Noteworthy in Nola

Here’s hoping they and their brethren stay safe. The brown pelican was only recently removed from the endangered list and many are worried that they’re headed right back onto it.

After thinking about the Gulf so much I decided to I needed a little communing with the the Aquarium of the Americas…

Moving quickly past the smiling sting rays…

and the Lionfish being stalked…

beyond the curious penguins plotting their escape… Read More…

So when I heard that you could drop off hair, fur and nylon at (of all places) the Ritz Carlton, I was a little confused. It’s meant to absorb the spilled oil in the Gulf, and while anything that helps is worthwhile, I couldn’t imagine how stuffing used pantyhose with cut up hair was going to help.

Here’s how, and it’s all pretty amazing:

Crossposted to DreamyDreams

The herons are busy in Audubon Park these days, molting and nesting on the Island Rookery.

The number of birds on these few trees is staggering- especially when you take into account that each one is around 3 feet high:

I’ll go back in a month or so and see if we can get pics of chicks.

We headed out to the bayou on a day that was supposed to turn sunny but never did, and on overcast days, particularly early in the morning, everybody and everything tends to sleep in.

Except for this family of nutria who were out foraging. And yes, with nutria, ‘foraging’ means ‘destroying everything in sight.’ Nutria are just eating machines, gnawing their way through the ecosystem, causing ungodly amounts of damage- it’s estimated that they are currently impacting 20,300 acres of marsh.

They look very much like beavers, but with a rat tail and bright orange chompers.

The beasts were intentionally introduced to the area in the 1930s as a source of fur, but the public didn’t like its feel and it never caught on. Their meat is bitter and unpalatable*, so nutria have no natural enemies and they breed like rabbits, in litters of 3 or 4. Hunters had no reason to bother to go after the animals until a bounty was instituted in 2005, paying $5 per nutria tail brought in to prove the kill, though it’s hard to know if the program has really helped very much.

So, yeah, they’re awful. Except, you look at the babies, and they don’t look like evil incarnate:

There’s a new movement afoot to try to make nutria fur fashionable. After all, there are those who’d like to wear fur, but can’t justify the cruelty- here you get to have your fur and feel like you’re helping the environment, too.

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Pratchett stole a Saints clapper and went to town on it pre-game on Sunday. I can’t say he gives a damn about football, but he’s a big fan of anything that makes noise. After the Herculean task of hauling the thing up to his veranda, he got pissy. He thought it worked like a bell and when he couldn’t get it to work he decided to break it instead.

Still. How ’bout dem 6-0 Saints!?

They’re well known for breaking our hearts, but the feeling around here is optimistic. Half the city’s hoarse from screaming on Sunday, and it’s only going to get more intense.

Rex and Zulu, Audubon Zoo’s white tigers, have about the cushiest jobs in the place, whether they’re relaxing in the grotto on a hot day:

Or just striking a pose while semi-hiding in the bamboo and bananas.

It’s clear they’re well named- Rex and Zulu rule over Mardi Gras Day, and these two clearly rule the roost.

We went out last week, walking in Jean Lafitte park, having realized it’d been way too long since we’d done it. Many (many many many) photos were taken, but these were the prizes, I think- caught by Charlie who very patiently took photo after photo of this bird, waiting for it to do something.

Finally, it obliged, taking a short but glowing flight, and he was there to get it.

This little guy was sunning himself just beside the path in Jean Lafitte Park, so close that we could have reached down and touched him, had we wanted to lose a finger or two.

After dreaming about them last night, I have gators on the brain.

At great risk of loss of limb we began training Zulu this week. In the same packet that held his beloved caterpillars (only 3 left!) was my secret weapon- a clicker and training book!

Very dutifully I read it cover-to-not-very-distant-cover and felt fairly confident at trying this.

It came with a handy-dandy lucite stick to start with, and it was clear from the outset that he was a pro. Somebody, somewhere, has started this program with him. The first step is to get him to gently nip the end of the rod, click the clicker and give him a treat.

Well, clearly, he belongs in this household. He’s a praise whore who already knew all about grabbing the stick. But the food can disappear for all he cares, just sweet talk him (“Who’s a good boy? A very very smart boy?? Well, YOU are, of course!”) and he’s all yours.

All of this comes, however, at a point where his clipped feather wings are growing in, sparking great debate within the household. There are resources that say birds are happier, calmer, being in their natural state and able to fly.

Then, naturally, there are those who say the first group are crazy, and it’s far far better to keep them calm and clip their wings.

So we’re at an impasse on that one, and at the same time ready to move on to our hands being much closer on an ongoing basis. I have bandages and peroxide at the ready.

I know I cannot show fear.

I am firm and resolute.

Perhaps a small glass of wine before we begin…