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Larvae and the people that love them

Luke — Tue, 22 May 2012 03:07:37 +0000

There are some people that say that you don’t choose your pets; your pets choose you. In this case, they may be right.

The morning started fairly normally, breakfast for the kids, lunches being packed, and a somewhat bizarre conversation about how useful it might be to have a magnetron embedded in your robot arm.

Benefits: The ability to quickly prepare hot beverages and to shoot popcorn into your enemies eyes…

Negatives: None!

We wonder why every robot doesn’t have one…

As pieces of fruit were selected for their lunch boxes, we noticed a rather grim looking pear in the basket. Closer inspection revealed that a family of fruit flies had recently taken up residence. The pear had turned to the dark side. As it began its brief journey to the rubbish bin, RJ spoke up:

RJ: Wait!

Dad: Yeah?

RJ: I… Can I have that?

Dad: This? The rotten pear?

RJ: Ummm. Yes? I need it.

Dad: What on earth for?

RJ: I… I want to do an experiment.

(He’s crafty, this one. He knows that science is the ultimate trump card in our family.)

Dad: What kind of experiment?

RJ: Well… I want to breed some some mutant fruit flies.

Dad: And how do you plan to do that?

RJ: First, I need to extract some carrot DNA, and then I’ll feed it to them. And then…

Dad: Hold up! That wont work! I eat banana DNA all the time and I’m not a yellow bellied mutant. Stomachs break down DNA when they digest it.

RJ: Curses! What if I just put it on the eggs? Before they hatch? Before they have stomachs?

Dad: That might just work.

RJ: And then I’ll have mutant orange fruit flies! And I can take over the world!

Dad: Okay. But your evil plans have to wait until you get home from school. You’re still in your pajamas, Dr. Doom.

RJ's latest pets, and the ingredients for their carroty future -- key components of his plan for world domination.

Pining

Luke — Mon, 21 May 2012 03:07:44 +0000

This is the tale of a lizard, a fairly ordinary garden skink, just 2 or 3 inches long. The lizard had been living a quiet happy life, basking in the sunshine, chewing on the occasional millipede, doing lizardy things with his buddies. He had dreams of a long life filled with sunshine and tasty insects, but there was a problem with his plans. He chose to live out his days in a schoolyard; a schoolyard that included several precocious young children with very quick hands.

On its own this may not have been a problem, but these kids were quite young and not always as aware of their strength as they might be, especially when weighed on the scale of a lizard. One afternoon, the lizard was caught by one of RJ’s friends and as he attempted to wriggle his way to freedom he was… squeezed.

Now most parts of a lizard are probably reasonably squishy and flexible, so this might not have been a problem, except that the child had the lizard by the head. Lizard heads are typically not so squishy and they contain a lot of things that are important to a lizard’s general success in life. The end result was an ejected eyeball, a small trickle of blood, and a rather unresponsive lizard.

Most children, after identifying that the essential essence of lizard had been released, would have abandoned him then and there but, as we know, RJ can rarely be classified in the group of “most children.”

RJ, moved by the lizard’s plight, rushed to the scene with an emergency response team and attempted to resuscitate the poor creature. No effort was spared. A sock was removed, moistened in the sparkling, clean waters of a nearby drinking fountain to clean the lizards wounds. An empty lunchbox was brought forward, complete with a selection of different food scraps and a piece of bark for shelter. Gentle soothing words of comfort were spoken, but to no avail. The lizard remained unresponsive.

RJ adjusts some things in Lizzy's aquarium so he can be more comfortable. A lizard has certain needs, apparently.

Undaunted, RJ remained convinced that “Thin Lizzy” just needed some time to recover and brought him home. The afternoon was filled with constructing an appropriate habitat, clean sand, bark, rocks and a delicious assortment of insects, millipedes and other arthropods — truly a delightful lizardy nirvana. It was surely just a matter of time before Lizzy recovered. At the end of the day, RJ carefully placed Lizzy on a warm rock and left him for the night.

