lurk |lərk|
verb [ intrans. ]
(of a person or animal) be or remain hidden so as to wait in ambush for someone or something : a ruthless killer still lurked in the darkness.
• (of an unpleasant quality) be present in a latent or barely discernible state, although still presenting a threat : fear lurks beneath the surface.
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I think the dictionary's definition pretty much says it all…except for a maybe few provenance details re. each image.
The shot of the lurking crab spider was made a week or so ago in my backyard patch of purple coneflowers. To my mind, the sneaky arachnid appears to be assessing the odds of perpetrating a successful malevolent act upon the unidentified skipper.
The snap of the equally sinister and scheming soft-shelled turtle came from the pool in front of the cottage two days ago. This cunning predator lurks both deep and shallow—directly on bottom in a good imitation of an alge-green stone, and cruising just under the surface, like Bruce-the-shark in Jaws. Here, it's grab a gulp of air and a quick up-periscope look to see if there might be a tasty duckling paddling about in unsuspecting bliss nearby.
14 comments:
Yes, I'm afraid we have plenty of lurkers too Grizz - all part of nature's rich pattern I suppose.
Weaver…
It's indeed a jungle out there…eat or get eaten. Beware the lurkers!
HI GRIZZ - I love all the images of lurking you have photographed and suggested. May I add - we have a black bear lurking about - he or she actually made the newspaper police log as one that was seen lurking in the dumpster about 1500 feet from my house - and again in the adjacent woods. Also lurking in trees are the very noisy fisher-cats - scary creatures that scream and screech ....so ya, lurking is a good word to ponder and image.
Love Gail
peace
moving thru the days in a sort of teary and deep breathing twilighjt zone....
I hadnt noticed the spider until you wrote about it.
Wasnt sure if your definition of a lurker was meant for those of us who 'lurk' on blogs!
Gail…
Wow! I knew you had bears, but fishers? That's way cool! Course that ol' bear is a big, serious lurker. And not to be taken lightly. I've had the wits scared out of me a on more than one occasion by bears. You meet a big black bear at ten feet away, long after midnight, when you're all alone in the woods, miles from the truck, and armed with a fly rod—you'd be purely amazed how hard and fast your heart can pump. Just be watchful and cautious, and you're not likely to have any sort of problem.
In time, the numbness will fade, the tears will lessen. The loss will always be there, but you'll gain perspective, able to define things in terms of all the good history, the memories and laughter, instead of only the last moments. But it takes time, and the healing will, in a way, always be incomplete. But bearable. Just hang in there.
Penny…
That white spider was doing its very best at being invisible against a magenta bloom—which on the face of it, doesn't sound like it could possibly work. But see, if you were the size of that little butterfly, you might have blundered into trouble.
Blog lurkers are a valid part of the definition. I just didn't include them in the post because then I would have had to have a photo of some goofy ol' geezer staring at his computer screen, reading blogs, and not commenting. (Huh. I do believe I resemble that remark.)
I also thought what is he talking about?couldn't see the crab spider-why is there a negative put on internet lurkers?we all don't need or want to put out a voice to the world.
AfromTO said...
I learned a long time ago that folks generally look without seeing when it comes to details. It still amazes me when I take friends out in the woods and fields, lead hikes as a volunteer with nature centers and park districts, or do group nature photo sessions, that most people invariably miss all the really neat and interesting minutiae along the trail. From the time I was little, my father—who had the greatest eyesight I've known in anyone, truly exceptional—taught and continually reiterated "don't just look, Sonny…see!" That crab spider popped out to me at first glance—and honestly, I don't have all that good a pair of eyes. But just about everyone I've shown the pix to has missed the spider at first, which is why I mentioned it in the post.
As to why readers who follow a blog but never make their presence known are referred to as "lurkers," that's a modern application, obviously…and perhaps an ill-chosen use, considering the term's etymology. Though even historically, "lurk" didn't always imply a negative, any more than to say someone is "hidden" or "hiding out" does. There's a Burns poem I like which has a line that goes, if memory serves, "Where the bluebell and gowan lurk lowly unseen." Not much negative there.
I expect all bloggers are lurkers to some degree. I read way more blogs than I regularly comment on—and several I'd count among my very favorites. But I often feel guilty about being a chronic lurker, and for what it's worth, here's why: (And please, please, please! know this applies only to how I feel, personally, about this behavior for me—not how everyone should feel. Truth is, I'm perfectly happy that maybe three-quarters of those who read this blog are lurkers. I'm happy they visit, and they need never feel or think otherwise.) Anyway…I feel bad sometimes because I think, ideally, a blog is first of all less formal than a written article or essay—which should be all polished and as professional as you can manage—and that being more informal, a post is almost a talking point for a texted conversation. This fairly immediate exchange between blog host and reader is what makes blogging fun and interesting…and that being the case, I always feel like I'm not holding up my part if I don't speak. Like sitting around a campfire and not joining in on the talk, stories, and banter. But…again, that's just my doubtless goofy existential muddlings. Here at Riverdaze, LURKERS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!
I love lurking-on an evening drive in a split second you get a flash in a window of warm glow and a snapshot of people reading or around a diner table-then gone-all very saturday evening post.
AfromTO…
A a latter-day Norman Rockwell moment while automotively lurking! Love it!
Okay. What in Hell is a fisher-cat and why have I never heard of it? And why is having them 'way cool'?
Looked it up and actually saw a video. Looked rather cute.... though photos of it barring it's teeth aren't pretty.
Awaiting your informative reply. ")
Robin…
Fishers are members of the Mustelidae family, which includes weasels, ferrets, mink, martins, otters, badgers, and wolverine, among their widespread clan—the largest of any group of carnivores. They are mostly beautiful and always interesting to watch animals. Fast. Playful. Martins, weasels, mink, ermine, otters, and fishers are particularly sinuous in their movements, like furry living liquid, "flowing" over rocks and logs, in and out of holes and nooks. And in credible hunters. Several times I've watched a mink outswim and catch a trout in a pool…an incredible feat! Fishers and martins can chase down squirrels in trees! Fishers are therefore "way cool" because while we have weasels, mink, otters, and a few badgers here in Ohio to provide me an occasional sighting, I've only seen martins in northern Michigan and Canada, and have NEVER seen a fisher in the wild—a life deficit for which I'm sorely ashamed.
"Fisher Cat" is merely a regional (mostly a few parts of New England) name. Fishers are in no way related to cats—felines—though they do look a bit catlike in their face, head shape, and small ears. It's easy to see how they got tagged. They are famous for their weird screams in the night—and doubtless account for a share of the "ghost" and "monster" frights and subsequent I-swear-it's-the-truth tales told afterwards.
As to why you've never heard of them…well, huh, that's just because, unlike me, you probably didn't grow up in a household where a fourth the books, most of the magazines, a third of the conversation, and half the television programs watched were about animals and the outdoors. On the other hand, I didn't learn what a carburator was until my mid-teens. Education and upbringing shapes us all. ;-D
How I've missed your wonderful way with words my friend. :c)
Jayne…
Great to have you back! I saw your post this morning on my iPod and intended to comment as soo as I got to my desk. You've beat me to the punch. I'm delighted you've chosen to revisit blogland, and certainly Riverdaze. I hope you do so regularly—though I understand the need to get away. Just know, you're always welcome, and your lovely spirit and posts have been missed.
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