A Beaverkill bestiary.

Early on the first morning of our Memorial Day weekend visit to the Beaverkill Valley I spotted this white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) doe and fawn on the meadow behind the house.

As we were having breakfast, this eastern chipmunk (Tamias striatus) peeked over the back of a bench on the patio.

That evening I looked out a window and saw what may have been the same doe and fawn I had seen in the morning, in a meadow between the house and the road. I went out to the porch and took this photo. I tried to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible (I was using my 20X zoom at almost full power) but, as you can see, the doe spotted me. A few seconds after I took the photo, she bolted for nearby forest cover.

I walked softly out to near where the deer had been, and saw the fawn cowering in the cover of the tall grass. The following morning the fawn was gone; evidently the doe came to retrieve it under cover of darkness.

Walking around the pond behind the house, I noticed frequent small splashes at the water's edge as I approached. Looking into the pond, I saw what I've tentatively identified as a northern dusky salamander (Desmognathus fuscus).

A little farther along, I saw this tadpole (probably Rana sp.)

Finally, I spotted a full-grown frog, probably either a bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana) or green frog (Rana clamitans).

For birds, see my earlier post, "Birds of the Beaverkill".

Bloomsday bonus: John Huston's The Dead.

The Dead, based on James Joyce's concluding story in his anthology of early writings, Dubliners, was John Huston's last film. Huston's son, Tony, adapted it for the screen with advice from his father. The clip below shows the film's conclusion. Gabriel Conroy (Donal McCann) and his wife Gretta (Anjelica Huston) have returned from a party at which Gabriel learned that Gretta had a lover, Michael Furey, who died before Gabriel met her. The scene takes place in their bedroom. Gretta has collapsed on the bed, and sobs. When she falls asleep, Gabriel looks out the window as snow begins falling and muses on mortality; both Furey's and his.



What reminded me of the film The Dead, which I saw many years ago, was an e-mail from Patricia Harty responding to Dermot McEvoy's earlier e-mail that inspired my previous post. She provided a link to a piece from Irish America that includes an interview with Huston during the making of the film in 1987. Ms Harty also provided a link to a sound recording of Fionnula Flanagan reading "Counterparts," another story from Dubliners. Hear it here.

It's Bloomsday, so here's "River Liffey" from Jonathan Brielle's Himself and Nora

June 16 is called Bloomsday because it is the date on which James Joyce's Ulysses was set. The novel follows the actions and encounters of its protagonist, Leopold Bloom, on June 16, 1904. Today it is celebrated in Dublin, where the action in Ulysses takes place, as well as in New York and other cities.
  Thanks to Dermot McEvoy, in whose historical novel The Thirteenth Apostle I am now engrossed, who has provided me (and the rest of the alumni of Lion's Head University) with the above video of "River Liffey," the concluding number from Jonathan Brielle's musical Himself and Nora, "Himself" being Joyce and "Nora" being Nora Barnacle, his wife, with whom he had his first date on June 16, 1904.

Some odd observations about Cantor's loss.

There were a couple of things on the New York Times editorial pages for Thursday, June 12 that I found interesting concerning the outcome of the Virginia Republican Congressional primary that spelled the end of Eric Cantor's incumbency as House Majority Leader. One was a letter from Jonathan Ansell, of Henrico, Virginia, which I quote in full:

In Virginia, anyone can vote in primaries, regardless of party affiliation. I am a Democrat who lives in the Seventh District, and I voted for David Brat as an anti-Eric Cantor vote. I know there were many Democrats who did the same thing. I don't know if people like us swung the vote or not, but we're happy he's out.

Mr. Ansell seems content with the fact that Cantor has been punished; though he doesn't say so, he may believe that replacing Cantor with Brat, even though the latter is probably more intransigently reactionary, is a net gain. As another Times letter writer, Joan White, notes, "he will not have Mr. Cantor's power."

The conventional wisdom is that the Seventh District is so deeply Republican that Brat is all but assured of victory in the general election. Josh Israel in Think Progress believes the race is "potentially competitive", based on polling that suggests a majority of residents of the district hold views on subjects like immigration that are different than Mr. Brat's. Still, another bit of conventional wisdom is that, in midterm elections, voter turnout is usually low and dominated by the voters who are angriest with the incumbent administration. So, while an upset by Brat's Democratic opponent, Jack Trammell,* isn't inconceivable, it's a very long shot and would almost certainly require an Herculean get-out-the-vote effort by the Democrats.

