Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Gators and DNA

2 year old gator, mildly annoyed at being held for our enjoyment 

Captain Wayne turned off the loud airboat motor and we slid to a smooth stop on top of the grasses and weeds. Although we were less than a mile from the gator village where we'd been holding the baby gators just a short time ago, it felt like a world away on the far side of the lake. We were out looking for the big gators among the brush. With the motor shut off we removed our earmuffs and the competing song of the bugs and birds came into focus.

"Yep, that there, that's where the eagles live" Captain Wayne pointed, "hey did you hear about the DNA findings in that local murder case?"

Hmmm. A rather odd way to start a conversation, apropos of nothing... "no..." we mumbled back at him, squinting into the brush for reptilian eyes or a glimpse of a large tail.

"Yeah, so this local house was robbed by the son's girlfriend and her friends and it was supposed to be vacant. But when they got there and got to robbin' they discovered construction crew down in the basement doin' their thing. So they did what they had to do and killed them all. And they would have got away with it except one of the robbers stepped in dog shit and the police managed to link the trace discovered in his tennis shoe tread back to the family dog. And the moral of that story is... if you're out robbin' and killin' be sure you don't step in shit. That DNA'll get ya every time."

REALLY Captain Wayne? THAT'S the moral of that story?

I was suddenly feeling quite vulnerable among the weeds, crickets, and thus far invisible eagles. The silence from the other airboat passengers confirmed uncomfortableness all around. Someone coughed, someone else cleared their throat. After a few mostly silent moments Captain Wayne fired up the airboat, we donned our earmuffs, and we were back on our way to search for large gators.

OK Captain Wayne. I thought I had met the best of the campfire story tellers. You are officially their king.

Sandhill Cranes lay their eggs on the water in the grasses. They are tall enough to stand in the shallows and defend their nest from non-swimming predators.

We roll back to Cummins Orlando on Friday to reunite Loretta with her generator. It turns out the propane regulator just needed a deep cleaning.

Loretta and Mr. Toad at Cummins Orlando. The 50-amp hookup with waterfront view was quite a pleasant place to hang out while waiting on generator repairs.

Internet Speed Comparison
Cummins Repair Ship, Orlando FL
Sampled 2/4/20 at 12:37 pm

MB down
MB up
Calyx (Sprint)
Google Fi
Jetpack (Verizon)
Shop wifi

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