Suzan Bellincampi
Morton is a mystery man, a gentleman whose identity has been lost in the annals of history and the forgetfulness of an eclectic scientist. Unfortunately, neither I nor you, my good reader, are destined to unravel the mystery of who he was.
The Morton in question is the namesake of a small clam, Morton’s egg cockle. This bivalve has washed up in large numbers on the shores of Sengekontacket Pond.
Along with penguins, polar bears, and baobab trees, there are some topics that I always assumed would never be the subject of this column. Dennis falls into that category.
The Grateful Dead were definitely not thinking of him when they sang, “What a long, strange trip it’s been,” but after recent events, it could have been this animal’s theme song.
When you get lemons, make lemonade, says the old adage.
Luca Brazzi sleeps with the fishes — that’s a line from The Godfather, of course. But neither Luca nor anyone else really sleeps with fishes because it is debatable whether fish truly sleep at all.
It’s derby time and the competition is fierce. But anglers aren’t the only ones out and about on the water; there is another land animal that likes to spend its time near water. Lucky for those that fish, this beast has a preference for fresh water. I, for one, would be a bit disturbed to find myself next to a fishing spider, which is more or less an eight-legged trawler.
Jennifer is a gentle soul; a massacre just isn’t in her nature. So I was surprised when she asked if she must kill them all.
I can’t blame her for having post traumatic caterpillar stress disorder after the last few years of winter moth madness. She was worried about her trees and called to ask if she must slay the black and orange beasts to protect her oaks.