Fanagrams

There must be something about the fall that prompts birds to fly into our windows. Perhaps it is the lengthening rays and shortening days as the setting sun inches south across the horizon at the edge of the prairie. Perhaps the small birds see the sandhill cranes heading south, with their spindly leg floating behind them, or hear the flocks of gathering geese. Maybe the migrant birds are distracted by the unsettling thoughts of a harrowing migration while the year-round residents feel a growing anxiety as they anticipate a brutal winter. Whatever the reason, about once a week I hear the sickening thud as a bird collides with the window. One night, we were both startled by a deep and full-bodied thud and knew that it must be an owl. There on the back patio was a short-eared owl and in his mouth was a dead vole. We mourned not only for the owl, but also the collateral damage to the hungry owlets mewling in an abandoned nest. Continue reading →

I feel quite confident in my theory. Across the entire history of homo sapiens, across all cultures, ethnicities, geographies, and however else we might seek to self-identify, I know that we all have one thing in common – enjoyment of an occasional jolt of potty humor. Two of the foundations of humor are the element of surprise and challenges to societal norms. Both coalesce into the perfect storm for potty humor. Few will flat out say that they are a fart aficionado, but it is my contention that the ill-timed toot is a universal guilty pleasure that brings even the most pretentious down to earth. Continue reading →

I have been well-trained to assimilate the ICK factor with equanimity and good humor. As a pathologist, I have performed hundreds of autopsies, uncoiling yards of slippery intestines and carefully scooping out their contents. When assigned to the operating room, I analyzed all the bits and pieces that were removed during surgery – lungs, breasts, livers, hips, stomachs, spleens. On a busy day I could almost sew all the parts together into a complete person. But nothing prepared me for the concept of medical maggots.

I do not have any positive association with the creatures – my most frequent encounters are sightings of road kill, where a seething swarm of maggots can collapse a once vibrant fox into a one-dimensional pile of detritus. And there was that time when I was working in the city morgue and was tasked to determine the causes of death of corpses who had died outside of a doctor’s care. Typically these were not the violent deaths that were the fodder for TV crime show procedurals, but rather the quiet deaths of unfortunates found dead in some sort of flop-house or park. One day, an assistant asked me to help process the latest arrival. At first the corpse looked oddly jittery, but then I realized the entire body was alive with maggots. I was new to the morgue and hoped that this was not some sort of hazing ritual, so I tried to stay calm.

“Look at the eyes,” the assistant said, “That’s the softest part of the body, and that’s what goes first.” Continue reading →