We had a major hail storm in Corrales this afternoon, which Laurie bravely recorded. By the time I got home, we just had large lakes along our road.
I’m listening to a course on the history of Christian theology, and the last lecture I listened to was on how Christians came to the idea of the soul separating from the body and going to Heaven or Hell when they die. Believe it or not, the idea of the soul going to heaven when one dies is not in the least bit Christian in origin, or even Jewish for that matter, but purely from Plato. If you stick by the Christian tradition, Christ returns to establish God’s Kingdom on earth and resurrects those Christians who are saved to be part of the Kingdom of God on earth. So why is the idea that our souls go to Heaven or Hell when we die so prevalent in the Western Christian tradition? Mostly because Augustine was well versed in Plato and liked the idea of a separate body and soul, but he still believed there had to be the resurrection of the body before the soul could achieve complete happiness. One problem is that Paul and the other New Testament writers believed Jesus would return in their life-time, so there was no problem about what happened when a Christian died, but as time wore on, later Christians became anxious about what happens when they die. In a simplistic way of looking at a very complex and drawn out issue, Plato had the easy answer — good souls go to Heaven and bad souls go to Hell — but then there are the questionable souls, that, again because of Augustine, are believed to end up in purgatory, at least in the Catholic tradition!
Okay it’s actually a wasp, but “A Wasp and Button” didn’t quite have the same ring to it. For the rest of the story on Button, the rattlesnake we rescued on July 1, she (we decided he is probably a she) ate and then Tristan and Laurie took her out to the mesa and let her go (the last two photos).
Corrales canceled the water fights this year, and since the bosque is closed we couldn’t go out to the river to watch the fireworks. I don’t know why they cancelled the water fights, but if it was to save water, that’s ridiculous as flushing your toilet uses more water than a squirt gun fight — so it must have something to do with guns and violence and all that — you know all those studies that show how squirt guns and water fights turn kids into violent criminals. Whatever the reason, no one can have fun in Corrales on the 4th. Despite Corrales, we had a great time with Jerri, Bob and Tristan and the lightning gave us a wonderful light show.
If you have never had the opportunity to meet a western diamondback rattlesnake up close and personal, meet Button. My sister called me after she left the office to tell me there was another rattlesnake in her garage, and she was not successful herding it back out to the mesa like the last one. She had found the rattles, which it had shed in the garage, and then she found the snake. Since the snake only has one button for a rattle on his tail, we named him Button.
I drove by on my way home from work, and Dede had managed to get it in the opening of a large box. I tried to set the box up on end, but the snake crawled out before I could get it upright, and coiled up under a small bush. I noticed it was really skinny for it’s length (it should be 3 times thicker in the middle part of its body), and I called Tristan to see how long it would take her to thaw out a small rat, so we could see if it would eat before we moved it back out to the mesa. She had a couple of small rats already thawed out to feed her ball python, so she and David brought them over.
Dede noticed the snake seemed lethargic — he was not at all aggressive, hardly flicked his tongue out at all, and he allowed me reposition him into more photogenic positions with a broom stick several times while we were waiting for Tristan. The passivity was probably a combination of the hunger (he probably hasn’t had anything to eat since last year), heat, stress, fatigue and being outside of his territory.
Button was very interested in the rat we offered it and started to eat it several times, but he spat it out each time. We don’t know if the rat was not warm enough, not the right size, or that is was not wild, but he finally refused to eat it. I got Button back in the box, which was about 2 feet high, but he was able crawl right back out once I set the box upright. So we got him to crawl into a large trash can, snapped the lid on and took him to Tristan’s, where we set up a secure terrarium outside, and transferred him to it.
Once we got Button into the terrarium, he became more alert and territorial. In the last photo he is in the aquarium checking out the air with his tongue and watching Tristan, David and me as we observed him and talked about him. Snakes can’t hear, but Button is so sensitive to vibration that he would turn his attention to whoever was speaking like he was listening to and participating in the conversation. Rattlesnakes are very advanced reptiles, and appear to have more reptilian-type intelligence than other snakes (King cobras are reported to show a sense of intelligence as well). Once Button was in the terrarium, he changed his attitude, which could be because it was cooler and starting to get dark, but apparently he is content to be in the terrarium with a bowl of water, a nice hide box, and food after the trauma of being shooed out of a garage, photographed, herded into a into a box, and then a trashcan, and shaken around in my car on our way back to Tristan’s.
I got out my macro lens this morning and René and I started crawling around under squash leaves to get photos of a bee inside a squash blossom. The bee was pretty cute, but after several snaps it got tired of having a lens in its face and showed me a hefty pair of bee fangs. I can’t resist doing macro shots of damselflies and dragonflies. I sneak up on them until they fly, freeze in place and wait for them to come back (they often do), sneak up a little closer — they fly, I freeze, they come back — and the process continues until I either get the shots I want or they decide I’m too close and don’t come back.
Mama Manx has a cave in the cucumber patch where she lays on the cool mulch under the shade of the cucumber leaves. When one of us gets too close to the entrance of her cucumber cave, she darts out like a moray eel, chatters at us, then retreats back into her cave.
Puck is working on his memoirs, “Don’t Puck With Me”, and while he was taking a break he pestered Laurie for some attention while she was reading. Guildenstern was intently playing with clover under my chair while I sat on the deck enjoying the fine summer morning.