Tag Archives: jellyfish

Gin Jelly Balls

I believe the mystery of the missing jellyfish has been solved. Sunday and Monday found Bubo rather quiet, and, Bubo being Bubo, this was puzzling and concerning. It appears that guilt renders my dear little owl silent. Good to know.

It took til Tuesday (today) for her to confess. Late Saturday night, Bubo decided she wanted the jellyfish to be able to go for a walk outside. The weather was clearing and she thought they might enjoy a meander about the park.

She outfitted tiny Pestilence into one of my jelly balls (picture a water-tight gerbil ball with a tiny filtration system). I imagine she must have had help with this, but she’s not giving up her accomplice. And as Pestilence was enjoying the jelly ball, Bubo decided that Hoover, the second-smallest jellyfish, ought to go with her. So Hoover was outfitted into a jelly ball. And then, Bubo reasoned that since my brother Mordecai and I often take summer strolls with drinks in hand, the jellyfish would also enjoy their strolls infinitely more with drinks in tentacles.

And then she poured gin into the jelly balls.

And then she placed the jelly balls onto the sidewalk and gave them each a slight push.

And so the jellyfish, soaking in gin in their jelly balls, left the house.

They have not returned. Naturally.

Bubo has been searching for them and has not been able to find them. She’s petrified that they were in the sun too long (direct sunlight would poach the poor things).

If you happen to find a hungover jellyfish in a jelly ball, will you let me know? I’m trying to keep positive, but I’m a realist: two drunken jellyfish could easily end up anywhere. If they headed towards Coney Island, they’re most likely at the bottom of the ocean. I’m sure they’d be able to get out of their jelly balls, so I’ll pretend that they’ve made a new life off the coast.

Bubo, being much more cynical than I, is picturing jellyfish salad and other atrocities.

Poor dear. Though, clearly, it is solidly her fault. She promises she will not send anymore jellyfish out into Brooklyn. We’ll see.

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Weathergram For A Crab

This is a sad entry for me. I am a lover of all living creatures; great, small, fierce, docile, feathered, scaled, cryptid, and otherwise. Last night I discovered that the great comic of the jellyfish tank, Jean-Pierre “Buster” Crabbe the hermit crab, had passed away.

Interestingly, he had crawled out of his shell prior to death, so I discovered him curled between two clear glass pebbles on the floor of the tank a few centimeters away from his shell. He was so small and rather naked seeming like that. When I removed him from the tank, the jellyfish seemed to caress my hand, feeling like whispers against my old skin.

Bubo set to wailing a mournful cry and I buried Buster in the garden, beneath the tomato plants. I placed his shell atop his grave.

As the characters in one of my favorite children’s books did, I will hang a weathergram dedicated to Buster in the garden, commemorating his life. (I speak, of course, of E.L. Konigsburg’s Up From Jericho Tel. Check it out and read it, why don’t you? I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.)

I’m thinking of penning this for Buster, what do you think?

You boxed aquatic clouds while walking in water. Now you will swim with true welkin ones.

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Coffee, Owl Style

I should have known better. I mused out loud that I wondered what the jellyfish food tastes like. Bubo thoughtfully surprised me with a chunk of it in my coffee.

For future reference, I take my coffee with just a touch of cream. No sugar. No brine shrimp.

Lesson learned: curiosity killed the taste buds.

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Slip into Something More Comfortable

Like Jellyfish Lake.

According to OurAmazingPlanet, “The main genus of jellyfish in the lake is called Mastigias They are descendents of jellyfish from the ocean that are thought to have ended up in the lake when sea levels were much once higher, extending over the island and filling up the saltwater lake.”

Take a moment and slip into this video, won’t you?

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