Fairy moth on Oxeye Daisy, San Juan Island, WA
Incurvariidae: Adela septentrionella Walsingham, 1880

The ethereal Fairy Moth, clothed with finespun silky metallic wings, waves fragile tendrils of anntennae sensing the aromatic fragrances of summertime as it rests on the petals of a daisy.

The Adela septentrionella, classified as a Micro-lepidoptera is a diurnal species. Males are known for enormously long antennae and both sexes are found taking nectar from blossoms other than their larval host plant, often sipping from the aromatic Ocean Spray blossoms common in the Pacific Northwest.

The name, Fairy Moth, comes from behavior associated with mate-finding in the species when the males aggregate to form dancing groups to which the females are attracted… and the courtship begins!

by that little tick,

He was so clever,

Did I feel the stick?

Not once did I notice

A sting, itch, or prick,

Since with his own anaesthetic

He came equipped.

That “needle” he plunged

Down into my skin

carried anticoagulant

To make my blood thin.

He slurped it right up

From out of my vein

Liquid dinner for one

Parasite champagne.

There’s more to it though

Than a simple blood toast

This tick didn’t know

He was a parasite host.

A stealth pathogen

Living inside

Used that little tick’s saliva

To take a ride

Down into my vein,

As that hungry tick fed,

The stealth pathogen

Through my body did spread.

I didn’t know then

That the bite of this tick

Would leave me with something

That would make me so sick..

The stealth pathogen

Shaped like a corkscrew

Drilled all through my body…

I thought it was flu.

From my head to my toes

I ached every day

Wishing the pain

Would all go away.

Doctor to doctor

I went to in vain,

All shook their heads mystified

No diagnosis to be claimed.

My knees swelled one day

All my joints hurt,

But the red bullseye rash

Was the target alert!

It was one more clue

In the great mystery

That helped one wise doctor

To diagnose me.

The test came back,

“Positive” for LYME.

It could be cured,

If it had been caught in time.

That wasn’t the case,

Since for me it had been,

Days, months and years

And pain with no end.

I’m slowly improving

One day at a time.

From this awful disease

Spread by a tick called Lyme.

Chronic Lyme disease is a controversial diagnosis.   One many will not acknowledge until more research reveals how this organism has the ability to persist in its human host and evade antibiotics.   Borrelia burgdorferi, responsible for Lyme Disease is one of several pathogenic organisms carried by ticks.  Current research shows it can become resistant to antibiotics, enhanced partly by its ability to change life forms in its host.   Morphing into a cyst with its own body armor, it shields itself from antibiotics designed to penetrate the corkscrew form of the organism.  Once the antibiotics are stopped or no longer effective, the organism is free to begin replicating itself again.

***Text copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

Mona, I’ve heard isn’t doing so great

With all the snacks tourists feed her, she’s gained too much weight.

Now it’s affected her system “E” “N” “Do” “crine”

That’s not fun at all, no not a bit…WHEN…

One at a time, then two or three clumps

Mona’s lost her hair, even over her hump.

The vet came to see Poor Mona one day

And this is what she had to say:

“Mona needs to lose weight

No more snacks can she eat.

It’s putting much too much stress

On all her four feet!”

“She needs healthy food,

And a little medicine

To help her hair

Start growing back in!”

Come say hello, but please do refrain!

Mona needs to follow the vet’s regimen.

Watch out for traffic when you stop over too

And please not too late, Mona has a curfew!

And after your visit, if you feel so inclined

Stop by San Juan Vineyards for a nice glass of wine!

It’s a Boy!  Love, Cow and Pig

Cow and Pig they danced a jig,

And moo’d & oinked with joy,

For after all these years of waiting,

They’d been blessed with a baby boy!

Inside the egg he’d grown so big

Until one sunny day,

A little speck of light came through

The corner he’d pecked away.

All day long he’d worked to free

Himself from that shellac,

That when he finally made it free

He gave a loud “quack quack!”

He fluffed his yellow downy feathers,

And looked up overhead

At his parents who watched over him

Nestled in his bed.

Cow and Pig announced to all

So happy with their luck,

They wanted everyone to see

Their little baby duck.

I came across this photo today.  Took it over the summer from my front porch.  My daughter laughingly reminded me of a poem she remembered reading long ago about a fox.  She said the poem had lyrics that went something like “they chewed on the bones-o!” I remembered then…a sing-song that certainly appealed to the imagination of a yong child.   A quick Google search found just the one.  It’s an old folk song that was in one of her homeschool poetry books.  There were several versions out there so you can find one that you enjoy and sing it along with your child….or NOT

           Little fox went out on a chilly night.

        He prayed to the night to give him light.

        He had many a mile to go that night

        Before he reached the town oh,

        Town oh, town oh.

        He had many a mile to go that night

        Before he reached the town oh.

        He ran and he ran till he came to a pen.

        The ducks and geese were kept therein.

        He said, “A couple of you are gonna grease my chin

        Before I leave this town oh,

        Town oh, town oh.

        A couple of you are gonna grease my chin

        Before I leave this town oh.”

        He grabbed the grey goose by the neck

        And flung a duck across his back.

        He didn’t mind the “Quack! Quack! Quack!”

