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Nazca fault (Nazca plate) 20221120
The Nazca plate is an oceanic tectonic plate in the southeastern Pacific Ocean that shares both convergent and divergent boundaries, corners multiple triple junctions, contains three seamount chains, overrides four hotspots, and is responsible for the creation of the Andean orogeny. Over the last half-century, it has garnered much attention from the scientific and political community due to the hazards it poses to the populated west coast of South America. With oblique subduction underneath the South American plate, this active convergent margin is the longest subduction zone in the world, stretching 7500 km and produced the largest earthquake ever recoded on earth, the M 9.5 Valdivia earthquake.
Bolinas Ridge, Mount Tamalpais State Park, California
We are standing on Bolinas Ridge on Mount Tamalpais, looking down into Bolinas Bay on the Pacific coast just north of San Francisco. The curved section of coastline is Stinson Beach. Behind the beach is a smaller zig-zag section of sandbar (Dipsea Road), then the Bolinas lagoon, a tidal estuary. Hidden under the ocean waters and lagoon mudflats is the San Andreas fault, the transform boundary where the Pacific and North American tectonic plates are sliding past one another. The fault crosses Stinson Beach just beyond the point where Dipsea Road intersects with the main beach. The channel linking the ocean and the estuary is just a little further along.
Another bit of hair mayhem. I don't find it easy using a flash so it's all a bit experimental. This was partially illuminated by a flourescent lamp and the action was freezed by the flash on 2nd curtain.
Cut off from the sea by the suspicious port authorities in Shanghai it seemed that the only way I was going to get out of China was overland. This was my ticket.
In Shanghai I had inquired of every traveler I met about the path ahead of me. I had heard tales of this magnificent and exotic railway adventure before... they called it the greatest railway journey on earth. The longest stretch of steel rail ever layed.
An Australian traveller named Mark told me that he had heard that there was a guy in Beijing who could get me a ticket.
I asked Mark how I could find this guy in Beijing. He said just go there and ask for 'The Crocodile.' Just go to a city of some ten million souls and ask for 'The Crocodile'? It sounded almost insane to me.
Ditching Mark after he made moves on my Chinese girlfriend and ditching my Chinese girlfriend after she got all worked up when a soldier who was following me took a picture of us together on the riverfront... I understood her fear in that time of Tienenmen Square and I knew it was time once again to get moving. It was time to move north to Beijing... the city they once called Peking.
Tsu Tsu Mei was a nice girl. She had told me to call her Eleanor... because that was what she called her 'American name.' I couldn't do it because she just didn't look like an Eleanor to me... I always called her Tsu Tsu Mei. And I think that she really liked that I did... it would have been easier to call her Eleanor I'm sure... but each time I called her 'Tsu Tsu Mei' she gave me this look... it started with a big warm vulnerable smile that made it seem to me that she was melting inside with warm thoughts and shaking knees.
That look always made me want to scoop her up in my arms and give her the same feelings right back. Whenever I said her name and got that look... it just kind of summed everything up right there in that moment. I really liked that. Sometimes I wished that it had gone farther but the way it ended is why I have the memories I do... and I hope she does too... we never hurt each other... never not once... it was the hard and cold government of an opressive authoritarian regime that broke both of our hearts there in Shanghai. It wasn't either of us... it wasn't our fault.
I was with Mark the Australian when I met Tsu Tsu Mei... we were tooling around Shanghai and we had just gotten on the bus after a tour of the Shanghai Waterpipe Factory Number Seven where I had just purchased a fine example of a brass opium waterpipe. We had seen the place while riding the bus and jumped off... the factory was really happy to have foreigners tour the place. I couldn't believe that there were at least six other water bong factories in Shanghai. Somehow we had found the seventh.
As foreigners we were pretty much used to talking in english right in front of people knowing full well that they couldn't follow our conversation... especially the slang riddled prose we frequently used. When Tsu Tsu Mei got on the bus and stood next to me I turned to Mark and said "man she is the most beautiful Chinese woman I have ever seen."
Before Mark could agree... Tsu Tsu Mei let me know that she appreciated the compliment... she smiled and said "thank you" in perfect english.
Shocked that my subterfuge was exposed at first I was a little embarassed... until Mark took that half of a second to start in on her. No way I thought... I was the one who paid the compliment... I was going to be putting the moves on Tsu Tsu Mei. I'm not sure Australian guys understand the concept of a good 'wing man' but Mark sure had some learnin' to do. He needed to watch the movie 'Top Gun' and take some notes.
Tsu Tsu Mei and I arranged to meet later that night in downtown Shanghai and proceeded to become great friends. She even took me to meet her parents... Norman Tsu... the first deaf technical drafting instructor in all of China and his 'deaf wife Janie.'
