HELL ROOT.


   It's that time of year again, every plant has it's moment to rise
up from the earth, flower, set seed and die back. l was driving up
the dry river bed the other day and there pushing through the hard
dry earth were the most spectacular, spears of bright yellow
flowers. They had no leaves, just a multi flowered aspargus tip,that
pierced through the ground, growing to a good foot tall and more.
They were single stalks  but were growing in small groups of two or
three. We do get them here quite regularly and this is there time.
   Each flower head could be an armfull. The florets resemble snap-
dragons. The spears are also hairy and eventually exude a stickyness
that is very atractive to ants.
   The plant belongs to a group called orobanche (to strangle).
They are a holoparasitic plant, sustaining themselves totally by
sucking the nutients from the roots of a host plant. Vampire root
would be a more discriptive name.
    While the hemaphrodite flowers are beautifull to behold above
ground, it's what goes on underground that is more sinister.
After the flowers have dropped their seeds, they can lie dormant
for several years untill their time comes again. The seeds can pick
up chemical messages from a host plant. These stimulate the seeds
to send out their vampire root (haustoria root) The very end, the hyphal
tip, is extreamly fine, it searches out the root of the host plant, sometimes
travelling a metre or more. When found it penetrates  the tissues of the roots
of the host plant forming a tuber, which in some parts of the world are eaten.
The Hell Root.






 

                  MOROCCO


Terrifa/Tanger.


 Really windy.

 Happy faces disembark.
 Happy to be in Spain or be of the boat!

 We're on, we're off.

 Pregnant, purring, petted, pussies,
 sitting in bowls, on chairs, in windows, waiting.

 The chicken shop.
 Worse the chicken plucking machine!

 The fly market.

 Broken backed peasant women,
 labouring up the street.
 The only things you will ever see
 are your own trudging feet.

 Strong backed peasant women on double seating,
 ten whole chickens and cous cous eating.

 Sometimes they get quite distraught if,
  there treasures you have not bought.
 Sometimes they get quite offensive if,
 you say "oh that's exspensive".
 Sometimes it's just best to say,
 "oh how lovely", and walk away.

 Because the guardia was inebreated,
 we sat all morning and just waited.
 He sleeps behind the door,
 with only cardboard on the floor.

 Long backed lean lads.

 Went into the medina.
 Got out three years later.

 Lines of men praying on mats.
 The ones who have been to Mecca are
 wearing white hats.

 On every little patch of land,
 they tend their crops with ancient hand.

 Through the Sahara sands, with camels too,
 guarded by young men turbaned in blue.

 Into the red earthed Daades deep where,
 up the mountains phallus sweep.

 To the great Oasis of Qued Draa.
 For every date palm tree thats grown,
 lies the remains of human bone,
 marked by a single standing stone.

 Through the western Sahara sand , rent barren by
 mans own hand.
 Past a solitary Berber tent
 and two camels 'whose lives were spent'.

Of all the side shows taking place in the grand plaza,
 for me, the best was the performing hat.
 There in the midst of the crowd was an old man with
 a hat on the floor.
 Out popped three pigeons, they milled around and
 drank some milk from a bottle top.
 Then out popped a guinie pig.
 It ran hither and tither but never very far from the hat.
 Then the old man reached into the hat and
 produced another hat.
 He placed it on the ground and it started to rush around
 in all directions. After sometime the hat found the milk
 and appeared to drink it.
 Then  the old man lifted the hat and there underneath
 was a 'hedgehog!.

 On silent padded feet two hundred camels passed  along.
 Grunting, munching and farting a desert song.

 Little girl on the steet,
 bitting splinters from your feet.
 Whatever do you get to eat?
 Is that where you have to sleep?

 Bleat little kid bleat.
 Tonight you are meat.
 Little kid in a basket don't you know
 what goes on at market!
 Displayed upon the  counter
with your eyes boiled white.
 I just passed you by and
 you gave me a fright.