The first thing the next morning, RJ rushed downstairs to check his patient… and… and… It was a miracle! Lizzy had moved during the night! He was now laying on his back beside the warm rock! Triumphant, RJ declared that Lizzy would be coming to school that day to show everyone the amazing recovery. Admittedly, Lizzy was still rather “lethargic” (some would say comatose or deceased). This fact was not lost on RJ. As he carefully placed Lizzy back up on the rock he announced that “Lizzy is just playing dead. He is really VERY good at it.”

Several times during the day, Lizzy would craftily bide his time until there were no observers and then scurry off around his enclosure, only to resume his dead lizard act when others showed up. RJ’s classmates were amazed, particularly by Lizzy’s unprecedented resolve to remain motionless in the face of close-proximity screams and prods with fingers. Lizzy returned home to continue his convalescence.

For the next few days, Lizzy was an ideal pet. He didn’t require a lot of attention (or food, water or air, for that matter). He kept within his enclosure without making any attempts to escape. He wasn’t even venomous, as many of our previous pets have been. If you look past a few highly unfortunate events, Lizzy really seemed to have a long, bright future ahead of him.

Despite how well he had integrated into our daily life, Lizzy’s tenure as RJ’s own personal pet was not long lived, and it really was his own fault. Three days later as the weather warmed up a bit, Lizzy learned a new trick. Not content with an occasional leap from his warm rock, he replaced his silent contentment with a new cry for help.

A terrible, foul, stinky cry for help.

Thin Lizzy moved out that afternoon. He lives across the street at the park now. We’re sure he’s happier over there.

Besides, RJ has some new pets now…

(to be continued)

Transmogrification (without the tiger)

Luke — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:07:27 +0000

RJ: Dad, if LR comes back from camp with four legs, big marshmallow lips and a mane and a tale and hooves, do we have to keep her?

Dad: I’m not sure RJ. If she can talk, I think we have to.

RJ: She wont be able to talk, Dad. She’s a horse.

Dad: A horse could be kind of useful. Do you think she could make it up the stairs to her room?

RJ: No way!

Dad: I guess she could stay in the backyard. Mom would be pretty upset if we got rid of her.

RJ: It just wouldn’t work. She would eat all the plants and wouldn’t be able to do her jobs around the house. She’d have to go.

Dad: I guess you’re right. Oh well, I’ll miss her.

Goofy and the hamworm

Luke — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 03:07:03 +0000

RJ: Hey Dad! There’s a worm in the tadpole tank! I think he’s made of ham. He’s got red eyes too. I think he’ll be my pet, called “CheeCheese”.

Dad: What’s he doing?

RJ: Just doing the ham-worm thing. Wiggling around a lot.

(LR wanders over to have a look at the tank)

RJ: LR, I have some sad news.

LR: (sighing) What did you do, RJ?

RJ: Not me! Mum! She had to clean out the tank yesterday. There was too much algae in there. And… well… Remember your favorite tadpole, Goofy?

LR: Yes?

RJ: He got washed away. He’s not in there anymore.

RJ: Mum was really sad about it.

(There are about 15 tadpoles in the tank, all of them identical, and all of them very, very small. No one can tell them apart, and none of them actually went down the drain.)

LR: I don’t believe you. I can see him right over there.

RJ: That’s not him. That’s Gooby. I can tell the difference.

A resource for everyone

Luke — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 03:07:37 +0000

(while eating breakfast, the cat is sitting on the chair in front of the kitchen computer)

RJ: No kitty. No more searching… Dad! She’s typing into Google again!

Dad: What? What is she searching for now?

RJ: “Will… I… catch… a… bird… today?” Uggh! Kitty! You’re not an outside cat!

Dad: Bad cat! No more Google for you!

RJ: Do you know what is really bad? I saw her watching Youtube last night. She was watching videos about catching birds.

Dad: That cat has no shame!

RJ: I know! And then she went on wikipedia and was searching for endangered species!

Dad: I never thought it would come to this… I guess it’s time to change the password.

RJ: Pick something harder this time.

Our Family

Luke — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 03:07:09 +0000

We’ve looked, but we can’t find this one anywhere.

Click to enlarge.

They just aren’t big on sharing

Luke — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 03:07:51 +0000

(RJ runs in from outside)

RJ: It’s not good, Dad! Our family has some BIG problems.

Dad: What do you mean?

