The Chirrionera does not have vocal apparatus. The whistling song emits from its movements over rough substrate.The sound has been described as a bird-like flutey song, or as the sound of an upright pole vibrating in strong wind.
What is not disputed is the danger of the Chirrionera. The mere act of seeing one may be fatal. People who view the snake will be frightened to death, not quickly, but will waste away,refuse food, and inevitably will die, unless they upon seeing the snake, light a cigarette and blow smoke into the face of the snake.
Chirrioneras are reported from Hidalgo State in Mexico, North to Texas, where they are reported to dwell in riparian habitats.
They are reported to have bright red tails, and to fly from tree to tree. They are equipped with caudal stinging spines. Chirrioneras are capable of balancing upon their tails to stand erect like a post. Chirrioneras are reported to have deadly venom, which they inject either through fangs, or by stinging with its venomous tail spine.
They bear live young in burrows underground,or in unused pots or baskets in kitchens and especially bedrooms, where they frequently dwell in bedding.
Unique among snakes, the Chirrionera has a parasitic stage.
When the Chirrionera emerges from its winter burrow, or basket, or pot, it seeks its host, a careless human female of child-bearing age. The snake utters a thrush-like whistle to attract a woman, then very rapidly crawls up her leg and enters her reproductive tract, where the snake dwells in the warm and dark and waits for the woman to mate, whereupon the snake bites and or stings the intruding penis.
This is , of course, fatal to the bitten lover. Once bitten, there is no cure.
If a woman suspects she may be infected by a parasitic Chirrionera, she is advised to , at bed time, tie a live chicken to her leg. This will lure the hungry snake out where it may be captured.
It would be best to have cigarettes close by, for when the snake becomes visible.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Mementos
https://scontent-a-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/t1.0-9/1780789_10202145858220234_1649058618_n.jpg
I went to Mexico last winter.
I took a few pictures.
I made a few drawings.
I bought a couple of quaint hand-crafted small items.
But the coolest souvenir, I acquired were wild seed pods I collected while walking in the country.
Mexico germinates and grows here in SW Idaho, at my South facing window.
Look South my babies. That is the same sun that would nurture you in your home soil.
Growing well, so far :
Agave vivipera
Tagetes lucida : the grandmother to all the marigolds in your garden.
Zinnia - A native white-flowered one.
3 different species of Hechtia
A green Ephedra that grows in high elevation pine-oak woodland
Tigridia species (white-flowered, possibly chiapensis)
A mystery mint (?) with a showy and unusual red and yellow flower.
These mementos make my world larger.
Through my tender babies, I am still in Mexico.The highlands of Oaxaca are here.
I went to Mexico last winter.
I took a few pictures.
I made a few drawings.
I bought a couple of quaint hand-crafted small items.
But the coolest souvenir, I acquired were wild seed pods I collected while walking in the country.
Mexico germinates and grows here in SW Idaho, at my South facing window.
Look South my babies. That is the same sun that would nurture you in your home soil.
Growing well, so far :
Agave vivipera
Tagetes lucida : the grandmother to all the marigolds in your garden.
Zinnia - A native white-flowered one.
3 different species of Hechtia
A green Ephedra that grows in high elevation pine-oak woodland
Tigridia species (white-flowered, possibly chiapensis)
A mystery mint (?) with a showy and unusual red and yellow flower.
These mementos make my world larger.
Through my tender babies, I am still in Mexico.The highlands of Oaxaca are here.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Brigid had a snake
Before the Irish were converted to Rome's Church, They revered a mother Goddess called Brigid. Brigid's feast came at the time when the ewes began to lactate, when it was time to bring the sheep home from their winter pastures.
I am sorry that we no longer gather to celebrate the lactation of the ewes.
Brigid had a snake, who emerged every February (just before the lactation of the ewes), to foretell the seasons. If Brigid's snake saw it's shadow, then 6 weeks more of winter would ensue. Shepherds would pay attention to Brigid's snake, and adjust their husbandry accordingly.
An Englishman, St Patrick, banished the snakes, and taught the Irish about sin, and how the only way to get close to God , was through the Roman Church.
St. Patrick was successful.
Fortunately, Irish ewes were never convinced, and still lactate regularly during the feast of Brigid.
I am sorry that we no longer gather to celebrate the lactation of the ewes.
