WORKING TOWARDS A GREAT RELATIONSHIP -- COMMUNICATION

COMMUNICATION is so important.  Not only what you say, but how you say it.  Men, we know women use the same words we do, but they have different meanings.  We must come to realize that women view us the same way; same words, different meanings.  We also have the ability to sum up  an entire days events somewhere between 1 and 5 words.  Women hate this.  So learn to stretch, if you used 1 word, try two; or if you were on the wordy side and used 5, try 8 or 10.  It really isn't that hard, and your lady will appreciate the effort. And if you do not have anything nice to say, remember the old adage: 

It is better to remain silent and be thought bad of, than to open your mouth and get the snot beat out of you. . .Next week, our introduction into Communicating with Mother-in-Laws, and a short side lecture on the value of life insurance.  See you then.

 

 

 

 

 

  

NOT ANOTHER ONE OF THESE!!!!!

ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Just when I thought I was on a roll.  Two nights in a row.  Looking forward to making it three.  And then this!!  There is a school of thought that says, if you cannot sleep, it is because you are awake in someone else's dream.  OKAY!! Which one of you is responsible???????

 

 

  

PICTURE PERFECT --- FAVORITE PAST PICTURE

For more information about and/or to join in the fun, please visit:

Picture Perfect Friday ~ Favorite Past Picture Perfect Post ~

 

Hard to chose as a lot of the pictures are of places that are part of me, and  memories shared.  I decided on MAGIC CARPET.  It is nothing I did really, Mom Nature  put it all together, from the angle of the sun, to the clouds, the waves, and especially the color of the bloom.  This is on the shore of the Pacific, looking back towards Lovers Point in Pacific Grove.  This wonder is actually known locally as the Magic Carpet, or Pacific Grove's Magic Carpet.  Enjoy and smell the salt air.

 

 

Camera was a Kodak EasyShare z612, picture was untouched. 

A word of caution here; if Gator ever starts in with the Alligator Tears (believe me they are a lot worse than Crocodile Tears) get out of visual range as fast as you can.  If you don't, your willpower turns to watery mush. . .Do you think I wanted to post music against the rules? At least I pulled that wee bit of WP from some recess and set the player to manual. . .

  

GATOR'S TRIPLE PLAY CHALLENGE AKA THE THREEPER

How we smiled,

in the ignorance of youth,

Thinking love

would last forever,

Living in the moment

not caring about the future.

The future was ours,

until we let it slip away.

A bird is made to fly

and cannot be confined,

and some hearts

were made with wander,

and cannot be held too tight.

 

 

 

 White Bird by It's A Beautiful Day

White bird,
in a golden cage,
on a winter's day,
in the rain.

White bird,
in a golden cage,
alone.

The leaves blow,
Across the long black road.
To the darkened skies,
in its rage

But the white bird just sits in her cage,
unknown.

White bird must fly
Or she will die

White bird,
dreams of the aspen trees,
with their dying leaves,
turning gold.

But the white bird just sits in her cage,
growing old.

White bird must fly or she will die.
White bird must fly or she will die.

The sunsets come, the sunsets go.
The clouds roll by,and the earth turns old.
And the young bird's eyes do always glow.

She must fly,
She must fly,
She must fly.

White bird,
In a golden cage,
On a winter's day, in the rain.

White bird,
In a golden cage alone.

White bird must fly or she will die.
White bird must fly or she will die.
White bird must fly or she will die.

White bird must fly

  

JIMI HENDRIX -- HIS MUSIC LIVES ON

ANY EXCUSE FOR JIMI HENDRIX IS A GOOD EXCUSE

Some disclaimers need to be placed here to protect the writer from legal action.

PLEASE NOTE:

Though there is a family resemblance, the reptiles pictured are not gators.  These are crocs, cousins to gators.  But, where gators live in the deep end of the gene pool, crocs tend to make their habitat in the shallow end.  I hope this clears up any confusion.  If any confusion still exists, it is your own fault for not reading the dislaimer.

Always read the fine print!!!

MUSIC

  

A DEATH OF INNOCENCE

I debated whether to post this article.  Four days ago, my friend Robbie sent me a site, with updates from Iran via cell phones and Twitter. One of the videos was a death of a young woman. I have seen the video, it will rip out your heart.  The video is not posted here.  This is not about the politics involved, you can make your own mind up.  There is evil in the world, real evil.  More often than not, it takes innocents. 

