「NOVA」を含む日記

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Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.

We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”

The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.

We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.

We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.

The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.

When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.

However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.

Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.

“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.

I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.

As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.

Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.

Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.

“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”

“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”

“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.

Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”

There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.

(27)

One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.

The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”

The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”

Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.

Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.

I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.

She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.

Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.

I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.

After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”

Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.

“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”

I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?

(30)

I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.

In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.

I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.

“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”

“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”

He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.

My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.

I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.

(32)

I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.

No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l

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■anond:20231230192106

🐰「NOVAウサギなんだろさっ」ﾋﾟｮﾝｯ

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■anond:20231227115951

﹁ビジネス英語やNOVAで英会話勉強しても論文読めるようにならないよ﹂ってなこと言ってると思うんだけど、これって普通だよね。
英語で論文や文学読む層ってそもそもそういった勉強してきてるし、日本人だってネイティブだからといって偏差値40の高校生とかは論文も文学も読めないやつばっかりだと思うんだよね。
まともな大学で論文読んだり研究したりするやつってそれまでに﹁論文を読むための下地作りが必要だし、それは英語を勉強する場合でも言えると思うよ。
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■anond:20231208040757

ネックスピーカーは新調しなくていいから、1万前後の有線のインイヤーモニター(IEM)を買うことを勧める。
それで聴く音楽は当然として、バイノーラル録音の同人音声は迫力が違う。
素性の良い万能的な機種としては、俺の推薦はTKZK Ouranosだが、Amazonだとボッタ業者がいるし現在入荷待ちなので注意。
これは7千円台だが、半額しか出せないのなら3千円のTANGZU Wan’er S.G、逆に3万円出せるならSIMGOT EA1000が良い。
新作すぎてレビューがどこにも出回ってないが、最近ヒット作を連発しているKiwi EarsからFortezaというのが8千円ほどで近日発売になっており、デザインがすこぶる良いので見た目買いするならコレも悪くない。
ただ、音声メインの人は基本的にマルチドライバ構成のものよりもダイナミックドライバ1基構成の方が良いとされている点だけ注意。
コスパ最重視の場合は、スペックと付属品の充実というマニア受けが主体ではあるが、今は4千円のTRN Conchが突出しているので、冬場は冷たい金属筐体などを気にしないのならばそれを選ぶのもアリ。まあ冷たいのは最初だけだが。
もし音楽リスニング重視でハイブリッド構成に興味があるなら、最近は1基のダイナミックドライバ＋4基のバランスド・アーマチュアを搭載した2万前後の中価格帯がアツい。
個人輸入前提になるが、Truthear NOVA、SoundRhyme SR5あたりが評判がよく優等生的なIEMとして挙げられる。国内で買えるものだとSIMGOT EM6Lあたり。
1年くらい前だとこの価格帯は平面駆動型が流行していて、LETSHUOER S12Proや武則天などが人気だった。
このドライバを積むと高域がきらびやかで詳細感がでやすい。こういうのも有線イヤホンの旨味。今でもコスパ的に選択肢になるだろう。
いや、もう3行目以降は個人的にまとめたくなっただけだから受け流してくれていいが。
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■【22時追記あり】「三体」が好きだった人にオススメしたいSF小説・前編

選抜条件

●自然科学、技術に対する信頼がある。
●宇宙の広大さ・希薄さに気が遠くなる。
●宇宙と比べた自分の一生や人類の歴史の短さに唖然となる。
●人類が地質学的時間の果てにヒトならざるものに進化・退化してしまう。
●何らかの形でエイリアン・地球外生命体と敵対する。
●政治的でない。あるいは、政治は扱われるがプロットの邪魔をしない、それどころか面白くしている。または、作者の主張が強くて作者の顔がはっきりと見えることがない。


上記の条件のうち、いくつかを満たしているものを作家ごとに紹介する。
作品のオチには触れないつもりだが、途中に何が出てくるかとかそういったレベルでは作品の内容に触れる。
記憶を頼りに書いているので誤っているかも。

グレッグ・イーガン

思い入れが多い。ただ、近年のイーガンの長編は自然科学の素養が無いと何を言っているかまったくわからない作品が多いので︵高校どころかひどいのになると大学院レベル︶、短篇集から入るのがオススメ。人類の寿命が実質無限大なので、天文観測のために2人きりで宇宙に出て平気で数万年かけて工事するなんてエピソードもあったりするんだけど、わかりやすい宇宙人ヤバい系だったら﹁ワンの絨毯﹂かな。この長編版の﹁ディアスポラ﹂は未読。イーガン大好きなんだけど、たまに作者の顔がちょっと透けちゃう。

