem really, something that a good librarian, or veterinarian could tidy up and at the very least apply some good nouns and viola' --all is well.  But, alas, google and its friends are photo-blind, seeing only a box, an empty box, or an "object" where there is a picture.   So, to create eyes and windows we use Categories & keywords -- wrapping these gorgeous, silly, educational, friendly and familiar creatures in pictures with words.

Most stock photo agencies, professional photo buyers, and even regular folk agree about how they would categorize most animals.  Right or wrong image websites offer pets, wild animals, and farm (or agriculture) animals. As one creative director said -- there are the ones you shoot, the ones we eat, and the ones we adopt and treat like children." Granted there is a bit of slippage across cultures but by and large given a photo of a cow or an elephant we know how to categorize them.

But then one is left with the opossum, raccoons, the "garden deer", foxes, turtles, squirrels, etc..... We have an extraordinary collection of images showing baby and adult animals that I cannot seem to categorize.  They are "wild" but when placed in that category it is clear that the person searching for wild animals isn't looking for a smiling possum.
If keywords are the way people find pictures and search engines make them available it is important to word-ify these creatures to help them and us.

To solve this problem I started asking people --- image buyers, photographers children, biologists, marketers, and frankly anyone that would bear up to it three different questions.
1. Do you think possums, hedgehogs, squirrels, groundhogs, turkeys, and raccoons are "wild" animals?
2. If you were searching for pictures of "wild animals" and  images of a raccoon came up would you disagree.
2. What would you call this group of animals to differentiate them from cattle, pigs, dogs, elephants, and kittens-- the farm animals, wild animals, and pets or just cute?

Here are the suggestions so far....Yard animals,
.....garden animals.... pests......mid-size animals, wild animals, short-range animals, familiar animals, animals of fields and meadows, storybook animals (?), Wind in the Willows animals, animals that hang around bird feeders,animals that eat from my garden, animals that seem to thrive despite or because of people.  More suggestions, please.

Thanks
Sharon and all from Mother-Daughter Press

Click here to see more "Yard animals"

How many frogs do you see?

Put your count in the comments section of Facebook, or the website or email. Respondents are rewarded

If you cannot see very well (picture too small eyes, too old?) then you can go to original photo at

PHOTO COUNT THE FROGS

In the scientific literature bullfrogs are considered solitary and not particularly social although no distinction is made by sex.  Some sources say they will eat other frogs including smaller bullfrogs.  However, there is a growing appreciation of the complexity of their vocalizations as a clue to the oversimplification that may have been applied to their social lives and general intelligence.  If they are so darn solitary why are they always sitting around on lily pads and rocks together calling back and forth?

I think frogs are big jokers in the natural world. They love to make sudden noises or to leap up when it is least expected;  creating surprises for frogs and non-frogs too.  I think they love the freaked out look on those caught off guard.  If you watch them a lot there are activities that looks suspiciously like play.

For example, in the photo below there are two frogs sharing a moment of tender affection.  You don't see this kind of amphibian intimacy everyday.





 In fact in the close cropped view of the picture look at the front of the photo and you can see two young jokers ready to make sure that the intimate moment being shared won't last long or end quietly.




These fellows made a colossal nuisance of themselves in a very social way.  They swam surreptitiously under the lily pads emerging beside the quiet pair & filling the air with sudden loud calls.


Then diving under water they would be gone but I could see their silent eyes among the leaves. until they would reappear , out of sight only to reappear and jump on the occupied lily pad making it tip and then off they would go, kicking the pad and making it spin wildly so it would tip and  spin.

A group of frogs is called an "army of frogs".

Check out our new updated gallery of frogs and toads Amphibians galore here
I hope you are enjoying the frogs this summer by sight and sound.

And how many frogs are there up there in photo #1?

Sharon

NORTH FORK OF GRINDSTONE CREEK

This is a favorite image of Gay's and a favorite place for her. Here is how she described it in writing for people that liked the picture.

"This picture was taken with late sun shining in autumn on the north fork of Grindstone creek and limestone cliffs. This creek is the type known as a “loosing creek” because when it rains it rises rapidly, sometimes as much as 12 ft, but within a few days loses is extra water into the many tributaries which have also emptied into it. The creek then moves on and joins the south fork of the grindstone, then to the Hinkson and then to parts beyond.


