Category: Musings

O is For Orangutan

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You can tell I like monkeys, can’t you? Did you know that orangutans have been called the world’s most intelligent animal in a study that places them above chimpanzees and gorillas, that they are considered closest to the human in evolutionary development?

Here’s a sweet story for you. After losing his parents, the three-year-old orangutan pictured above was so depressed he wouldn’t eat and didn’t respond to any medical treatment. The veterinarians thought he would surely die from sadness. The zoo keepers found an old sick dog on the grounds in the park at the zoo where the orangutan lived and took the dog to the animal treatment center. The dog arrived at the same time the orangutan was there being treated. The two lost souls met and have been inseparable ever since.


N is For Night Ape

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The night ape is one of the smallest primates in the world, about the size of a squirrel, commonly found in the forested parts of Africa. The Afrikaans term is nagapie (little night ape). Another name for the delightful little creature is bushbaby, which I adopted (see my blurb). Despite its size, the night ape is exceptionally vocal, producing loud shrill cries surprisingly like those of a human baby.

I can attest to that, I had a bushbaby as a pet when I was thirteen: Little One. We got him from one of those Congolese trader s who used to stand by the side of the main roads to the other Copperbelt towns peddling everything from monkeys to parrots. The poor creatures were almost always starving, some of them barely a couple of weeks old, after being taken from mothers who’d been killed for their babies. I died a thousand deaths every time we passed one of these men.  Thank God, it wasn’t that often.

Little One could fit into the palm of my hand when we got him. During the day, he slept in my dressing gown pocket, which I kept in my wardrobe. He got around by making kangaroo-like hops across my room or by simply walking or running on all four legs. When he got a fright, he’d shoot straight up in the air to a height of at least six feet with a loud shriek, his eyes almost popping out of his head. He loved to bounce from my dressing table to my desk to the curtain valance and then hang there before dropping down onto my bed. Mostly, I slept like a log. Other times, I’d call to him and he’d snuggle into my neck, making small tock tock sounds, his tail curling around my face in swirl of downy fur. And then one day, he got out. I was heartbroken. I kept a lookout for him for a long time.

M is For Meerkat

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Another favorite animal of mine is the meerkat or suricate. If I remember correctly, “meer” means “watch,” in Afrikaans, and “kat,” is well, cat. So “watching cat.” I’m going with that because, there are other translations, like the Dutch one which is “lake cat.” But here’s the thing, the meerkat is not even part of the cat family. It’s a mammal belonging to the same family as the mongoose and native to the Kalahari Desert of South Africa and Botswana. Weighing approximately 1.5 lbs, and standing only 10-14 inches, meerkats are best known for their cute young—see the picture below—and for their group behavior (the groups are known as mobs, gangs, or clans). Within a meerkat mob, selfless behavior is displayed as one or more of the mob members take defensive positions so that the others can play or forage without worry.

It took Disney’s 1994 animated film, The Lion King, to bring this delightful little creature to the forefront of popular culture. Who can forget Timon, the meerkat, who along with the warthog, Pumba, provided comic relief? And then how about the popular BBC TV series, Meerkat Manor. that premiered in September 2005 and ran for four seasons until its cancellation in August 2008. Blending more traditional animal documentary style footage with dramatic narration, the series tells the story of the Whiskers, one of more than a dozen families of meerkats in the Kalahari Desert. One of the criticisms of the show was that the chroniclers didn’t intervene when a meerkat was injured and faced death. Hey, that’s what happens in real life. But I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to have my heart ripped out of my chest watching it happen. Check the delightful shot below taken by a farmer in Harrismith, South Africa, during the winter of 2009—a  very cold one, obviously. (Double-click on the photo to enlarge so you can see the little cuties on the left.)

L is For Lizard

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A skink, in particular. Don’t you just love the name? The skink is the second largest of the lizard family. Only geckos are larger. With more than 1,200 skink species in the world, they’re found mainly in desert and tropical environments. The reason I chose to write about the skink is because I saw one for the first time the other day on a hike up the “other” hill. You know, the shorter one where the rangers aren’t hunting down people with leash-less dogs.

Actually, it was Fergie who discovered the little guy sunning itself in that grassy area next to the house with the “Dog Crossing” sign. Ahead of me, she suddenly stopped, peered down then jumped back. I charged over. Snake season is upon us, you can’t be too careful. The picture above is of a juvenile skink; it still has its blue tail and stubby little legs. The one Ferg and I saw didn’t have any legs, which is common. It looked like a top-heavy lizard, only it had a shiny coat of minute scales that shimmered greeny gold in the late afternoon sunlight. It didn’t move as we peered down at it. I later learned that that tiny slash of a mouth could’ve contained a colored tongue, like the one pictured below.

As you can see this skink’s tongue is blue. And get this, the website where I got this picture, sells them as pets, that the “Blue tongues” have a sort of secret esoteric following of people who have loved and kept these animals for years.

K is For Kangaroo Rat

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On one of my hikes up the hill behind my house—this was before I got the dogs—I ran down Park Avenue, a steep winding road that ends in the middle of downtown Laguna Beach, and then it’s couple of miles back to my house up the canyon. Halfway down where the road makes a steep curve, I discovered one of these little creatures huddled in the concrete crease between the road and the sidewalk.

A baby guinea pig, I thought. Someone’s pet. Every now and then a car would whizz by and he’d press himself against the side of the concrete. A hawk hovered above. Rolling up the front hem of my sweatshirt, I checked for cars then kneeled in the road and, using the hem as a kind of scoop with both hands, I tried to lift him up. He shuffled forward. I followed, scooped with one hand and with the other gently tipped him into my pouch. I continued down Park Avenue, walking now, both hands cupped around my passenger. Thirty-five minutes later, I turned into my driveway just as my friend and neighbor across the street emerged from her gate. After calling to her, I told her what happened and opened my sweatshirt to show her the baby guinea pig.

