A color version of the same tree you see below. Note the dark, shiny tubular "thing" on the right side, about 2/3 up from the bottom of the photo. I don't even want to think about what that is but I'm sure it slithers out of there from time to time and heaven help you if you happen to be there when it does...

 

This tree is located here...

View Larger Map

Behind every tree there's a new monster.
~Todd Rundgren

Don't know what happened to this tree but it looks like life didn't work out so well for it.

You lookin' at me? No, those are not pupils in the eyes of this praying mantis who was watching me walk by, but they sure made me fee creepy when I looked up at it. This carnivore is pretty much a killing machine that I, for one, am grateful does not exist in a size much larger than seen here. This one was too high for me to get a real good look at but I'd say it was about five inches in length. I could almost imagine servo motors whirring as it moved its head from side to side.

These guys can do a lot of damage once they decide they'd like to eat you. Just ask this mouse. < http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNcIUIULafw >

Say what you will about the excessively hot weather this year but, in Kentucky, it seems to be agreeing with the butterfly population.

This grasshopper looks like he is made of wood!

This little guy was an iridescent blue color that was not of this world. Probably an escapee from an alien scout ship.

A bunch of soccer goals vie for position at a local park.

In the jungle (actually, it's a local state park) death comes quickly at the end of my camera lens. You want flies with that?

When walking through the woods, or life, remember to look down every once in a while. You might be surprised by what you see there.

I was out walking around a local park yesterday when I noticed a pickup in avian activity right as the sun started setting. The birds, most of whom had been out of sight just moments before, started flitting to and fro as if they were on a deadline to find a suitable branch on which to perch. It was as if they were playing "musical branches" and the music was about to stop. Several minutes before the sun was fully on the horizon, their frenzied activity stopped and all the birds were perched and facing west as if to salute the departing sun. I have to admit, the light was golden enough that, had it not been unusually warm in the first place, it would have still "looked" warm.

They stayed very still, with only a slight breeze rustling their feathers, and seemed to relish the sunset. And why not? I certainly did...