But then, there's another intriguing bit of information I got from yesterday's Times op-ed column by Gail Collins, who often makes my day brighter.** It seems that Cantor's attack ads against Brat called him a "liberal college professor." As an adjective, "liberal" seems to stick to "college professor" the way that "devout" does to "Catholic," or "hero" does to "cop" if you're a headline writer for a New York tabloid. Still, Milton Friedman was a college professor (OK, maybe he was the exception that proves the rule, whatever that means.) And Brat a liberal? Well, before I give Cantor four Pinocchios, I have to remember that he can plead the truth of his characterization, if only by referring to a definition of "liberal" that was current in the nineteenth century. That definition drew upon the etymological root of "liberal" which is shared with "liberty." The project of the nineteenth century liberals was to achieve what has come to be called "negative liberty": the freedom to conduct one's trade and one's life unfettered by the arbitrary power of the monarchy or hereditary aristocracy. This classic liberalism comes close to what is today called libertarianism. In today's usage, "liberal" as a political descriptor has taken on a second meaning of "liberal" as used in non-political discourse: "generous" or "munificent." (Here some of my Republican friends will want to add, "...with the taxpayers' money!" That leads to an argument we can have later. I'm working on a post that discusses how the meaning of "conservative" has changed as much, if not more, than has that of "liberal.") Today's liberalism embraces what has come to be called "positive liberty," as well as recognizing what it believes to be necessary limits on negative liberty. For more of my views on this subject, see "Genghis Kahn: the first liberal?" Anyway, Collins's column had me wondering how many people voted for Brat thinking he really is a liberal, in the contemporary sense. Well, maybe some of those Democrats who crossed over to vote in the GOP primary did.

Brian Beuteler, in that reliable scourge of conventional wisdom The New Republic,*** writes that Cantor's loss is really no big deal.

I was amused to see Cantor, in the photo above, wearing a Spitzer tie. Someday the word will get out that it's the cravat of political calamity.
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*  Both Brat and Trammell are professors at Randolph-Macon College. Whatever happens in November, we know that Randy Mac will be represented in Congress.

**Consider this, from Collins's Cantor column:

[W]e really do not need the Republicans in the House to become even more paranoid about a primary from the right. They’ve been nervous for a long time, but this is a whole new scenario. It’s the difference between worrying about burglars and hearing that a gopher in your neighbor’s backyard suddenly grew to be 6 feet long, broke down the door and ate all the furniture.

***Reliable, that is, until you get comfortable with the notion that conventional wisdom is usually wrong. Then TNR publishes a piece by Franklin Foer with the title "In Defense of Conventional Wisdom."

Birds of the Beaverkill.

Walking around the grounds of the house where we spent Memorial Day weekend, I saw many kinds of birds. More often than not, my attempts to photograph them were frustrated by their flying off as I was lining up the shot and focusing. I was lucky to spot a female red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) perched on a branch.

Some distance away, I saw the more colorful male, from which the species takes its name.

From this angle I'm not able to identify this bird: possibly an American robin (Turdus migratorius), or a yellow-billed cuckoo (Coccyzus americanus), or something else. Perhaps someone more experienced in bird lore can help. Update:  John Hunt says it's a robin.

 This is certainly a robin.

I wasn't sure, but John Hunt tells me this is probably another female red wing.

These Canada geese (Branta canadensis) were in my earlier post, but they bear repeating here.

Shortly before our departure this blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata) alighted on the arm of a patio chair.

A few minutes later I got this photo of the jay in a more natural setting.

Dai Bosatsu Zendo

During our Memorial day weekend visit to the Beaverkill Valley our hostess suggested a tour of the International Dai Bosatsu Zendo Kongo-ji, located a few miles from the house where we were staying. She phoned, and was told we would be welcome. On a rainy afternoon we rode along a two lane road that followed the course of the Beaverkill for several miles, then turned off onto a narrower, rougher road. We were on this for some time and our hostess, who was driving, thought we had missed the entrance. A short way further we came to a large Japanese style arched entrance way spanning a two rut dirt road. If the approach to the entrance gate seemed long, the driveway seemed interminable. At last we saw a pond ahead of us, the road curved to the left, and on a hillside ahead was the monastery (photo above).

