Nycticorax
The latest legendary creature to get a mention in The Griffin’s Boy, which I just sent off to my editor…the nycticorax. A crow-like bird supposed to be an ill omen and a natural enemy of the pelican, although I think the poor thing is probably just misunderstood.
The Latin name of the unlegendary night heron is Nycticorax nycticorax, and they do have eyes that glow an unnerving red at night…I can see why people might be a tad jumpy about them.
Read MoreLeap!
Today does not feel like a real day to me. Shouldn’t we all just have the day off? How can anybody expect real work to get done on a day that doesn’t actually exist?
So instead of a post about books or writing or nifty magical creatures (next week, the nycticorax!) I thought I would mention a few interesting facts about Leap Day.
Why is Leap Day in February? Because in the original Roman calendar, the year began in March. Said year only lasted for ten months and did not include winter, because “people didn’t work then.” I am entranced by this idea of two months just not existing–sort of an enforced winter vacation, I guess?
By the 7th century BC, people had noticed that, even if farm work was slack in the winter, time was in fact passing. Two new months (Ianuarius and Februarius) were added to the calendar.
Then along came Julius Caesar, who announced (when you are an all-powerful divine emperor, you can just say stuff and wham! It’s true!) that a year was 365 days and 6 hours along, and every fourth year you get an additional day on the end of Februarius to use up those stray six hours. He also made the year start on the first of Ianuarius, and decreed that people had to abide by his new calendar (and, you know, worship him as a god and all) after a 445-day stretch to get everybody all caught up, called the ultimus annus confusionis or “final year of confusion.” All seemed well…
But wait! Caesar was off by 12 minutes. The year is actually 365 days, 5 hours, and 48 minutes long. By the 1500s, the calendar year was out of whack with the solar year again, and Pope Gregory had to step in with the Gregorian calendar. This keeps leap years every 4 years except for centennials (years with two 00s, like 1900) except for centennials divisible by 400 (like 1600.)
And that is why today is not real.
Sources: Time Magazine, “Who Decided February 29 Was Leap Day?” by Chad de Guzman
CBS News, “What is a leap year, and why do they happen? Everything to know about Leap Day”
Save the…Rhinoceroses
Have I mentioned that Save the…Rhinoceroses is on sale? Can’t remember if I gave this one a shout-out on its pub date!
And did you know that a contented rhino makes a sound like mmm-wonk? This is my favorite rhino fact.
(I lobbied for “rhinos” instead of “rhinoceroses” in the title but got overruled by somebody at the publisher. Shame. Once you start saying “rhinoceroses” it’s really, really hard to stop.)
Poets? Poet’s? Poets’?
So I gather there are some questions about Taylor Swift, poets, and apostrophes.
Should it be The Tortured Poet’s Department? That would be correct if there is only one tortured poet in residence. Perhaps it’s a very small college.
Should it be The Tortured Poets’ Department? That would be correct if there is more than one tortured poet present. A seminar, maybe.
Should it be The Tortured Poets Department, as on the album cover? This is quite correct also, just as long as there is, again, more than one tortured poet. In this case, instead of a department belonging to tortured poets, it’s a department of or pertaining to tortured poets–kind of like the housewares department is not a department that belongs to housewares, but a department where housewares are relevant.
(There’s an argument for The Tortured-Poets Department, but honestly, it just looks clunky and awkward.)
Should it be The Department of Tortured Poets so that we don’t have to have this conversation anymore? I vote for this. When in a total grammatical quandary, rephrase!
Sarah L. Thomson
A children’s book author publishing award-winning nonfiction, poetry, picture books and novels including…
“Readers will treasure the blossoming friendship between opposites in this whimsically illustrated tale. Short chapters and plenty of action make for an accessible and appealing reading experience. . . . Touching and inspiring.”
—Kirkus Reviews