Tag: nature

The Right Stars

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Up on a large hill, or a small mountain (wars have been fought), you would expect the view to be utterly amazing.

And it is.

The mornings can surprise you; you may walk into a cloud of mist with the sun shining through powerfully and cloaking the campus in gold. Some days the sky is a magnifying glass to a sun, blinding white, and permanent sunglasses are needed by everyone.

Nighttime is difficult. The campus lightly shines in yellow, star-like lamps that scatter almost randomly across stairs or walkways, and often overpower the stars.

To stargaze on campus means you must search high and low for the best, unlit spots. There are two areas that I have concluded to be the best spots for the right stars.

The first spot is the lower field, or the big field, while we’re playing glow-in-the-dark capture the flag. I have found out that, if I just stop what I’m doing and lay down on my back, the rest of my team will follow. If you lie down on the right spot the campus lights will not hinder your eyesight, and the stars will shine to their full extent.

The second spot, an easier spot to reach, is the newly built staircase. At night when the sun has fully set and things are quiet, perhaps at 9pm or so, there is a particular step on the staircase that you can stand on and the trees around you will block out the campus lights. Then, if you look up, it looks like the stars are framed by the trees.

No I did not sneak out of the dorm at 9pm to watch the stars.

Conscience

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It’s a butterfly. It’s black, all black, with misty, soft, glowy, fuzzy edges, like the edges of a shadow.

You can’t really hear it, it’s there. You begin to let your guard down, it’s there. You let your mind wander, it’s there.

It speaks to you. Stop trying, it says, you don’t need to be with others. Just go, it says, just go alone, sit alone, eat alone.

So you go alone. You sit alone, You eat alone. Then you leave alone.

It flies next to you. You don’t need to look up, it’s just there. It grows. It always grows. It lands on your shoulder, your head, your chest. It’s heavy, too heavy. Don’t fall, you tell yourself, don’t fall. Just fall, it replies, just fall.

It’s a heavy load, it is. In class it keeps your head down. In walking it keeps your shoulders hunched. In sleep it keeps your body curled.

The others, they try to keep it away. They fight, claws, fangs, hooves, venom, they fight hard. It keeps coming back. It keeps speaking.

You’re not good at this, it says, you’re not good at that. You’re good at being bad, it says, that’s a better way to think about it.

It still grows, it’s still there. It covers you with it’s wings, it pushes you down. You can get back up but it pushes you down harder. Stay down, just stay down, it says, stay down, stay low, then you can’t get any lower.

You can still get lower, but man, it doesn’t know that.

My Princess

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The first horse I rode in OVS was Urbino. He was an old horse, mainly brown, and very tall. I constantly struggled to put his bit on, as he would always lift his head up above the reach of my arms. I’m 5’2 now. I was probably 5’1 or 5’0 two years ago, so I asked to switch horses that would either work with me better or was a tad shorter.

I switched horses maybe one or two more times before settling for Layla. I believe she was at least part Gypsy, tall, sturdy, and one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Her coat and mane was black and white while her tail was pure black. She was a massive horse, and had not been ridden a lot, so she was quite stubborn and didn’t quite like having the bit put in.

To my great dismay she would also lift her head up above arms reach, and for a while I got my taller friends to help me bit her. Being that short and weak was unbelievably frustrating.

Layla was a complete Princess, for she knew how tall and beautiful she was. The way she walked, the way she swayed when she lifted her feet up, made it seem like she was dancing down a catwalk.

Slowly she began to respect me, and after a while she seemed to understand that I was short and that I needed a little help when brushing her mane and putting her bit on. On the days where she felt good she would lower her head for me and on the days she seemed more stubborn she’d ignore me and let me struggle on my tiptoes.

She was pretty darn lazy, plodding along with her feet picked up high. A whip helped, but I had to teach her that she had to walk at a relatively quick pace and not hang her head. She learned quickly and was probably my smoothest ride ever.

I rode Layla for about a year and then moved on to different horses, but I visit her every day to brush out her mane and maybe give her a mint or a handful of grains. When I leave the barn I always look back, and she’ll always watch me leave with an inquisitive look on her face.

I always wonder what horses do all day, but maybe horses wonder what humans do all day too.

For Sake of the Snake (part 2)

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After that snake incident, I soon began watching Austin Steven’s Adventures on Animal Planet. He specialized in reptiles, which was the main reason I watched his shows. My interest in snakes was growing, and I began to ask my parents for my own pet. I wasn’t allowed a snake at first, so I got a bearded dragon instead, whom I named Tanny. A few weeks later I went back and was allowed to get a black and white banded Californian Kingsnake, and I very creatively named her Shadow Mist. Shadow for short.

I was kinda nervous about Shadow at first. I didn’t want to get bit and I always used gloves when handling her. After a month or so I just thought “screw this” and I gave up on being cautious. She only struck at me a few times and I had never gotten bit by her. She was a beautiful little snake, and had a little white star on her forehead.

After school I would head straight for her enclosure and drape her around my neck before writing in my journal. She would just lay there motionless as I wrote, absorbing the little heat I could put out and watching the movements of my pencil.

