I was initially skeeved out by the triops, and then I grew to love it because of the way it scampers around its tank, digging like a puppy, and because of the way it will grab its spirulina pellet in its claws and gnaw away at it while lying upside down on the sand. That was when its shell was as big as my pinky nail. Now its as big as a man's toenail, and I'm feeling a little queasy. It seems to molt every day. How big will it get? I noticed that it is now large enough so that you can clearly see its three eyes. Fascinatin' critter.
I wish I would molt everyday and have new fresh skin and eyes to meet the day with. A fresh vision of things, how nice. But instead, I wake up to views of things flocked by yesterday's now stale experiences and associations. The mind seems to be something like a flock box. You put something in there painted with glue, put in the powdered felt, pump in air to stir things up, and the object comes out fuzzy. Then that fuzz attracts dust.
The flocked wallpaper in my bedroom was there when we moved in. It's a bit gloomy now but it wasn't when it was originally installed - we found bits of it in its fresh condition and the flocked flowers, now a rich raw sienna in spots where it hasn't been worn away, were bright rose pink.
Figure from the Wise book, see below.
4 comments:
A three-eyed shrimp bug? Where did you get that? I see they've changed little in 70 million years. Johnny- come-latelys to their cousins the horsehoe crab, little changed in 300 million.
Home hatched - the ecoutrements were included as a kit my dad gave us. I think they scoop up the eggs from rice paddies, where the beasties help deter the growth of weeds with all their muckraking and nibble fungus off the rice stalks. This only works out if the rice is transplanted in to the pond when nice and sturdy. If rice is seeded directly into the paddy the triops eat or uproot it.
300 million years! They are more closely related to spiders than crabs, I hear. Someone keeps telling me they're endangered. So why do I always see them?
becaue there are still a lot of them, although the numbers are way down. They get used for bait for eel and conch. Next week's full moon should mean someone's organizing walks along the shore to see them mating.
I'd hate to miss that, voyeur that I am. If you find out anymore, could you please let me know?
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