Three things from DAH. Free every Friday!
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DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. Would that I had the talent of an animalier.

First up this week, Pollywogs … 
When I was very young, and my father taught at Stanford, Mum would take us on campus to "hunt" pollywogs (tadpoles) … the objective was to catch a few, care for them, and watch them grow into frogs. After which we went back to where they were caught to free them. I recall the "hunting" more clearly than the "freeing." They were so wriggly in the water, and quite easy for a small boy to catch using a modest net. Mum supervised care, so risk of neglect was minimal. A fun a wriggly sunny-day memory from long ago. Plus, the word "pollywog" is funny.

Second up this week, Penguins …  
"I find Penguins at present the only comfort in life. One feels everything in the world so sympathetically ridiculous, one can't be angry when one looks at a Penguin." (John Ruskin, Letter to C. E. Norton, 4th Nov 1860, repurposed by DAH from Letters of Note). I learned about penguins, before video, from the children's book Mr. Popper's Penguins (by Florence and Richard Atwater). I also read mostly Penguin-published books growing up, because that's what my parents had. I was allowed to read those soft-cover books but was steered away from hardcover (my parents had quite a library). Fear of childish damage, I expect (I do recalI learning about book repair as a boy, too). I still read Penguin books. Both they and the birds continue to inform and entertain.

Third up this week, Puffins …  
"Generally speaking, penguins are larger than puffins. The smallest species of penguin, the fairy blue, measures about 12 inches tall and the tallest species, the emperor penguin, can grow to be 4 feet tall. Puffins range in size from about 8 inches tall—the horned and Atlantic puffins—to 15 inches in height" (from aqua.org). I didn't even know that Puffin-published books existed. My first real awareness of puffins was the ubiquitous "No Puffin" sign in restaurants. As a boy I was also fascinated by Harris Tweed (handwoven by islanders at their homes in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland) … my grandfather wore Harris Tweed and I longed to have some of my own. And the Outer Hebrides has puffins! Perfect. I'm wearing a Harris Tweed cap as I key this in.
A new mystery book of interest … 
Blue Water, by Leonora Nattrass
Set in 1794, on a ship, with national fortunes in the balance. I've just started it. From The Guardian: "Intrigue, tension, memorable characters and shipboard life depicted in all its reeking authenticity add up to a truly gripping read" (14 Oct 2022)

And a bit more:

Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …  

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.