Stuck on Stickys

I think I may have an obsessive compulsive spying on stick insects disorder. OCSOSID, for short. I don't believe any intervention by professionals will be required, it's a relatively harmless addiction, imo. The only danger is that other people will think I'm bonkers...but...well...might be a bit late to pretend otherwise...

Anyhow, the reason I suspect I am stuck on stickys is because I was sitting in a hospital waiting room the other day and I found myself scanning the limbs of the nearby pot plants for them. Not that likely that I would spot any in such a sterile environment. Especially since the plants were plastic. Oh dear.

It wouldn't be such a concern if I had stopped searching for them once I realised the greenery was man made, but I confess I took a second look. Possibly a third. Maybe even more than that. Eek.

I was waiting quite a while though, so it's hardly surprising my imaginative mind would search for something more stimulating than the women's gossip magazines on offer. At least, that's what I will continue to tell myself.

Also, a lot of the pretend leaves on the pretend plants had fallen off, which is just plain weird. It confused me a bit. Maybe that was all part of the attempt at authenticity. Make them look half dead like they would be if they were real, cos what plants could survive in a hospital waiting room? It's just a given that no one would remember to water them. Not with water, anyway.

My internal dialogue went something like this;

Man, I hate waiting...how much longer is this gonna take...why isn't there a clock in here...probably cos they don't want us to know how long they are making us wait...this decor doesn't really do it for me...why are there red stickers on all of the paintings...kinda makes ya look at the sticker, not the picture...how dumb is that...
 
Perhaps they're identification numbers...so they can keep an inventory of all the paintings that get pinched....do people steal art from hospitals...if you can call it art...surely the stickers aren't price tags...maybe one of the doctors is painting portraits as a sideline...maybe he's painting one now...that would explain the loooong delay...

Is that or is that not a dollar sign then...can't quite see from here...shall I get up to look...nah...oops, I just stared at that woman again...she's gonna notice I keep looking at her soon...then we will have to exchange awkward smiles... quick, look away, look away...I wonder if there are any stickys on the pot plants...

STOP! STOOPID WOMAN! WE HAVE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT THE PLANTS ARE NOT REAL! STICK INSECTS DO NOT LIVE IN HOSPITALS ON PLASTIC SHRUBBERY! HOW MANY TIMES MUST WE GO OVER THIS! Man...I am such a doofus...

Only trouble was, I couldn't stop smirking, thinking about what a dork I am. Predictably, a giggle escaped. They have a habit of doing that. Little stirrers. Always trying to get me into trouble.

Another woman a few seats away glanced in my direction. Not an overly friendly glance, I have to say. More of a scornful, "You can find something to laugh about in a hospital waiting room?," kind of look.

I contemplated explaining the reason behind my random outburst, but got the impression it was probably wiser not to. Attempting to alert others to the humorous nature of my internal musings usually just results in a prolonged gigglefest (where I am the only one laughing) littered with poorly structured, often monosyllabic sentences, ie, incoherent babble. It gets messy. The look of social discomfort on other people's faces just makes me laugh harder.

Most bystanders assume--incorrectly--that I must be on drugs. Or completely mad. Given my location, I decided it would be sensible not to encourage such speculation. I don't know where the psych ward is, and I would prefer to keep it that way. The safest option was to loiter in the plastic-plant-free corridor instead.

But of course, a post about stickys with no pickys of the little darlings would not be a very nourishing post at all, now would it;

Not sure why the top one has its foot on the bottom ones head...doesn't look like a malevolent gesture to me though, but I could be a smidgin biased...

The stickys seem to be rather obsessed themselves...with canoodling...I have seen a lot of stickys stuck on other stickys of late...good grief...I had no idea they were so amorous...the frisky fellows...

I know I said in an earlier post that bugs have a right to privacy too...this next photo is, I hope, a reasonable compromise;

Just in case you doubt my obsession status, I actually had a dream the other night too...one with a giant stick insect in it. Way cool. He/she is welcome to frequent my nocturnal escapades anytime. Hopefully I will have a flying dream soon...one where I am soaring through the air in formation with winged stick insects...how marvellous would that be...can hardly wait...

Of course, google is helping fuel my obsession. I'm curious to see what stick insects in other countries look like. In case you haven't yet indulged, here are a couple of good starting points--gardenguests (You soooo should check out the frog photos on that site too, there's one of a jilted frog scowling at his rival who got the girl. It's a classic.)

Stickys are canoodling across the tasman too--peonyden

PS: Yup. It's official. I'm obsessed. OCSOSID it is. I know how much doctors hate it when patients self-diagnose, but the clinical evidence is overwhelming. I was awoken from my slumber early the other morning by strong winds and rain. Naturally my first thought was,"OMG! I hope the stickys haven't come unstuck!"

Hopefully they have velcro feet so they can cling to the branches when the weather is grim...That might be my next task for google....investigating what the soles of stick insect's tootsies look like. If you find a link before I do, feel free to draw my attention to it.

