Capers With Carroll

During the day that just ended, in a thousand cities and towns across Colombia, citizens celebrated their national day of independence by marching and shouting, "No More Kidnappings!"

Colombians living in major cities throughout Europe and the Americas had similar marches, or attended concerts like the one in Paris, where recently-freed hostage Ingrid Betancourt led the chants. In Leticia, the presidents of Colombia, Brazil, and Peru stood beside Colombian pop star Shakira as she opened a concert with the Colombian national anthem.

Next month will mark thirteen years since I left Colombia, after living there for nine of the most satisfying years of my life. We left largely because of the kidnapping and hostage status of a friend. He was eventually released, after over twenty-six months chained to a succession of trees in the jungle. Yet each of five other hostages I was praying for were killed. In addition, I have been concerned, throughout these thirteen years, for friends whose homes were deep in the territory controlled by the FARC, and who did not have the freedom that I had to leave.

So today, unable to march in Colombia, and far away from any major world city, I can only show my solidarity by praying, "No more hostages!" And then, thinking of those who have been cut down by the FARC, both people I knew and the thousands I did not, I add, "and no more killings."

Oh, Lord, let your peace reign in Colombia.

Two years ago, a family of foxes made my back yard their home for six weeks (from the end of June to the beginning of August). I read then that foxes often return to the same places to have their litters, so I've been watching. On Mother's Day weekend, I heard baby animals crying from underneith my wood pile, which stoked my interest. Then on the morning of June 20, I got up to find a fox standing guard from the fence while her kits played at the edge of the shrubbery. (Click picture to view an enlargement.)

For a brief moment, I saw three kits, but I could only get two in the picture at once.

Two days later, I saw the kits playing in the same spot, though mother was back somewhere out of sight.
I think she's a single mom. Two years ago, I saw Dad coming and going as he hunted, while Mom rested in the shade and kept an eye on things. The kits didn't come out until they were bigger. This year, I saw less of her, and saw no male at all. Now it has been two weeks since I saw her, and three weeks since I saw the kits. I have been standing ready with a video camera (and a freshly scrubbed dining room window to shoot through), but perhaps the show is over. Maybe I spooked her and she moved them to a new location. But I will be watching again next year.

Ever since Vicki had to work the day I took the newly-weds to see the General Grant Tree in the snow, she has yearned for her own trip to Kings Canyon. We went today, hoping to get above smoke from the 800 lightening-sparked fires that have been burning in California. Although we got above most of it, there was still enough to obscure the tops of the tall Sequoias.

With the grand vistas muddied, I turned my attention to the small delights, like Bumble Bees in the Ceanosis. . .and wild Iris, hiding in the shade. This section of Redwood bark had the Filistatid web around the knot hole, and Agelenid webs in the rift.Great bouquets of Western Azalea dotted the hillside.

Later, we walked in the meadow at Grant's Grove Village. I found this Misumena on wild strawberry.Great patches of Shooting Stars carpeted the field, but each is a jewel in itself.On higher ground, there were Columbine . . .And Leopard Lilies to take your breath away.Not bad for a day that was too smoky for sightseeing.

Spiders in the family Uloboridae make some of the most delicate of all spider webs, so delicate in fact that an automatic camera usually looks past the spider, through the web, and focuses on something unimportant in the background. Today, however, cutting plywood left a dusting of fine particles on this female's (probably Uloborus diversus) artwork. That is her, just above and to the right of center, hanging upside down, long front legs bent at the joints but held together to make her look like a sliver of bark. She is among the most harmless of all spiders, a finely-crafted work of art, obvious only in those moments when dust has just fallen and the light finds her from a perfect angle.