I have been asking for days now, Why her?  In a crowd of thousands, why her?  It cannot be answered.  And those who have served in combat in the military,  and have had comrades, friends killed next to them, you ask the same question, Why him? Why her?, but with a slight variance, Why not me?  The friends, the family, the fiance of Neda, are also asking that Why not me?  It too cannot be answered.  But the majority of the civilized world, who have shared in a macabre way, the death of this young lady, we simply ask Why her?  I have seen the video once, I wish I had not seen it at all. I am still asking Why her? I do not have an answer. . .

NOTES:

A must read, a different article on Neda posted by Starfishred, across the pond in Germany.

http://starfishred.multiply.com/journal/item/1457/IN_DEATH_SEEN_AROUND_THE_WORLDA_SYMBOL_OF_IRANIAN_PROTEST

*********

from THE INDEPENDENT, UK, Online; by Peter Popham, Tuesday 23rd, 2009, Greenwich time.

NEDA -- THE TRAGIC FACE OF IRAN'S UPRISING

Joan of Arc she was not, nor the Unknown Protester who stopped the tanks in Tiananmen Square, because that young man, 20 years ago, chose his fate and his prominence, deliberately stepping out of the crowd into the tank's and the cameras' sights.

Her name is Neda Agha-Soltan and when a sniper shot her dead on Saturday.

 

Not so Neda: the young Iranian woman whose quick, brutal death from a Basiji militia man's bullet during a demonstration on Saturday created the Iranian uprising's first figurehead chose nothing except to be there.

 Having found the courage to come out on to the street, she may have quailed: video shot moments before her death show her and her companion looking on from the sidelines as demonstrators surge back and forth. Should they go back? Had they made a mistake coming? She was in jeans and headscarf, the uniform of the city's young women, aged 26 or 27, we understand, therefore under 30, like 60 per cent of Iran's population: a modern Iranian Everywoman. She worked at a travel agency, so she was connected with the great world every day.

This is vague because all journalists have been banished from these terrifying streets. Yet within hours of her death a thousand bloggers and twitterers had immortalised her, ducking and diving through the regime's increasingly demented efforts to isolate their country, transforming her from a blood-soaked corpse into a heart-rending symbol of the uprising.

The launch pad for Neda's posthumous glory was a bare minute of shaky film. She goes over backwards in the throng and the man with the mobile phone spots the movement and leaps towards it. The camera catches her splayed legs, the blood already oozing onto the street. Those near her crowd around to help but the cameraman moves beyond them and for a long moment focuses on her white face which is flat on the pavement, the eyes swivelling but the head deathly still.

Then suddenly the blood surges from nose and mouth and it's like a scene from a slaughter house, the people who have come to her aid scream, but it is somehow poetically appropriate that her companion chooses this moment to cry, "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, Neda my dear, don't be afraid..." Because she's already dead, and there is indeed nothing more to fear. As one of the bloggers who eulogised her wrote, quoting the 13th century Persian poet Rumi: "When you leave me/ in the grave,/ don't say goodbye./ Remember a grave is/ only a curtain/ for the paradise behind..."

Rarely has the butchery of an innocent – the bullet came from a rooftop sniper – been captured with such cruel completeness; never has such a scene been sent so quickly around the world, despite everything the authorities could do to thwart it. The consequences, too, were almost instantaneous. Protesters vowed to rename the street where she died Neda Street. A protest in her name drew 1,000 people to Haft-e Tir Square in Tehran before police broke it up. Officials prevented her supporters holding a memorial service in a mosque yesterday. One blogger wrote of Neda as "my sister": "I'm here to tell you my sister had big dreams," she wrote. "My sister who died was a decent person ... and like me yearned for a day when her hair would be swept by the wind ... and she longed to hold her head up and announce, 'I'm Iranian'... my sister died because injustice has no end..."

Yesterday the BBC's Farsi service reported that Neda's full name was Neda Agha-Soltan, (it has been reported that Neda in Farsi means Voice) and that she had been stuck in traffic in her car with her music teacher when she decided to get out "because of the heat" – "just for a few minutes", said her fiancé, Caspian Makan "[and] that's when she was shot dead".

Pray for the youth of Iran.