Tsu Tsu Mei's father Norman was sent to the United States to study technical drafting in the fifties. He went to Gaudellet University and he confided in me that he really liked it... that he didn't want to come back to China... he stopped writing home and corresponding with the government... he wanted to drift away... but they corralled his mother who was a widow by this time... and they made her write Norman a letter that made it really clear that it was in her best interests that Norman return to China. That's how China got its first deaf technical drafting instructor. Or how they got him back.
Norman always referred to his wife as 'My deaf wife.' Both of them were deaf and we passed notes to each other over a marvellous dinner... while Tsu tsu Mei just kept smiling at me and at her parents... unbelievable food Normans deaf wife cooked. It was a feast... and not the Chinese food I was used to... this was exotic and unknown to me. The Tsu's really went out and they've been in my thoughts many times since then.
The Tsu family was really good to me and things were moving right along with Tsu Tsu Mei too until that soldier decided that he'd turn our little hand holding session on the Shanghai riverfrint into a Kodak moment. I had seen that guy following me before... he was the tallest Chinaman I'd ever seen... a full head above the rest of the general population. I found great amusement in shagging him... going into a store and going out the back door. It was really like a game. Still... he always found me... he was on me for days there in Shanghai. And after he took that picture I realized that my company with Tsu Tsu Mei wasn't looked upon favorably by the authorities. She was terrified of the repurcussions. I knew that was it... I wasn't going to get her or her family inot any trouble. I was going to get out of Shanghai.
I purchased a train ticket on a sleeper train for the seventeen hour ride from Shanghai to Beijing. How was it that I could go to a city the size of Beijing almost a thousand miles to the north and find this man called 'The Crocodile' simply by asking? It seemed completely insane... but such was the world I found myself in this year... for me, 1990 was the year of living insanely.
After seventeen hours of watching China slide by through the window accompanied by the soundtrack of nonstop kung fu videos on the train's television sets, I stepped off the carriage in Beijing, China's capital city. Which was a godsend because I could not have taken one more of those videos. The Chinese truly love them... they must be a part of their national identity... the way that the Japanese love Godzilla. Godzilla was a mechanism that helped the Japanese to cope with their loss of World War Two and the painful shock of getting Nuked twice. Even though Godzilla always stomps their cities to pieces they always triumph. It's like a morality tale with them.
When I was living in Osaka someone who worked in the studio that made the Godzilla movies decided to borrow the costume and wear it to a party where he caused it to be damaged to the tune of a hundred and seventy five thousand dollars. I wish I was at that party. Hanging out with the Nigerians. That would have been epic.
The first european looking guy I saw in Beijing... I stopped him as was my custom in the orient and inquired of the conditions and opportunities there in this new city. Blonde hair in China or Japan had always meant 'help desk' to me. We vagabonds and adventurers always stuck together and usually became instant friends as long as there wasn't a woman involved.
Then I asked him if he had ever heard of 'The Crocodile.'
He said that he would take me to see him right now. Right then. Right there. Unbelievable. I'm not kidding. No shit. I couldn't believe it either.
I had found 'The Crocodile.'
The man walked me to a hotel a few blocks away from the railroad station. It was an old building that looked straight out of the 1920's, like just about every other building in Beijing. You could see that it was really beautiful at one time... maybe even opulent or exclusive... but it, like anything else that was once beautiful or opulent, it seemed to fall into despair and decay under the custodianship of the communists. That was the way pretty much all of Beijing looked. With brown air and trees and bushes that were different from all those I had even known. I always notice the trees and bushes in a new city. Here on the other side of the world the plant life and the vegetation was odd to me... just unusual enough to stick out in my mind.
The man knocked on the door and we were answered by a nice looking blonde woman on her early twenties. She looked kind of pissed off but invited us in still. My guide just turned around and left with little more than a gesture to the woman. I followed her into the room.
It had become a bit of a self entertainment for me to wonder why the man I was seeking should be called "The Crocodile." It intrigued me from the moment I had heard it and in my mind I came up with all sorts of reasons for the nickname. None of them pleasant.
The room was an illustration in contrasts... inside "The Crocodile" had rented two rooms... he knocked down the wall that had seperated them and completely remolded it. This guy was livin' cush. He sat on the edge of his bed playing with the tv remote control as if it had befuddled him... I could tell from body language that his girlfriend and he had just been fighting.
"The Crocodile" stood up and turned around to face me... the guy must have been six and a half feet tall... and immediately I could see why they called him "The Crocodile."
He wore these braces on his teeth... the largest mass of metal I've ever seen in a persons mouth. Communist braces aren't very pretty... but these... "The Crocodiles" mouth looked like it had been installed by a blacksmith... an angry, drunken blacksmith. Like hammered bars of hot metal hand forged around each of his teeth.