Brigid had a snake, who emerged every February (just before the lactation of the ewes), to foretell the seasons. If Brigid's snake saw it's shadow, then 6 weeks more of winter would ensue. Shepherds would pay attention to Brigid's snake, and adjust their husbandry accordingly.
An Englishman, St Patrick, banished the snakes, and taught the Irish about sin, and how the only way to get close to God , was through the Roman Church.
St. Patrick was successful.
Fortunately, Irish ewes were never convinced, and still lactate regularly during the feast of Brigid.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
no death
I'm trying hard to tell something true.
I saw , myself, that there is no death.
I saw it myself. It really happened.
It is true.
Every two weeks, I was paid, by the Fish and Wildlife Agency of the state of Oregon, to go to the headwaters to see the spawning Chinooks. To record their acts.
The first week, In deep pools , the last deep pools before the waters become algae-warm and still , the Chinooks , those few that have become Gods, Huge and gravid and hook-beaked., They wait. In the cool water, for the last time.
They were careless. Easy to observe. You could see them. They were fearless.You could reach into the cool water and touch their backs. I did. You could have too.
I could tell you where. I could have shown you on a map.
I wish you could have seen it. for it was a great beauty.
There were hundreds of them.
2 weeks later, upstream from the deep pools, Hook-beaked males and huge gravid females had begun digging their nests in what clean gravels they could find upstream from the pools,in the riffles.
Gravel , and eggs, and sperm, sperm, sperm...
2 weeks later, Poor dying huge Chinooks,in their beauty, beaten and hosts to fungus, lay sideways near the banks of ancient river, their gills trying in vain to pull enough oxygen from the warm water to sustain life......But the warm waters of spawning dont provide enough oxygen for a cold deep ocean God. So the great fish dies.
It might seem sad, but who among us will ever attain what these River Gods have attained, to absolutley have fullfilled ALL you have been meant to do , in life. All! Completed. Done.
Rest well, Chinooks!
2 weeks later, The banks are smelly with decomposed fishes. But nothing is still. Vibrating, pulsating, buzzing, insects make lively the dead fishes. Flies make halos round the bodies of the Gods. There are wriggling swarms of maggots, along the sand, forming the shapes of the big Chinooks. Birds fight over the carcasses, and bears come out the woods to dine.
Death is lively!
2 weeks later. Its quiet. There is no sign that any of it ever happened. There are no insects, no fish carcasses, hardly a bone, to show that it ever even happened. The fishes are gone. The insects are gone. The birds, the bears, ....gone. Like it never happened. Like nothing lived. Like nothing died.
Gone. Like it never happened. Leaving us who have seen it, to doubt what we saw.
It gets colder. It gets dryer ..........Winter.....but in the very first melting of next early spring, still colder than what seems reasonable for life,............hearts pulse within scarlet salmon eggs in the cold gravels.
I saw , myself, that there is no death.
I saw it myself. It really happened.
It is true.
Every two weeks, I was paid, by the Fish and Wildlife Agency of the state of Oregon, to go to the headwaters to see the spawning Chinooks. To record their acts.
The first week, In deep pools , the last deep pools before the waters become algae-warm and still , the Chinooks , those few that have become Gods, Huge and gravid and hook-beaked., They wait. In the cool water, for the last time.
They were careless. Easy to observe. You could see them. They were fearless.You could reach into the cool water and touch their backs. I did. You could have too.
I could tell you where. I could have shown you on a map.
I wish you could have seen it. for it was a great beauty.
There were hundreds of them.
2 weeks later, upstream from the deep pools, Hook-beaked males and huge gravid females had begun digging their nests in what clean gravels they could find upstream from the pools,in the riffles.
Gravel , and eggs, and sperm, sperm, sperm...
2 weeks later, Poor dying huge Chinooks,in their beauty, beaten and hosts to fungus, lay sideways near the banks of ancient river, their gills trying in vain to pull enough oxygen from the warm water to sustain life......But the warm waters of spawning dont provide enough oxygen for a cold deep ocean God. So the great fish dies.
It might seem sad, but who among us will ever attain what these River Gods have attained, to absolutley have fullfilled ALL you have been meant to do , in life. All! Completed. Done.
Rest well, Chinooks!
