Animal #75 — Spotted Ground Squirrel

spermophilus spilosoma

El Paso County, Colorado — Chico Basin Ranch

Tuesday, April 19, 2022 —  12:57 pm

As I was leaving Chico Basin Ranch on the dirt road, I spotted this small squirrel standing on the side of the road. It was obviously too small to be a prairie dog or even a Wyoming Ground Squirrel, and from what I could see, it wasn’t a Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrel. I made a quick U-turn and pulled up next to it. It scurried to its nearby hold and poked its head out, watching me. We stared at each other for about two minutes until it suddenly ducked around and disappeared down the hole.

Its tiny size and the spots on its back visible in this photo are diagnostic.

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Peterson Air and Space Museum

With our days in Colorado numbered, I took a look at my things to do list and realized I’d never made it to this museum in Colorado Springs. It’s located on Peterson Space Force Base, and I had to request permission to visit three days in advance.

The museum is based on the original 1926 Colorado Springs airport. All four buildings form that airport still exist — the manager’s house, two hangers, and the terminal. There were a few displays in the old terminal.

My 86-year old guide met me at the door and began by asking me if I was in the military. When I said no, he looked surprised and asked me what my connection was. I told him I liked history and visited a lot of museums. He further challenged me to list the museums. When I got to the Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio, he acknowledge that I did visit a lot, and from that point on we got along well. He enjoyed stories and told me many. After 10 minutes or so, he escorted me and a young couple to one of the original airport hangers where there were displays on missile defense.

The guide served in the Army between Korea and Vietnam on a DEW (Distant Early Warning) radar site in Alaska. He showed us a mock-up of the control desk at the instillation where he served and another of a missile control bunker just like the one we toured in South Dakota several years ago.

The guide made it interesting, but the museum itself wasn’t fascinating. There were a lot of mannequins standing around wearing various uniforms and a lot of Cold War-era electronic equipment. Outside between the hangers there were a dozen or so Cold War airplanes and various missiles — all part of the nuclear missile defense system.

I stayed about an hour and a half. It was free, and since it was in town, it was worth a visit.

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Cubs vs. Rockies — Coors Field

I’ve gotten away from baseball in the past two years. The shortened 2020 season, with the ridiculous Covid restrictions, was just silly. I hate some of the new rules (man on second to start extra innings, pitchers must face three batters, designated hitter in the National League). And the creep of political correctness into sports drives me crazy. I’d signed up to watch Cubs games when we moved to Colorado, but after not watching any games after the Cubs traded Bryant, Rizzo, and Baez mid-season in 2021, I cancelled my subscription.

Then I saw somewhere that the Cubs were playing the Rockies early in the season and made a spontaneous decision to go.

The last time Sally was at a game with me, back in 2019, she was disturbed that she wasn’t wearing Cubs gear, so she bought a hat and a Baez jersey. This was the first chance she got to wear them. Of course, Baez is now with the Detroit Tigers, and she wore a winter coat that hid the jersey, but she wore it. I continued my long-standing tradition of NOT wearing anything with a team logo. All of this is funny because she NEVER watches baseball except when she goes to a game with me.

The big news for the Rockies this past off-season was the singing of Kris Bryant to a long-term contract. I enjoyed watching Bryant when he was with the Cubs, but he was frequently injured and didn’t quite live up to expectations. I’m rooting for him with Colorado. When he came up to bat the first time, all the Cubs fans (probably half the not-very-large crowd) cheered. This confused the woman seating behind us, so I turned and explained that he was a star with the Cubs when they went to the World Series. I turned and exchanged brief remarks with them a couple other times during the game — which paid off later.

Looking across at our seats (see the red arrow?) — five rows below the purple row that marks exactly one mile above sea level.

I sent Kelli a photo of the park and told her about the purple seats being a mile high. She and I got into a running conversation as she was watching the game back in Illinois. She told me about some of the new Cubs players — many of whom I’d never even heard of. (The only Cub in the starting line-up that I’d seen play before was Ian Happ in left field.) Kelli explained that we needed to root for the Cubs lead-off designated hitter Clint Frazier. I asked her why and got this response, which I thought was funny.

This was my first chance to see Seiya Suzuki, the Japanese star the Cubs signed over the winter. He doubled in a run in the first inning, but he also made an error in right and was doubled off first when he strayed too far on a liner to right. It was a classic TOOTBLAN (Thrown Out On The Bases Like a Nincompoop), and it cost the Cubs a run.

Frank Schwindel (Cubs 1st baseman) hit a run-scoring single in the first. The Cubs scored three runs in the inning on four straight hits — of which only Suzuki’s double was impressive. Schwindel also hit a solo home run in the sixth, which bounced off the top of the wall.

