One minute the sun is out, the next it’s teeming with rain, and then it’s both at once. If this is global warming it is at least giving us photogenic cloud effects.
Only a fool would jump off that diving board in this weather. Actually, I’m thinking about it.
A hundred yards up the road, in the barn opposite these cows:
are swallows. Hirundo rustica, Golondrina zapadora, Låvesvalen, Hirondelle des granges, Rauchschwalbe, the European barn or fork-tailed swallow, at the end of this month they will all one day suddenly depart together for southern Africa.
They are tiny. They flutter in the wind, blown about like butterflies, and though I can’t see how they can travel such a distance under their own steam, I envy them their dodging-winter skills. Except…
…why do they travel all the way back to Norway? What would be wrong with spending a winter in South Africa?
A Bad Guide 
hahaha! / ¡jajaja!
True.
Perhaps they just like your company…
I love all kinds of golondrinas (and the Spanish name is beautiful, don’t you think?)
Yes, it certainly is.
I see I forgot to link to this site with pictures of golondrinas zapadoras less fuzzy than mine.
I once read an account of a turtle species that lives in the Caribbean but swims the Atlantic to lay its eggs on African beaches. Why so? The author said that the habit started when America and Africa were very close together, and continued as they drifted apart. (How he knew was not revealed.)
I should add that I am aware that Africa is drifting into Europe.
To jump off the diving board I suppose that you would first have to swim out to the raft/float?
Is the water much warmer than the air?
Any news of our corbijeau / curlew?
Siganus, I was looking at your bird photographs and they’re so good. I haven’t seen any sign of corbijeaux. I think they must just go and hide on the other side of the island for six months. What’s the point of flying to Norway and back unless you like brown goat cheese?
The water isn’t warmer than the air and the air is pretty cold. We have heated seats in our car and I turned them on today for the first time since the spring. I’m going off the idea of swimming in the lake.
How do they know that Africa is drifting towards Europe? I bet it’s very slow. How do they measure such things? Whose idea was it to start measuring?
I have heard that explanation many times in animal documentaries: turtles, birds etc. are assumed to have originally lived next door to where they coupled. Over millions (?) of years their living quarters and breeding grounds drifted thousands of miles apart. The separation distance grew so slowly that the animals supposedly didn’t notice, but “adapted” by shuttling over ever greater distances, instead of moving house.
I have a number of questions about this story that are never addressed in the documentaries. First of all, we should remember that not all animal species – not even all bird species, so far as I know – are fixated on reproducing where they were produced. My first question is: couldn’t such a fixation be considered as a potential liability for the species, at least when the ground shifts over hundreds of thousands of years ?
Ground-shift plus birthplace-fixation should add up to trouble – but in fact the individuals who don’t “adapt”, but continue in their ways, will survive. “Adaptation” would involve something like moving house, instead of sticking to routine. Certain turtle and bird species seem to have a lot of spare energy for travelling – that’s what this is about, not “adaptation”. It’s not surprising, though, since what else do they have to do apart from staying alive and screwing ?
My next question is therefore: isn’t this notion of “adaptation” a sneaky form of the notion of purposeful behavior ? After all, we see only what we see – which is merely what is left over. Someone calculated that we have before us today less than something like 0.0001 % of all the kinds of life that have existed. The turtle/bird business can with certainty be understood only as demonstrating that certain features – travelling 10,000 miles to lay an egg – are de facto compatible with other features such as being small, feathered and bird-brained – or large, carapaced and slow.
These animal species are just minuscule remains of a great being born and dying in various and sundry ways. I see no “adaptation”, but just one damned thing after another, and combinations of them, that happened to work for a while.
That’s what made you your Alps, that drift. Mind you, this lovely diagram seems to imply that that drift may be quiet for the moment.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Plates_tect2_en.svg
A measure I’ve seen for North America’s drift away from Europe is that it’s about the same speed as the growth of your fingernails. Nowadays they measure it with satellites.
The bigwigs of geology used to mock the idea of “continental drift” which didn’t bother my geography teacher – she told us all about it anyway. Mind you, I remember her looking at me on the first tee one afternoon at the back of four and demanding “Don’t you have your O-level geography exam in the morning?” I cheerily replied that the way I was driving I’d see a lot of geography in the next couple of hours.