I had to make myself stop staring as he got right down to business. Croc asked me when I wanted to leave... he said he had one ticket and he wanted a hundred and ten bucks American for it. There'd be no negotiating I could tell that right away. I had a feeling that if I tried that he'd have just relieved me of all my dough right there. Probably my gear too.
We were in a bit of a funny situation for a couple of reasons... I thought the ticket looked fake... it looked worse than some of the permits and passes I'd forged in school. I didn't have a visa to enter Russia... and I didn't carry that kind of currency in US dollars. I wasn't too sure that the Russians would actually be too excited about me coming to their country either. When I expressed this to "The Crocodile" he laughed a powerful and boisterous laugh and told me not to worry about it... he'd just gimme the ticket on good faith... so I could try and get a visa and cash a travellers check or something to come up with the Dollars he wanted. Besides he said "I know where your seat is and when you'll be leaving and if you fuck me I'll kill you" after which he laughed another deep laugh and gave me a half hug. "I want my money by next week he said." and walked me to the door where he said goodbye and his girlfriend gave me another dirty look.
That was it. Absolutely fucking unbelievable. I'm in Beijing less than two hours and I found my guy and I got my ticket. Now I just needed a visa from the Soviet Consulate. He'd also tell me there if the ticket was real I figured.
But right now I needed a place to stay. That would have to be my first order of business. The Croc's hotel seemed a little too luxurious for my budget... I needed something 'dumpier.' Something where my kind'd fit in you know?
I walked out of the hotel and on to the street... pausing for a moment to take a breath of the sulfery yellow tinged air and feel the pulse of the street there...a moment to let the vibe of it all sink in. I could have gone left or I could have gone right but it really didn't matter because I had no idea where I was going anyway. It's like a rule with me... like walking on the upwind side of the street because that's where all the paper money blows. Go left.
My friend Joel... the guy who'd saved my ass from the knife weilding Yakuza that pressed certain death into my throat in that bar in Osaka... he told me that he went insane and that he would hear these voices in his head that always said the same thing... "look to the left Joel." If he wasn't crazy already he said that those voices would do it... he never understood the meaning of it. Stupid voices in your head... they never tell you anything good... like "stay away from that one... she's trouble." They're always all cryptic. You gotta try to figure them out and break the code. Joel said the lithium they gave him pretty much shut the voices down. I never had heard voices though. It would probably be fun for a day or two... just to see what they would say. I think if I had voices they would sound like Vincent Price on LSD.
So I went left after I walked out of the Crocodile's hotel. I usually always go left when I got no idea but this time I was especially glad I did.
I get about a block and right there smack dab... badda bing... I run into this guy I lived with in Osaka Japan... Mike Levine... a Jewish guy from Jersey. He had let me borrow a pair of his shoes because I could find any in my size in Japan. Mike's got this big smile on his face as he sees me... we hug and slap each others backs and talk about the fight that got me thrown out of the university in Japan that we both went to.
Mike gave me directions to a suitably dumpy hotel and we parted ways.
Walking down the street I saw a couple of American girls... who turned out to be two really granola looking lesbian backpackers from Nebraska.
I stopped them there and asked them where they were staying... they said they had no idea... I invited them to share a hotel room with me if we could find one... plus the thought of girl on girl action sounded like really good fun to me. I felt like I was really going to like Beijing. It seemed like an easy city. Things were looking good.
Was this my lucky day or what?
Shit, I been here for like two hours... I already met the guy I came to meet, had a ticket for the Trans Siberian, hooked up with two lesbians and there we found a three dollar a night hotel. Six yuan a night for each of us. What more greatness could god bestow on me? Another lesbian? A blind supermodel? That would just be asking too much I thought. Lady Luck, I've always said, she was indeed a friend of mine.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth they say... so I unpacked my gear in the hotel room... every bit of it... and spread it all around. I always unpack fully so if I get robbed they can't just take one bag and split... they gotta work for it... then I unscrew all the lightbulbs in the room so they gotta have a flashlight to do it well... and then I make some loud noise making booby trap... like a pyramid of empty beer cans behind the door... then they gotta have nerves of steel to finish the job. Never got robbed once. Never. I have come home more than a few times affected by some intoxicant or another and fallen vicim to my own booby traps though. It always scared the beejesus out of me.
The Nebraska lesbians unpacked too.
Time to get out of here... It was time to go have a look at Beijing.
I left the hotel in a hurry and jumped on the first bus I saw... it didn't matter where the bus was going...I didn't care... I was sure that I hadn't been there anyway. That's the great thing about exploring like that. A new city... just go anywhere. It's all new.