One of the highlights of the evening for me was when a Rockies player on the scoreboard described teammate Brendon Rodgers as “calm, cool, and collective.”

The fact that I knew nothing about the players on the team I was rooting for was strange, and I lost track of what was going on from time to time. The game wasn’t very clean — besides Suzuki’s mistakes mentioned above, there three other errors and a Rockies TOOTBLAN when a runner on second didn’t run on a base hit by Bryant that turned a single into a rare 7-5 force play fielder’s choice.

During the seventh-inning stretch, I noticed a roving camera man pointing his camera in our direction. I told Sally how I’d never been on a scoreboard and that, if I ever was, I’d just wave complacently and not make a fool of myself like most people do. Still … I wanted it to happen — and was too stupid to take out my phone. Sure enough.

It’s oddly difficult to identify yourself when you see your picture 40x life-size on a huge screen. At first, I remained as cool as I predicted I would, but in the five seconds my image was up there, I began to look decidedly goofy. Sally was sitting immediately to my right, but never made it on screen.

At the end of the video, you can see me scrambling to get my phone out of my pocket. I didn’t make it. I was sitting there thinking it had been fun but also regretting I hadn’t been ready. I asked the people behind me if they’d gotten by any chance. They did. The guy you can hardly see because he’s holding his phone in front of his face took some very shaky video, but it’s a whole lot better than what I got. He air-dropped it to me and I was set. We chatted about it for a bit — the lady on the right with the black hat put her hand on my shoulder in a friendly way every time she spoke, which made me smile. They left a few minutes later and said a friendly goodbye.

Kris Bryant singles to right in the bottom of the ninth.

The official attendance was 24,444, but I think there were a lot of no-shows. The crowd was much smaller than at any of the other Cubs games I’ve attended at Coors Field, and by the time the game ended, half of them had left. The Cubs won 5-2, which made both teams 4-2 on the season.

We were on the interstate 20 minutes after the game ended and home by 11:00.

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Highlights from Recent Reading

Johnnie (who fell dead at his desk a few years later) was a laconic guy whose method of complimenting me on a piece of writing was to say, “You got a constipation of ideas and a diarrhea of words.”

from Low Man on a Totem Pole, by H. Allen Smith

__________

About the grammar in this book. It is, without question, atrocious. Grammar is a thing I never learned and like most other human beings, I have nothing but contempt for anything I don’t know. I play the typewriter strictly by ear and when the tune sounds all right to me I’m satisfied with it.

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

I began parting my name on the side at an early age when I first started getting by-lines on newspapers. Ever since, I have been accused by many drunks and a few moderate drinkers of being affected and vain — a charge which I deny by citing that I neither say eyether or nyether. It was almost essential that I decorate up my Smith name with something fancy at the end. I can agree that when a man named Archibald F. Throcklepidgeon begins calling himself A. Fieldstone Throcklepidgeon, he might be motivated by affectation and vanity; but when a Smith decorates himself up front he has reason and justice on his side. If he goes around calling himself Joe Smith or Jim Smith or Harry Smith he’s likely to run into embarrassments. As it is, half the time when I’m introduced to someone merely as “Mr. Smith” the party of the second part always says, “What’s your real name?” A Smith without a feather in his nomenclatural cap generally has one hell of a time getting a check cashed, and the way those hotel clerks look at you when you register as man and wife!

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

“If I ever get rich,” he told me that afternoon of the long talk, “I’m going to buy a yacht and call it the Great White Also. When I was in elementary school, back in Ithaca, I came upon a line in my geography which said,

The Arctic is inhabited by the brown bear, the black bear, and the great white also.

“It worried me. At home I asked about the Great White Also. The family let me go on believing that a Great White Also was some horrible, child-eating beast, and whenever I misbehaved they used to tell me that the Great White Also would get me.”

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

Hitchin is a small town of roughly 30,000 souls on the River Hiz. Although the locals now pronounce this as “His,” the letter z was once a contraction of the dental sibilant “tch” sound and so the real name is, phonetically, “Hitch.” (This is rather like the “y” in “Ye Olde Worlde Pub.” Fifteenth century printers, such as Caxton, did not have the Anglo-Saxon letter “thorn — which looked like a lower-case b and p imposed upon one another and sounds like the “th” in, well, “thorn— so they replaced it with a “y.” “Ye” was always meant to be pronounced “the.”