She peered down at the little creature. “Um, that’s no guinea pig. That’s a kangaroo rat.” She laughed. “You just rescued a rat.”

At first I felt embarrassed that I didn’t know the difference between a guinea pig or a rat, but then I decided it didn’t matter. There was no way I could’ve have walked away from that frightened little creature. Releasing my rescue in the vacant lot next to my house, I watched him scamper away.

J is For Just a Dog

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From time to time people tell me, “Lighten up, it’s just a dog,” or, “that’s a lot of money for just a dog.” They don’t understand the distance traveled, time spent, or costs involved for “Just a dog.” Some of my proudest moments have come with “Just a dog.” Many hours have passed with my only company being “Just a dog,” and not once have I felt slighted. Some of my saddest moments were brought about with “Just a dog.” In those days of darkness, the gentle touch of “Just a dog,” provided comfort and purpose to overcome the day.

If you too think it’s “Just a dog,” you will probably understand phrases like “Just a friend,” or “Just a sunrise,” or “Just a promise.” “Just a dog” brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy. “Just a dog” brings out the compassion and patience that makes me a better person. Because of “Just a dog,” I will rise early, take long walks, and look longingly to the future.

For me, and folks like me, it’s not “Just a dog.” It is the embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment. “Just a dog” brings out what’s good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday people can understand that it’s not “Just a dog.” It’s the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being “Just a man or just a woman.”

So the next time you hear the phrase, it’s “Just a dog,” smile, because they “Just don’t understand.”

Author Unknown

The above photo is of my beloved Sweetpea, who passed away on April 21, 2009.

I is For Insects

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I is For Insect–Praying Mantis

My favorite insect. Pictured below is one of 2,000 species in the mantis order of insects. Looks like a little alien. Praying mantis can be found in all parts of the world with mild winters and sufficient vegetation during the late spring to late summer months.

The praying mantis is the oldest symbol of God. For the Khoi (African Bushmen), it’s a manifestation of God come to earth: “the voice of the infinite in the small,” a divine messenger. “Mantis” is the Greek word for “prophet” or “seer,” a being with spiritual or mystical powers. In the Arabic and Turkish cultures a mantis points pilgrims to Mecca, the holiest site in the Islamic world. In France, it’s believed that if you are lost, the mantis points the way home. “Follow Mantis” means putting that core aspect of yourself, your foundation of Spirit, at the helm and let it direct your intellect and ultimately your life.

H is For Hippo

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I love hippos. It’s that perpetual smile and those stubby little legs they have. But make no mistake even with those stumps they can outrun a human. They’ve been clocked at over 19 mph. The name hippopotamus comes from ancient Greek for “river horse.” The photo below (taken on one of the rocks surrounding my pond) is of one of five carved hippos I bought in Zimbabwe twelve years ago, when I realized how much I like them. I don’t know if you can tell, but this poor guy’s feet and his right ear have been chewed, courtesy of my beloved Staffie, Sweetpea, who died three years ago, this month. It just made the carving that much more dear.Did you know that the hippo’s hide, which has a pinkish hue and covered with thin hair, is extremely tough, though sensitive enough to feel the soft touch of a fly? Despite their physical resemblance to pigs and other three-toed ungulates, their closest living relatives are cetaceans (whales, porpoises, etc.). And even though they’re herbivores (they love grass), they’re considered the most aggressive animal in Africa. This video may change your mind. My mind didn’t need to be changed, I believe that every creature responds to love.

 

G is For Glass Frog

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This is the glass frog of the Amazon. As you can see it’s transparent. All of its organs are visible. A wonderful amazing design of nature. But the thing is I love all frogs. If I were to carry around a lucky charm, the frog would be it, except I don’t believe in luck. I believe you make your own.

I’m not sure when this love affair with the frog began. Perhaps there’s a greater meaning to my attraction to them. They are after all, the symbol of transformation, joy and luck. The fairy tale about the frog who’s transformed back into his original self, a prince, or the fact that the creature is born as a tadpole and then turns into a frog. This is all quite meaningful to me, spiritually and creatively. And then there’s a sound the frog makes, a croak, ascribed to witches, the sick and the dying, but I don’t hear anything other the joyful sound of nature, a sound that seems to come from deep down within the belly of the creature, unadulterated and true.

And then sometimes, I’ll hear one of these glorious designs of nature croak from the bottom of one the many ceramic pots I have throughout the yard, that big gentian blue one by the bougainvillea. And it sounds as if it’s Godzilla come for a visit. I peer into the jar and see a little creature not much larger than a jelly bean and I smile hoping he’ll stay a while.

F is For Finley

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Finley was a Rhodesian Ridgeback my parents got for me from a man named Mr. Finley who lived in the veld outside Welkom, South Africa, when I was seven. We’d moved there from the sisal plantation my dad managed for two years in Zimbabwe. There are many things I remember about our stay in Welkom, it was an eventful time. But my year and a half with Finley was the most memorable. We were inseparable.

But then when my brother was born with an allergic reaction to Finley’s fur, my parents had to give Finley away. I came home to find him missing one day. They’d given him to a family one hundred miles across the veld. I carried on so loudly, people came from out of their houses down the block to see who was being murdered. I was inconsolable for months.

And then six months later, Finley showed up at the house, his paws bleeding and much the worse for wear for his journey across the veld to find me. I fell on his neck, blubbering and insisted he sleep in my bed. I don’t remember how long he was allowed to stay. All I remember was that we returned him to the people, who were very kind and wanted him back, but for the life of me, I cannot remember the occasion. I must’ve blocked it from my memory. There’s still a sore spot in my heart.