Sitting on the bus I was of course the only westerner riding it. The Chinese weren't as polite as the Japanese and they would just stare at you forever... sometimes with mouth agape even... and I found myself very much the center of attention... the center of attention was something I really didn't want to be. I kinda wanted to blend in really. That was going to be tough.
I started having what could only be described as auditory hallucinations on that bus... that happened alot to me in China... but right there it was bad... the cacaphony of Chinese voices started to filter itself out in my hyperactive mind and become english... I could understand things sometimes... I was certain that people were commenting on how intoxicated I was... they all knew it... they were all talking about me... looking at me... 'Is that American guy drunk out of his gourd or what?' I had to get off that bus. The sweat was pouring from my pores. It was getting to be more than uncomfortable... it was unbearable.
The next stop was my stop no matter where it might be... soon as it stopped I jumped off that bus so fast... I didn't even have a clue as to where I was... and I didn't care. Away from that hash house hotel and off of that bus...I just wanted my own little piece of contraband free real estate where I could sit and watch China go by and make amusing comments in my head to entertain myself.
This was my stop.
Before me was layed an enormous plaza... I had never seen such a large paved public space. It was gigantic enough it looked like you could lay down and land a 747 in it if you went from one corner to the next. It was so big and vast that the smog of Beijing obscured the other side of it from me. I didn't know what this place was, but it made me feel realy small... insignificant actually... which was precisely how I wanted to feel.
I stood at Tienenmen Square.
This was the old Beijing... the one that used to be before the extremely systematic exploitation of cheap labor turned the place into a giant pachinko parlor... this was the dirty, dusty and gritty beijing where products were pulled around on wagons by teams of horses who shit big piles in the streets that you'd go straight over the handlebars of your bicycle if you didn't look where you were going. I'd seen it.
This was the Beijing where the streets seemed impossibly large considering no one really owned a car... the Beijing where the old people all wore those navy blue or black or gray kung fu outfits and walked around stooping with their hands clasped behind their backs as if some ultimate power had ordered them to for all time.
This was the square in Beijing where less than a year had passed since thousands of students took a chance to try and change their world... this was the Beijing where tanks had rolled over them without mercy and their bodies were torn apart by the callousness of lead flying around at ballisticly high speeds and cruel random trajectories. This was the Beijing where their blood ran like rivers down the curbs and into the sewers where like the extinguishing of their tender lives for naught all was soon forgotten by a world more infatuated with its demand for cheap consumer electronics in attractive clamshell packaging.
The one year anniversary of the slaughter was approaching and here as if by accident I find myself in the place where history was made and so conveniently forgotten.
Here and there I could still see bullet scars, burns and other marks that told the tale of a failed movement killed in a single night of murderous debauchery.
It was eerie in Beijing. I couldn't put my finger on it. Was it just the intoxicant's influence? I couldn't place it until I found a nice grassy place to sit down and let everything stabilize. Let my altered mind stop spinning.
The young people were all gone.
The government had sent what looked like the entire youth of the capitol city to 'summer camp,' where they'd sing patriotic songs and watch lots of motivational films and learn the error of their ways. It was re-education for the entire young population... there was almost no one walking around that city bettween the age of fourteen and twenty one. It was spooky... strange mojo in a strange land. Like some kind of Twilight Zone episode.
Everybody's seen the picture of 'Tank Man,' that guy whose name the world doesn't know... the one who was walking home from the grocery store with a couple of plastic bags in his hands... the guy who became a lonely human roadblock for a column of tanks... I know I could never forget that guy... he had balls the size of watermelons that one. I woudda love to have bought that guy a drink or eight.
I was walking down that street and a momentary sense of deja vu made me stop... It felt like I'd been there before... it didn't take too long for the reality to hit me... I was standing in that spot. In the Tank Man's spot. The premonition came from looking at that photograph.
There was a pay phone there... on the side of the street... you can see it in the Tank Man picture... I thought my parents might like to know where in the world I was so I tried to call them from it without luck. Maybe they'd think it was cool that I was calling them from there I thought.
I wanted to feel the scene out... I wanted to let it all sink in a little bit so I sat down and I had a look around. It all began to unfold in my mind... the direction the tanks came from... the sounds they'd make... their squeaking tracks rolling on the asphalt echoing in the canyon of concrete buildings... I could see the crosswalk he was walking across when it happened.
I stood up, still painting the scene on the canvas of my mind with the brushes of my imagination and I walked towards the crosswalk... just as he did that remarkable day.
Man... sometimes even I have a hard time putting things into words... sometimes feelings, emotions and perceptions are just too powerful and swift to get a grasp on.