On family vacations my mother always used to make a point of jumping into the lake or the ocean no matter how cold. I have felt some internal pressure to carry on with these traditional demonstrations of hardiness. Tesi attributes my hardiness, such as it is, to whatever Norse blood I have through the Scottish part of my ancestry. Several years ago I jumped into this lake (at about 5000 feet above sea level, in New Hampshire). Although it was June, the water was very cold: there was snow all around the shoreline. Asa and the other people I was hiking with were less willing, even though we were hot after a long day of hiking–but I persuaded them. I stayed in the longest, swimming to (almost) the middle of the (not very big) lake and back.
Stu, in an everyday sense of the word “adapt” these critters have adapted. Just as you or I might adapt to an increase in the price of capers by paying more for capers. I agree with you that the mere fact of flying longer and longer distances to carry out the annual migration is not necessarily a sign adaptation in the natural-selection sense. The makers of nature documentaries may well be talking through their hats when they use that word for this.
On the other hand, I suppose that, if over a long time span the annual migration of a species gets longer and longer due to continental drift, then there might well be evolutionary pressure for traits related to the abiltiy to make that long journey.
I myself can’t see traveling 10000 miles to lay an egg. But then a sea turtle probably couldn’t understand the appeal of having your offspring live with you for 18 years. Different strokes for different folks.
I think they travel all those long journeys … because they can.
And, ok, of course, they’re romantic
It’s still more astonishing to me the Common Swift (Apus apus) that (incidentally) somebody erroneously relates with Swallows. These birds are nearly always flying, even when they copulate or sleep!
Do they watch movies and eat terrible meals as well?
Stu: but in fact the individuals who don’t “adapt”, but continue in their ways, will survive
Speaking as a non-scientist I think you’ve got a very good point here. You never know how it’s going to work out in the long run.
Julia: because they can
Yes. I bet you’re right.
I jumped into this lake (at about 5000 feet above sea level, in New Hampshire).
It looks like Scotland or Norway. Do all these places above the tree line look like that?
A measure I’ve seen for North America’s drift away from Europe is that it’s about the same speed as the growth of your fingernails.
That’s a lovely comparison. It likens the measure to the body (as feet & inches do), something we know so well.
Dearie, I’m shocked and envious that you were playing golf with your female geography teacher the afternoon before your geography O level. It sounds like something from The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and nothing like my own drab experience of O-level Geog (which didn’t include tectonic plates). Is “the back of four” a golf term, a Scots term or both?
Yesterday there were lots of swallows sitting on the telephone wires next to that barn. Today there are none to be seen anywhere. They must have left this morning.
“Is “the back of four” a golf term, a Scots term or both?” Scots.
I wasn’t actually playing a round with her: she came up the path to the clubhouse just as I having a couple of preliminary swishes on the tee. Our mob didn’t really take O-levels seriously – far too easy. In this we were encouraged by our teachers, though they presumably thought we might at least study the evening before.
“I’m shocked … that you were playing golf”: I can only assume that cricket was off because of the exams, and that the tide was wrong for sailing. Dreadfully overrated, golf.
Our mob didn’t really take O-levels seriously – far too easy. In this we were encouraged by our teachers
I’m even more shocked. Our mob certainly did, and in this we were encouraged by our teachers. We didn’t think they were easy, not at the time. One of my friends failed Maths three or four times – he used to retake it twice a year, sort of like the driving test – he got into Cambridge, though not to do Maths, obviously.
I’d been wondering whether the swallows knew it was the Equinox but I’ve just seen some, in the pasture with the cows. They hadn’t migrated, just shifted a bit.
By the time the O-level exams arrived we were far beyond them in the syllabus. The only thing I can remember about them is my golf anecdote.
Mostly our swallows seem to leave almost precisely on the 21st of September, (and to arrive on the 21st of March); but when I’ve perceived an anomaly, it seems to be that there are other swallows further north who pass through here later, having left “their” summering place on the correct date.
Yours’ll be along soon, likely.
I’m not outside these days. Things are sad, so I’m not watching.
What do you mean ‘things are sad’, Cat?
Oh, so it could be that the swallows I’m seeing now are just passing through on their way from Trondheim to Jo’burg. That’s a thought. There were none to be seen today.
I haven’t seen any sign of corbijeaux.
That’s worrisome. Maybe they have gone to the other side of the Earth. (Or simply to the beach.) Let’s pray they will be safe.