アンディ・ウィアー

﹁火星の人﹂はなぜか﹁オデッセイ﹂の邦題で公開された映画の原作で、火星にたった一人取り残された男が持ち前のオプティミズムで生き延びていく話だ。不足する酸素を作り出し、糞便からジャガイモを育て、何とか地球とコンタクトを取り、必死で地球への帰還を目指す。コンタクトを取れた瞬間に希望が開けていく様子が素晴らしい。
気温の低い火星で暖を取る意外な方法に注目。
﹁プロジェクト・ヘイル・メアリー﹂は、基本的にネタバレなしで読んでほしい。冒頭は記憶喪失の人物が意識を取り戻したところから始まり、振り子の周期から重力加速度を割り出すことで自分は地球にいないことを悟る。そして、ご地球外のミッションに送り出された理由を思い出す︵ブクマの指摘でネタバレ削除︶。
仲間の二人が死んでミイラ化しているという絶望的な状況からスタート。この作品も、サイエンスに対する信頼が読んでいて楽しい。

上田早夕里

﹁オーシャンクロニクルシリーズ﹂がおすすめ。
近未来、スーパープルームで海面上昇と地殻変動が起こり、人口が減少した世界。日本列島もさらに小さな島嶼の群れになっている。この世界には現生人類に似た陸の民と、魚のような生き物と双子として生まれ、その魚を肉親・パートナーとして暮らす海の民がいる。短編も長編もあり、海の民と交渉する陸の民の物語もあれば、やがて次の訪れるであろう、人類滅亡クラスのさらに大きなスーパープルームから人類を何とか生き残らせようと健闘する人びとが主役の話もある。なんとか宇宙に進出するとか、人類を海に適応した海生生物にしてしまうとか、核融合炉で地下都市を建設するとか、その絶望的で悲痛な努力が胸を打つ。作品によっては﹁異形コレクション﹂にも収められている。ある意味では﹁日本沈没﹂の精神的な続編でもある。

デイヴィッド・ウェリントン

﹁最後の宇宙飛行士﹂は後述の﹁宇宙のランデブー﹂にプロットが似ていて、太陽系に未知の物体が侵入してくるんだけど、オウムアムアの正体に対する考察にもなっていて面白い。また、主役がどうしても宇宙に出たいんだけど、ミスで同僚を死なせてしまったがゆえに長らく宇宙とは無縁の生活を強いられているところからスタートする。挫折したヒーロー、いい意味で映画的で、リーダビリティが高い。ややホラー寄り。

H・G・ウエルズ

古典のはずなんだけど児童書をのぞいて意外と読めていないなって作家。なんだけど、自分は﹁タイム・マシン﹂という小説で﹁複数の種に分岐してしまう人類﹂﹁知性を失った人類の子孫﹂﹁太陽が死んで滅亡に瀕する地球﹂という趣味を開花させてしまった。そういう意味では自分の読書傾向に決定的な影響を与えたと言っていい。

円城塔

言語や数学をモチーフにした幾分難解な作品が多いのだが、最初の作品の1つである﹁Self Reference Engine﹂は少し肩の力を抜いて読める。舞台は現実改変能力を手に入れてしまったAIの発生により、無数のパラレルワールドに分裂してしまった宇宙で、AI同士が互いの存在を物理法則もろとも演算して書き換えようと争っている。壮大な世界観だが、22の断章の中ではシリアスありユーモアあり小噺あり抒情的短編ありと、何でもありだ。とにかく翻弄される人類がおかしい。

小川一水

この人は﹁天冥の標﹂で有名なんだけど、長すぎるし自分も未読だ。﹁老ヴォールの惑星﹂とか﹁フリーランチの時代﹂とか、短篇集も面白いのが多くて、特に﹁老ヴォールの惑星﹂はエイリアンの生態ものでは特に面白かった。上記の条件を満たす作品じゃないけど好き。

オキシタケヒコ

この人はどちらかと言えば﹁筺底のエルピス﹂で有名かもしれないけど、僕が好きなのは短編の連作集﹁What We Want﹂﹁平林君と魚の裔﹂﹁止まり木の暖簾﹂だ。これは銀河系が巨大な通商連盟に支配されているという設定で、アメリカは大統領の契約違反で国民ごとエイリアンに売り飛ばされている。主人公は必死になって地球に帰還した関西弁の日系アメリカ人。特に面白かったのが2作目の﹁平林君と魚の裔﹂で、この通商連盟の究極の目的が明らかになる。
問題なのは、この短篇集があちこちのアンソロジーでバラバラに収録されていることかな。せっかくなのでそれぞれ購入したうえで他の作品も読んで、お気に入りの作家を増やしてほしい。僕も河出書房の﹁NOVA﹂とか東京創元社の年間傑作選とかでお気に入りの日本人作家を増やした。後者は新人賞作品も載ってるしお得だよ。

