On Fri, 02 Mar 2007 00:24:30 -0600, A Muzi <[email hidden]>
Quoted message said:Quoted message said:Quoted message said:>>> On 2007-02-28, [email hidden] <[email hidden]> wrote:
>>>> Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
>>>> Ten feet behind me was a damned tumbleweed, keeping perfect pace with
>>>> me as it blew up the highway, bouncing up and down as it tumbled and
>>>> making a fairly regular whoosh-whoosh-whoosh noise as it kept hitting
>>>> the asphalt.
Quoted message said:Quoted message said:>> Kristian M Zoerhoff <[email hidden]> wrote:
>>> Did you scold it for jumping on your wheel without asking first?
Quoted message said:Quoted message said:> Ryan Cousineau <[email hidden]> wrote:
>> Oh those tumbleweeds are notorious wheelsuckers, and you just can't talk
>> to them.
Quoted message said:Quoted message said:[email hidden] wrote:
> Here's the peloton on a previous ride:
> http://i1.tinypic.com/2dir7t0.jpg
Quoted message said:Ryan Cousineau said:That's just flat-out creepy. I mean, wow. I guess you get used to it,
but surely the first time you see this sight, you're compelled to get
your camera out and...
Right.
Neat shot, Carl!
Quoted message said:Here we see an angry spectator, irritated because he was escorted off
the paved course and cautioned to stay out of the way in the future:
http://i12.tinypic.com/42m5qc8.jpg
Left-click on the lower right in Explorer to see his beady little
black eyes.
Amazing detail in that photo for being focused at a gajillion meters
while pedalling at high rpm away from the photo subject.
Or at least that's how I would have taken that photo.
Dear Andrew,
No worries--it was just a modest-length bullsnake. It was only about
five feet long, but it was probably the fattest specimen I've ever
seen.
Chubby had been enjoying a siesta on the highway and pulled every
trick in the bullsnake book when I stopped to shoo it to safety:
1. Lie as limp as a string tossed on the ground and hope not to be
seen. Don't move until you're actually touched. (This tactic works
better if you're not lying in plain sight on asphalt.)
2. When prodded, suck in your sides and flatten your body like the
blade of an oar to double your height, like a cat arching its back.
Since you're only a few inches tall, this is more fascinating than
threatening.
3. Coil up and strike at your out-of-reach tormentor. Hope that you
don't actually bite him, since your teeth aren't designed to let go
and you can't swallow anything bigger than a small rabbit.
4. Hiss and make the loud throat-clearing noise that gives
you your latin name (Pituophis, or phlegm snake).
5. Try vibrating your tail to mimic a rattlesnake, even though there
are no dry leaves on the highway to provide sinister sound effects.
(The only thing a bullsnake can't do to imitate a rattlesnake is to
leave drops of yellow venom on the handle of a tire pump.)
6. Give up and slither off, pausing to coil and hiss and strike
half-heartedly if pursued.
So there's no need to fear bullsnakes.
A skunk on the other hand . . .
No, I didn't stop to take a picture of the mother skunk who had just
crossed the path with her squad of babies. I just froze on the bike
and coasted, hoping that she wouldn't take offense. I stopped pedaling
and even tried to sit very still on the bike as I rolled past the
danger.
Freezing on a moving bicycle may have been silly, but she didn't spray
me when I was an easy target.
From sad experience, I have no doubt that she could have hit me.
A neighbor once asked me to help with a skunk that had fallen into a
small, dry swimming pool on a summer's day
Thinking that the skunk would appreciate a shady hiding place, I crept
up to the side of the dry pool and gently tossed a cardboard box
toward the end where the skunk was, being careful not to expose myself
to the skunk's sight.
I was congratulating myself on my humanitarian act when I noticed a
spattering of thin yellow liquid on my forearm, which must have been
visible for about a second to the skunk at a range of about twenty
feet.
I always stop to shoo snakes, tarantulas, turtles, beavers, and deer
off the bike path and the highway, but I've never stuck around long
enough to identify which of Colorado's four species of skunks I'm
fleeing from:
http://wildlife.state.co.us/WildlifeSpecies/Profiles/Mammals/Skunk.htm
Cheers,
Carl Fogel