Tanny died a few months later, but I still had Shadow.

About a year and a half later I had to leave for OVS, and leaving her behind was upsetting for me. Did my parents know how to take care of her? What if my cat got her? What if she got lost? She got lost often due to a faulty enclosure but I would always find her in odd spots. Once I didn’t even realize she was lost until I spotted her on my doorknob. Scared me to death, that little stunt did.

Anyways, during my first Christmas break I finally went back to China to visit. Our cat and dog were ecstatic to see me, but somehow, it was like Shadow knew I had come back to visit. Her body was pressed up against the glass of the enclosure, and she lifted her body up vertically and did the weird dance that many cobras do while flaring their hoods. I took her out immediately and she never struck.

About a year later I asked about her and my mom said that she had escaped and they couldn’t find her. “When?” I asked. “Oh, six months ago.”

I MEAN WHAT. If a little girl’s pet gets lost or died, maybe you could say something like “he ran away,” or “doggy went up to heaven,” but I was freaking 15! You can’t just… Not tell me when something that important to me disappears!

I haven’t gone back to China since Freshman Christmas. Now I’m a Junior, and this Christmas my brother and I are going back to China for a little bit. I like to think that Shadow’s still in the house somewhere, watching the family from the cracks in the ceiling and eating any stray mice that come along. Maybe sometime in college I’ll get another snake.

My dream job is what Austin Steven’s doing. If I get bit? I’ll suffer, but I’ll have to trust modern medicine, I guess.

Now thinking about it, I feel like my favorite animal is the snake after all.

For Sake of the Snake (part 1)

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It was 9:30 at night, maybe 10:00. I was reading intensely, as I usually do, but was quickly brought out of my concentration by the muffled noises coming from our first floor. I quietly snuck out of my room and sat on the top of the staircase, peering between the hollow metal bars of the railing and wondering why my mom and nanny were fretting in front of our window.

I continued to sneak down, careful to avoid creaky steps, and crawled atop the dog-haired couch to see what was behind the window. The window was the size of the wall, allowing us to see much of what goes on outside, but for the moment, all our interest was focused on a shadowy figure at the rightmost corner of the window.

It was around wintertime, sometime between November and February (wide range, I know), so the heaters of our house were on and the windows were like sheets of ice. There, huddled sadly in the corner, was a large, black snake.

I think that was the first real snake I ever saw in my life.

In my hours within Animal Planet I had watched many shows on snakes, as well as picture books and book mentions. I had always been fascinated by them, so that night, my 10-year-old self was in a shock from seeing that creature.

My nanny grew up on a farm, where snakes are her bane. My mom didn’t like that snake sitting there and “endangering” our family and dogs, so they were wondering the best way to shoo it away. My nanny took a boot and whacked the window with it, which caused the snake to hiss and strike on the window.

I woke up the next morning wondering if it was a dream. To this day I’m still wondering, but either way it doesn’t matter. And now, with my incredible knowledge of snakes, I conclude that the window snake was a black rat snake.

Shark Bait, Hoo Ha Ha

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Sharks are terrible creatures. They’re merciless hunters that can rip apart a human within seconds, and then will happily dine on their insides. When they sight a human and smell even a slight trace of their blood, nothing can stop them from killing.

At least, that’s how most people say sharks are.

Many times when people are attacked by sharks it’s because the person provokes the shark in some way, such as when divers grab at their fins or when fishermen untangle them from their fishing nets.

Honestly, sharks are like giant, rough-skinned, thousand-toothed dogs. That swim in the ocean. If you grab a dog’s tail, chances are they will bite at you. It’s no different with sharks, the only difference is that sharks and shark attacks are more exaggerated.

A diver dressed in a black wetsuit looks remarkably like a sleek seal, so the shark might take a hunk out of a diver, thinking he’s a seal. The result is a missing limb and a story of being attacked by “a vicious shark.”

Shark attack victims don’t usually die of shark attacks though, they die of blood loss. Sharks often do hit-and-run attacks, where they bite the victim, realize their mistakes, then quickly leave the human to bleed to death.

Vending machines have killed more people than sharks have. I’m sure many people have heard of this fact, but vending machines have killed more people than sharks each year.

Well I mean, it could be because humans are dumb and try to shake the machines that have eaten their change, which could often result in the machine falling on them.

Ok, moral of the story here is, shark good, people bad.

I mean.

Shark, not bad, people… Meeeh.

Rabbit Birds

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The new addition to the habitats brought gobs of campers, all of them swarming around one single enclosure and squealing, yes, even the guys, “awwwwwww.”

About six baby bunnies had been born, and them and their mother “Waffles” were sharing a habitat with some frisky Indian Ringneck Parakeets. Most of the parakeets were friendly and would allow to stroking and feeding, while some others preferred to stay away.

The friendliest parakeets were the most troublesome. One particular parakeet liked to peck at my bracelets, the jewels on my shirt, my necklace, and on occasion, even my teeth. “The like to eat the plaque on your teeth,” I was told.

Eeeewwwww.