When I die …

When I die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world

don’t shed any tears
don’t lament or
feel sorry
i’m not falling
into a monster’s abyss

when you see
my corpse is being carried
don’t cry for my leaving
i’m not leaving
i’m arriving at eternal love

when you leave me
in the grave
don’t say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind

you’ll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down

it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed

have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human

have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well

when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time

~RUMI, ghazal number 911,
translated May 18, 1992, by Nader Khalili

CANDY IS DANDY BUT LIQUOR IS QUICKER

As if most of us did not already know that!!  Wonder how much money they (just who is 'they' anyway?) spent on this scientific study.  All they would have had to do is visit any Frat house,  observe  and take notes.  Okay, so they had a MRI brain scanner with them, we still knew the alcohol worked. 

ALCOHOL REALLY DOES GO TO YOUR HEAD FAST

from The Telegraph, UK, Science Section

Alcohol Goes To Your Head In Just Six Minutes Scientists say

Experts from Heidelberg University Hospital, in Germany, found that only six minutes after consuming the equivalent of three glasses of beer or two glasses of wine, changes had already taken place in brain cells.

 

 

Eight male and seven female volunteers took part in an experiment where they drank a specified amount of alcohol through a 90cm-long straw while lying in a MRI brain scanner.

The goal was to reach a blood alcohol content of 0.05 to 0.06 percent - a level that impairs ability to drive, but does not induce severe intoxication.

 

 

 

 

A scanner allowed the scientists to examine the tiny changes in brain cell tissue structure caused by the alcohol in tests which previously had only been done on animals.

Dr Armin Biller, a neurologist at the hospital, said chemical substances which normally protect brain cells are reduced as the concentration of alcohol increases.

 

 

Other components of brain cells were also cut as more alcohol was consumed.

The study found that men's and women's brains reacted to alcohol consumption the same way and discovered that the harmful effects of alcohol on the brain may be shortlived, but over time cells took longer to repair themselves.

 

Dr Biller said: "Our follow-ups on the next day showed that the shifts in brain metabolites after moderate consumption of alcohol by healthy persons are completely reversible.

"However, we assume that the brain's ability to recover from the effect of alcohol decreases or is eliminated as the consumption of alcohol increases.

 

 

 

 

"The acute effects demonstrated in our study could possibly form the basis for the permanent brain damage that is known to occur in alcoholics. This should be clarified in future studies."

The research is published in the current issue of the Journal of Cerebral Blood Flow and Metabolism.

 

  

HAPPY FATHERS' DAY -- A NATIVE AMERICAN WISDOM TALE

Funny how life works.  Sometimes, what seem like totally disconnected things come together and just make sense, or opens up new, a different, perspective on things; or bring things in such sharp focus, that the clarity is almost blinding. 

Last weekend, since I was having a pretty good day physically, I could also include mentally, that I got out and  hit a few garage sales.  Among the things I found was a book titled NATIVE AMERICAN ANIMAL STORIES told by Joshep Bruchac. As I thumbed through (is that correct KK?) it, I read a few story titles I recognized, and then I came across a title that I had to go back and make sure i read it correctly.   THE ALLIGATOR AND THE HUNTER, A Choctaw story. Some of you can guess who came to mind immediately.  It was the first one I read. 

As I read it, about 2/3rds of the way through, my perception of this story changed.  It became about my Dad.  I was raised in a hunting family, both my Mom and Dad, and middle sister were all hunters.  Dad taught us, that is was not the kill that made a successful hunt, it was the companionship, and the chance to walk in wilderness, to get to know her more than something seen from a car, or from a park walk.  We hiked in and camped over at fishing streams.  Sometimes it seemed: Why bother to put a bait on a hook and chance catching something ruining the moment.

He taught us to always leave a place better than we found it.  Respect the land you are walking on.  And so many other lessons about life.  In fact, for all the years of hunting, the best time I think I ever spent with Dad, was on a deer hunt in Carmel Valley.  We did not get a thing, in fact I do not think we even saw a deer that day.  But what we did see, across a valley, was a large Bobcat with two kittens.  We watched them  through our rifle scopes for a half hour or longer. 

 

 

 

 

I still laugh as I remember the Mom playing with her kits, until she was tired of play,  whether she made a sound, which I would not have been able to hear, or a gesture I missed, one kit immediately settled down, the other wanted to still play.  Mom hit that little kit with one swat of a forelimb and sent the little guy rolling.  Mom acted like nothing had happened, the kit shook himself of the dust and dried grass, and went to harass its' sibling.  Another thought that has stayed with me all those years, is how many hunters would have sighted through the scope, put the cross hairs at the shoulder, and fired.  At first I knew I would have really felt sorry for the cats, if that happened,  but then slowly the realization of what that person never took the time to really see. I felt more sorry for such a person.