from Three Men in a Float, by Dan Kieran

__________

The election of Abraham Lincoln threw the whole South into a ferment; everywhere men looked into the faces of their fellows and asked what must be done, for truth demand that it be told that the fearful alternative of secession had not suggested itself to the minds of thousands. The convention of border States seemed to promise much, and Arkansas fully expected to be represented there. Conservative men were in favor of trying every thing save the fearful remedy of separation. On the other hand, the advantages of direct trade, the greater security of slave property, the boundless wealth of the South when released from dependence on the North were insisted upon, and when it was intimated that peaceable secession was impossible, it only produced a laugh of scorn; the idea of Northern mechanics, brought up in workshops, unskilled in horsemanship and the use of fire-arms, endeavoring to cope successfully with those accustomed to the saddle and the use of the rifle from childhood, was not to be mentioned or heard with gravity. The latter class, however, were at first largely in the minority; men who by honorable industry had acquired a competency, and even wealth, thriving mechanics, rising pubic men, prosperous merchants, and well-to-do farmers were fearful of a change which at best would not bring increased prosperity, and might bring ruin. But men largely indebted at the North, to whom a severance might bring an easy release; planters nominally wealthy, but really bankrupt; broken-down politicians, and such men only as had nothing to lose, whom nothing but a revolution or a rebellion could bring to the surface and give a bad prominence, were in favor of following in the path in which South Carolina had led.

The proof of this is found in the fact that most of the seceding States were hurried out of the Union without even the semblance of the forms of law: Missouri, by the famous Pineville Convention, and Arkansas by a convention of which two-thirds of the members were elected by the votes of Union men — our county, Washington, with the largest voting population in the State, sending the whole delegation, four in number, by a Union vote of from nineteen hundred to twenty-one hundred, out of a voting population of twenty-five hundred, or a majority of from four or five to one. Indeed, this body at its first meeting rejected the ordinance of secession by a two -thirds vote; but on being called together again, under the influence of threats, promises, false telegraphic dispatches, false charges against the Government, and all the appliances which traitors know so well how to use, the fatal measure was carried, and the State hurried into the whirlpool of treason and ruin. …

Thousands, it is true, were indignant at the act of the Convention, but the fact that the treasury and arsenal were in the hands of the secessionists, that the power of the Confederacy was pledged to maintain the position the State was forced unjustly to assume and the significant fact that Arkansas regiments were sent east of the Mississippi, and Texas and Louisiana troops brought into Arkansas, prevented any open resistance on the part of the loyal men of the State. When an individual or a people have determined upon a false step, a plea of justification is never wanting; hence the election of Mr. Lincoln was made the pretext for charging upon the North all manner of intended injustice to the South. Abolition, coercion, negro equality, subjugation became watchwords with the favorers of secession; and when any one ventured to urge that it was unjust to charge upon Mr. Lincoln a policy that he had not yet indicated, that it would be better to wait for his acts instead of condemning him in advance, the charge of Black Republicanism was the usual retort.

Indeed, so well was the public mind prepared on these matters that, when the President’s inaugural was issued, in the eyes of many it contained the obnoxious sentiments above-mentioned; which fact a circumstance, which occurred on the day that it was telegraphed to us, will illustrate. Just after leaving the telegraph office I stepped into a store, where I found quite an excited party discussing the policy presumed to be set forth in the Inaugural; among them was a State Senator from one of the rural districts, who, addressing me, said he supposed “that I was now satisfied, from the President’s own words, that he was a favorer of negro equality.” To which I replied, “that I did not so read it.” “What!” exclaimed he, “does he not quote the language of the Constitution that all men are created equal?” In answer to this, I said: “The Constitution contains no such language as that which you have attributed to the President”; which caused a look of astonishment from the bystanders who were of his way of thinking, and regarded him as an oracle, on political matters at least; he then repeated his assertion, upon which I remarked that the language quoted by the President was to be found in the Declaration of Independence. “Well,” said he, “it is all the same thing.” “With this difference,” said I; “that the Constitution has the force of a law, while the other is a declaration of rights, and has no binding force whatever.” As there was no reasonable reply possible to this, he began to indulge in a style of remark in which wounded pride and personal spleen were so mingled that I felt that further reply was not only useless, but might also prove injurious; but from that time I knew that the evil eye was upon me.

Soon after the assault upon Sumter I encountered, in the telegraph office, a physician, a man of some influence, then engaged in raising a military company. He charged the North with plunging us into a war destined to produce untold suffering; when I remarked that the South could not justly blame the North for the war, since she had provoked it by striking the first blow, and that we could no more expect the North to submit to such an insult than we could bear a similar one ourselves. On this he flamed out in language most bitter and threatening, intimating that such sentiments would no longer be tolerated, but that popular violence would be employed against those who took the liberty of expressing such views; and this, in the existing state of public feeling, the very worst elements ready for an explosion the moment a spark fell or direction was given to the popular rage, was by no means an idle threat, or to be lightly regarded.

from Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove, by William Baxter (1864) This was a long quote, but I thought it gave a very different perspective on the Civil War and also showed that there is nothing new under the sun.