Surveying the scene where this historic collision happened from the street... it was so much different than the picture we all know... that was shot from high above... it's got a whole different tone than the lonliness and isolation that the street level offered. Just like in the square where I had felt so small... even the street there was massive in width... one of those subcompact cars flying through the smog could have crushed me like a bug. The thought of standing my ground in front of a column of many ton armored tanks with their diesel engines shaking and belching thick black smoke and rumbling in anger... I'll tell you this... with the greatest respect that I can muster... that guy... at that moment... he took on the entire world. He was a bad ass motherfucker who said 'hey... I don't like what's going down here.' and he backed it up with his hundred and fifty pound body alone in the streets. He never even put those grocery bags down. But for a moment, that man stopped the world. He stood his ground. He stood our ground. He stood for everyman that day.
I didn't.
I didn't even chance stopping where he did. I didn't want to stop a bus.
When I got across the street I walked back towards Tienenmen Square wondering what happened to the guy.
These thoughts were crisply punctuated when I found the remains of a completely flattened bicycle. It had been run over by something pretty heavy because it was as flat as a bicycle could conceivably become. It even had a curve to it... a lot of parts were gone but the frame, the handlebars, even the rims were crushed flat. I picked it up, still thinking about Tank Man and I realized what it meant.
Something inside me wanted to take it home... to show my people... people born and raised with a freedom fought for by others... I wanted to show them what we pretty much let happen here... the great crime that we ignored. It was a strong symbol to me at least of an oppresive government that lost it's temper on it's own people.
I'd never get that flattened bicycle home, but I carried stashed inside the tubes of my backpack messages that people had asked me to carry out of the country to a place where mistakenly so they thought good and decent people might give two shits about the treachery bestowed upon them in their quest for what we have but could really care less about. A freedom so strong... a freedom so deep that it was a part of me wether I was conscious about it or not... a freedom that formed the person I was and carried me on a long and mostly accidental journey to a place where youth was cut short for having the audacity and lack of patience to demand a more tolerant society where people would count for just a little more than cheap labor.
I promised myself I'd remember what happened to them. I promised myself that on June 4th, 1990 that I'd say a prayer there in Tienenmen Square. I'd recognize their martyrdom to the cause of freedom and I'd pay my respects on the anniversary of the barbarism of their all powerful and vicious central authority.
When that morning came with its sultry brownish orange sunrise, three hundred and sixty five days after the blood letting, when the flag of a nation was raised over it's most proud square... I was the only person that wasn't Chinese standing there as a witness to at least offer the the quiet contempt of my heart and the objection of my soul as a counterbalance to the disgrace of the murder of these children.
There were no television cameras or satellite trucks... no journalists fixing their hair or taking notes on those long pads that they carry. Nothing.
I carried no sign or banner... I spoke no message of objection. I sought to instigate nothing.
I stood there in Tienenmen Square as a witness.
A witness to what the rest of the free world was so selfishly quick to forget.
Two days later I'd board a train that I'd get off of in another world... where a wall that represented hate and anger and mistrust would be falling, hacked to pieces bit by bit by a people celebrating a new freedom and unity.
Like Smokey in The Big Lebowski, Green Heron went over the line while fishing for menhaden on Horsepen Bayou. I think the launch was intentional but it is hard to say for sure because its grip on the tree stump was a bit tenuous. Going all in is rare for greenies; usually only when they see a target out of lunging range, which is a far piece. Rarer still, this time the bird came up empty.
Please 'click' on link to view large and'Ovidio Statue 1' On Black
"Never speak to a woman about her defects; many a lover has had occasion to congratulate himself on having observed this very profitable reticence. The wingèd-footed hero, Perseus, never found fault with Andromeda for her swarthy skin. Andromache was, in everyone's opinion, far too tall; Hector was the only one who considered her of the average height. Accustom yourself to the things you don't like; you'll learn to put up with them; habit makes a lot of things acceptable. At first, Love will be put off by the merest trifle. A freshly-grafted branch that is just beginning to draw the sap.
from the green bark will fall off if the slightest breath of wind disturbs it; but if you give it time to grow strong, it will soon resist the winds and, developing into a sturdy branch, enrich the tree that bears it with its alien fruit. Time effaces everything, even bodily defects, and what we once looked upon as blemishes will one day cease to seem so. At first, our nostrils cannot bear the smell of the hides of bulls; they grow used to it in time and bear it without distress.
Moreover, there are words you can employ to palliate defects. If a woman's skin is blacker than Illyrian pitch, tell her she's a brunette. If she squints a little, tell her she's like Venus. If she's carroty, tell her she's like Minerva. If she's so skinny you would think she was at death's door, tell her she has a graceful figure. If she's short, so much the better, she's all the lighter. If she's thick-waisted, why she's just agreeably plump. Similarly, you must disguise every defect under the name of its nearest quality. Never ask her how old she is, or who was consul when she was born. Leave it to the Censor to perform that uncomfortable duty, especially if she has passed the flower of her youth, if the summer of her days is over, and if she is already compelled to pull out her grey hairs. My young friends, that age, and even an older one than that, is not without its pleasures. It is a field that you should sow and one day You will reap your harvest. Labour while your strength and your youth allow. All too soon tottering eld, with noiseless tread, will be upon you. Cleave the waters of the ocean with your oar, or the glebe with your slough; wield with warlike arm the deadly sword, or devote to women your vigour and your care. ’Tis but another kind of military service, and in it, too, rich trophies may be won.
