Things from the Shelf

I'm trying something new this week.
Recently, I was given the idea of writing scientific research blog posts--namely biology, geology, or anything else that happens to catch my interest--by a couple people who know me and my odd interests well. Seeing as how this is the career path I've been aiming for once I get out of high school, I've decided to start a new section of my blog, called "Things from the Shelf". The name refers to my bookshelf, which, aside from the inevitable metric ton of books it holds, also serves as a display case for my collection of, well, dead things. For the reader's sake, we'll call them "natural history exhibits".
I tend to collect strange things, like animal skulls, dried starfish, shells,  fossilized sea creatures, and anything else you can think of, really. I'll admit I don't actually find most of them myself (at least, not out in the wild). I find most of them at garage sales and thrift stores, weird as that sounds. One of my prize pieces is a dried porcupine fish that I found at a second-hand store.

In my experience, people never seem to appreciate the more interesting things when it comes to thrift stores. They never put prices on the really cool items, and I always end up having to ask around for the cost. This often makes me feel guilty, especially because most thrift stores seem to employ little, white-haired old ladies as cashiers. Whenever I ask how much something is, they tend to go tottering off across the store in search of someone authorized to price the cursed thing, which leaves me feeling guilty and awkward with whatever it is clutched in my hands. When I bought the puffer fish, the lady gave it a long look after I placed it on the counter, squinted in a puzzled manner at me through her glasses, and said to me,
"You actually want that thing?"
She then went tottering off to look for the price.

Puffer fish, from what I've found, seem to be some of the most awkward, bumbling, and at the same time most interesting fish on the planet.
As most people know, their name comes from their tendency to inflate themselves with gulped volumes of water when startled, which swells their highly elastic stomachs and makes them look several times their normal size. Some are equipped with rows of sharp, needle-like spines (I should know, I poke myself on mine whenever I try to clean the shelf) that cover them from head to tail and can be raised to stand on end when they inflate themselves. Most puffer fish are toxic, the result of a peculiar poison secreted by their body known as tetrodotoxin.
Tetrodotoxin, it is surmised, is absorbed by the fish from their food--namely algae, shrimp, and other invertebrates. It works as a neurotoxin, blocking the transfer of nerve impulses along nerve fibers and axons and causing paralysis or even death in its victims. Other sea creatures--like the blue-ringed octopus--are also known to secrete it, and it is known to be 1,200 times more deadly than cyanide. Despite this, puffer fish is served and eaten as a delicacy in some places, particularly Japan. The dish is known as fugu, and requires attention from a very skilled and experienced chef when being prepared. If even one of the deadly poison sacs is not removed from the fish's body before being served, the unfortunate customer is likely to suffer paralysis or even death.
There are over one hundred twenty species of puffer/porcupine fish worldwide. They are from the order Tetraodontiformes (meaning 'four teeth'--referring to the four fused buckteeth that make up their beak-like mouthparts), and are of the family Tetraodontidae (puffers) or Diondontidae (porcupine fish). When they're not inflated, they have a chunky, fat-headed appearance with a tapered tail, and they swim poorly in a manner that reminds me of a half-inflated, lazily drifting balloon. Whey they do inflate, they look like a spiny beach ball, and swimming becomes even harder. In truth, I think the only reason they've survived as a species thus far is because of their inflating adaption.

Now, the main reason I started my posts with my puffer fish is because there's one thing in particular that I've been curious about. The specimen that I have is fully inflated, with its mouth gaping open and the spines sticking out every which way so that it's a real pain to pick up, and I've always wondered how on earth one does taxidermy on a puffer fish. I've always envisioned someone blowing it up like a balloon and tying it off until it has time to dry, and as it turns out, I wasn't too far off.
According to an online taxidermy question and answer site, I found that the best way to mount a puffer fish is to scoop out the meat, leaving the skull behind, and then fill the space with a balloon or Styrofoam mold. When the fish dries, pop the balloon or remove the mold, and pull it all back out through (I'm sorry, readers) the vent. Mine, I noticed, has some stitches along the dorsal side, so whoever mounted it must have used slightly different methods than the advice I read online.

