tales from the wild metropolis
The Brothers Grimm (Jacob and Wilhelm, btw) are generally given credit for publishing the first collection of fairy tales. I hate to quibble, but Mother Nature is the OG spinner of stories full of abandonment, alchemy, metamorphosis, maturity quests, enchanted slumbers, and awakenings. Read closely, and you'll discover that folksy sagas don't use forests, meadows,... Continue Reading →
As you might imagine, I was caught completely off-guard when, strolling through the shire one evening, a dashing young prince in the guise of a Blanchard's cricket frog (Acris blanchardi) bounced out of the shadows and onto the path before me, demanding a kiss.
Setting out for a walk, I paused just past my building's threshold to savor morning air crisp as a fresh Granny Smith apple, perfumed with a blend of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves that have been whisked, infused, and frappéd into breads, muffins, cupcakes, donuts, bagels, coffee, beer, hard seltzer, Cheerios, Jell-O, Spam... oh! and... Continue Reading →
I wonder if Henry knew that not everything shot into the air falls back to Earth. I'm not denying the sovereignty of gravity but if the arrow is a male common nighthawk (Chordeiles minor) hoping to impress a potential mate he'll shoot swiftly into the air like a projectile, tip into a steep dive as... Continue Reading →
Seriously, it could happen to anyone. Well, any working mom operating on instinct and snap-judgements who needs to snag some groceries before she flies back home to those perpetually ravenous kiddos. Okay... maybe it couldn't happen to anyone. But every now and then, once in a very blue moon, some harried female Cooper's hawk (Accipiter... Continue Reading →
As the most literal of helicopter parents, a ruby-throated hummingbird mom (RTH, Archilochus colubris) takes hovering to a whole new competitive level. In the case of this feathered sprite (2.8 - 3.5" long, including bill, and just over 1/10 of an ounce), though, the word "hover" has more to do with the ability to fly... Continue Reading →
I say potato, you like potahtos. You wear pajamas, I wear PJs. And a rose by any other name, we're told, would smell equally sweet. So does it really matter that we all agree on what to call an American bullfrog? "HELL, YEAH!" That's the collective cry of taxonomists around the globe raising their voices... Continue Reading →
This university town is always less crowded during the summer. Most students are at home or on summer internships, faculty and graduate students are using the break to slip away for some R&R or doing research at field sites, and there are no home football games to bring in alumni and supporters of the opposing... Continue Reading →
Next-Door Nature 