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Bird #569 — Slaty-backed Gull

larus (ravenous seabird) schistisagus (slate cloak)

Larimer County, Colorado — Kyger Open Space

Thursday, March 24, 2022 — 11:58 am

On Sunday, when I was on the way home from Kansas, a Slaty-backed Gull was found at a state park near Loveland, Colorado. I found out about it that night when it showed up on rare-bird reports. I thought about driving up Monday to see it, but Monday was rainy and windy. I decided to wait for better weather and see if the gull stuck around. The weather on Tuesday was worse, and most people who looked for the gull didn’t find it. Nobody found it on Wednesday, when the winds were 70 mph at times. Thursday was forecast to be a pleasant day, but the gull hadn’t been reported in a couple days, and four hours of driving for nothing didn’t sound exciting.

Instead, I headed down to Fountain Creek and wandered about. After a couple hours, I decided to complete my five miles of walking and then head home. How quickly things change. I checked the Colorado birding group and saw that the Slaty-backed Gull had been refound at a lake in an open space about six miles from where it was originally seen. I was two hours away, with the entire Colorado Springs and Denver metropolitan areas between me and it. But it was a lifer, and lifers are hard to come by these days. I headed north, curbing my urge to rush madly by repeating the mantra “It’s worth trying for, but not worth dying for.” I’m not sure where I came up with that, but I didn’t die, so it worked.

The Slaty-backed Gull isn’t just any lifer. It’s an Asian species that breeds along the east coast of that continent from Siberia down through Japan. It’s uncommon along the Alaskan coast and rare elsewhere in North America. This is only the fourth or fifth time one has been seen in Colorado. So this was likely my only chance to see one.

On the other hand, it’s a gull, my least-favorite category of bird. All gulls are very similar, with difference between species coming down to the amount of black on a particular feather or two, the color of the ring around the eye, or some similar obscure point. Which wouldn’t be bad except that they’re often at scope distance and packed in close together in huge flocks so that it’s hard to see an entire bird, much less see the details of plumage. My strategy, which I employed to perfection today, is to let someone else pick through them and find the good ones, then look where they’re pointing. I’m guessing I would have missed the Slaty-backed Gull if I had come upon the flock by myself without prior warning that something rare was hiding in plain sight.

When I was half a mile away from the reservoir, I could already see a couple birders with scopes staring out at the lake, which was a good sign. I parked and walked as close to the water as I was allowed to get, which was probably 150 yards from the mud bar where 200 or so gulls were sleeping (visible on the right in this photo). The two birders (one of whom was the guy who first found the gull on Sunday) assured me the target bird was still around.

The Slaty-backed Gull was sleeping when I spotted it. It was larger than the Ring-billed Gulls that surrounded it, with a darker mantle. (That’s a Herring Gull on the left in the photo below, picking at its feet.) In addition, I could see that the Slaty-backed Gull had a blocky-shaped head and a dark smudge through its eye (a key mark). It also showed a lot of white on the wing coverts. Two similarly sized and colored Lesser-Black-backed Gulls were also in the flock. They were sleeping in the same position as the Slaty-backed, but showed almost no white on wing coverts.

After perhaps 15 minutes, a hawk scared up the gulls. They all took off, drifted in the wind for maybe 30 seconds, then settled back down. The Slaty-backed landed on the far side of the island and stood just long enough for me to get one photo (below). I could see that the legs were a rather vivid pink and that it had a pinkish-red spot on its bill. When it took off, I could also see its wing pattern — a broad white trailing edge and a limited amount of black feathers near the tip — but I didn’t get a photo.

The gull then sat back down, tucked its head, and didn’t move for 25 minutes or so. The two birders soon left, but others came. I heard at least two of them joke that they’d be sleeping too if they’d traveled all the way from Siberia.  We spent the time scoping the rest of the reservoir and comparing what we saw. Finally, the Slaty-backed Gull stood up.

It acted a little indecisive — a few steps here, a few steps there, then walked slowly down to the edge of the island, swam about 40 feet out into the lake, then turned around and swam back.

When it got to shallow water, it did a little preening and splashing. I was taking a video and managed to catch the few moments when it spread its wings. These next four shots are stills from the video. They’re fuzzy, but clear enough to show the limited black on the underwing and the “string of pearls” effect of the white spots near the tips of the wings.

The gull stood in shallow water and looked around and did a little more preening.

This is the best shot I got of the pink legs, the eye smudge, and the yellow bill with the pinkish spot. The Slaty-backed Gull is also described as “pot-bellied,” and that shows up in these photos.

While it was still standing in the water, the gull tucked its head again. I decided I’d seen what I needed to see, so I left. I saw on later reports that the bird left about 20 minutes after I did and wasn’t seen again at that location again on Thursday. It was found in subsequent days back at the original lake and at one other location. But from what I hear, it was a lot closer to the viewers where I saw it, and the weather was a lot better.

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