RJ: Well, I tried to lay the cat down in the dog’s bed.

Dad: No luck?

RJ: She just wont stay in there. She does NOT like it.

Dad: Maybe it’s the smell or something. Weird.

RJ: Yeah! And when I put her in, the dog started freaking out and got out of the bed too! Our family does NOT get along.

Our North-West Adventure 2011, Part 2: What to do, in Gnaraloo?

Luke — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 03:07:18 +0000

The next stage of our adventure brought us to Monkey Mia, where we met some friendly mammals with a taste for seafood and thousands of crustacean squatters before dragged through the ocean from a high speed catamaran. After a hair-raising drive through an extended muddy bog, we made it to Gnaraloo Station, a delightful paradise marred only slightly by a small infestation of surfers and a veritable plague of ecstatic, frisky whales.

After spending the night in Denham, we got up early the next morning and drove to Monkey Mia. Every day, a crowd gathers on the shore to wait for a pod of dolphins who have been fed there, every day, for years.

LR and RJ try to spot them from the jetty.

The water was incredibly still and calm... Dad had the rare chance to get some early morning photography done while waiting.

LR stands knee deep in water as the pod arrives.

One of the park rangers hands over some of the delicious booty.

The kids spent some time snorkelling and exploring the shallow waters of the bay.

LR and RJ discovered hermit crabs near the shore... There were hundreds of them!

LR heads off to collect another handful of crabs!

Mom booked us onto a boat cruise. It was a great way to get out into the bay and see some sharks, turtles, dolphins and perhaps even a dugong.

RJ and Dad rode in the net, trying to spot sharks as we cruised the reefs.

The boat stopped by a pearl oyster farm where we learned the ins and outs of farming pearls. As we watched the presentation, RJ suddenly darted forward between the speaker's legs to save this tiny crab from being stepped on.

RJ had an audience as he practiced his surf moves!

On the ride back, LR and Dad made up their own jokes to entertain themselves.

One of the wild dolphins had great fun riding the bow wave from the boat.

Once we left the reef area and returned to deeper water, the captain loaded the net behind the boat with passengers and took off -- the ultimate ocean cold-tub.

The next morning, we were off again, heading north past Carnarvon and on to Gnaraloo Station. We stopped along the way to watch the blowholes, as whales happily flopped about just off the coast. Despite the best efforts from the blowholes, with deafening roars and tremendous columns of water blasting from the rock, the kids were still way more interested in the tidal pools.

LR did her very best to break her ankle by leaping maniacally from rock to rock across the puddles, but failed miserably.

Gnaraloo Station lies at the end of a dirt track that runs north of Carnarvon. During the Summer, there is so little rain that the track is packed hard and just about any vehicle can make it through. It turns out that during Winter, it’s a bit of a different story.

In our case, torrential rains had come through about three days prior, and the track had been completely flooded. What was left for us was a series of opaque muddy lakes and bogs of thick, sticky, orange mud connected by small sections of track. The owners of the station had put out the official word to the community that only real four-wheel drives should attempt the track, and even then to stick to the ‘chicken-tracks’. Chicken tracks are side tracks, usually weaving deleriously through the bushland for a few hundred metres, that avoid the worst of the bogs and deepest pools. They’ve been amusingly named by the four-wheel drive enthusiasts for those people who chicken out when driving the main track.

When we called the station and informed them about our rear-wheel drive, towing a heavy trailer, they said, “Sure, come on up. You’ll be fine.” We didn’t discover their ‘official’ recommendation until after we got there.

At this point, we had 80 km (50 miles) of this kind of track ahead of us. Every few hundred metres, we would encounter another massive bog which would require getting out and inspecting. We very seriously considered turning around and not continuing on.

We arrived, triumphant, but utterly nervewracked and exhausted. We took our place amongst the four wheel drives and tried to pretend it had been great fun.

At the base of the cliff in front of camp, there's a famous surfing spot. It was pretty spectactular, with great waves rolling in continuously, all day long.

Dog digging competition!!! On your mark, get set, go!

What's that, Mom? The water's a bit cold?

RJ really enjoyed snorkelling too. He spotted all kinds of fish, and thought he had made friends with two, but discovered they were just damselfish trying to scare him away from their algae farm!