We went in, removed our shoes and, as instructed, rang the bong twice. Within moments we were greeted by a woman resident, who made us feel welcome and at ease. 

This magnificent Buddha figure sits in the hon-do, or main hall, on a dais flanked by paintings of guardians. Below are photographs of people who have been associated with the monastery. Immediately to the right of the small guardian figurine near the bottom right of the photo above is a photograph of the late Peter Matthiessen, writer, naturalist, frequent visitor to Dai Bosatsu Zendo, and uncle as well as namesake of Peter M. Wheelwright, author of As It Is On Earth.

This is the zen-do, the room in which residents and visitors practice zazen, or Zen meditation. Some use one cushion; others prefer two. 

Just beyond the zen-do there was a view from a window of a Japanese rock or dry garden, sometimes called a Zen garden.

What is Zen? It's easiest to say what it is not. It's not a religion. It is a practice involving disciplined meditation that is intended to lead to self realization. It is non-theistic, but neither atheistic nor anti-theistic. I have known Christians and Jews who practice Zen, including one who is both Roman Catholic and a Republican. 

On our way out, we stopped in the monastery's gift shop, and I bought a copy of Zen Flesh Zen Bones: A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings, compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki. The sixteenth of the "101 Zen Stories" that begin the book is about a student who visited the Zen master Gasan and asked if he had read the Christian Bible. Gasan said no, and asked the student to read to him.

The student opened the Bible and read from St. Matthew: "And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that even Solomon in his glory was not arrayed as one of these....Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself."

Gasan said: "Whoever uttered those words I consider an enlightened man."

While Zen is associated with Buddhism, its practitioners do not necessarily consider themselves Buddhists. According to the foreword to the 101 Zen Stories, early Zen masters "instead of being followers of the Buddha, aspire[d] to be his friends and to place themselves in the same responsive relationship with the universe as did Buddha and Jesus." As Reps points out in the preface to the book, the origins of Zen may pre-date the Buddha's life. The book includes "Centering, a transcription of ancient Sanskrit manuscripts" that "presents an ancient teaching, still alive in Kashmir and parts of India after four thousand years, that may well be the roots of Zen." I can add that "centering prayer" is a discipline taught and practiced at my own Grace Church in Brooklyn Heights.

A weekend in the Beaverkill Valley.

Thanks to the kindness of a neighbor, we were invited to spend Memorial Day weekend in this splendid house located in the Beaverkill Valley, in New York's Catskill region. We had visited the same house in November of 2012, as memorialized in this post.

The Beaverkill (or Beaver Klll: "kill"is the Dutch word for stream; the Dutch were the first Europeans to settle in the region and found many beaver dams along the watercourse) is renowned as a trout stream. The photo above was taken just across the road from the grounds of the house in which we were staying.

We visited the Catskill Fly Fishing Museum in nearby Livingston Manor, New York.

This is a view from behind the house in which we were staying, looking toward a pond and the hillside beyond.

An artificial waterfall conveys a small stream through a breach in a stone fence, from where it flows to the pond, and beyond that to the Beaverkill. On our previous visit I made a short video while walking along this stream from above the waterfall to near the edge of the pond.

Two Canada geese were paddling on the pond. I saw several different species of birds over the weekend, and will publish more photos in a subsequent post, "Birds of the Beaverkill."

On Saturday morning I saw this doe and fawn on the meadow near the pond. That evening I had a closer encounter with what may have been the same pair which, along with photos of other animals, I'll show in a later post, "A Beaverkill Bestiary."

Apple blossoms in the small orchard on the opposite side of the house.

Our Sunday dinner was a delicious chicken barbecue prepared by the Beaverkill Valley Fire Department.

Parked in front of the Co-Op Store across from the firehouse was this antique pickup truck belonging to a Connecticut construction company.

Parked beside the store was this beautifully maintained early model Mustang.

Another view of the house grounds, with storm clouds and mist gathering.