Nor should it be forgotten that women, who are getting on in years, have experience, and it is only experience that sets the seal of perfection on our natural."
Unfortunately this english translation of Ovid's ars amandi by y J. Lewis May in year 1930 is very victorian, epurated of every reference to sex. Here he talks about woman's defects instead of translating it "Believe me you must not accelerate to get the extreme pleasure". Mr. Puritan lives just in another world! Here the link to his translation www.sacred-texts.com/cla/ovid/lboo/
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Spookies! We are going to Cupids Fault this month Feb 1st, 2023! Event opens at 12pm SLT! We have these cute sneakers with some cute details with an amazing color hud included. They are tippy toe sneakers that will go with any cute outfit. These are rigged for Miatreya, Reborn, Legacy and Kupra!
Please DEMO everything before purchasing! And also please take a moment to read the ADS to make sure your buying for the right bodies!
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Tim and Batman show their disappointment after Batwoman decides to terminally take out one of their team members.
The Hurricane fault is on of three major faults that marks the transition from the Colorado plateau to the Basin and Range geological province to the west. It is about 160 miles 250 km) long and has a vertical offset of nearly 8,000 feet (2400m) towards the Basin and Range Province.
It is an extensional (normal) fault that started with he extension of the Basin and Range province about 5 mio years ago.
Occasionally slickensides can be observed, where the heat generated by the friction of the nearly vertical drop melts the rock surface.
The nearly vertical fault plane (foot wall) formed by Permian lime and dolostone at left. A chunk of reddish lower triassic mudstone that dropped down is visible to the right (part of hanging wall).
Location is below SR 9 north of La Verkin, Utah
Here in Yosemite’s Toxic Mobbing Community, everything is my fault. That’s what the “Powers That Be” want you to think. If you want the truth; take a look, a listen through my photostream. Workplace Mobbing, Community Stalking and Gang Staling are the norm here in Yosemite.
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**** This frame was chosen on Sunday 18th June 2021 to appear on FLICKR EXPLORE (Highest Ranking: #229. This is my 204th photograph to be selected.
I am really thrilled to have a frame picked and most grateful to every one of the 39.441+ Million people who have visited, favorited and commented on this and all of my other photographs here on my FLICKR site. *****
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Photograph taken at an altitude of Fifty one metres at 15:54pm on an beautiful summer afternoon on Saturday 17th July 2021, off Woolacombe Road and Broad Walk in a garden in Blackheath, South East London.
Here we see an adult female Eastern Grey Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis), munching on some kitchen scraps.
The Grey (or Gray) squirrel, you either love 'em or you hate 'em. Cute and fluffy little funsters or destructive critters who ruin trees, kill bird chicks and trees and damage our homes... oh and it's their fault we lost our native Red squirrels as well!
OK
I get it and I see both sides of the story of course. For my part, I am a nature, wildlife and landscape photographer who prefers the company of animals and natural beauty to fellow humans who are systematically plundering Mother Earth's resources and killing off her beautiful creatures at an alarming rate! I believe there is a natural order of things, creatures kill other creatures to survive, they adapt to situations and when mankind encroaches on their territory to make a fast buck, those animals sometimes adapt to survive and the order changes. That is the balance of nature which is ever changing and affected by us..... the dumbest of the great apes.
Some species are driven out by others, some may be destined to become extinct, the fittest will survive, and sometime a species will need intervention and help from mankind in order to survive... usually as a direct consequence of mankind's own actions in destroying the animal kingdom's natural habitat of course.
I adore these little fellas and at almost sixty years old, I never grew up knowing red squirrels at all. I've seen reds in Scotland and black squirrels in Stanley Park on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada, but in my beloved home country of England I have always known and loved the cute little Greys. They visit my garden and give me hours, days, weeks of happiness and wonderful photographic opportunities, and I see them in Parks and forests all around me, so it's time to offer up an insight into the Grey squirrel, much loved, much hated... a sort of Marmite rodent if you will.
WHAT EXACTLY IS A SQUIRREL?