At every opportunity, LR hunted for the most precious shells on the sea floor.

At low tide, we could explore the safer sections of the cliff face. There were lots of little caves and rock pools along the way.

We hiked lots of trails around Gnaraloo, climbing cliffs and exploring. It was a terrific place to watch whales happily flop and splash about, with a few showing up every ten minutes or so.

Some awful, terrible, bad parents set an awful, terrible, unsafe example for their children by jumping down into this sea cave to pick up some pretty rocks, and then frantically scrambling out before the waves came crashing into it.

RJ and his new favorite pet... A 'cuddle' fish.

Big news!!! We discovered RJ's first wiggly tooth!

These super cute bearded dragons were everywhere. They were incredibly curious and had absolutely no fear of people, but at the speeds they dart around, they have no reason to be.

Gnaraloo Bay is absolutely stunning -- some of the most spectacular coral and aquatic wildlife in the world, just a metre below the surface of a huge expanse of crystal blue water gently lapping against perfect, white, fine-grained sand, and aside from this amazingly great family that showed up, almost completely deserted.

RJ and LR gathered shells and rocks built an enormous city that spanned the beach.

These huge sand dunes were just a short hike from the campsite.

It took a while to climb to the top; they were bigger than they looked and we were weighed down by an impressive number of dead crabs.

We finally made it to the top, where we watched more whales springing about.

LR and Dad wandered off with their cameras to get some pictures of the surfers. They had to be pretty brave to attempt the entry from the reef into the crashing waves.

The kids made friends with the boys at the neighbouring camp. Ledgy, their dad, even set up a totem tennis set for them, which our kids promptly dominated.

Oh no! Camping hair!!! (and she still looks gorgeous.)

Being wintertime, we were allowed to have a campfire. RJ worked on his marshmallow chargrilling technique.

LR, to Mom's delight, worked on a careful, slow-roasting technique, producing a series of perfectly toasted marshmallows.

Click and explore this map to see where we actually went!

View NorthWest Australia 2011 in a larger map

The latest news from the “They’d Make Great Pets” department

Luke — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 03:07:21 +0000

While we were up at Gingin helping with the yearly wine making, a few cute little arachnids happily made their way across the floor to say, ‘Hi‘. Of course, the kids spotted them before anyone else. At first, we thought one of them had been crushed, but it turns out they are just deceptive little creatures and relish disguising themselves in places where they have the opportunity to attack your toes.

We found a suitable plastic container (one with multiple latches, locks, a secondary containment unit and an airlock) and collected them up so we could have a closer look.

Meet "Stingo", a (hopefully temporary) new addition to our family. We think he is a "Lychas spinatus spinatus", but we haven't identified him properly yet. A lot of people just seem to call them "Little Marbled Scorpions".

Unlike our last pet from Gingin (Mr. Bitey), these guys don’t have a disturbing taste for meat (raw, cooked or still attached to your body). They also don’t inspire the same deep, visceral fear that a vividly-coloured, 8 inch venomous predator with the alarming ability to scale any surface at surprisingly high speeds does… And the legs…. Oh god, so many legs…

We did a little research and discovered that they are terrific for getting rid of garden pests! Amazingly, they are happy to feast on slaters (pill bugs), which our garden beds are always crawling with.

Of course, the inevitable question came from RJ. “I can keep these as pets, right? Forever?”

…

Four hours later, the car was packed and we were driving home to Perth. As I drove, I had visions of our news friends escaping… Our first clue being a yelp from the dog, then yells from the kids, “The scorpions are out!!!”, followed by a lovely evening by the side of the road unpacking our gear and madly stomping around on the ground, eventually ending with us hitching a ride back, our car abandoned on the side of the road with a rough sign in the window, “Danger!!! SCORPIONS!!!!”

Fortunately, we made it home without a problem.

So… We’ve adopted three “Little Marbled Scorpions” for at least a week, just to see how they do. RJ can be responsible for finding food for them, and he’s already named them: “Fango”, “Stingo” and “Pinchers”. Unfortunately, they are venomous.

We wont be bringing them out for cuddles or playtime, but we have Bob for that.

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Luke — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 03:07:56 +0000

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