The forest here is native oak, hickory, maple, serviceberry and sycamore plus many others. This section of creek usually has water in it except for a few weeks if no rain falls for many weeks. There are deep holes, such as exists at the base of the cliff you see. During one very dry summer, the hole had water holding fish and frogs and a Green Heron and northern water snake (harmless) tried to share the hole but finally disputed the territory.


Gay Bumgarner, photographer"
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Notes from Sharon-- a little back story for the picture and the place.

There are many photos of this spot. It was essentially her back yard and on special nights she would turn on the lamps hidden in the bluffs and the dramatic rock faces would shine and skitter with shadows.

Gay and Jim placed a bench there to watch things happen. There is a picture of Jim on the bench with Bugsy his companion turkey (or guard turkey). He could hide there with bugsy, have a secret smoke sometimes, rest from the weed eating, supervise my brother rappelling while trimming the trees. There is also a wonderful, romantic photo of Gay and Jim siting on that bench together in the fall (K1300a_Older couple shares a bench.tif) --

The area was changed greatly by the city trying to improve the flow of sewerage in pipes placed under the creek. Gay hounded them for 2 years across her property and made sure they did a good job. She marked every tree, and kept them to their word. The new job they made can be seen in [E0512_Grindstone creek after major city public works.tif] and the bench where they sat returned to its place.

In 2008, during her final summer we spent a lot of time on the deck looking over the lake and beyond to the bluffs. The efforts of maintenance had scaled down with age and Jim's absence-- unnoticeable to any normal human gardener but a source of wry interest to her.

The Canada geese were nesting and presented an excellent low-key distraction and mini-drama. After years of building among the reeds and grasses on the lake shore the geese finally abandoned the strategy. Too many eggs and goslings were lost to Raccoons, turtles, and other predators. Thus, almost 15 after the lake was adopted by Canada geese they began to build their nests on the bluffs- on a flat spot part way up. The view of the nest was perfect from the house but there were tradeoffs and new hazards. Now instead of easing into the water for a first swim the gosling had to “jump” or “fly-fall” down to the creek 15 feet below then a hike up the creek edge over the dam and into the lake. Not a clear improvement overall.

In the summer of 2008 on a perfect day Gay and I were on the deck watching the lake. The male goose came and offered the female her short respite from the nest. The two of them swam together for a brief time every afternoon. They muttered and honked and sounded as if they were catching up on all the events of the world. This quiet pair swimming together -- such a romantic sight and a deserved break.

But, then, they were out of the water up on the dam, upset, honking, running back and forth across the dam. They were yelling and flapping at something happening in the nest. We were puzzled and mesmerized. But, suddenly on the ledge where the eggs sat something pushed one of the eggs off into the creek onto the rocks below. Then we were up, standing, binoculars fixed to the spot, shouting at this unknown malevolent force, no superpowers to help. We watched disbelieving as one after another the remaining 3 eggs were pushed out of the nest, first to the edge where it would teeter and almost rest then it was pushed again. They fell one at a time, lit by the sun, in breathtaking slow motion, orbs alight falling in a perfect arc; disappearing below our view.

My mother gripped her IV pole and the two of us stood on the edge of the deck, holding hands and me offering her a place to lean. We were weeping, outraged and shouting along with the parents whose noise was deafening... all to no effect. Finally, I had to know what it was that would do this, to know if something could survive. It was just days before they would hatch. I took off running across the garden, across the dam, and down the embankment to the base of the bluffs and the creek, to do what?

It was quiet. Whatever did this damage was apparently not interested in the product. I could find nothing. Then down a bit I saw it.... One egg floated in the water midstream, was it intact, was it too cold?

It was cracked but not through and through and it seemed there was some little movement perhaps inside. I carried it to the dam where mother and father were pacing, honking, flapping...beside themselves. Why had they not flown to threaten whatever it was? Were they so certain of the loss or the chance of something worse?

I brought the egg to a soft sunny place in the long grass near them, they were unhappy to see me but overwrought. I backed away. They approached cautiously, sniffed and poked with their beaks, but quickly dismissed it-- dead, too damaged, not theirs, wrong, they wouldn’t own or tend it.

My mother said, leave it, they wont claim it, there is something they know perhaps about the odds and the effort, and there are plenty of others that will want it come dark.

I hated it, that unknown snake or rat that decimated the nest. I wanted signs of the good universe, of the arc of justice and not of waste. If I was facing my mothers death it seemed doubly awful to have the fierceness of the pruning forces be the sign I was to somehow use to help me.
S.McDonnell