The Monuments on Battle Hill, Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn

Last week my wife and I, along with a friend, took a tour of some of the more impressive mausoleums in Brooklyn's Green-Wood Cemetery. Following the guided tour, about which I'll be blogging more in the near future, the three of us went to Battle Hill, the highest point in the cemetery grounds (indeed, the highest natural point in Brooklyn. It was the site of an important engagement in the Battle of Brooklyn (sometimes called the Battle of Long Island, as the area in which the fighting took place was not yet part of Brooklyn). The battle was the first engagement of George Washington's Continental Army against the Royal Army, and was a defeat for the Americans. It could have spelled the end for the young Revolution, but for some heroic rear guard actions, including that at Battle Hill, and a stroke of luck, in the form of bad weather, that allowed what remained of Washington's forces to retreat from what is now my neighborhood to Manhattan, then to New Jersey, then to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, where they endured a harsh winter before re-crossing the Delaware and enjoying their first victories at Trenton and Princeton.

The monument in the photo above is topped by a statue of Minerva,"the Roman goddess of battle and protector of civilization." She faces toward, and waves to, the Statue of Liberty, which can be seen from Battle Hill. On the face of the base below the statue are the words, "Altar to Liberty." The mausoleum behind belongs to the family of Charles Higgins, the ink manufacturer who funded the monument.

There is also a Civil War monument (photo above) on Battle Hill.

The plaque on this face of the monument has the words:

Ever remember how much of National Prosperity is due to the brave exertions of the Soldiers who died in the service of their Country.

Planxty: "Raggle Taggle Gypsy/Tabhair dom do lámh"

This is great stuff. I've loved Planxty (about whom I've posted before) since I got a copy of The Planxty Collection at a little shop, no doubt long gone, somewhere on Bleecker Street between Sixth Avenue and Christopher Street, in the late 1970s. I especially like this medley of two songs.

"Raggle Taggle Gypsy" is one of a myriad of variations on the same song found throughout England, Ireland, Scotland, and the former British colonies. I also have a version, with the title "Black Jack Davy", by Scotland's Incredible String Band. Another, "Black Jack David", was recorded by Warren Smith, a rockabilly pioneer who was briefly more popular than Elvis. In his book Country: The Twisted Roots of Rock 'n' Roll, my erstwhile Bells of Hell and Lion's Head companion and friend Nick Tosches tells of an interview with Smith in which Nick asked him where he got "Black Jack David." Smith's reply was, "I wrote it." Nick's next paragraph:

Cut to Athens, fourth century B.C. In his Symposium, Plato refers to an attempt made by Orpheus, mythical poet and son of Oegrus the harper and Muse Calliope, to rescue his wife from the land of the dead. This is the earliest known mention of Orpheus's wife, Eurydice, and of his adventure in the lower world. It's also the beginning of "Black Jack David."

Nick then traces the Greek Orpheus legend* through various developments by the Roman writers Vergil, Ovid, and Boethius. Nick writes, "It was King Alfred's ninth-century translation of Boethius that ushered the Orpheus myth into medieval Britain." After this, Nick follows its development into poems and ballads in various parts of the British Isles. He notes a syncretic development in Ireland, where the story melds with pre-existing Celtic legends. Such are the roots of the many songs about the abduction and failed attempt to recover a nobleman's wife, or sometimes daughter, that include "Back Jack David" and "The Raggle Taggle Gypsy."

From "The Raggle Taggle Gypsy" Planxty segues into Tabhair dom do lámh, an instrumental featuring Liam O'Flynn (photo at left) on uilleann pipes. This enchanting tune is credited by Bunting in Ancient Music of Ireland to Ruairí Dall Ó Catháin, a chieftain from County Tyrone whose reputation for skill as a harper and composer may be second only to that of the great Turlough O'Carolan. The story behind Tabhair dom do lámh, as told in Ask About Ireland, is that Catháin was traveling in Scotland when a noblewoman, Lady Eglinton**, thinking him to be a simple itinerant musician, demanded that he play a tune. Angered by her effrontery, Catháin refused. When Lady Eglinton learned of his high status, she apologized, and he composed Tabhair dom do lámh for her.