In conclusion, I must say that I've enjoyed researching and writing about this topic. I now know more about puffer fish than I ever have before in my life, and the great mystery as to how to taxidermy one has been solved. Rest assured, I will continue writing short stories and fantasy/sci-fi books and posting them here, but Things from the Shelf is going to become a regular section of the blog. I encourage you to read them, and, if possible, share or comment on the posts.

Happy reading!

S. R. Koch.

Resources:

http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/fish/pufferfish/

http://www.pufferfish.net/

http://www.life.umd.edu/grad/mlfsc/zctsim/Tetrodo.html

http://www.taxidermy.net/forums/FishTaxiArticles/03/b/03BC2BACA8.html

http://www.seaworld.org/animal-info/animal-bytes/animalia/eumetazoa/coelomates/deuterostomes/chordata/craniata/osteichthyes/tetraodontiformes/pufferfish-porcupinefish.htm

Excerpt

....Houdini shrieked and spun in the air, arching his back and tucking one wing so that he did a full twirl end-over-end before leveling out and flaring his wings to catch the strong thermal rising from underneath them. Ivan balanced lightly on his back, gripping the griffin's sides with his knees and his hands resting on the powerful wing joints between Houdini's shoulder blades. The brief loop made his heart jump into his throat with excitement, and then it immediately plunged into the pit of his stomach as Houdini beat his wings and used the rising thermal to send him spiraling upwards into the sky.
"This is life," Ivan thought, watching the world unfold beneath him. He could see all the way to the distant mountains, with vast stretches of unbroken green creeping from the mountains all the way to the distant horizon. He could see the camp--a tiny dot far below him--and the shimmering surface of the lake; no bigger than a silver dollar. If he listened close enough, he could hear the clang of the second-years' swords as they trained in the camp, the flutter of a bee's wing in a field to the north, and even the steady creak of the trees growing. The world was alive, and it was his kingdom--his and Houdini's.
Ivan twitched one hoof against the griffin's side, and Houdini responded by leveling out at the edge of the thermal. A heartbeat later, Ivan felt the brief moment of weightlessness as the griffin tucked his wings to his sides, and then they were diving, the world screaming by them like an animal and threatening to pluck Ivan from his seat.
His eyes streaming, Ivan grinned into the teeth of the wind, every fiber of his being charged with energy and life.
He was a creature of the air, and there was no one on this earth that could stop him.


Ivan and Houdini are part of a larger cast of characters that have never actually managed to make their way into a book. Someday, but not yet. They've simply been sitting in my brain, developing over time and growing their own characters. The cast is mostly composed of not-quite-humans; Ivan's a faun, along with his sister Thorn (they're always arguing about who's older, but you never find out), and Houdini and his twin Ziggy are griffins. They're all part of a tribelike community of half-humans and creatures out of myth, living on the edge of human civilizations. Most of the community is half and half--fauns and centaurs, but there's a few odd characters: Flanagan, the shapeshifting phooka, who's been around for over seven hundred years and hasn't matured a bit in that time; Ivy, a human girl who wandered into the society and decided to stay; Will and Mag, two winged people (married); and a lake serpent named Lulu. 
Now every cast of good guys needs suitable bad guys. I've brought in some creatures from myths all around the world to act as the arch-nemesis of this raggle-taggle band of characters. We have the naga--snake men from Hindu mythology (generally low-intelligence, but armored by hard plates of scales and equipped with a venom-secreting tail); Greek harpies (giant, hag-faced vultures, in this case with poisonous claws as well); and of course the supreme evil masterminds, the demons (shapeshifters like Flanagan, but not limited to a set amount of shapes). 
This set is sort of my idea test course. If I like a concept, I run it through these people and see how it works. Chances are, characters in this group will have personalities similar to those in the book I'm writing (personalities range everywhere from mild and timid to wildly obnoxious), and I'll be able to figure out how someone will react to a situation. 
One day, I imagine all these people and ideas will eventually come together into one huge, fantastic story that will basically epitomize my writing career (though I wouldn't stop trying to best my latest work). In the meantime, I leave you to ponder the snippets that I offer, and to wonder....

