Tag Archives: nature

Four-Cheeked Baboons and Dinosaur Birds: the Animals of the Simien Mountains

Look but not too closely at the four cheeked butt.

As promised I’m now going to talk about the animals that we witnessed in the heights of the Simien Mountains. This will conclude the whole me-talking-about-my-journey-to-Ethiopia thing for now because to be quite frank, the details are starting to get a little hazy and when that happens I just start making stuff up.

I’m typing this blog post on my grandma’s computer, who asked not to be mentioned in the blog, so I’m going to respect that and not talk about her or our discussion at the dinner table about the European meaning of shag.

Anyways, the animals of the Simien Mountains.

Eye contact makes everyone nervous.

High in the mystical mountains of Ethiopia lives the Gelada baboon, which spends its day sitting on its four butt cheeks and using its bizarrely dainty little hands to pull up grass and chomp on it before using those same dainty hands to scratch itself and groom its friends, lovers, and cousins.

According to Wikipedia and me, these baboons are awesome because a. they are only found in the “high grassland of the deep gorges of the central Ethiopian plateau”  b. they are the only primates that are primarily graminivores and grazers, and c. they sleep on the edges of cliffs.

I would also add that they have beady bronze eyes that lurk out from under a permanently furrowed brow so they always look pissed. One morning we were about to leave the campsite and a band of baboons came strolling along, like it was no big deal. We were freaking out and taking tons of pictures while our scout was probably thinking, “They’re just baboons….” It’s like when people take pictures of the squirrels in the states. Quick question: what if humans had four butt cheeks. On second thought, forget it.

Gander at those butt scratching horns.

Another awesome animal: the Ibex. First you’re probably thinking, these aren’t that cool. I have deer in my backyard too. Think again and take a look at the horns on that mother narker.

We stumbled upon an entire herd of these beauties near our campsite and were captivated by their grazing. This dude with the horns was clearly the king of the pack. As we came over a hill we saw him there, a magnificent creature, and as we looked upon him, he majestically tilted his head back and scratched his butthole every so gently with the tip of one his wondrous horns. It was breathtaking. We were sure that every Ibex in the bunch was jealous of his butt-scratching skills.

A raven, an oracle, or a god. Who can tell?

Finally, the thick-billed raven. Personally, I didn’t find this animal terribly interesting except for the fact that it could fly (what!) and that it had one of the most dinosaur-like calls that I’d ever heard.  I first heard it when one was taking off from a rock, and it sounded like a very heavy, very throaty door groaning open. It was probably the call that my grandpa would make if he were a bird, complaining about wanting to watch a different sports game.

On our last day, we woke up surrounded by an entire group of these ravens and boyfriend was really happy to finally be able to use the phrase “an unkindness of ravens.” We rejoiced in the fulfillment of linguistic possibilities and then left the mountains, maybe forever.

Coming up this week: bachelorette party, bridal shower, and food tour madness in Chicagoland.

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Jam Quest

All the sweetness of sugar, with a hint of fruit

What started as a quest for 70% fruit jam ended with me hopelessly lost and asking a gas station attendant for directions to the Nile.

When I first came to Egypt, I had a peasant’s understanding of the world and was content eating jam that was merely tasty and cheap. To me, jam was just a colder and more gelatinous form of candy that happened to contain the occasional hunk of fruit. However, here in Cairo I encountered people who subscribed to a different jam-philosophy. Oddly, they believed that jam should taste like fruit, not sugar. I heard the term “fruit percentage” for the first time as they sneered at jams that consisted mostly of artificial coloring and sugar.

Because of them, I was forced to try a jam that contained 60% fruit. It was a strange experience. My taste buds, accustomed to being blasted and then numbed by the sweetness, instead found themselves underwhelmed.

I enjoyed it on an intellectual level, but my ignorance had not yet been beaten out of me and I  wanted my sugar jelly back. However, something strange had happened to me. I had been afflicted with the sugar-guilt. Now when I went to the supermarket, I secretly craved the cheap, facemeltingly sweet jams, but the sugar guilt haunted me and I purchased the sixty percent instead. I thought maybe the reason I didn’t love it as much as my friends was that there wasn’t enough fruit. Perhaps if I tried a jam with more fruit, I would see the wisdom of jam snobbery.

I had heard rumors of Mom’s jam: a 70% wonder found only at a place called Dina Farms. Months ago I had seen this store, and after spending too much time inside one day I decided to go on a jam hunt, relying only on my memory and my innate directional instinct. I set out confidently and within ten minutes found myself completely lost on the edge of what seemed to be a forest in the middle of Cairo. “Where did this come from?” I wondered.

Then I thought to myself, “The Nile. I must make towards the Nile. I will use its mother banks to as a great trail of breadcrumbs.”  I happened upon a gas station attendant and asked him where the Nile was. Confused at my apparent confusion, he asked me where I was trying to go and I said resolutely:  “I want to go towards the Nile” He pointed me in the right direction and soon I saw the glimmering waters in front of me. I was happy to be on my way home, albeit jamless.

Later on, I considered how ridiculous it was that I had just used a 4130 mile long river as a landmark to find my 2 person apartment. I imagined my reaction if a bedraggled tourist in downtown Oklahoma City asked me where the Rocky Mountains are and decided sometime’s it’s better just to leave such matters be.

P.S. Vote for Belle at Educlaytion’s March Movie Madness. She’s up against Atticus Finch, and let’s be honest here…she deserves to beat that sucker.

