Pointless photo of the day:

We haven't had a spider here for a while, so I figured what the heck. This orb weaver was busy cutting the damselfly out of its web. I should have taken video instead of stills because it was interesting to watch the process, but a) I didn't think of it at the time, and b) I can't be bothered to find a video host just for one glimpse of a spider and a dead damselfly.

I can't be bothered. That should have been the title of this post. I have no idea what's going to come out today.

Well, we could go the eating route and make the pointless photo ever so slightly pointed. Only slightly, mind. Wouldn't want to get carried away or anything.

Yesterday when I fed the salamander I hung around to watch him eat for a couple of minutes.

Incidentally, I have no idea whether the salamander really is a he. I can't even remember what the salamander's name is supposed to be, come to it. I've taken to calling him Boris lately. No reason.

This salamander (and no, I don't have a photo. That would be too much like a point. Hang on a sec, though. I should be able to find you a link... or maybe two) spends most of his time being boring. Yes, boring. He sits and stares. Occasionally he burrows into the moss and... sits and stares.

Get the feeling that I don't really understand having amphibians as pets?

Throw a handful of crickets in his tank, though, and it's game on. Erm... slowly. Watching Boris hunt crickets is a bit like watching slow motion sports replays. It's not exactly a spirited chase, but it is, nonetheless, very effective. If I throw in the crickets and go do something else for ten minutes, by the time I come back it's pretty much guaranteed that there won't be a single sign that there was ever such thing as a cricket in sight. Of course, it helps that the crickets are stupid enough to practically walk into the salamander's mouth.

Hmmm. Maybe there's more to this than I thought. Do you suppose Boris could be some kind of cricket hypnotist?

We didn't always feed Boris crickets. We used to feed him mostly mealworms, and it was always a struggle. You'd sit there and jiggle a larva in front of him, and he would sit. And stare. And sit. He never did catch on to the fact that mealworms might possibly be food-related.

You can imagine my surprise, then, at the reaction I got when I gave him some crickets in desperation (we'd been buying crickets for the toad). Total change in body language. Turns out that this incredibly frustrating-to-feed salamander just needed the right stimulus. I mean, I knew that tiger salamanders are very much triggered by motion, but it was interesting to see that he was waiting for just the right kind of motion. Jiggled beetle larva? Whatever. Active, stinky, stupid cricket?

Banquet.

Now he'd be happy if I'd give him a dozen crickets a day, but since no one at the nature centre really wants to deal with a three hundred pound salamander he has to put up with the feeding schedule I impose on him.

And, I'll admit, I'm starting to develop a bit of a fondness for the boring amphibian. He's no snake, but there's more to him than you might have figured.

A stomach, for one thing.







I think I'm out of blather now. I'll need to go change laundry loads in a minute or so anyway.