But wait...don't go anywhere just yet...I have more photos...

These two are still in the "let's get to know each other a bit better" phase, so no censorship is required. But ain't they cute...They actually fell off the flax leaf just after I took this snap, which casts doubt on my velcro theory, but they landed on their feet, so to speak, and have picked up where they left off;

And I can't resist posting another photo of the same pair, cos that's what obsessed people do;

Terribly romantic, isn't it...when two become one...

And don't they just have the coolest legs? 

(Oops, this post seems to have grown legs of its own...it wasn't meant to be this long...honest...reckon I better edit my "about me" to include "seasoned waffler.")

The Walking Stick Waltz

Have I mentioned yet that I really like shadows? They are one of my favourite things. Combine them with bugs, and I am a happy camper. Especially when bugs are dancing with their own shadows...wow...

Tis a shame I don't have a video camera so you could see how elegantly this fellow was swaying with his dance partner...He didn't once step on his companion's toes...

I'm not quite sure what the little guy was up to, other than maybe hoping some passing females would stop to admire his dance moves. My advice to him though would be to practice his techniques a bit closer to home. Where there is more foot traffic. Like in a tree. Where the women folk are congregating. I confess I know very little about the visual acuity of stick insects, but I reckon they would struggle to spot him at that distance. Especially since they would need to be able to see around corners. 

While his wooing strategy may have been slightly flawed, he did at least have the smarts to warm-up first. Here he is doing his stretching exercises--star jumps sticky style;

 

Someone did appreciate his performance though...

On the subject of performing bugs, scroll down to check out this extrovert and the other charming stick impersonators residing in my garden, a.k.a. Stick Insect Metropolis.

Bug Bonanza.

Turns out I wasn't exaggerating after all. My garden is brimming with stick insects. Tis a bug fancier's dream come true. All colours and sizes. I've seen way more than twenty in the last few days. And yes, I have more photos. And yes, I'm going to make you look at them.

They're not quite as animated as the extrovert I met the other day, but some of them clearly have more important things on their minds than entertaining the resident human. Like this happy couple, for instance;

Interesting size difference, I have to say...

I confess I'm a little concerned though that some of them may not be using their natural camouflage skills to their best advantage. If I can spot them from my verandah, three metres away, I reckon so can the birds. And most of them are at hedgehog height. Eek. I know hedgys are visually impaired, but they might be able to sniff them out. Best not to think about that, really;

This one is a little more discreet;

This one, not so much;

And this guy just looks hungover;

You'll be pleased to know he has perked up somewhat. Guess he just had a rough night. I assumed at first that he hadn't moved for days, as that appears to be his spot, but then I realised how presumptuous it was of me to think such things. Who knows what kind of wild adventures stick insects have when darkness falls and there are no humans lurking about spying on them. I feel a little guilty, actually. A bit voyeuristic, even...but, having said that, if I had a night vision camera...

Of course, sticky may not have been off colour at all. He could've just been practicing for when the surf's up...

But anyway, a spider declared he wanted in on the photo shoot, so who am I to deny him his five minutes of fame. He was playing footsie with the hungover sticky. Don't know what that was all about, but rest assured, it was amusing, from my perspective, at least;

And a front on view of another sticky (note the second one just below);

As you can see, their friendship is progressing;

Hopefully this young lass will find a companion soon. The odds are in her favour, I reckon;

Is it just me, or do they look a bit like alligators? With longer legs?  And minus the teeth and personality issues? Not that I've met any alligators in the flesh. I'm sure they probably have a gentle side...one they show to those individuals who don't make them salivate.

Finally--for today, at least--just in case you have always wondered what a stick insect's belly button looks like;

Stick Insect Central.

It's stick insect central at my place. Woohoo! Actually, that might be a slight exaggeration...I have only seen two in the last couple of days, but rest assured they were both noteworthy. And I have the photos to prove it.

I thought the green sticky had expired, but it was only pretending to be dead. Phew. I picked it up with the intention of finding it a more fitting final resting place than the verandah, when it suddenly stuck out its leg. Impressive. I relocated it to a colour coordinated environment, a.k.a. a tree. Without further ado;

The one today really knew how to work the camera. Talk about personality plus. A model model. My kind of sticky. But of course, I like the shy ones too. Here's the extrovert in action...

The "Greetings, Earthlings," pose;

Intrepid explorer reaches the summit;

Another striking silhouette (and I thought my knees were knobbly);

Looks like I'm not the only one prone to exaggeration..."It was this big!";

The daydreamy head in the clouds look;

(PS...if you have nothing better to do, try saying, "stick insect central" ten times in a row. Really fast. Guaranteed to make your brain hurt. Make your friends say it too. Go on. Just for a laugh.)

The delights of misinterpretation.

A friend mentioned that her son was going out to her parent's farm to pick up cones. A source of revenue for his piggy bank. He's saving for a scooter. Nice.