 A hundred thousand graves,
surround the walls of Fes.
 Each one marked with stones of white
 to commemorate the dead.

 l heard a squak,
 then a chop.
 l just walked past the chichen shop.
 They ripped the feathers from your skin.
 The one God put you in.
They used that nasty plucking machine.
 Then sold you for tonights targine.

 l felt sorry for the chicks who fell of that lorry.
 They were ever so plump and just went plop.
 The lorry kept going and did not stop.
 All along the road they were.
 Little clumps of yellow fur.

If l had understood what he was saying,
l might have said " no "

 What struck me most about beautifull, stunning, milk
 and honey Morroco were the 'rocks'!

           A TANGLE OF SERPENTS


   A neighbour of mine was telling me the other day, that she has, whilst
walking in the orange groves, come across a nasty water channel that
emptys into a round tank , where the water is pushed and sucked down
into an underground pipe. The action of the water creates a whirlpool.
   As is her habit, always looking for creatures to rescue, she peered in,
thinking 'puppies and kittens' but instead found a tiny terrapin swirling
around inside. Diving her hand in she rescued it. So each time she passed
by, she checked saving terrapins, toads and frogs from drowning!
   So l took up the banner, as she has recently moved. My fist visit saved
another terrapin, then a beautiful camouflaged common toad. Next a
singing pond frog and two more terrapins. It has become somewhat an
addiction, l look forward to my rescue work.
   l try daily to visit the water trap. One day l expectently looked in to the
gloomy hellhole, my eyes ajusting to the dark,  there feebly trying to
raise it's head was a snake. My toes curled but a saviour must save.
How best to do the job l thought, as l was not going to thrust my
hand into the foaming water. luckily there is a lot of cane growing nearby,
breaking a piece off, which had a bit of root on the end, l managed to hook
the limp creature to safety. lt took some moments to get its breath then
it was gone.
   Each and every visit there has been some poor animal to hook out.
Once l left with a pocket full of terrapins. l let them go in a more gentle pool.
One night l pulled out four more snakes. They are viperines ( water snakes),
they are happy in the water but get trapped in the tank. l missed a few days
and eagerly returned. First a frog then two more viperines then a terrapin,
quite a big one , next two more snakes. Thinking that that was it, it was
getting dark, l saw in the depleating light yet another snake, dipping my stick
in l managed to hook it on but as l gently lifted it out thinking that it had a lot
of debris attached, tipping it out there where in fact a tangle of five
serpents!
   My God how many poor creatures pour down that watery hole ?

             TO KILL A HOOPOE BIRD.


   My grandaughter came running in to me the other day, slipping her
hand into mine she said "Come and see the dead bird". So l did.
She had been cleaning out 'Bone crunchers house' and found a dead
bird. It must have been there for sometime as it had lost most of its
feathers and head but retained a mummified pair of legs that looked
like a small plucked chicken! It could have been a hoopoe.

   Once l did find the perfect mummified hoopoe. l found it hanging
in the cactus patch. lts crest was up and its wings were outstretched,
as if in flight. Complete with feathers. What a superb dried out bird
it was. l sent it to my nephews.

   We get hoopoes here all year round. Normaly one can hear them
calling, with their hoopoe poo pooe song, hence the name. Or see
them fluttering by, with that eratic flight of theirs. They are also often
seen on the ground probing for insects with  that long curved beak.
They have a pinky cinnamon plumage with dark bars on the wings,
head and tail. They also have a cockatoo crest, that flicks up and down
while it is busy. They eat insects, such as grubs, ants, worms, centipedes,
woodlice ect:

   Recently a friend came to stay. He was an enthusiastic' twitcher' and
was off 'twitching' with binoculars and camera. Eventually he returned
greatly excited with a short video he had managed to 'shoot' of a hoopoe
in the orange groves. I was surprised that he had got so close to it, they
are very shy. It was a lovely little film of it walking about, its crest rising
and falling. We watched the film several times, then he left again to go
and see if it was still there.

   He returned but this time handed me a beautiful dead hoope! burieh" l said
"whatever has happened"? He replied that when he had returned to the spot
he found the hoopoe was dead, it was still warm. He looked close to tears.
We inspected it and sure enough there were signs of injury to the plump
little body. Who or what had inflicted them, we were not to know. He thaught
it had been shot!

    What a stunningly exotic bird. So we buried it under the geraniums and
felt sad.