I could go on with stories of hunts, my sister, probably the best shot in the family, why I quit hunting, the ranch we had like a second home, and the owners like family members, but I need to leave you, Dear Reader, with time for the story of The Hunter and The Alligator.  I hope you see  a bit of the person that was my Dad in the Alligator.  My Dad, a father, a mentor, and a friend. . .

My Dear Cousin Tracy sent me this last week, a quote she came across, in her email she said:  "John, this is your Dad, and my Uncle Mac!"  One and the same person:

 

"My Father did not tell me how to live: he lived, and let me watch."  Clarence B. Kelland

 

THE ALLIGATOR AND THE HUNTER;  A Choctaw story

There once was a man who had very bad luck when he hunted. Although the other hunters in his village were always able to bring home deer, this man never succeeded.

He was the strongest of the men in the village and he knew the forest well, but his luck was never good. Each time he came close to the deer, something bad would happen.

A jay would call from the trees and the deer would take flight. He would step on dry leaves and the deer would run before he could shoot. His arrow would glance off a twig and miss the deer. It seemed there was no end to his troubles.

Finally the man decided he would go deep into the swamps where there were many deer. He would continue hunting until he either succeeded or lost his own life. The man hunted for three days without success.

At noon on the fourth day, he came to a place in the swamp where there had once been a deep pool. The late summer had been a very dry one, however, and now there was only hot sand where once there had been water. There, resting on the sand, was a huge alligator. It had been without water for many days. It was so dry and weak that it was almost dead. Although the hunter's own luck had been bad, he saw that this alligator's luck was even worse.

"My brother," said the man, "I pity you."

Then the alligator spoke. Its voice was so weak that the man could barely hear it. "Is there water nearby ?" said the alligator.

"Yes," said the man. "There is a deep pool of clear cool water not far from here. It is just beyond that small stand of trees to the west. There the springs never dry up and the water always runs. If you go to that place, you will survive."

"I cannot travel there by myself," said the alligator. "I am too weak. Come close so I can talk to you. I will not harm your. Help me and I will also help you."

The hunter was afraid of the great alligator, but he came a bit closer. As soon as he was close, the alligator spoke again. "I know that you are a hunter but the deer always escape from you. If you help me, I will make you a great hunter. I will give you the power to kill many deer."

This sounded good to the hunter, but he still feared the alligator's great jaws. "My brother," the man said, "I believe that you will help me, but you are still an alligator. I will carry you to that place, but you must allow me to bind your legs and bind your jaws so that you can do me no harm."

Immediately the alligator rolled over to its back and held up its legs. "Do as you wish," the alligator said. The man bound the alligator's jaws firmly with his sash. He made a bark strap and bound the alligator's legs together.

Then, with his great strength, he lifted the big alligator to his shoulders and carried it to the deep cool water where the springs never dried. He placed the alligator on its back close to the water and he untied its feet. He untied the alligator's jaws, but still held those jaws together with one hand. Then he jumped back quickly.

The alligator rolled into the pool and dove underwater. It stayed under a long time and then came up. Three more times the alligator dove, staying down longer each time. At last it came to the surface and floated there, looking up at the hunter who was seated high on the bank.

"You have done as you said you would," said the alligator. "You have saved me. Now I shall help you, also. Listen closely to me now and you will become a great hunter. Go now into the woods with your bow and arrows. Soon you will meet a small doe. That doe has not yet grown large enough to have young ones. Do not kill that deer. Only greet it and then continue on and your power as a hunter will increase."

The alligator continued, "Soon after that you will meet a large doe. That doe has fawns and will continue to have young ones each year. Do not kill that deer. Greet it and continue on and you will be an even greater hunter."

Then he said, "Next you will meet a small buck. That buck will father many young ones. Do not kill it. Greet it and continue on and your power as a hunter will become greater still."

The alligator then said, "At last you will meet an old buck, larger than any of the others. Its time on Earth has been useful. Now it is ready to give itself to you. Go close to that deer and shoot it. Then greet it and thank it for giving itself to you. Do this and you will be the greatest of hunters."

The hunter did as the alligator said. He went into the forest and met the deer, killing only the old buck. He became the greatest of the hunters in his village.

He told this story to his people. Many of them understood the alligator's wisdom and hunted in that way. That is why the Choctaws became great hunters of the deer. As long as they remembered to follow the alligator's teachings, they were never hungry.