Naturally, I assumed she meant road cones. I wondered why they would have road cones on a farm. Did the sheep need to be reminded to keep left? Or perhaps they used the cones to practice their defensive grazing. Despite being perplexed, my rather visual mind imagined her son stacking bright orange road cones into tidy piles. In the hay barn. He stacked the first bunch too high, though. They wobbled over. Bound to happen.

Then I wondered if my friend meant ice cream cones. Not that likely, I agree, but doesn't it sound fun? Like something Willy Wonkerish? I pictured a field filled with all flavours of ice cream, waffle encased ensembles standing upright like sunflowers, some drenched in hundreds and thousands, others laced with chocolate sprinkles...a few chopped nuts for good measure...what kid wouldn't want to collect those... My sugarcoated fantasy was briefly interrupted when I stood in a cow pat, but then I realised it was just a chocolate puddle, so the uncomfortable oozing sensation quickly became a pleasant one. As for the aroma...mmmmmm...

Then I realised that my friend probably meant pine cones. Doh. Although in my own defence, I was, up until recently, living in post/mid apocalyptic earthquake ravaged Christchurch, where there is a proliferation of road cones, alerting motorists, cyclists and pedestrians to the proliferation of potholes. They are imprinted on my brain. So there.

I have no issues with pine cones. I like them. A lot. They are one of nature's many exquisite designs. But they are nowhere near as exciting as my interpretation. Reality never is. Was an interesting visual journey before I arrived at the pine cone conclusion though.

This is, of course, a reminder that we all see the world differently. And that I am probably more than just a bit odd.

(Disclaimer: My odd thoughts are not prompted by another type of cone. Just in case you are wondering.) 

I wonder if bugs notice my oddness. I would like to know what this fellow is thinking. (Yeah, I know, probably something like, "get out of my face, you freak.");

.

Holly meets the Mafia.

The Rooster Mafia Part Two (Part One is here)

Well I went looking for the mob the other day. Little Red was nowhere to be seen. There was another red rooster though, whom I shall call Big Red. Haven't thought of a name for the grey one yet. They were somewhat more docile than I had envisaged. And they weren't all bachelors.... Big Red has his own harem. A few feathers went flying when I scattered the wheat, but apart from that, things were quite subdued. A black rooster and a white rooster couldn't even be bothered joining in the seed scramble/photo shoot. I didn't take it personally.

Someone is looking after them. Yay. Someone who must have a car, I reckon, judging by the monster sized pile of freshly dug potatoes, well positioned in a shady spot. They even have their own water bowl, with rocks in it. And water too, of course.

This is part of the gang:

Modem mayhem.

I frequently entertain dark thoughts of bashing my faulty modem to a pulp with my hammer. It is not uncommon for me to see, "Error 692: hardware failure in modem", five times in a row. Reinstalling it hurts my fingers. Ouch. Just in case you are wondering, secondhand dial up modems compatible with my fossilised laptop, are hard to come by.

When I mentioned my malevolent urges to a friend, he replied that he had a spare. Naturally, my first thought was, spare modem, or spare hammer? I confess I quite like the idea of pulverising the modem with two hammers. It would be hard to injure my thumbs, like I usually do, if they were both preoccupied with hammer holding.

But then, I am more than a little unco. The hammers might fly out of hands. Other objects do. For no apparent reason.The modem might not be the only one in danger. I think I would need to wear safety glasses. Maybe protective clothing as well... And a helmet... My legs seem to be particularly susceptible to injury, so maybe some shin pads would be called for. In case hammers have any boomerang-like tendencies. And I should probably administer the punishment away from the windows. And do it at a time of the day when mothers aren't walking their children to school, or home again. Wouldn't want the neighbourhood to get the wrong impression of me...

The idea seemed so simple at its inception. Kill the modem. But the plot keeps getting thicker. I have detected another problem with the twin hammer idea. My thumbs would be busy. I would therefore need someone to hold the modem still. I don't expect that it would try to run away, but my rudimentary knowledge of physics leads me to speculate that it might move when I thump it. I don't think any of my friends, being familiar as they are with my unco status, would volunteer to hold the modem... And the vices I possess--or perhaps, the ones that possess me-- would not be helpful in this situation...hmmm...

In summary, I must conclude that acts of grievous bodily harm against inanimate objects require careful planning. Guess that's where that premeditated clause comes in. I'm certain my insomniac brain will be discussing the finer details of modem murder in the wee small hours... yippee... (I blame the friend who put the idea of a two hammered approach in my head. Grr.)

It's RBP time again. Let us put our hammers down and mellow out with this tranquil image. What could be more calming than the sight of a spider hugging a flower. Everybody say, ahhhhhhh;

 

Things that go beep in the night update: A friend from out of town turned up on my doorstep the other day. With her very tall husband. And a substantial stool. Yay! I am no longer being driven insane by my smoke alarms constantly beeping. (There were 18 to 22 seconds between the beeps the other night, around 1am. I know this because, yep, I counted them.) Oh the delights of a beepless existence. Someone oughta do more research into the health effects of noise pollution.