Washington D.C

As some may know, the Spring Valley high school band recently went on a trip to our nation's capital. We've been practicing various patriotic songs and marches over the course of the past few months, and our plan was to play at the steps of the Lincoln memorial. Over the course of the trip, myself and everyone else found ourselves gazing at some of the most interesting and historic sites in the country, brushing elbows with an incredibly diverse rage of people from various countries around the world, and becoming so sleep-deprived that it's not even funny any more.
From start to finish, here's the story....

....March 23rd, 2013--Day 1

Tensions were high at the start of the trip, as can be expected. Chaperones were beginning to realize just how much work was cut out for them to keep twenty-odd restless teenage kids together, and it was dawning on all of us that we were going to be a long way from home for a long time. The bus was a little late, but the loading process was about as streamlined it could be under circumstances, and soon we were on our way.




Night one we spent on the bus. Most people slept upright in their seats. I, personally, am incapable of sleeping upright. There's always some part of me pressing harder against the seat than the rest, and so I end up with weird cramps and numb spots. I eventually moved to the floor, and spent the night rolling around amongst our luggage and banging my head against the underside of the seat. Needless to say, I got very little sleep.

March 24th--Day 2
We drove most of the day, and I lost count of how many states we passed through. Eventually, we ended up in Pennsylvania, where we stopped at Gettysburg and took a tour of the battlefield. The tour guide was interesting; he talked loudly and animatedly, and he had a tendency to mumble-chuckle at his own jokes every once in a while. After the tour, we ate at General Pickett's Buffet (which was better than the name may suggest). We made it to the hotel around seven or eight o'clock, and I played a lively game of 'Splenda' (better known as 'spoons') with my roommates before eventually going to bed.

March 25th--Day 3
I was, until this day, unaware that one's feet could hurt so much.

The day started with a tour of Mt. Vernon. We walked through the house itself (which felt odd--I felt as if I was intruding on someone's home without their permission), and then were given free reign to wander around the estate. The local flora was interesting--I noted the usual maples and oaks, but also sycamores, holly, and magnolias, which you don't see too much of in the midwest. There were interesting buildings and even some barns that were still in use, and I heard rumors that George's dentures were somewhere on display in the visitor's center.

Next on the itinerary was the Smithsonian, my personal favorite. We wandered through the American History museum, and saw Dorothy's shoes from The Wizard of Oz and Kermit the Frog. The rest of the day I spent in the Natural History museum with a fellow natural science nerd. There was everything there from ancient, fossilized mammal skeletons from the Pleistocene to a zoo full of insects and arthropods, and I even caught a passing glimpse of the Hope Diamond (there were so many people crowded around it, a glimpse was all you could ever get). For lunch, I had the most expensive apple and cookie I've ever eaten, and for supper, we went to Union Station.
Back at the hotel, we stayed up a little later than we should have building a fort out of the bed mattresses.

March 26th--Day 4
My memory of the chronological order of this day is mixed up, because I wrote it a day late and the itinerary was switched around due to weather.
To the best of my knowledge, we started out the day at Arlington cemetery, where we witnessed the changing of the guard ceremony and saw the Eternal Flame and the Kennedy burial spot. The Lincoln memorial was next, where we played our songs (despite the attempts by the wind to send our music spinning off into the reflecting pool), and then walked around the park that surrounded the memorial and saw the Vietnam wall. Next was the Iwo Jima memorial and the statue of the six soldiers raising the American flag. According to our guide, one of them was actually from Antigo, Wisconsin, though I couldn't quite figure out which. Lunch was at a renovated Post Office that had been turned into a mall, where we ate some blessedly reasonably-priced food and were ushered into various souvenir stands by some of the pushiest vendors I've ever come across.
We ended the day at the Toby's dinner theater, where we saw a very well-done production of Fiddler on the Roof. The food was good, the actors surprisingly similar to those in the movie, and I even had a chance to leave behind a napkin with my blog address and a myriad of doodles (If you found it, tell me!). By the time we got home, it was 11:54, and I could barely walk, let alone think.