I’m sure they’re just at the beach on the other side of the island. Can’t you make a phone call?
Last month I saw one of them on a north coast beach. He didn’t say anything when I asked him whether he was in Norway the month before. I couldn’t even check his accent, i.e. whether he pronounced his ‘l’s in a peculiar way.
I’m not going to think about things being sad.
I’m going to try to share some orenetes/hirondelles-de-la-chéminée/barnswallows with you (if it works):
It works, at least it works on my machine. Oh, that’s wonderful. They move so fast. Are they drinking water, do you think?
It was supposed to be “embedded” and appear there, not just to be a link. Anyway, I’m glad you like them. Whether they are drinking, or “bathing” or maybe there are some water-surface larvae or other insects (but see how blue the water is? The local busy-body had recently put some kind of disolving chlorine cakes in to “clean” the water, and I doubt any pond life would have survived that.) Insects that are themselves drinking, perhaps.
They do look like they’re having fun.
It’s the “lavoire” – do you have them in Norwegian villages? Where the women would gather to do laundry? With a large rinsing basin, attached to a smaller washing basin? I collect them – photos anyway. Here they’re called “safareig”.
Nowadays except for washing the occasional big thing (sleeping bags, for example) nobody uses ours, it seems. Except swallows, insects, and sometimes frogs.
I think if Norwegians were gathering to do laundry it would probably be somewhere indoors.
>Catanea
For your collection the “lavadero” of Deva, near Gijón (Asturias), a beautiful place that even appears in the movie “Volver a empezar” that was the first Spanish Oscar:
There are lots of them in Asturias, always under roofs because of rain.
Where Edinburghers used to gather to wash clothes.
http://programmes.stv.tv/the-football-years/1974/the-year-in-question/230514-edinburgh-housewives-protest-at-closure-of-the-steamies/
Merci.
Gee, Jesús, that’s a LOT of water! Places I’ve “collected” in Brittany, France, Catalonia…barely have enough trickling through to keep the rinse water fresh!
The “steamies” sound very high tech?
This doesn’t remind me of anything, but then, Norway doesn’t really have villages but small clusters of farms scattered over the country. Traditionally people did their laundry in a multi-purpose outhouse or cellar room, the bryggerhus “brewhouse”. What we did have was special places for bleaching, and in many Norwegian towns these have become streets or quarters named Ble(i)kebakken vel.sim. When I discovered three parallel streets named Bleiche in Mainz this summer, I assumed it was the same thing.
I might even mention that the great Norwegian author Tarjei Vesaas wrote an allegorical novel titled Bleikeplassen “The Bleachground” inspired by the German occupation.
By the Binnenalster (lake), there’s a little street in the oldest part of Hamburg, the equivalent of the City of London, called Grosse Bleichen. And if that isn’t white enough, there’s also a Bleichenbrücke perpendicular to it.
I remember that Schwerin had a bleich- related streetname, near the old slaughterhouses. I see it’s called Bleicherufer – and now I remember it’s right next to Brunnenstrasse, where the well must have been – die Bleicherufer, too, is next to a large body of water.
I love the name steamies. So much better than “launderette” and “laundromat”.
I remember in a book I read about Saltaire, a Lancashire wool town built by the philanthropist Titus Salt, in former times (pre-19c.) there had been some sort of conflict of siting on the River Aire of the washing & bleaching area and the sewer outlet – the latter being ideally located downstream of the former – I wonder if I’m right or if I’ve made that up? Now I’ll have to try and find the book.
>Catanea
There are some trapdoors or locks to damp and to regulate the water in Deva. Yesterday I found the (remains) “lavadero” of Trujillo (Cáceres), that increases the wealth of monuments in this town, built in 1886. You can see an amazing number of basins made of granite. In this case there is a pond: http://www.flickr.com/photos/toyaguerrero/5980969892/
Wow! Jesús! That’s spectacular. Was it a commercial enterprise? With so many individual washing “tubs” – I see individual “tubs” like that in the gardens of those people rich enough to have their own gardens, while presumably the poorer people used the communal washing areas (although as they were social areas, perhaps the rich weren’t so fortunate), but this sort of layout I’ve never seen. I’ll have to go there and see it in person…what excuse can I find for visiting Trujillo? Hmmm.