The word 'Squirrel', was first recorded in 1327 and hails from the Anglo-Norman word 'Esquirel', from old French 'Escurel', which was a reflex for the Latin word 'Sciurus'.The Eastern gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) is also known as the Eastern Grey squirrel or simply grey squirrel depending on the region of the world it is found. It is a tree squirrel, of the squirrel family Sciuridae including over one hundred arboreal species native to all continents of the world other than Antarctica and Oceania. Tree squirrels live mostly in trees, apart from the flying squirrel. The best known genus is Sciurus, containing most of the bushy tailed squirrels which are found in Europe, North America, temperate Asia as well as central and south America.
The scientific classification for the Eastern Grey is:
KINGDOM: ANIMALIA PHYLUM: CHORDATA CLASS: MAMMALIA ORDER: RODENTIA FAMILY: SCIURIDAE GENUS: SCIURUS SUBGENUS: SCIURUS SPECIES: SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS
They were first noted by German naturalist, botanist, entomologist, herpetologist, and malacologist - Johann Friedrich Gmelin in 1788.
A mammal and rodent, predominantly herbivorous they are none the less an omnivore with a life span of between two and ten years. They can grow to 70cm in length and weigh up to 8kg. There are more than two hundred and sixty species of worldwide squirrel, the smallest being the African pygmy squirrel at just 10cm in length, whereas the Indian giant squirrel is three feet long! The oldest fossil of a squirrel, Hesperopetes, dates back to the late Eocene epoch period Chadronian period of 40-35 million years ago. The tree squirrels rotate their ankles by 180 degrees, so that the hind paws pointy backwards gripping tree bark which enables them to descend a tree headfirst.
Originally native to Eastern and Midwestern United States of America, they were first introduced into the United Kingdom in 1876 in Henbury Park, Macclesfield in Cheshire when Victorian banker Thomas V. Brocklehurst released a pair of Greys that he brought back from a business trip to America after their attraction as pets had waned. Victorians had a penchant for collecting exotic animals and birds of the world, but trends came and went and subsequently animals were simply discarded into the wilderness. There are early records of greys released near Denbighshire in north Wales from private collections. Later introduced to several regions in the UK, they quickly settled and spread, colonizing an area of three hundred miles in a quarter of a century between Argyll and Stirlingshire in Scotland.
Introductions of the Greys between 1902 and 1929 (the year of the last recorded introduction), included: Regent’s Park in London, Berkshire, Northamptonshire, Oxfordshire, Oxfordshire, Devon, Warwickshire, Nottinghamshire, Suffolk and Hampshire. Grey Squirrels spread into Gloucestershire and eastern Wiltshire with animals coming directly from the United States or from Woburn. One hundred greys were released in Richmond Park in Surrey in 1902, Ninety one into Regent’s Park between 1905 and 1907 and a further ten New Jersey imported greys were introduced into Woburn Park in Bedfordshire.
Predators include hawks, weasels, raccoons, bobcats, foxes, domestic and feral cats, snakes, owls, and dogs, African harrier-hawks in Africa and... oh yes, Mankind pretty much everywhere who despise, mistreat, cull or eat it .
FACTS, MYTHS AND THAT POXY PARAPOX!
The massive decline in native red squirrels blamed upon the spread of the invasive greys has always been perhaps a little harsh as reds were already in a steep decline due to loss of habitat and disease and thus the greys simply took over the areas where the reds were dwindling. It's also a fact that reds were also seen as a plague, branded as pests who killed birds and damaged trees and the culling of reds almost brought them to the brink of extinction. Licenses to kill reds could still be obtained up until the seventies!
Reds suffered at the hands of mankind thanks to a combination of agricultural deforestation also linked with war and fuel needs which caused extinction in Southern Scotland and Ireland by the early eighteenth century, way before greys had been introduced. Harsh winters killed off the less hardy red population in the early nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Greys are more adept at finding food and adapting to locations and environments, but also carry the squirrel poxvirus (SQPV) which although not particularly harmful to them, is a serious infection for the reds.
Parapox in red squirrels causes swollen lesions around the mouth, eyes, ears and nose also the front paws and sometimes genitals and skin ulcers and kills a red within fifteen days. There is no definitive correlation between the spread of the virus and the spread of the Greys, it actually arrived in several areas before the greys began to colonize there. An epidemic virus was observed in Red squirrels from at least 1900 with isolation attempts failing, and the first case of Parapox in the UK was in 1980 in the county of Norfolk. Greys cannot transmit the virus to reds via saliva or faeces, but reds can between each other from bodily secretions and at animal feeders in gardens. The transmission from greys to reds is though to come from parasites. Eight to ten per cent of reds survive the virus, and there is some evidence that reds are slowly building an evolved resistance.
Greys are seen as pests to forest land, stripping bark from trees during May and June, and are also capable of destroying household bins, water pipes, causing roof damage not to mention taking eggs and killing young chicks of ground nesting and songbird populations. They also take from bird feeders and there is a whole industry for creating squirrel proof feeders these days.
