I found a commune of funnel web spiders in Kikuka this weekend, when exploring a huge rock outcropping in the hills. The spiders reminded me of the ones in the Hobbit, and I imagined hundreds of tiny, hungry eyes watching, evaluating me, patiently waiting.

But these spiders were cool. There were tons of mosquitoes out, and I took satisfaction in knowing that many would be doomed to stumble into the complex of webs, their futile struggles transmitted down the gossamer strands, the vibrations transformed into impulses sparking across synapses of the arachnid, triggering a tiger-like pounce, mandibles of death injecting an acid as corrosive as the blood of a Giger Alien. Haha, game over man! Burn, you miserable mosquito. Burn.

This weekend, while chilling at Joe's I was laying on the tatami when I felt something crawling next to me. I ignored it until it happened again, and was scared shitless when I saw a three inch long centipede on my arm. I flung it off, and Joe proceeded to douse it for a full minute with insecticide spray, as it writhed and whipped and jumped around in agony. I'm just glad I didn't get bitten by the bastard. I like looking at the suckers, but I HATE it when they touch me!

This is an akaushi (aka means red, and ushi is cow, as opposed to the *shooting from the hip* holstein in Justin's picture) that I stumbled upon while driving the 40 into Ichinomiya. It's interesting to see how people take care of their crops and livestock. It seems to me that the richer the rancher, the less attention each animal gets. The real small scale farmers treat each plant and animal with great importance, I suppose, because losing one cow could mean the only cow that they own.

Ubuyama is now famous for their beef and, to a lesser degree, dairy products. The akaushi is truly a delicious variety, and fat is evenly distributed through out the meat. My village serves a really expensive cut of this beef in an interesting way. They take a huge, prime slab and cut off slices as it grills, reminiscent of kabob but much thicker.

One thing that I don't understand is why no one around here can appreciate a good thick steak, pot roast, or juicy cut of prime rib. They prefer to eat it cut up into small cuts known simply as yakiniku. Since these slices of meat are so thin (usually about 4mm thick), you can't really eat them rare. They cook too fast for that, but yakiniku is certainly delicious. You can treat yourself to a steak in Ubuyama up around Hokubu, however a steak dinner will set you back no less than 3,000 yen. I have only gone once and it was worth it, but I that was a one time deal. The proprietor sent me home with a block of tofu, some tomatoes, and let me take home some tsukemono- they have 27 different types that are available to try!

So what happens when I look upon the face of my dinner as it is still a living, breathing creature of God? My stomach rumbles, and I think "damn, that akaushi looks really delicious". It is interesting to note that I had the opposite reaction looking at, and more importantly smelling, the cattle of Harris ranch in Central California.

Hahaha, it will be interesting to see if anyone is disapppointed by this post due to the misleading title. I think that these blue worms are a likely source of inspiration for those, uh... creative cartoon monsters, but on to the monster annelids.

It is inevitable that on a nature hike with kids at English camp, the boys come across one of these shockingly blue iradescent nightcrawlers (mimizu in Japanese). They are then obliged to chase girls around with it, to use it as a whip on eachother (hee-yah! whoopshhhh! Oh wait, no, thats what an American kid would say...), and finally to throw it in the face of one of the counselors. No it wasn't me. If it were my face, I would have made the little bastards eat it while teaching the others to sing "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I think I'll eat some worms".

These things are just nasty looking and big (about 3/4 of a foot- yes! I thought I forgot all about the standard measurement system after moving to Japan...). They move in an oozing manner, stretching out, and then scrunching their bodies forward among the humus and leaf litter. I have a feeling that they have few natural predators because they taste nasty or are poisonous. A hunk of easy to catch, brightly colored protein doesn't tend to last long in the forest.