>Catanea
I’m glad you like it. As far as I’m concerned it was communal. I didn’t know it although I’ve been lots of times in this historical town. But at the first available opportunity I’ll go there, of course. If you can go to visit Trujillo don’t doubt it. Also I recommend you making a good use of this trip visiting an amazing ancient (s. XVIII) “lavadero” of fleece that is a controversial art museum as well in Malpartida de Cáceres. There are only 58 km from Trujillo and you go via Cáceres!
http://www.museovostell.org/
El lavadero en Trujillo: spectabular indeed, but how did it work? how did the “tubs” get filled with water, and emptied? Are the tubs in their original place, or have they been taken out of the area with arches? Where is the “pond”?
Some time ago we discussed other lavoirs, in France, which were quite different, built along rivers or natural sources (not stagnant ponds)..
The granite looks abrasive. I don’t think my shirts would last very long if I washed them in those little tubs.
>Marie-lucie
Besides this picture, I’d found this post where you can read the tubs are in the area with arches in the shape of a L around a pond. I imagine they filled them with water using buckets. To empty there is an orifice (you can see that in the two tubs in the middle of the aforementioned picture).
http://extremosdelduero.blogspot.com.es/2012/08/lavaderos_25.html
>A.J.P. Crown
According to your imagination, the stonewashed jeans (and other garments) are been rooted in this tubs.
Our grandmothers toke too much care over the garments and washed only when it was very necessary. Also they had to save soap because olive oil was the main reagent to produce it.
Great picture. It looks like the fossilised feet of a giant reptile.
Jesús: Gracias por las fotografias de los lavaderos!
We’ve just had a French chum to dinner. She says that in her daughter’s house near Le Mans invading mice eat the soap.
Yes, mice find soap quite tasty, at least some soaps, at least when there is nothing else edible around. People with mice invasions are careful to lock up all the food, but they don’t necessarily think of locking up the soap.
I’d feel better about mouse droppings if I knew they’d been eating soap.
We’re just coming into the season when country mice decide it’s too cold to be living outdoors. I’m thinking of buying Vesla one of those high-pitched squeaking machines that we can’t hear but mice find pretty annoying. She doesn’t like mice in the goat house. However, I’m a bit worried that as well as the mice, the goats might be able to hear the squeak too.
You could get a cat for the goats, couldn’t you? It would give them company. But of course you must found the cat that loves the company of goats.
Incidentally, do you know the reason why the omnipresent brown rat has been called rattus norvegicus, the Norwegian rat?
Oh, on the map found by following the above link it appears that Iceland is about the only country free from Norwegian rats. How funny.
>Siganus Sutor
I’ve just read this name come from a mistake. The true origin is Asia from Caspian Sea to Siberia. What I wonder is why this adaptable and prolific animal started to spread in s. XVIII.
I remembered that, when I visited the famous González Byass winery in Jerez de la Frontera (Cádiz) when I was 16 years old, they told us that some mice drink win but, so to speak, in a authorized way. And eureka! (the penultimate picture):
http://www.apoloybaco.com/BodegasGonzalezByass.htm
>A. J. P. Crown
Although the droppings are perfumed the hantavirus, leptospirosis and other diseases can be there.
In respect of the machine I always wonder how we can know if it’s working since we can’t hear it. Do we need a laboratory rat to test that?
Goat vs Chumps.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/picturegalleries/howaboutthat/9598926/Three-hour-mission-to-rescue-goat-from-rock-ends-when-animal-hops-away.html
I don’t know why that goat stayed there for five days, that’s really peculiar.
Jesús, I love that mouse picture. I’d no idea they like wine. I’ll have to leave them some (outside).
My wife doesn’t believe that rat is called the Norway rat, she thinks it’s a slur. Rats are very intelligent, though.
I’m not getting the goats their own cat. They can borrow Jack when he’s older if they need a ratter.
Maybe the reason why those mice drink wine is that one of the founder members, Robert Blake Byass, was from England.
One delicious ornament of “paella”, the crawfish, is a “norvegicus” animal as well. Does your wife believe it is also a slur?
Really the rats are very intelligent, hence the difficulty to exterminate them. However, a cousin of crawfish, the lobster, seems less intelligent, at least when they emigrate in autumn in single file.
Maybe the reason why those mice drink wine is that one of the founder members, Robert Blake Byass, was from England.