I had to use this music.  Dad always had a crush on Teresa Brewer.

  

MM CHALLENGE THE STORY OF DUCK AND GATOR

There is a story behind this strange animal.  We know that Gator and Duck go back a while.  They met several summers ago, by coincidence, stopping at the same rest area.  Duck seemed so saddened by the disappearance of his traveling companions, that Gator befriended him.  Gator was quite full by then anyway.

They had lots in common.  They both liked photography, and the both liked the outdoors, hunting, fishing and sports.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They became best friends, like they had known each other since hatching.  They both loved to travel. Sometimes Duck would stay over at Gator's place.

 

 

 

 

 

And sometime Gator would stay at Duck's condo.

 

 

 

 

 

When Duck was visiting Gator's swamp, Gator would take him down to the pier, and sometimes sail out on Gator's boat.  It really is a nice boat, Gator was never one to brag.

 

 

 

 

 

One year Gator was invited to Duck's for thanksgiving.  Everyone had a wonderful time, and not one of Duck's relatives were missing at the end of the meal.  The next year Gator invited Duck down to his family Thanksgiving.  Duck was very thankful to see he was not on the menu.

As the time passed they gathered friends into their group.  All liked photography and the outdoors.  They would often get together for picture taking, and eating, and drinking.

 

 

 

 

 

They really grew to like each others friends and family.  And Gator's friends became Duck's friends; and Duck's friends became Gator's friends.  With the understanding they would not become lunch if Gator asked them out for lunch.  Duck was full of surprises.  He was quite the professional.  Like Gator, Duck was not one to brag, but it turns out that our own Duck was known as the Dastardly Drake.  He even asked Gator to help him with a demonstration.  Lots of adoring fans, even some groupies in the front row of Duck's corner.  A couple of them were eyeing the Gator for very very a long time.

The crowd was floored by Gator, he too could have had a career in mayhem and bruises, but chose to return to his humble boat, and the swamp he loved so much.  It had been a while since the gang had gotten together for a photo extravaganza weekend.  Duck was kind of down in the down thinking about how much time had passed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But he had the gret idea to see if the gang could get together at Monica's home, beautiful St. Augustine.  Gator jumped for joy at the idea, but had to finish a shift at work first, and then he would head out. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sure enough, a lot of the gang and some new people showed up, they met at Duck's favorite watering hole, well, it became his favorite after the people at Chuck's Place kind of told him "Get out and don't waddle back!!!"  No one really knows the story of what happened, Duck might tell it one of these days, or you might ask Rita, but you did not hear that from me.  And do not bother asking Rita's Mom about it, she is far to sweet a lady to know of such going ons.

This is where the story gets interesting, and has a direct bearing on the odd animal I discovered for Gator's WACKY ZOO.  The group got back from snapping pictures of everything that could be snapped in Monica's lovely city.  They went back to Decoy's and ended the long day with some libations of various tastes and colors, and then retired to their rooms.  Somehow, something untoward happened, and was probably very very  enjoyable as most untoward things are.  This picture came to light, no one knows who took it. Nessa knows everything, but she can't remember a thing, says something about a choice she had to make.  Kimmie just rolls her baby blues and sighs.  Ms. Owens says "I was in the pool".  Brian says to "ask Nessa". Frannie just smiles, and Russ shakes his head.  And Gator says "It's not me, ask Duck!", and Duck says  "It's not me, ask Gator!!". 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that was how things stood.  Until, another photo appeared, time dated the same time and date as the, I can hardly say it, the boudoir picture!!  It turns out that Duck was having his own fun and games in another room.  Not sure if it was more fun, or more games. . .and Duck is not talking.  He does smile a lot if you ask him about this though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which brings us to The Picture.  A strange offspring of a even stranger union.  We know it is not Duck in the Boudoir picture, and Gator says it is not him.  And it cannot be proved it is Gator, so I take him at his gator word.  But we still have the Gatuck as proof something, somewhere, somehow, happened.  And I bet the lights were off.

 

 

 

The Ends

Please note, any resemblance to any animals living, dead  or stuffed, is purely a coincidence, and should not be construed otherwise.  Any complaints, my lawyer can be reached at 54-776-9277, ask for Guido.

POETRY POSSE #35 HAIKU

The following is from Poetry Posse's home page, please join in the fun and creativity.