My friend Larry Kirwan's band Black 47 gives the translation of Tabhair dom do lámh as either "Give me your hand" or "Let's be friends." Another source, Donal O'Sullivan, in his Carolan: The Life, Times, and Music of an Irish Harper, quoted by "Sarah" in the comment thread under a post about the tune in The Session, in turn quotes Arthur O'Neill as claiming Catháin's original title for it was the Latinized Da mihi manum, which also translates as "Give me your hand." The tune was later used for an Irish rebel song, "White, Orange and Green" (the colors of the Irish flag) which you can hear by Spailpin here. Later, the Wolfe Tones performed it as "Give Me Your Hand," with lyrics that seem both a simple love song and a plea for reconciliation between the sectarian factions in Northern Ireland; hear it here.

In the first comment in the thread below The Session post, "Zina Lee" includes this:

I've read the following regarding this tune: Note that the tune is pentatonic until the final phrase. The mixolydian seventh appears four measures from the end, while the fourth does not appear until the final measure.

Maybe this explains why, when I asked the uilleann piper who played at our wedding if he could play Tabhair dom do lámh, he politely declined, saying it was too difficult.

The musicians in the video above, other than Liam O'Flynn on the pipes, are: Christy Moore on guitar and vocal; Andy Irvine on tenor mandola (I was introduced to Andy by my date following his solo performance at the old Eagle Tavern on West 14th Street in 1989, and later learned that my future wife and her date were there the same evening); and Dónal Lunny on Irish bouzouki (as the linked Wiki tells, Lunny owned the first bouzouki specifically made for use in Irish music; he later became a member of The Bothy Band).
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*The Orpheus legend bears an interesting resemblance to the Biblical story of Lot and his wife. In the Orpheus tale, the hero is told that he may lead his wife back to the land of the living so long as, on the way, he does not turn to look at her. He does, and she disappears. In the Bible story, Lot and his wife are allowed to escape the destruction of Sodom on the condition that they not look back toward the doomed city. She does, and is turned to a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26).

**The linked source spells her name "Eglington"; others spell it "Eglinton," which I think is correct. There is an Eglinton Castle in North Ayrshire.

Farewell to the old Tampa home.

Last weekend we made a brief visit to Tampa, staying with friends across the street from the house that had been my parents' and my home for many years (photo above). Note the English sunrise on the door. That isn't the original door. When my parents bought the house in 1957, it had jalousie windows, as did the door. They replaced the windows and door when they had central air conditioning and heat installed in the 1970s.

White ibises were feeding in the back yard next door.

This boldly marked crab spider had spun a cobweb near the carport.

We visited some other friends who live in a high rise building on Harbour Island. This is the view looking toward downtown Tampa from their terrace.

While we were there, several horn blasts alerted us to the departure of Carnival Paradise from the nearby cruise ship terminal. In this photo, the ship appears to be headed toward our friends' apartment as it turns to head out the channel to Tampa Bay. At the left of the photo you can see the funnel and masts of the World War II vintage cargo ship American Victory, on which my late friend Paul Schiffman served as an officer on its maiden voyage. The ship is preserved as a museum and docked near the Florida Aquarium, a favorite place for both my daughter and me.

Crossing our hosts' lawn, I saw something scurrying. I looked down, and saw this anole lizard clinging to the side of a plank.

Our return flight was delayed because of runway maintenance at New York's JFK Airport. While we waited, I took this photo of our plane sitting at the gate, with the towers of downtown Tampa beyond.

We took off heading southward; the setting sun appeared as a crescent through the clouds. Below is Old Tampa Bay and the Courtney Campbell Causeway.

After we turned northward, the moon could be seen in a brilliant sky.

It's May, and I may post again soon.

Like Anglocat, I've found May, so far, to be a slow month for posting on my blog. My difficulties haven't been caused, like his, by the imminent publication of a novel (I wish!) but rather by press of family business as well as by my duties to Brooklyn Heights Blog. I'm taking from him the YouTube clip above, of Vanessa Redgrave from the 1967 movie version of Camelot, as a way of amusing, and perhaps inspiring, you in the meantime. I will be back soon; like Mr. Dylan in "Maggie's Farm", "I have a head full of ideas that are driving me insane."

