Category: Nature

General observations, generally during dog walks

Beach after the storm

Our beach, after the storm that rendered it impassable a couple days ago.

Beach, Atlántida, Uruguay, after the big storm of 2016-10

Lots of trash, very wide, and where the dunes gently sloped, walls.

Beach, Atlántida, Uruguay, after the big storm of 2016-10

I didn’t walk up near the dunes, since a certain dog wants me throwing a stick into the water the entire time, but some of the cuts appear 3 m (10 ft) high.

Dead crab on beach, Atlántida, Uruguay, after the big storm of 2016-10

An unusually large dead crab — shell probably 12 cm (5″) across.

The storm hit worse, however, farther east.

October 2016 Uruguay cyclone

Fortunately our friends’ house in Aguas Dulces (Sweet Waters seems a tad ironic now) was not harmed, but it is reported that 50 houses were destroyed there. You can see one of them going down in this 12-second video).

Storm, Aguas Dulces, Uruguay, October 2016
Photo source, Aguas Dulces: “In 30 years, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

If you review my photos from Aguas Dulces in June 2015, you’ll sense my fascination with previously abandoned and destroyed habitations. Building at the edge of the sea involves risk.

Our friends had recently spent about USD 10,000 to install a complex system of boulders, plastic sheeting, and sand bags in front of their place to protect it. Had they not, they might not now have their California-dream ocean-front house.

We hope to go back soon with them (invited next weekend but have to hang around here, in hope window installers will show up). Meanwhile, I think I can safely assume that the first picturesque stilted house in my little photo essay will not present another photo op.

Dog-proofing the garden area

I’ve put this off far too long. With destructo-dog I absolutely have to have a fenced garden area. I’m not the most enthusiastic gardener, but I do have a bunch of seeds started, some of which (squash) will require substantial space.

fence-1

Using what I had at the chacra, I cut posts to have 80 cm exposed. I had a roll of 120 cm fence wire already, so I figured I take off the top 40 cm and double it when I ran out of the roll.

fence-2

It was pretty close — 2 meters shy! Had I not made a circular compost bin in the country earlier with the fencing, it would have worked out almost exactly right.

fence-3
Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.

Benji, meanwhile, decided this was a nice place to hang out. No more. I trimmed the top 40 cm, leaving spikes, and built a gate. It’s not a pretty fence, and it’s not particularly well made, but it doesn’t have to be. It just has to keep out the dog and cat.

No excuse now.

A good stick is hard to find

When we began to walk with Syd’s dogs, Syd pointed to an area that would flood, come winter. That seemed unlikely at the time, but sure enough —.

For the last few months (it’s spring now) the dogs have joyfully frolicked in the water there, Benji settling in like the water dog. Yesterday he not only did that, he also rolled in it. Unfortunate, because the “pond” is drying up, and becoming mud. And, given cows that sometimes graze in the area, rather smelly mud at that. Cleaning a dog that smells of cow dung is not my favorite thing, so …

… today I took him to the beach instead. Our usual walk is about three kilometers (a bit under two miles). Depending on the hour, sunlight level, and wind, we walk one direction or the other, but one thing is certain: during the half kilometer on the beach, I will be throwing a stick for Benji, into the waves, the entire time.

But only if he drops the stick directly in front of me, or very close. Which he does. Sometimes he actually throws it in my path.

And good sticks are not always available. Much of the crap that washes up ends up breaking. So, when I get a good stick, I like to leave it in the dunes at the end of the walk. I took a picture a few days ago at the east end; thinking it remarkable that one in the foreground had been with us for at least four walks (good stick!).

sticks for the dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

Today we started again at the west end (afternoon; bright sun behind), and I was amused to find a collection of three sticks, obviously mine, at the west end, the buried boardwalk.

sticks for the dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

Here one has joined the collection at the east end.

For some reason, brings to mind T. S. Eliot, “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”

No, sticks. Silly dogs and sticks.

Not playing dead

It’s been clear for a while that a comadreja (possum) had been getting into our compost barrel.

comadreja (possum), Uruguay

Its last visit was indeed its last.

dead comedreja (possum) in compost barrel, Uruguay

Since lately I’ve only taken compost out after dark (without a light), I don’t know how long it had been there. But I expect I would have heard it moving when I emptied scraps on top of it. The last time this happened, I actually tipped over the barrel so it could escape.

I just recently bought a book, Compost Everything: The Good Guide to Extreme Composting, whose author would have left it there. I’m not there yet. I took it to the overgrown corner lot to let nature do its thing there.

Obviously it couldn’t climb out. But why did it die?

Exquisitely dreary

From sunny t-shirt weather the last couple days to this: perfect ruination of the weekend for which two of our neighbors ventured out from Montevideo. Sometimes pouring rain, sometimes just rain. The wind has been subdued compared to prior years (2012 perhaps the worst so far).

SPOILER: this video is just three minutes of driving. Nothing actually happens. Which is actually exactly how days like this feel. (Though I did get my Kindle library organized — aren’t you excited?)

The fish place

Fish for sale in Uruguay

There is:
Corvina (drum)
Lenguado (flounder)
Merluza (hake)
Cazon (school shark)
Angelito (angel shark)
Tambera (type of corvina, I think)
Camaron (shrimp — way too much work and tiny OBTW)
Mariscos (shellfish, seafood: not sure what they mean by this)
Lisa (mullet)

We buy only the first two. The others tend to range from weird to nasty.

A summer day in winter

It appears we’re in the veranilla — couple days of “little summer” before it gets cold again. Walked the dog in a t-shirt. Had I gone to the beach, I might have worn shorts and walked barefoot. Recall that this is the equivalent of the end of February in the northern hemisphere. Should be this way tomorrow as well.

Then the forecast for the weekend is the Tormenta de Santa Rosa, which means wind — lots of wind. And rain. And Dutch pirates not attacking Lima. But that’s another story.

The jacketed dog

A couple months ago, we approached an older dog, complete with dog jacket (almost an obsession in Uruguay). Benji was eager to engage the target. I told him, no, we don’t hassle older dogs, but it turned out to be young, and very eager to play, and though loose, more or less inclined to stay within the borders of its large yard.

I say its large yard — I actually have no idea even now to what house it belongs. Its owner cares enough to worry about him being warm, but not about being loose and possibly hit by a car. Go figure.

We saw him the other day, and the two chased each other around that yard. The little guy has a tighter turning radius, so it’s not as one-sided a chase as might appear. However, when I noticed Benji grabbing the little guy by his jacket, I decided enough is enough,put Benji on the leash, and continued toward the beach.

The little guy followed. So, next thing I know, he’s followed Benji into the water (Benji loves it when I throw sticks for him, and loves to splash around in the water).

dog-jacket-1

Something in me says that a jacket designed to keep the dog warm in the air might have the opposite effect in the water. Maybe not. It’s probably polyester.

dog-jacket-2

And with all the running, it probably makes no difference. But it’s winter here; this was a t-shirt/thin hoodie/windbreaker day. Not for the first time, I had to ask myself, is this dog in the water with its jacket my problem? Is it my responsibility?

Answer: absolutely not.

A block shy of our exit from the beach, little dog turned tail and headed home.

We’ll see him again.