Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Allow me to preface this post with the following words: If you have a weak stomach, you probably shouldn't read this. ----------------- Having an animal-lover for a child means I'm learning far more about animal behavior than I care to know. For example, just recently, my daughter informed me that naked mole rats like to roll around in their own urine; grasshoppers spit brown goo when they are nervous and owls - after eating small mammals whole - regurgitate the indigestible parts in the form of pellets. Like so. Yeah. Raising children is disgusting. Almost as disgusting as owls. Especially when they come to you, with their little voices and sweet faces - wooden spoon in hand - asking, "Mom, can you help me make Owl Puke Balls?" You say yes to the owl barf because frankly, you are far too intrigued (and exhausted) to say no. To make your own, you will need a small rodent. And, an owl. Or, you can substitute the following i

The product description read: Witness one of nature's most spectacular transformations - up close - with a reusable, collapsible habitat. Totally appealing, no? When I saw the live butterfly garden advertised online, I became restless. Against my better judgement, I knew I had to get one for my insect-obsessed 6 year old. I mean, the kit promised an easy-to-use feeder and complete instructions. And butterfly larvae with food shipped directly to my home. There was no way this wasn’t happening. Despite my aversion to having bugs in the house, I placed my order and – as is typical in my area – I requested it be shipped to a drop-off location on the USA side of the border so I could pop across, pick it up and bring the parcel home. Now before I continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear… I am a law-abiding citizen. For the most part. I drive below the speed limit. I almost always tell the supermarket cashier if she accidentally rings my apples in at the regul