Tagged , , , , , ,

Meet a Mammal: the Swedish Gray Wolf

Adolphus Jonasson, a Swedish Gray Wolf

Hello and welcome to today’s episode of “Meet a Mammal” with your host, me! Before we meet our guest, allow me to introduce myself:

I was born centuries ago in a leaky canoe where I was instantly orphaned and then raised by a flock of giant birds called tittleswinks. Unfortunately, tittleswinks are now extinct because I ended them. The birds were very cruel and tortured me daily by making me eat their regurgitations. This went on for years until I couldn’t take it anymore and used my powers of abstract thinking to destroy them.

I don’t know my own name, so I call myself Truckles, and I love mammals because they are not birds. Enough about me, though! Let’s meet our guest.

“Today we have Adolphus Jonasson with us, a gray wolf all the way from Sweden. Adolphus, thanks so much for being here.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Truckles. It’s great to see you again.”

“Likewise! So Adolphus, you’re a gray wolf living in the Kolmården Wildlife Park in southern Sweden. Can you tell us a little about your day to day life?”

“Well, it’s not as interesting as you might think. Mostly I do what other Swedish gray wolves do, keep up with international affairs, scratch myself, balance the budget, meat think, nap in the sunshine, hide from zoo visitors, flirt with the zoo keepers, etc. It’s a pretty simple life.”

“But I bet you have tons of time for self-improvement since you don’t have to hunt and kill your own food.”

“I suppose that’s a good way of looking at it. But I’ll be honest here. Sometimes when I see a heavy zoo patron or a sickly child, I feel the wildness within me and I imagine jumping over the exhibit wall and seeing their eyes bulge with terror before ripping into their tender necks and tasting their blood warm in my mouth. I hope I’m not disclosing too much information! Hahahaha!

“Not at all! I’ve thought that exact same thing before. Hahahaha! Now tell me this, Kolmården Wildlife Park is the largest wildlife park in Scandinavia and also home of Sweden’s only dolphinarium. As you probably know, humans unreasonably favor dolphins over other mammals. Do you ever feel jealous of the attention the dolphins get?

“That’s a great question, Trunkles. If I can be honest here, sometimes I do get a little pissed off that this aquatic animal is so arbitrarily beloved. What does it have that the gray wolf doesn’t? Aren’t we cool? Have you ever seen a pack of wolves devour a cow before? It’s freaking awe-inspiring, and I just don’t get why we aren’t more popular. In fact, sometimes I get so angry, I imagine leaping right into the dolphin tank with my buddies and savoring the the flippered freaks’ squeals as we tear into their rough necks and turn the exhibit into a literal blood bath. Oops! Did I say too much again? Hahahaha!

“Not at all, Adolphus! I hate those squeaky suckers too! Well we’re running out of time here, but very quickly I’d like to ask you one last question. The name Adolphus means “noble wolf,” and yet I read that people often make fun of you because of its similarity to Adolf Hitler’s name. How does that feel?”

“It doesn’t feel great, Trunkles, not great at all. Did you know I speak four languages? I’ve composed several symphonies and eaten countless kilos of raw meat but those feather haired, leather skinned, smarmy mouthed tourists can’t get over the fact there are other mammals out there named Adolphus. Sometimes it makes me want to listen to the blood gurgle in their throats as their life slowly slips away from them….oops I did it again! Hahahaha! Sorry about that—blood on the brain you know!

“I sure do! Well thanks for being on our show, Adolphus. Do come back and visit us again!”

And for all my guests at home, don’t forget to join us next time when we have a genuine Cairo ferret with us. Thanks for watching!”

Tagged , , , , , ,

An Arm Lost or a Stump Gained?

Because arm stumps are gross. 

I was brushing my teeth yesterday and noticed my left arm was still bothering me. I looked down and realized there was nothing left of it besides a bloody stump that ended at the elbow in a jagged open wound. Blood dripped onto the white tiled floor and I thought to myself, “That explains a lot.”

Tagged , , , , , ,

The Sun: Worth Remembering

Gah! The sun! Hissssss!

Well I’ve really gone and done it now. I spent too much time inside and forgot what the sun looked like. My mom told me this would happen but I didn’t believe her. I never believed her.

She always said, “Emily, make sure you go outside so you can remember the sun. You can brush your scales off out there and smell the air with your tongue and slither around for a bit. Don’t stay in that cave all the time! Once you forget the sun, it’s hard to get used to the light again.”

I would hiss at her, “Leave me alone!” And I didn’t listen to her, even though I knew better.

I didn’t think I’d been inside for that long when I woke up one morning and saw a hideous substance pouring in through the crack between my curtains.  The stuff was garishly bright and I had no idea where it was coming from. I wanted to make it go away but was afraid of getting it all over me. It made me uncomfortably warm.

When I got up to shut the curtains and complete the darkness, I accidentally tripped and fell because I apparently hadn’t used my legs in a long time. While scrambling for support on my way down, I ripped the curtain from the wall and was blinded by a great BALL OF FIRE leeching heat right through the glass. And I thought:

GOOD GOD WHAT IS THAT THING?

As I lay on the ground, painful memories came rushing back to me. I had seen this monstrosity before, been hurt by it before. Endless peeling of scarlet flesh, droplets of sweat stinging my eyes, days lasting eternities. How could I have forgotten? This abomination was the sun, the enemy, its penetrating light revealing all. What horror.

I was on the brink of despair. Then other memories flooded my mind, pleasant ones. I remembered sitting in a warm armchair and watching yellow rays dancing through tree leaves all speckled like. The sun slipping below the horizon and making the clouds neon. The golden hours of spring days when everything is beautiful. Those were pretty. Maybe the sun wasn’t all bad.

Strange how I could forget something that caused me so much pain and joy. I need to slither outside more, but first I need to take a good long nap.

Tagged , , , , ,
Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started