Category Archives: Animals

POEM: Building Mythical Beasties

Posted on by
Reply

IMG_1651
Hands of a surgeon,
Fins of a sturgeon…

Wait, no… that’s not right.

Let me admit that I have no gift
for mythical fliers that get lift.
One can’t just throw wings on a rat.

Of course you can, we call it a bat!

Alright, bad example…

One can’t draw wings on a whale,
and through the sky expect it sail.

Much better.

How did the likes of primitive man
create the myth of a flying orangutan?

They did no such thing.

Fair enough, then answer me this:

Who came up with ogres that eat babies?
Does a crescent-moon werewolf give you rabies?
Who first saw a spiraling dragon,
and how many drops remained in his flagon?
From whence came the fearless griffin
body of a lion and the head of a… chicken?
If by her shrill scream you know a banshee,
how’d you know it’s not any old woman she?
In how many beds are succubi layin’
in which the occupant ain’t already strayin’?
Leprechaun stories come from notorious drinkers,
and Gorgons and Sirens from a culture of thinkers.
My deficit, it seems, is as aligns with my fears.
Quick, get me a stack of books and a case of beers.

POEM: Awkward Bird Conversation

Posted on by
Reply

AgraFort17Three little birdies sat on a rail.

Two little birdies spoke of no avail.

“Sam, you’re just not one of us.”

“I’m not a bird, like you or Gus?”

“No. Some birds just don’t go together.”

“You mean the ones without any feathers.”

“No. Some birds are just kind of unique.”

“Yeah, I once saw one without any beak.

“Some birds are from very different type eggs.”

“We all have two legs, so what’s wrong–I begs.”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong, per se–

It’s just that–well–we’re green, and you’re grey.”

“So you won’t sit on a rail, preen, or be seen

with any bird, unless its color is green?”

“Well, it just sounds silly when you put it that way.”

POEM: Scared Little Chipmunk

Posted on by
Reply
Taken at Fatehpur Sikri

Taken at Fatehpur Sikri

Poor little rodent, run up a door.

Chattering and chattering, frantic, he swore.

Babel Fish Rodentia translated his words:

“It’s not bad enough, the cats and the birds,

hectic humans and their frantic pace,

always running about like they’re in a race.

Stuck on this peg for nigh half a day.

‘A break in the traffic’, I fervently pray.

Pfff! Bipedal humans with their gigantic feet

designed to crush chipmunks right in the street.”

DAILY PHOTO: Herd of Elephants

Posted on by
Reply
Taken November 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta

Taken November 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta

Elephants are paradoxes. They seem like gentle giants–making an end-run around tiny mice. Then you realize that humans are the only animal idiotic enough to screw with one in its natural habitat. OK, if an entire pride of lions can separate one injured elephant from its herd, they might go for it. But, generally, the most fearsome predators in the world look at an elephant and say, “Oh, that would not end well for me.” And, of course, one has to consider that they never forget. If you do piss one off, you have to worry about it coming at you all Tony Soprano-style a decade later. 

I’ve ridden an elephant in Thailand near the Mae Wang River. It was pleasant. It’s a little terrifying when it goes up or down a steep grade. You have a moment where you think, if this thing topples over, I’m a goner. (You’d have a moment where you hit the ground and said, “I’m alive, I made it.” And then you’d be like, “I didn’t know there was a solar eclipse today” and then” SPLAT!”) At one point, our driver jetted, but–it didn’t matter–the  elephant knew where it was going and how to get there. As long as you don’t run out of bananas, the elephant will get you where you’re going. Of course, you will run out of bananas. Fun fact: a person can’t carry enough bananas to satiate an elephant. Then your elephant will get all morose and brooding. 

HAIKU: Notes From an Evening Walk

Posted on by
Reply

Bat black skies above
Jinking, rolling, and dipping
Dog-fighting for food

 

The Morning Glory
After dark is monotone
But remains shapely

 

A pack of street dogs
Bursts into barking, relief
Their mark? Lunchbox man,

 

Shadow silliness
Man flails his arms overhead
Walking behind me

DAILY PHOTO: Gazing Tiger, Drinking Tiger

Posted on by
3
Taken November 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta.

Taken November 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta.

White Tiger drinking

White Tiger drinking

Bannerghatta has several tigers, two of which are white tigers, that can be seen on the “safari.” It’s not a safari in the usual sense, as the cats are in fenced off containment zones and segregated from their food. One rides in buses or jeeps in through a double-fenced gate, and then through the area.

At some point it occurs to you that they are in the larger area, with greater freedom of movement, and so in some sense one is on exhibit for the animals. The vehicle even has steel mesh over the windows to make the caging experience complete.  There are periodical camera portals to give one the illusion that it’s all for the humans’ entertainment. 

There are several enclosures to keep lions, tigers, and bears separated.

I saw tigers looking, drinking, walking, stalking, and sniffing–but not crouching. I didn’t see a dragon, and so I must assume that it was hidden.

DAILY PHOTO: Gray Langur Watchmonkey

Posted on by
Reply
Taken Nov 3, 2013 at Hampi

Taken Nov 3, 2013 at Hampi

Gazing into the distance

he renders his assistance

to the mischievous monkeys–

making him a monkey flunky

A watchman of the langur pranks

yet not a part of their prankish ranks

He screeches warnings now and then

on sight of broom-wielding women

He neither seeks nor needs praise

just the occasional banana raise

He does it not for power or glory

just the occasional funny story

POEM: Lion Eyes (or Lionize or Lyin’ Eyes)

Posted on by
2
Taken Nov 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta National Park

Taken Nov 10, 2013 at Bannerghatta National Park

The lion is  a kingly beast

Whose eyes no lies can abide

If you don’t wish to be his feast

Please act with tact and don’t chide

He doesn’t take to teasing well

He’s still but to kill is in his blood

His placid face may look swell

But a strong heart pounds THUD-THUD…

THUD-THUD

&

another thing

He may look like a big plush toy

But he’s no fun for a girl or boy

Don’t get your kid a big feline

Unless your exit is a swift beeline

DAILY PHOTO: Reservoir Goat

Posted on by
Reply
Taken November 2, 2013 at Hampi.

Taken November 2, 2013 at Hampi.

This goat was strutting along in slow motion like he was in the opening scene of Reservoir Dogs.

Have no idea what I’m talking about? See below.

Indonesian Snake Massage

Posted on by
Reply
A Python, but no massage

A Python, but no massage

What could be more relaxing and luxuriating than laying on a massage table and having pythons heaped upon one to slither and writhe their way around one’s body? Many people might answer that question with replies like, “being set on fire”, “a prostate exam”, or “a pop math quiz.” Yet, some people dig this unusual form of therapy, and are willing to pay big bucks for it.

If you’ve traveled in the third world, you know that there are ever new and innovative attempts to bilk tourists out of cash. However, there has to be something to a weird idea for it to really take hold. Consider the ubiquitous Southeast Asian “fish massage.” I’ve tried it. It isn’t really a massage, but it does involve fish–namely little fish that eat away one’s dead skin cells to exfoliate and tickle at the same time. I don’t know if the fish massage does much good, but it feels weird, has some novelty to it, and is a good way to both get off one’s feet and experience ten minutes without someone trying to sell one something else odd and questionable.

Will the python massage (no, that is not a euphemism, innuendo, or a phrase from bad erotica) survive? I believe it will. Why? Because behind every insane idea there are drunk backpackers with Type-A personalities challenging one another to “go for it.”