        And the legs all dangling down oh,

        Down oh, down oh.

        He didn’t mind the “Quack! Quack! Quack!”

        And the legs all dangling down oh.

        Old Mother Flipper Flopper jumped out of bed.

        Up to the window she cocked her head.

        She cried, “John! Oh John! The grey goose is gone

        And the fox is on the town oh,

        Town oh, town oh.

        “John! Oh John! The grey goose is gone

        And the fox is on the town oh.”

        John, he ran to the top of the hill

        And blew his horn loud and shrill.

        The fox, he said, “I’d better flee with my kill,

        Or they’ll soon be on my trail oh,

        Trail oh, trail oh.

        The fox, he said, “I’d better flee with my kill,

        Or they’ll soon be on my trail oh.”

        He ran till he came to his cozy den.

        There were the little ones: eight, nine, ten.

        They said, “Daddy you’d better go back again

        It must be a mighty fine town oh,

        Town oh, town oh.

        Daddy you’d better go back again

        It must be a mighty fine town oh.”

        Little fox and his wife, without any strife,

        Cut up the goose with a carving knife.

        They never had such a supper in their life

        And the little ones chewed on the bones oh,

        Bones oh, bones oh.

        They never had such a supper in their life

        And the little ones chewed on the bones oh.

What do you think happened the next night?

Guitar:  C  C  C  G  C   F  C-G7  C  G  C  F  C  G  C

Old versions of the song:

Fox Went Out

from the Copper Family

The Fox (2)

The old drake sat still and the word cried NO
Just sat still ’cause he didn’t want to go
If you eat no meat ’til you eat meat of mine
You’ll eat no meat in the townee (REPEAT)

The old man jumped up in his shirtail
And with toe dogs on the trail
They caught the fox at the end of the trail
And that was the end of the fox-e-o (REPEAT)

‘TWAS THE NIGHT…”

‘Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the dark,

THAT ranger was stalking around in the park.

Tearing down forts the kids built that day…

On the beach, out of driftwood, when they were at play.

The foxes and rabbits were hiding with fear,

Afraid they’d not make it to see the New Year.

Grownups were home lamenting the fact,

That the tickets he gave out were beginning to stack…

Up so high, in a pile they could never be paid,

And they wished all along that at home they had stayed,

Instead of taking the dog for a run,

On the beach, sans the leash, so he could have fun.

But Santa was watching it all from afar,

And sent out his elves to sneak “Ranger’s” car.

They locked it inside the bathroom that night,

And in exchange they left this note in plain sight.

It said:  Be nice to the islanders’ or you will get coal in your stocking this year!

 ***Text and drawings copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

And just for the record, I had to add this……

I hope the ranger knows this is all just in jest

Because I don’t want him to put me under arrest

It’s all in good fun and no harm intended

The dog isn’t dead, so that’s not how things ended!

***Text and photographs copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

So this verse is in jest, as you all might have guessed. Not meant for offense, just good humor at best.  The sandman has gone, so maybe now I can rest

Enjoy!  xx

Be wary of Barry
He’s out on patrol,
Looking for people
With their dogs on a stroll.

You better have leashes
Attached to your pet,
Or he’ll give you a ticket
But that’s not all you’ll get.

Hands up in the air
Face down on the ground,
You better not move
And don’t make a sound!

Or out come those handcuffs
He’ll take you to jail.
You’ll have to call up your friends
To get you out on bail.

But the al-ter-na-tive
Is much worse you know,
He has a gun on his hip
And it’t not just for show.

If you make Barry mad
And you argue instead,
He might pull the trigger
And shoot your dog dead.

Western Bluebird

My daughter, Amanda gave me my birthday present today…about a whole month early!  Not complaining here at all though…I LOVE it!  This is what I worked on this evening to incorporate into my Wildlife Management Plan I have to write for my graduate class.  It was a perfect evening to stay indoors and doodle and with this headache I’ve had for about 4 days and counting now, everything rhymes, so I wrote a poem to go with my picture.  Enjoy!

There was a bird dressed in feathers of blue

That sang in the morn when the day was new

It feasted on insects

that ate the weeds

or pollinated flowers

so they’d have seeds

~

But that day they sprayed

The weeds all died

The insects went hungry

And the bluebirds tried

~

To find food for their young

But there was none to be had

They searched high and low

But the outcome was bad.

~

The foodchain was altered

With herbicide

The insects left

And the baby birds died.

~

The birds of blue

Didn’t come the next year

For fear that their food

Would all disappear.

~

Improving the prairie

Is a very good goal

But the point here to learn

Is that all things have a role

~

To play in the food web

They all interact

Survival of species

Depends on that fact.

***Text and photographs copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

The goblins came, the witches too

And all the little spooks

They danced around the graves that night

Like crazy island kooks.

~

Cow and pig down underground

Got tired of all the scream’in

It was giving them a headache -

 They were missing trick or treat’in.

~

The fairies came and sprinkled dust

o’er the graves of our fair friends

and cow and pig were uninterred

to rise and feel the wind.

~

The wind did blow away the goblins,

The witches and the spooks.

All Cow and Pig have to deal with now

are all those island kooks!

 ~ 

 ***Text and photographs copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.