March 27th--Day 5
This was the last day in the hotel, and subsequently the last chance I had of getting any decent sleep. We hurriedly packed in the morning and did a quick sweep of the hotel room, and then loaded up everything onto the bus once more and set off for our last day of touring. We went back to the Smithsonian first, and I went off with the group that went to the National Archives. We arrived a half hour before the place even opened, and even so, the line extended half a block around the building. It grew even longer as the day went on. Once inside, we saw the Bill of Rights, Constitution, Declaration of Independence, and even the Magna Carta, among other things. One thing I found interesting was the speech that was written during the Apollo missions as backup in case they didn't come back....
We trudged on to the Air and Space museum next, and saw a few of the major items like the Wright Flyer and Amelia Earhart's plane. Regrettably, we couldn't stay long, because we were running short on time and we hadn't yet gotten a close look at the Capitol building. We did a quick walk around the perimeter, and observed the various protests going on at the steps. After loading up the bus again, we went, in quick sequence, to the White House, Jefferson Memorial, Franklin Roosevelt Memorial, and Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial. By that point, I was once again dead on my feet, and grateful when we finally got on the bus again and headed home.

The rest is pretty uninteresting--another night sleeping on the floor of the bus, a relieved homecoming, and finally sleeping in my own bed for the first time in five days. In short, it was a great trip, but man am I glad to be back. My congratulations and thanks to Ms Donna Dawson (the band director), for putting together yet another successful band trip and for putting up with us for five whole days.

Journals

I've decided to post a day early, seeing as how there appears to be some upcoming circumstances that might prevent me from posting during my usual time (Namely, that I'm going to be in Washington D.C for a week on a band trip. My next post will be an account of that adventure). Otherwise, things will be progressing according to schedule--the next chapter of Centaur Ranch is up, and I encourage you to read and offer comments on it.

For this week, I've decided to post something that I've been working on for so long, it doesn't even register as a project in my mind--my journals. Those who know me well are probably accustomed to the presence of one or more journals that I always carry around. Sometimes, they'll see me writing in them, other times consulting in them, and people will ask me if they're diaries. Yes, in a way.
I keep idea journals. They aren't accounts of my day-to-day activities. Rather, they're accounts of what's going on in my brain. I write down words or facts that strike me as interesting, random phrases that pop into my head, or even entire short stories or snippets of dialogue from full books. I make a point of never writing down full-length novels in them. I prefer them to be a jumble of ideas, both in writing and as drawings, that I can look back on later and use in other full books. A typical page may look something like this:

 The drawings aren't my best, and there's scribbles and corrections galore in the writing, but as a whole, I regard the journals as works of art.

                

                         So far, I've managed to fill two....

...And I have a third in reserve.

I owe my thanks to my cousin, for giving me the green one for Christmas two years ago, and to Poetic Earth Handcrafted Journals, from whom I bought the red and yellow journals at an art fair. My intention is to someday present these various sources with the filled journals, and declare to them, "Here. I fixed it."

Creature from the Past

Here's another short story, written after watching video footage of a huge chunk of glacier calving off its parent and tumbling into the sea. At points, it looked to me like some huge creature breaching the water and then sinking back under the waves. I simply illustrated it literally for this story, and then let the story take me where it would...

 

Creature from the Past

            The creature breached the surface of the water with a terrific rush of water. Its humped black back appeared out of the white crests of foam, the ancient skin lined with white scars from great battles past and encrusted with barnacles. A single eye appeared—surprisingly small for something so huge—,its surface a deep gold with copper flecks. It watched the sailors as its head surged into the open air and a spray of mist shot into the air from its blowhole. It heaved a great breath into its lungs—lungs so huge, a single gulp of air could last it for millennia—the noise a deep, rumbling moan that sent deep shock waves rippling through the ocean and made the seabed tremble thousands of feet below the water’s surface.