 

Welcome!
Here we gather to share forth our creative juices and
compose lyrical musings
to please the soul.
Everyone is invited to join:
Poets and Poet wanna-be's.
There's a poet in each of us, merely awaiting to prance.

Have a look-see on how we observe decorum to enjoy a nuisance free environment:

Rhythmical Guideline

********

HAIKU

Spring run, grass growing
Easy Rider to horizon
Bugs in wide smile

MOTHER NATURE IS AMAZING ---- HUMMINGBIRDS

These new discoveries about Anna's Hummingbird are fantastic.  The article makes it sound like this little bird can break (a typo was corrected here, thanks to The Rodent.)  the sound barrier, does not come out and say that, but if you follow some of the statements through, being able to break the sound barrier is the conclusion.   The reporter makes the statement:

   It is also faster than a fighter plane with its afterburners on – 150 "body lengths a second" - and the space shuttle during atmospheric re-entry (207 body lengths a second).

Literally that means the sound barrier is being broken, but then the addition of  150 "body lengths a second" and  "207 body lengths a second"  makes  for a confusing read, does this speedy little fellow break the sound barrier or not?  I would like to believe they do, with the little tiny "chirp" to match their little bodies, when pulling out of their dives!!  

The author also states this Humming bird reaches 58mph in its' dive, far below the sound barrier, still I would rather believe this fellow breaks the barrier.  Going to have to start calling this bird the Yeager Hummingbird, and my apologies to the Duchess.

And for such a fragile little bundle of color and feathers to be able to pull 10Gs is beyond my comprehension.  10 times the pull of gravity!!!???  Let us say I weigh 200 pounds, if I were to pull 10Gs, it would be the strain on my body of weighing 2000 pounds!!!!!  Hope you enjoy the read, Hummingbirds always were such amazing little creations,  more so now. -- JohnOh

 

ANNA'S HUMMINGBIRD DECLARED WORLD'S FASTEST ANIMAL

by Richard Alleyne, Science Correspondent,  The Telegraph OnLine, Telegraph.co.uk 

Researchers have found that the spectacular courtship dive of the Anna's Hummingbird makes it comparatively (Yes, there is the key word, I know it does acutally break the sound barrier, but I really like imagining that they can!!!--JohnOh)  speedier than a jet fighter at full throttle or the space shuttle re-entering the atmosphere.

They found that when the bird, a native of North America, pulls up at the end of the swoop it experiences forces 10 times the pull of gravity – more than even experienced jet pilots can endure without passing out.

 

A male Anna's hummingbird caught during a display dive, compiled from high speed video. At the bottom of the dive, the bird flares its tail for 60 milliseconds. The inner vanes of the bird's two outer tail feathers vibrate in the 50 mph airstream to produce a brief chirp. (Photo, audio and video by Christopher J. Clark and Teresa Feo/UC Berkeley)

The amazing speeds were measured using a series of cameras which calculated that the male bird, which is only four inches long, attained speeds in excess of 58mph, as it dived from 100ft in the air to impress a mate.

The team at the University of California, which reported its findings in the Proceedings of the Royal Society B, revealed that the bird flies at 385 "body lengths a second" which is faster than the previous record holders, the peregrine falcon diving in pursuit of prey and swallows diving from high altitude.

 

 

It is also faster than a fighter plane with its afterburners on – 150 "body lengths a second" - and the space shuttle during atmospheric re-entry (207 body lengths a second).

 

 

 

Male Anna's Hummingbird

 

 

 

The Anna's Hummingbird, which was named in the 19th century after Anna Massena, Duchess of Rivoli and weighs less than five grams, normally flies at 33mph but hits even higher speeds when display diving during the breeding season.

 

 

 

 

Female Anna's Hummingbird nesting.

 

 

 

When a female flies onto a male's territory, he rises up and then dives. At the bottom of the dive when the bird reaches top speed it produces a loud sound, described by some as an "explosive squeak" with its outer tail-feathers.

WORDS AND IMAGES #6 SKY

THE VAULT OF HEAVEN

 

Picture was taken last year, along California Highway 99, north of Stockton.