2 weeks later, The banks are smelly with decomposed fishes. But nothing is still. Vibrating, pulsating, buzzing, insects make lively the dead fishes. Flies make halos round the bodies of the Gods. There are wriggling swarms of maggots, along the sand, forming the shapes of the big Chinooks. Birds fight over the carcasses, and bears come out the woods to dine.
Death is lively!
2 weeks later. Its quiet. There is no sign that any of it ever happened. There are no insects, no fish carcasses, hardly a bone, to show that it ever even happened. The fishes are gone. The insects are gone. The birds, the bears, ....gone. Like it never happened. Like nothing lived. Like nothing died.
Gone. Like it never happened. Leaving us who have seen it, to doubt what we saw.
It gets colder. It gets dryer ..........Winter.....but in the very first melting of next early spring, still colder than what seems reasonable for life,............hearts pulse within scarlet salmon eggs in the cold gravels.
Pssssst. They dont stay dead
In the mountain streams in NE Oregon, in late summer, the Spring Chinooks arrive to spawn.
After feeding well and dwelling well in the waters all along the west side of this continent, for 4, or 5, or 6 years, they are large.
The females shine and are hugely gravid. The males faces elongate. Their teeth grow. Their jaws hook.
Though they still have work to do in this life, they are beginning to look like the immortal Gods that they are.
They arrive in late summer, Those among them that have acclimated to fresh water in the bays ,avoiding hungry sea lions, and have gone against the current of the West's mightiest River, Columbia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Against all odds, they arrive on the south fork of the john Day ( ....not so many dams. and sufficiently rough country, the cattle dont be there. . Hallelujah. Even now, in these times, Spawn , you salmon , SPAWN!
Middle Fork John Day : Grazed. Grazed till there is no vegetation. Grazed . There is no riparian substrate.
Grazed. ...........to fucking DEATH......
yet'
Nah. Its probably too late
Now.
I'm so sorry.
After feeding well and dwelling well in the waters all along the west side of this continent, for 4, or 5, or 6 years, they are large.
The females shine and are hugely gravid. The males faces elongate. Their teeth grow. Their jaws hook.
Though they still have work to do in this life, they are beginning to look like the immortal Gods that they are.
They arrive in late summer, Those among them that have acclimated to fresh water in the bays ,avoiding hungry sea lions, and have gone against the current of the West's mightiest River, Columbia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Against all odds, they arrive on the south fork of the john Day ( ....not so many dams. and sufficiently rough country, the cattle dont be there. . Hallelujah. Even now, in these times, Spawn , you salmon , SPAWN!
Middle Fork John Day : Grazed. Grazed till there is no vegetation. Grazed . There is no riparian substrate.
Grazed. ...........to fucking DEATH......
yet'
Nah. Its probably too late
Now.
I'm so sorry.
True story. Not so happy
This is a true story.
Every late summer, since the early Pleistocene, maybe even before, Chinook salmon come into the headwaters of mountain streams in NE Oregon, for the spawning.
They spend 4, 5, maybe 6 years, on the west side of the continent , living and feeding, and being fish in the vast Pacific.
Those that live and feed well, become large. Upon maturity, they heed a call, and leave their oceanic lives, to come into the bay of the Columbia, to acclimate gradually to fresh water , while dodging hungry seals and sea lions.
They heed a call to swim against the current of the West's mightiest River, Columbia.
Past Bonneville Dam.
Past The Dalles Dam.
Past John Day Dam.
Past McNary Dam
Past Priest Rapids Dam
Where the Columbia meets with the Snake River, and Our chinooks go that way, because that is their call.
Past Ice Harbor Dam
Past Lower Monument Dam
Past Little Goose Dam
Past Lower Granite Dam
The miracle is, a few of them make it. They enter the Grande Ronde River, near LaGrande.....and Catherine Creek. Imnaha. Indian Creek......( Oh So sorry. Indian Creek run is no longer.) (Oh. So sorry Grande Ronde run " functionally extinct" in 1990......
At a place along the Grand Ronde River, just below Tony Vey Meadows, you could see them.
Big. So beautiful. And you could see em nicely, In clear deep pools where chinook salmon would dwell a little while , just before going upstream to finish their grand lives in spawning.
Only a few years ago. I saw them.
I wish you could see them too.
Oh.