    WHY DID THE CUCKOO LAY ITS EGGS IN OTHER BIRDS NESTS?


    Because they are not stupid.

   So says my daughter.

   l think she has a point.

   HAPPY MOTHERS DAY MOTHER!

          ONE FLEW OVER THE CAR BONNET!

     The most romantic animal, for me  here, are the wild boar or jabali in Spanish,
(sus scrota) oh those latin names again!

     They are a thrill to see, having been hunted to extinction in our home land.
We have only read about them in history books and comics. (One cannot say that one
has lived in the outback of Spain untill one has encountered a WILD JABALI )

     There used to be a pair of them, kept in a park in Huercal-Overa.They were very hairy
and grey, rather short in the body but huge in the head and sporting magnificent tusks.
These tusks are actually adapted canine teeth,
curving upwards from the lower jaw and downwards from the upper, passing each other
with razor sharp precision.

     l have often seen there footprints in the orange groves, also where they have torn up
the ground, in their search for roots ect:. They often, in dry weather, break the irrigation
systems in their thirst for water. For this they pay a mortal price. Many a fat farmer has
rubbed his belly and rolled his eyes at the thought of roast jabali.

     All my friends and neighbours have told me  of sightings, up mountains, in the orange
groves, down by the dry river, trampling cabbage patches, tearing  up potatoes, mashed
up on motorways and even cooling off in swimming pools. Sometimes  single and sometimes in family groups, a mum and half a dozen or more stripy babies.

     l was beginning to feel left out untill one evening, just as the sun was setting. l was
driving out of our local village when, one flew over the car bonnet! l was thrilled and
screamed with joy. My daughter and granddaughter, who had not seen it, wondered
what ever was wrong! It was a timeless moment, l still see the image now as it took a
flying leap right over the car.

   What struck me most was its deep earthy ginger colour. It wasn't  untill sometime later
that l found out why. l was out exploring one day and came across a muddy wallow. lt was
a deep terracotta colour and was full of jabali hair and footprints

       OF BIRDS AND FLIES.


      It's getting close to that time of year, when the summer migration
   of birds will soon begin. The first to normally appear are the swallows.
   I thought l could see some flying high in the sky but they turned out to
   be martins. The swallows have over the last 20 years made their
   appearance on or close to feb: 18th.

     A couple of years ago my nephew and his girlfriend arrrived at my house
   with a very young swallow chick. It had fallen from its nest onto the street,
   up in Albanchez. Would l look after it ? "No" says l, "it will only die".
   Disappointed by my pronouncement they asked, "what shall we feed it?",
    "Flies" l said.

      At first it was difficult because it wouldn't open its beak. We had to gently
   prize it open, pop a freshly swatted fly in and then a drop of water,using an
   old syringe. "How often do we feed it?", they asked. "All the time", l replied.
   "Will you do it?", "No", says l.

      They wanted to travel down to Cadiz. They took the fledgling with them.
   It was wrapped in cotton wool, and they were armed with a fly swat. On the
   first night it managed to get in bed with them, snuggling up to their warm
   necks.

     They did make it to Cadiz and arrived back a couple of days later. The little
   bird was feeding fast and furiously on a diet of flies, beetles, bugs and ants,
   followed by a few drops of water. It was snatching the offered insects from
   their fingers as quickly as they could catch them. I had to swallow my words.

     We all went back up to Albanchez and as we stopped the car, the youngster
   started calling to the swallows, who were sweeping around the buildings.
   Within 3 more days it learnt how to fly, by launching itself off the upstairs patio.
   Soon it took to the wing, returning every half hour or so to visit. Then, within
   days it was off.

     Our summer visiters arrive mid feb: and leave about October after
   hopefully bringing up a few broods of young. These swallows (Hirando
   rustica) have a blue sheen on the back and wings, with a forked tail. The
   throat is dull chestnut with a dark blue band beneath. The forehead is also
   dark chestnut. They have a high metallic tweet tweet twittering song. They
   construct an open saucer-shaped nest, on beams in buildings. These nests
   are made of mud.

     It is said that these birds bring much luck to the houses they choose to nest
   in. I   know of one person who was knocking the nests down because as she
   said, " these filthy black birds are making a mess!