What, they did it to please him? I think they just like wine. The goats and our dogs don’t like wine; I’ve offered them a sip, but they turn away. Can it be the alcohol? Isn’t alcohol tasteless?
I’ll tell Dyveke about the crawfish. They are very keen on bacalao in Norway, partly no doubt because the dried codfish comes from here. You live close to Portugal, do you make bacalao as well as paella?
The reference to the British nationality was a silly thing related to your idea of giving wine to mice.
As for Dyveke, I don’t understand the relation with the crawfish, only with dove and cherries. I think that more related with the adjective “norvegicus” should be your old “neighbor” Carolus Linnaeo.
And yes, we make bacalao. This fish is even so-called “pescado” (fish) par excellence. Extremadura is the interior so there weren’t nearly any other fishes here until the fridges. However, the brother-in-law of Christian II of Denmark ate fresh oysters in Yuste (Cáceres) as I’ve already told: 3 days from Santander to Yuste!
I don’t know why that goat stayed there for five days”: my suspicion is that he’d wander around after dark and then return to his eyrie for the daylight shift.
“the brother-in-law of Christian II of Denmark ate fresh oysters in Yuste”: apparently the Romans in Britain were so fond of oysters that carts carrying barrels of oysters in seawater trundled around the country. So, I suppose, from Essex to the Cotswolds might be a common journey. They carted coal around too.
Coal doesn’t go off. I’m especially sensitive to this because I once got hepatitis from oysters that were past their best. It’s a wonder the Romans survived if they behaved like that. Who is this brother-in-law of Christian II, Jesús? If you’ve told me, I’ve forgotten. I do that a lot, as I’m sure you know by now.
I think you’re right about that goat.
Thanks to you I’ve learnt today that Dyveke was the mistress to Chistian II. The brother-in-law of this king was our emperor Charles V. The distance between Santander and Yuste is now 537 km by road. To preserve the oysters they used ice obtained from the snow of mountains. I meant that I’ve told it several times, not exactly to you. I’m sorry; I think that I’m writing worse and worse.
My wife’s father had some oysters in a restaurant in Vienna over 60 years ago. Surely they were a rarity in that place and time. Where were they from? The Mediterranean? How were they brought there? Probably not by wheelbarrow. (I am guessing a train car with lots of ice, as in the movie East of Eden.)
He saw them on the menu, at a price that seemed consistent with the distance from the sea, ordered (as he thought) the usual dozen, received three elegantly served, ate them with great relish, signaled for more, and continued until he had had all twelve. It was only when he saw the bill that he realized that the price stated on the menu had been for only three.
Transporting oysters: Yes, the Romans and later peoples used to “mine” snow and ice from the mountains, carrying it in carts or boats along with a lot of straw (an excellent insulator) in order to transport perishable items.
Speaking of snow “mines”, here are so-called “neveros” or “neveras” (from “nieve”: snow). Even we still call “nevera” our “frigorífico” (fridge).
We can see in this link the “Real Pozo de Nieve” de San Lorenzo del Escorial (Madrid), built to provide the court of Philip II, the son of Charles V. Also there are some diagrams (or sketchs?) of these curious buildings where how they worked is explained: http://loslugarestienenmemoria.blogspot.com.es/2012/01/arquitectura-para-el-hielo-los-pozos-de.html
More modest is the “nevera” in San Martín de Trevejo (Cáceres) ( my father’s village), a kind of pretty much octagonal pool, built at more than1400 m and made by granite whose perimeter has 26.4 m:
http://www.eltiempo.es/fotos/en-provincia-caceres/la-nevera-en-jalama.html
“I once got hepatitis from oysters that were past their best.” I understand that it’s thought that the Romano-Britons transported them live in sea water. No flies on them.
Marie-Lucie, in tropical Reunion Island there is a place called “La Glacière”. It is a cave high in the mountain, high enough for ice to form and stay solid, and it was “mined”, as you say, before being brought down to the West coast — chiefly the town of Saint Paul — on the back of donkeys.
The deer are getting deadlier.
http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/News/Biker-killed-in-freak-crash-with-deer-12102012.htm
There’s no mention of what happened to the poor old deer who was attacked by this motorcyclist, but I suspect the würst.
I’ve never eaten roadkill muntjac but I can recommend roadkill red deer.
Thanks, I’ll keep a lookout.
