Driving (riding) in the Tesla.
It doesn’t need me. All it needs to know is where I want to go and then I become superfluous. An image comes to mind of our kids in booster chairs in the back seat with the pretend steering wheel in front of them, spinning the wheel and driving like crazy, having absolutely no impact on what is really happening. That’s me. Pretend driving now.
For a squirrel.
Walking along that fence must be exhausting!
Fish eating diving ducks. They hunt cooperatively in groups like this.
These mergansers were working upstream past us while we were in Yellowstone.
They don’t nest on the ground like other ducks, they nest high up in trees in cavities. When the babies hatch, the first thing they have to do is jump out of the tree to the ground or water below. At one day old!
Loving him some suet.
But then, who doesn’t?
We travel all over the U.S. and we see all these places. And each place has a name. New England. New York. St. Louis. Denver. Longs Peak. Pikes Peak. San Francisco. All these places were “discovered” and named by “explorers” in the last few hundred years.
So we, the people of European descent, “explore” our way across an entire continent, which is already populated. (The pre-“discovery” population of the Americas is estimated to be about 50 million to 100 million.) And when we roll into town and encounter a distinctive place or feature, what do we do? Do we ask the people who have been here for ten thousand years, “Hey, what’s the name of this place?” Not often. We say “Wow, look what we discovered”, and make up a name for it.
Does that make any sense?