            The sailors watched the creature with a deep sense of awe, even as they knew that it was the last thing they would ever see. One of them had a photo of his wife in his hand. Another thought of a bar tab he’d left unpaid at a pub back on shore. The captain simply touched his fingers lightly to the railing of his beloved ship. They all watched in silence as the beast finished drawing in a lungful of air, and they watched as it slowly sank back beneath the waves.

            Like a sinking island, the monster’s back plunged back into the depths of the ocean, the foaming whitecaps closing over its black hide and swirling downward with the creature’s body in a powerful whirlpool. The little fishing ship and its twelve occupants were caught in the current, and were swept inwards and downwards after the great beast of the sea like a leaf being swept away by a stream. The hull dipped when they reached the center, and the rest of the ship shortly followed. When the water finally closed over the stern of the ship and the last bit of driftwood was sucked downward into the whirlpool, the waves surged back up and slowly settled, leaving little more than a few bubbles and a lonely seagull to tell the tale.

            Once more, the great kraken slept, and with it, all those who might of spoken of its return to the surface.

THE END

As usual, the next chapter of Centaur Ranch is up. To anyone who's picking it up right in the middle , I advise you to find the e-book on lulu.com and read the whole thing from start to finish.

A Chair Named Balthazar...

"You may not want to sit in Balthazar, dear," Aunt Beatrice said. "He doesn't like strangers."
Milly stopped and stared at the chair.
"You named it?" she asked incredulously.
"Him, dear," Aunt Beatrice corrected. "And of course I named him. You named your dog Goldie, didn't you?"
"But Goldie's alive," Milly argued.
"So is Balthazar."
As if in agreement, the old armchair gave a soft, creaking mutter, and flexed its curled armrests like hands. The claw-carved feet underneath it bent in a way that wood shouldn't have been able to, and the entire chair shuffled sideways a little so that it was clear to Milly that it wasn't going to let her sit in it. Balthazar sidled across the woven carpet to the other side of the room, and eventually settled near the edge of the couch, where Aunt Beatrice could reach it from where she was sitting. She smiled and gave it an absent pat on the armrest without looking up from her book.
Milly sighed and sat down in a metal folding chair.


I admit it--I was bored when I wrote this. At least I wasn't trying to sleep, and it wasn't 2:00 in the morning when I got the idea.

New Drawing

My apologies for the late posting. I spent the weekend in Milwaukee with the school ocean science club, silently going insane while attempting to wrap my head around the questions being asked at the state competition (our team won, by the way). The trip lasted all weekend, and even though I wasn't actually competing myself, I was beat by the time I got back.

In the meantime, I offer up for your consideration the diopteron:

 

"The diopterons were not a species to be taken lightly. Many people had an innate fear of the mammoth, bearlike creatures, and as well they did. The breed was only slightly removed from their wild cousins, the tanterons--the wild cat-beasts of the forest. A lot of the natural instincts involving ripping the limbs off anything that threatened them were left in the domesticated species. That was part of the reason the troupe had chosen one to pull their wagon instead of horses."

The diopterons will be pack animals in a new world that I'm in the process of creating. They're huge, temperamental and highly intelligent animals that have evolved without eyes. The circus troupe upon which the story will focus will use one as a draft animal to pull their cart, mostly to fend off thieves and offer protection when sheltering in the wilds. There will be a lot of other huge creatures in this world--mostly mammals, after the Pleistocene era--along with other interesting phenomena such as seasonal fire storms and immortal prophets. I don't have all the details down quite yet, so I won't spoil too much more. 

Otherwise, the next chapter of Centaur Ranch is up. Diddle's off to rescue his friend from the clutches of the Shreeks, a band of huge, white, blind lizard creatures that raided the ranch. If you haven't read the first chapters of the book, the e-book is on sale at lulu.com. Search keywords are "Centaur, Centaur Ranch, and Diddle."