I wanted to tell a true story , about eternal life. I wanted to tell that Death does not win.
I thought you might like to know that.
Not this time.
The federal government ( We, the people!) recognized the value of the Grande Ronde Chinook run,and saw it declining, and spent a butt-load of money and man-hours making the Grande Ronde River welcoming to spawning Salmon. And quite rightly, we restored the eroded banks of the Grand Ronde.
..........We tried. and in restoring the banks of the Grande Ronde River, we did good. but we were not able to save the Grande Ronde Chinook run.
We failed.
The headwaters . The spawning grounds. were on private land.
One ranch. One land owner, and quite a few cows.
Its done. Its gone.
The extinctions of the Great Auk, the Carolina Parakeet, The Passenger Pigeon. These are rightfully mourned.
But the Grande Ronde River Chinook run, went without headlines. I saw it. I remember. I will never forget.
Silt.
Kills.
Every late summer, since the early Pleistocene, maybe even before, Chinook salmon come into the headwaters of mountain streams in NE Oregon, for the spawning.
They spend 4, 5, maybe 6 years, on the west side of the continent , living and feeding, and being fish in the vast Pacific.
Those that live and feed well, become large. Upon maturity, they heed a call, and leave their oceanic lives, to come into the bay of the Columbia, to acclimate gradually to fresh water , while dodging hungry seals and sea lions.
They heed a call to swim against the current of the West's mightiest River, Columbia.
Past Bonneville Dam.
Past The Dalles Dam.
Past John Day Dam.
Past McNary Dam
Past Priest Rapids Dam
Where the Columbia meets with the Snake River, and Our chinooks go that way, because that is their call.
Past Ice Harbor Dam
Past Lower Monument Dam
Past Little Goose Dam
Past Lower Granite Dam
The miracle is, a few of them make it. They enter the Grande Ronde River, near LaGrande.....and Catherine Creek. Imnaha. Indian Creek......( Oh So sorry. Indian Creek run is no longer.) (Oh. So sorry Grande Ronde run " functionally extinct" in 1990......
At a place along the Grand Ronde River, just below Tony Vey Meadows, you could see them.
Big. So beautiful. And you could see em nicely, In clear deep pools where chinook salmon would dwell a little while , just before going upstream to finish their grand lives in spawning.
Only a few years ago. I saw them.
I wish you could see them too.
Oh.
I wanted to tell a true story , about eternal life. I wanted to tell that Death does not win.
I thought you might like to know that.
Not this time.
The federal government ( We, the people!) recognized the value of the Grande Ronde Chinook run,and saw it declining, and spent a butt-load of money and man-hours making the Grande Ronde River welcoming to spawning Salmon. And quite rightly, we restored the eroded banks of the Grand Ronde.
..........We tried. and in restoring the banks of the Grande Ronde River, we did good. but we were not able to save the Grande Ronde Chinook run.
We failed.
The headwaters . The spawning grounds. were on private land.
One ranch. One land owner, and quite a few cows.
Its done. Its gone.
The extinctions of the Great Auk, the Carolina Parakeet, The Passenger Pigeon. These are rightfully mourned.
But the Grande Ronde River Chinook run, went without headlines. I saw it. I remember. I will never forget.
Silt.
Kills.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
A most excellent guest post.....from my Mom
Orion
Long
long ago
When
heaven was newly made
God
had a plan
I
will gather the stars
I
will make Orion
He
will have a penis
Orion
will create the earth.
His
penis spouted oceans
And
his seed made a flower garden
And
Adam and Eve.
And
the begetting began
And
God was pleased
One
night in winter
Priest
was contemplating the heavens
“Behold!” Abomination!” spoke priest.
Handmaidens
were ordered to sew underpants
Orion
was high in his heaven. Too high
So
Michaelangelo’s David had to wear the underpants
Priest
said “Behold, Orion has no penis.”
“We
gave him a knife.”
“No
more abomination”.
(In
later years this is known as the Renaissance)
and
God was not pleased.
For
many years no rain fell.
Oceans
dried, fish died.
No
seeds fell to the parched earth.
(in
1931 they called it the Dust Bowl)
Seek
ye Orion and the seven stars
On
a fine February night
He
has no knife.
He
will plant your garden
God
will be pleased.
Doreen Lindstedt testifies!
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