Ice exports was an important source of income for farmers and local entrepreneurs along the south coast of Norway up until the invention of the refrigerator. Dams built for it are all over the place. This was usually pretty low-tech, and the ice was carried down to the coast by horse transport, but some places there was even built transport systems.
Have we discussed this before? Something about horses on Crown’s lake?
Oh, now I remember there’s something about Queen Victoria having imported or been given ice from the Semsvannet…
this, I think.
Here’s some more, with a crude translation. Apparently Queen Victoria liked to be able to read the newspaper through her ice cubes. I suppose they mean theoretically, though some people didn’t have much to occupy their time in those days.
It just occurred to me that no Mauritian would have been able to see ice, i.e. frozen water, before… the 20th century perhaps. (I remember a fridge that used to work with paraffin oil, but I can’t remember whether it could make ice or not.)
Beep! beep!
That’s an interesting thought. At low altitudes large parts of the Earth’s surface must have been iceless before the 20th century. Many people would never have seen ice, let alone snow. So even if Eskimos don’t really have 30 words for snow there must have been languages that until recently had no word for snow.
Why did “Beep! beep!” get through, but not the first comment, I wonder?
If on a given relatively warm territory you have mountains that go high enough, then ice could form up there during the cold(er) season. The Kilimanjaro or Mount Kenya are very close to the equator but they are high enough for ice to form on top of them. In Reunion Island ice can form above 2000 metres of altitude. Therefore it can be expected that at least some people could witness ice formation, or be brought a piece of ice that had somehow been prevented from melting. But in say Nauru or the Seychelles it is simply impossible to see water freezing unless it is being done artificially.
Wait…
What about hail? Is any region in the world likely to have hail storms, even if only once in a thousand years? (There has indeed been some hail reaching Mauritian ground in the past.)
I’m sure there’s hail everywhere, occasionally. Hence the well-known expression “Hail, Mary”. It melts pretty fast, though, even here. I expect you could have a word for hail without needing one for ice or snow.
Having just checked in my French-Malagasy dictionary, I see that in Madagascar the word for “ice” has nothing to do with French, English or any language I can identify as coming from temperate climates. Glace is given as “ranomandry; fitaratra lehibe, fitaratra fizahana, ronono nasiana siramamy etc. […]”, which seems to be ‘pure’ Malagasy. (Rano is “water”.) Likewise, hail (“grêle” in French) is given as “havandra; takodimena; fahabetsahana.”
There is even a Malagasy word for snow, which is “oram-panala”, and the verb to snow (“neiger” in French, in this case “il neige” – “it snows”) is “milatsaka ny oram-panala”.
This is all very strange since Madagascar is a tropical island and since the Malagasy language originated from Borneo.
I don’t know anything about Madagascar, but in some places nowadays they prefer to invent rather than borrowing from other languages. So maybe ranomandry means “solid-state water”. Oram-panala may literally mean “the white stuff on television”.
I didn’t know the Malagasy language originated in Borneo.
Do you have kangaroos & wallabies in Mauritius? They have them in England.
It says here that they get snow on a mountain in Borneo sometimes.
says here
My goddaughter grew up near Kota Kinabalu.
And where is your goddaughter now?
The Austronesian people that became the Madagascan people — or at least the most Asiatic of the Madagascans — apparently leaved on the south coast of Borneo, quite far away from the jungle surrounding Mount Kinabalu, the island’s highest peak.
No, there isn’t any type of wallaby or kangaroo on Mars — except when some Australian architects come over here on business.
Er, lived, not leaved…
But they did leave Borneo for Madagascar, though.
the jungle surrounding Mount Kinabalu
Assuming there’s any left, nowadays. Probably there is since it’s a big tourist attraction.
She’s currently living in Bergen (Norway), but she recently took her young son down there on a visit.
I think the Indonesian side of Borneo is ethnically very different from the Malaysian, with perhaps fewer Chinese, but I’m not an expert.
there isn’t any type of wallaby or kangaroo on Mars
Incidentally, yesterday a friend told me he was recently barred from climbing the Coin de Mire island (remember?), which has recently been declared a nature reserve. The guards told him they had found Australian graffiti at the summit as well as an Australian redback spider on the island. Maybe these Australian tourists didn’t know they were carrying it with them. I prefer not to imagine they released a widow spider there on purpose.