THE CULLING OF GREY SQUIRRELS
Grey squirrels have limited legal protection and can be legally controlled all year round by a variety of methods including shooting and trapping. Methods of trapping and killing include Drey poking and shooting, Tunnel trapping using spring traps set in accordance with BASC’s trapping pest mammals code of practice. They can also be shot using a shotgun or powerful air rifle or up until September 30th 2014 poisoned by Warfarin (Now outlawed).
Whilst professional trapping and extermination is hopefully done as humanely as possible, there have been cases, many of them where cost savings have been gained by battering the squirrels to death! Grey squirrels are trapped in ghastly metal contraptions for hours and hours, wearing themselves out frantically trying to escape by gnawing at the metals bars. They bite the floor and scratch at them with their claws and do not get a moments peace or rest through absolute fear. Once the traps are retrieved, each squirrel, terrified will be thrown into a sack and smacked on the head countless times with a blunt instrument. When a mother is slaughtered, her babies who are totally dependent on her, will die a slow death of thirst and starvation.
There is an argument for the control of Greys on many grounds but also a counter argument that Culling does not work, and has not on countless times where, once a population of greys have been culled, the nearest group will move back in and claim the land. The university of Bristol concluded that there was little evidence that culling greys to save red squirrels was effective, and that perhaps finding a way of boosting red squirrel immunity to the poxvirus or planting areas of yew trees where reds are known to thrive and spending money on research into positive moves might be a better option.
In Ireland, the re-introduction of the Pine marten, a species made extinct originally by the very same land owners who also wish to do the same to the grey squirrel, has seen the rapid demise of the grey and the re-introduction of the native reds. Red squirrels are smaller and more nimble than their grey counterparts, and as such can get to the very ends of tree branches where neither the pine martins, nor more importantly the heavier greys can, thus surviving and thriving. As a result in Ireland, the grey squirrel population has crashed in approximately 9,000 km2 of its former range and the reds has become common once more after a thirty year absence... oh and Pine Martens are protected again!
In Scotland, Pine Martens exist in areas where Red squirrels thrive, and greys do not. So perhaps there is a lesson here, as in England where there are no pine martens, the greys are prolific breeders. So there is an argument against the barbarity of shooting and poisoning greys, and if, as so many believe, the greys MUST be controlled, how about a more humane and natural method that nature intended.. with re-introduction of predators. Just a thought!
So a few facts and figures on the greys and to wrap up, from a purely personal perspective I love these little guys, as I do almost every creature in nature other than those eight legged beasties that shall not be named and for which I have a deep and powerful phobia that borders on paranoia!
I could no more harm an animal deliberately than eat a McDonald's McRib (Once saw how they are made and let me just say... eeeuuuuuwwwww!!).
They are small, cute, cuddly, furry, they photograph beautifully, have great personality and make me smile. They trust me enough to take food from my hand in parks, and I can't bare the though of ugly, hairy land owners sticking a shotgun in their face and blowing them away! I appreciate they can be a pest, a problem, a menace, that their PR managers might have a bit of a problem winning you over when they flay small chicks alive on your lawn or decimate the songbird population by stealing their eggs.... and perhaps there is a need to keep the population under control and try and re-establish the red population.....
Yep I get that....
I just hope we can solve the problem more humanely to create a peaceful coexistence of the reds and greys in different areas. A man can dream can't he.
Paul Williams June 18th 2021
©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams).
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LATITUDE: N 51d 27m 58.33s
LONGITUDE: E 0d 1m 53.65s
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Bracketing d exposition x3
I guess you have to be a geologist to understand why this rock with the little micro-faults is fun to look at. I posted it in full size so those of you who agree with me that it is fun, can zoom in and see the detail. There is something more than normal faulting going on here, the beds don't match up across the faults. The rock is about the size of a fist of this size. I found it while mapping in the Vinini Formation near the Mt. Hope mine in Nevada.
The Hurricane fault is on of three major faults that marks the transition from the Colorado plateau to the Basin and Range geological province to the west. It is about 160 miles 250 km) long and has a vertical offset of nearly 8,000 feet (2400m) towards the Basin and Range Province.
It is an extensional (normal) fault that started with he extension of the Basin and Range province about 5 mio years ago.
Occasionally slickensides can be observed, where the heat generated by the friction of the nearly vertical drop melts the rock surface.
Permian dolostone with smooth, shining slickensides in the fault plane (foot wall, fault scarp).
Reddish lower triassic mudstone at right is part of the hanging wall.
Location is below SR 9 north of La Verkin, Utah
The North American and Eurasian Plates meet but they keep a little distance
Get in touch: malchow-in-malta@hotmail.com
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