I preferred to play with the birds than the baby bunnies. Sure the bunnies were cute and all but they didn’t do much but sit on your lap and sleep. A lot of the times I was in the enclosure with my partner, he would sit on the ground and play with the bunnies. I liked to put birds on his head, and often times he wouldn’t notice until the bird hopped onto his shoulder.

The biggest, meanest bird in the enclosure was King Tut, an Alexandrine Ringneck Parakeet. Ok, he wasn’t really mean per say but he wouldn’t stand for petting whatsoever. He did like to be hand-fed bird treats, which look remarkably like human cereal.

The treats come in a variety of colours and shapes, and I believed King Tut’s was the yellow banana-shaped one. Louie preferred the smaller, rounder ones while Dewy liked any and all of them.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

I would have one parakeet on each shoulder and feed them treats one at a time. When I went to feed one bird the other would get annoyed and peck at my ear. When I went to feed him the other bird would pull at my hair. They were like little children with sharp beaks and small talons. I would leave the class with crunched up bird treats littering my shoulders.

I had always loved birds but I had never really considered having a pet bird until I spent a week with those annoying little parakeets. It’s a shame my school doesn’t allow pets.

Tang and Vulture

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My first week in the Habitats I had tried to adopt Stevie, but there were about 3 other campers looking to adopt him too. After walking up and down the hallway several times I decided on adopting Tang and Vulture. Tang was a Green Iguana and Vulture was a Black Throated Monitor.

Vulture was a huge creature, and relatively dangerous to a kid my size. Or anyone for that matter, as a whip of his tail could shatter a full-grown man’s ankle. Me and my partner, a guy from Alabama cabin that liked to wear very neon clothing, weren’t allowed in the enclosure when Vulture was on the ground or when he was feeding.

So for three out of five days we weren’t allowed into their enclosure.

There was a counselor that was like the “expert” on Vulture and said, in the large lizard world, Vulture was “puppy-dog tame.” On the two days he was around he would pick Vulture off the ground and put him on a higher platform. Then my partner and I could change the water and get their food, but had to step outside again when Vulture fed.

While Tang ate salads, Vulture had a more carnivorous diet of canned dog food and eggs. They weren’t… Really the most exciting animals of the Habitats. We could pet them and mist them with some water but it wasn’t like we could hold them or play with them. Nonetheless they were amazing creatures and some of the largest lizards I had ever seen.

The Missing Lynx

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One of the animals I was most interested in during camp was Jazz, the Canadian Lynx.

I waited a long two sessions (four weeks!) before finally capturing a slight glimpse of him.

I remember always, always craning my neck to see if I could spot Jazz in his enclosure. Missouri is always hot, and Jazz has quite a bit of fur, so it was obvious that he wouldn’t like to be outside in the heat. Yet somehow, many people said that they would spot Jazz while on their way to the nursery or barn, so I would always pause for a few moments to see if I could spot Jazz.

I stayed at camp for three two-week sessions and by the start of the third and last session I had almost nearly given up hope on seeing Jazz.

There was a counselor sitting in his enclosure feeding him a hunk of meat. I could hear the crunch of the bones from where I stood, outside the cage fence, staring in.

It was really dark in the enclosure, and I think it was cloudy that day too. Jazz had a slight glint in his eyes while he chewed, keeping a careful eye on the counselor, some other campers, and I while we watched him.

As the days at camp got cooler I saw Jazz more and more, though I never had the time to really watch him. Campers weren’t allowed in his enclosure anymore, though while he was a kit he was allowed to be held and bottle fed.

I’m still quite upset that I couldn’t pet Jazz, or at least sit in his enclosure with him or even toss him a dead, bloody chicken. I sort of just wanted to sit on the ground and watch him, creepy as that sounds.

Armadillo Escape

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While Stevie was one of the loudest creatures in the habitat area, people would often double back and investigate the out-of-place scratching noise coming from one of the habitats.

At first glance the habitat seemed to be occupied by a single prehensile-tail porcupine perched up on a tree. Once a camper enters the enclosure Ned might pop out of the wood shavings and trot happily around your feet, the little tree, his den, before pausing to scratch at the wall.

Ned was a six-banded armadillo and almost reminded me of a little old man due to his small tufts of hair and wrinkled skin. His back plates were hard like nails, though kinda weirdly fuzzy…

When I first entered his enclosure he was already running around, zooming along the walls and pausing to scratch at a worringly large hole on the rightmost corner of the wall.

I personally think that Ned is planning an escape. He charms newcomers by running circles around them.  Then while they’re distracted, he makes a dash at the door. Which is what he did when I didn’t close it quick enough.

I quickly used my foot to block his escape but wasn’t sure how to handle him. Should I pick him up? Scoot him away with my foot? With the help of a counselor I managed to keep him inside before snapping the door shut. “You know you can just pick him up, right?” he says.

Often times when things are slow in the habitats, counselors like to let Ned out and he’ll skitter along the small hallway the same way he does in his enclosure. Each time I visit his habitat the hole seems to be a few chips larger and maybe a little deeper.

I wonder if Ned’ll still be there when I go back next summer.