Damn you Rumford

When will I have the pleasure of Google searching my name without having the dastardly Count of Rumford come up.  What could he have done that was so important.  Surely discovering that heat is a form of energy pales in comparison with my blogging virtuosity.  Surely this long dead scientist hadn't nearly the command over hyperbole that I do.  Alas, he commands multiple pages of Google hits.  Now if you type in Ahreum Han you might get my blog, but not when you type in Benjamin Thompson or even Song of the Spheres.

 

Once more into the breach,

 

Ben

Bloody Carnage

Lennox, one of the two cats in my lodging in Exeter is a prodigious hunter.  Hardly a week goes by when he doesn't manage to nab a mouse, vole, or some other rodent.  Recently birds are increasingly on his hit list.

Today he must have raided a nest because he brought in a nice baby bird.  He has been toying with it for about 20 minutes now.  I've never watched a cat manhandle a bird before, at least not in person.  Quite a sight.

So while nature takes its course, I'm going to bed.  If I'm first up in the morning, I'll have some feathers to collect.

Once more into the breach,

Ben