When rebels and militants took over Timbuktu in 2012, the world nearly saw a repeat of the tragedy of the Library of Alexandria: hundreds of thousands of priceless medieval manuscripts were in peril in the occupied city. Under the eye of militants intent on destroying the centuries of Sufi scholarship contained in Timbuktu’s libraries, mausoleums, and mosques, a courageous group of Malinese set out to protect the books.
Continue reading “Rescue Operations: the Libraries of Timbuktu”
Between our beach and the one attached to the cottage next door is a shrubby bank that slides steeply down to the water, where fallen logs, overhanging branches, and trapped driftwood create a small warren for another, mostly unseen neighbor. Occasionally I’ve spotted a small dark head plowing through the water, and the glean of a wet back, or a quick splash as the muskrat slips off a log into the lake. Fortunately, this Rat doesn’t seem to like messing about in boats; our sailboat is pulled ashore just next to this little wooded area, and it would be an interesting experience to find a stowaway half-way out into the lake.
This fall, while I walking on the beach (with a dauntless dog that quite enjoyed the cold water), I found something besides seaglass or shells – a matched set of jawbone halves washed up on the shore. They were washed clean, and clearly rodent, with large pointed front teeth and the flat molars of an herbivore. The large separation between the front incisors and the cheek teeth is called a “diastema;” the remaining incisor has the characteristic orange tint of rodents. Given the size of the bones and the location, they are likely from a muskrat; a squirrel or rat would be smaller, a beaver larger. I hope it isn’t our neighbor; I’ll be keeping a look out in the spring. In the meantime, Ondatra makes for excellent sketchbook fodder.