A・C・クラーク

﹁幼年期の終わり﹂については一度ここに書いたけど、人間が進化していって人間の形を失っていく未来が好きだ。それでも残る人間らしさとは何だろうか。共感だろうか、知識だろうか、はたまた血縁だろうか。
﹁2001年宇宙の旅﹂はキューブリックの映画で有名で、﹁ツァラトゥストラかく語りき﹂のパロディが笑えるほど量産されているんだけど、これもまた人類の進化を扱った作品なのでオススメというか、進化ものでは避けて通れない作品。悪役である人工知能HAL9000がなぜ狂ったのかは﹁2010年﹂で明かされるんだけど、理由がわかるとちょっとかわいそうになる。﹁3001年﹂は﹁ぼくのかんがえた最強の未来社会﹂っぽくてそういう楽しみがある。
あえて注意することとしたら、解説で紹介されているキューブリックの映画に関するブラッドベリとクラークの発言に現代の価値観では不穏当な個所があることかな。
あとは﹁宇宙のランデブー﹂。太陽系に侵入してきた物体を探査するという一直線のプロットなんだけど、とかく未知のものに触れる驚きがいい。人物描写が浅いと批判されるのもわかるんだけど、人類が訳の分からないものに触れて戸惑うのが好きなんだからしょうがない。
意外とクラークを読んでいないことに気づく。

小松左京

﹁果てしなき流れの果に﹂については前に書いたね。基本的の小松左京の作品の傾向は宇宙と人類と日本人の運命がテーマらしいので、﹁三体﹂が好きだった相性がよさそう。実は残念ながら長篇は﹁日本沈没﹂しか読めていない。と言うか三体は宇宙と人類と中国人の運命がテーマだよね。

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Permalink | 記事への反応(5) | 08:05 
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■[廃人日記] 2023-10-09-2

この日、英会話スクールNOVAの扉を再び叩き、再入会の申し込みを果たした。久しぶりのテストを受け、私のレベルは7.5であることが判明した。かつての私は8だった。その証拠か、私の言葉の嚢に穴が開いてしまったようだ。
しかし、一つの希望の星が輝いている。それはリスニングの向上である。普段から英語の世界に身を委ね、YouTubeの海を泳ぐことで、私の耳は徐々に磨かれているように思える。英語の響きが、私の耳に優しく届いている。
なぜ再びこの舞台に身を投じたのか、疑問が浮かぶかもしれない。私は孤独の中に身を置き、人との対話が希薄な日々に病魔が忍び寄ることを懸念したからだ。人と語り合うことで、心に明るい光が差すかもしれない。
理想的には、英語を磨き、プログラミングとの融合から生まれる仕事で、収入を高めたいと願う。しかしながら、今の仕事にも良さがある。短時間の労働なので、余暇を充実させる時間が持てる。現在、統合失調症の影に潜むため、仕事に執着する必要はない。余暇の過ごし方は慎重に選ばねばならない。しかし、私はコンテンツクリエイターとしての才能を欠いている。誰もが私の作品に興味を示すことはない。YouTubeで動画を制作しても、誰もがそれを見てくれるわけではない。私が手にできる唯一のフォーマットはブログだが、上級者向けのテーマは限られた関心しか引き寄せないことも理解している。そして、ブログで広告収入を得るためには、読者のリテラシーが低いことが難点である。その結果、稼げるブログは単なる脳死コンテンツに転落する。それは、怪しげなブログよりも、Bing AIの方がまだましである。ブログは、アクセスを追求するためのものではなく、私自身の心の中を整理し、廃人のような日記のように記録するためのものとして存在すべきではないか。
この廃人日記は、そのために存在する。しかし、私の内なる魂には、﹁意義あるものを創りたい﹂という渇望が渦巻いている。そして、その﹁意義あるもの﹂が何であるか、私には分からないのである。
hash: b130a2d093fd937b7cb7f88b6bca42b5
Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 20:05 
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■anond:20230722124431

社名変更して細々やるだろうな。一時期のnovaみたいに。

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 18:04

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■

入ろっか辞めよっか考え中

Novaしよっか辞めよっか

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 15:03

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■2021年に読んだ本