For more information about Rabindranath Tagore, links follow:

More Poems:  http://www.iit.edu/~shartan/tagore/

Short biography:  http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1913/tagore-bio.html

 

  

US CITIES MAY BE BULLDOZED

Actually this makes some sense to me.  I have seen areas in cities that were basically abandoned, buildings falling apart, decay, trash, ghost towns.  And that was thirty years ago working with Bekins Van Lines.  It has to be worse now.  If it is done right, it seems jobs could be created, make it green, where bricks, construction stone, wood, doors, etc etc are salvaged.  People could learn the trades and work skills, demolition, landscaping, even some construction by taking widows and doors, etc. out, and using those to repair houses in disrepair in other parts of the city.   If it is thought out, a lot could be done to help a lot of people.--JohnOh

US CITIES MAY HAVE TO BE BULLDOZED IN ORDER TO SURVIVE

by Tom Leonard (reporting from Flint, Michigan), The TELEGRAPH, Telegraph.co.uk

Dozens of US cities may have entire neighbourhoods bulldozed as part of drastic "shrink to survive" proposals being considered by the Obama administration to tackle economic decline.

The government looking at expanding a pioneering scheme in Flint, one of the poorest US cities, which involves razing entire districts and returning the land to nature. Local politicians believe the city must contract by as much as 40 per cent, concentrating the dwindling population and local services into a more viable area.

The radical experiment is the brainchild of Dan Kildee, treasurer of Genesee County, which includes Flint. Having outlined his strategy to Barack Obama during the election campaign, Mr Kildee has now been approached by the US government and a group of charities who want him to apply what he has learnt to the rest of the country.

Mr Kildee said he will concentrate on 50 cities, identified in a recent study by the Brookings Institution, an influential Washington think-tank, as potentially needing to shrink substantially to cope with their declining fortunes Most are former industrial cities in the "rust belt" of America's Mid-West and North East. They include Detroit, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Baltimore and Memphis.

In Detroit, shattered by the woes of the US car industry, there are already plans to split it into a collection of small urban centres separated from each other by countryside.  "The real question is not whether these cities shrink – we're all shrinking – but whether we let it happen in a destructive or sustainable way," said Mr Kildee. "Decline is a fact of life in Flint. Resisting it is like resisting gravity."

Karina Pallagst, director of the Shrinking Cities in a Global Perspective programme at the University of California, Berkeley, said there was "both a cultural and political taboo" about admitting decline in America. "Places like Flint have hit rock bottom. They're at the point where it's better to start knocking a lot of buildings down," she said.

Flint, sixty miles north of Detroit, was the original home of General Motors. The car giant once employed 79,000 local people but that figure has shrunk to around 8,000.  Unemployment is now approaching 20 per cent and the total population has almost halved to 110,000

The exodus – particularly of young people – coupled with the consequent collapse in property prices, has left street after street in sections of the city almost entirely abandoned.

In the city centre, the once grand Durant Hotel – named after William Durant, GM's founder – is a symbol of the city's decline, said Mr Kildee. The large building has been empty since 1973, roughly when Flint's decline began. Regarded as a model city in the motor industry's boom years, Flint may once again be emulated, though for very different reasons.

But Mr Kildee, who has lived there nearly all his life, said he had first to overcome a deeply ingrained American cultural mindset that "big is good" and that cities should sprawl – Flint covers 34 square miles. He said: "The obsession with growth is sadly a very American thing. Across the US, there's an assumption that all development is good, that if communities are growing they are successful. If they're shrinking, they're failing."

But some Flint dustcarts are collecting just one rubbish bag a week, roads are decaying, police are very understaffed and there were simply too few people to pay for services, he said.  If the city didn't downsize it will eventually go bankrupt, he added.

Flint's recovery efforts have been helped by a new state law passed a few years ago which allowed local governments to buy up empty properties very cheaply.  They could then knock them down or sell them on to owners who will occupy them. The city wants to specialise in health and education services, both areas which cannot easily be relocated abroad.

The local authority has restored the city's attractive but formerly deserted centre but has pulled down 1,100 abandoned homes in outlying areas. Mr Kildee estimated another 3,000 needed to be demolished, although the city boundaries will remain the same.

Already, some streets peter out into woods or meadows, no trace remaining of the homes that once stood there. Choosing which areas to knock down will be delicate but many of them were already obvious, he said.

The city is buying up houses in more affluent areas to offer people in neighbourhoods it wants to demolish. Nobody will be forced to move, said Mr Kildee.  "Much of the land will be given back to nature. People will enjoy living near a forest or meadow," he said.

Mr Kildee acknowledged that some fellow Americans considered his solution "defeatist" but he insisted it was "no more defeatist than pruning an overgrown tree so it can bear fruit again".