Coney Island Brewing Company's "Tunnel of Love Watermelon Wheat"

IN WATERMELON SUGAR the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar. Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar

The Tunnel of Love might amuse you....
Richard Thompson, "Wall of Death"

I wasn't sure what to expect when I was invited to a tasting of Coney Island Brewing Company's summer seasonal brew, "Tunnel of Love Watermelon Wheat." You can see it, freshly drawn, in the photo above, sitting on the bar of The Brazen Fox, where the event was held. Before I tasted it, I had Richard Brautigan's words in mind, and feared I might be getting something akin to alcoholic Hawaiian Punch. I took a sniff--hop aroma prevailed, but with a little hint of fruit--then a swig. Like Richard Thompson said I might be, I was amused. Even pleased. This was beer, not melon juice, though the melon flavor was there, working well with the cascade and citra hops, and with the two row barley malt, malted and unmalted wheat, and dark crystal malt. It's not something I'd make my everyday beer, but I'd be glad to take it to our roof deck or to a beach on a summer afternoon with some chips and salsa. At 4.8 percent ABV, you can have more than one without fear.

On the way in we were greeted by Sarina Appel, who encouraged me to try Mermaid Pilsner and Seas the Day IPL, both of which I'd previously tasted from bottles (see here and here), on draught. I did, and didn't taste any major difference from my earlier impressions, other than that the Pilsner seemed a bit more assertively hoppy, and the India Pale Lager perhaps a bit less so, than I remembered.

My wife and I had a delightful and informative conversation with Coney Island's brewmaster, Jon Carpenter. Actually, my wife got the conversation going, asking Jon about the varieties of yeast used in brewing. Jon is a native Californian and a graduate of U.C. Davis. He has previously worked for L.A.'s Golden Road and for Dogfish Head in Delaware, makers of 90 Minute Imperial IPA (I've yet to try their 120 Minute, but must soon; stay tuned). I also had the opportunity to meet Alan Newman, head of Alchemy & Science, Boston Brewing Company's "craft beer incubator," which now owns Coney Island Brewing. Alan told me a picaresque tale of how he and Steve Hindy, President and co-founder of the Brooklyn Brewery (see my reviews of their brews here and here and here) were at a convention in Las Vegas when the 9/11 attacks occurred and, because all air transport was grounded, bought or rented (I can't recall which) a van and returned by highway to the East Coast.

Holocaust Remembrance Day

As my friend The Rev. Nicholas Temple reminds me, the 24 hours that began at sundown today (Sunday, April 27) and end at sundown tomorrow constitute Yom HaShoah (יום השואה), or Holocaust Remembrance Day.

The image above is of identification papers issued by the occupying German forces to Jewish residents of Krakow (or Krakau, in German spelling), Poland. All of these people may be presumed to have died in the Holocaust. The image is from an article posted on January 27, 2012 in The Northerner Blog of The Guardian. January 27, the date of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, largest of the Nazi extermination camps, is recognized as International Holocaust Remembrance Day or Holocaust Memorial Day, in many countries.

The Guardian story is about remembrance of the Holocaust in the City of York, England, which itself, in medieval times, was the site of a massacre, reminiscent of Masada.

Nick's post, linked in the first paragraph, includes a list of mass killings subsequent to the Holocaust. Even on a smaller scale, but just as heinous, murder based on ethnic or religious prejudice continues today.

"In Your Easter Bonnet," Judy Garland and Fred Astaire

I never saw the movie Easter Parade, which was made two years after I was born, but I've always imagined this Irving Berlin song being sung by a man to a woman. The original version was the reverse, it's Judy singing to Fred about his top hat with a fancy pink ribbon for the band.

"On the Avenue, Fifth Avenue, the photographers will snap us, and you'll find that you're in the rotogravure." So, what is "the rotogravure"? It's a process developed in the nineteenth century that allowed newspapers to print color photographs and artwork on cheap newsprint paper, using rotary cylinders.

Fred Astaire intended to retire before Easter Parade was made, but agreed to take the male lead when Gene Kelly became unavailable.

Mega-yacht Topaz arrives in New York

On my morning walk I spotted this enormous yacht sailing from New York Harbor into the Hudson River. I guessed it must belong to some Russian oligarch, since a couple of other such yachts--see here and here--have recently arrived here. Searching the net, I was able to determine that this yacht is Topaz, which arrived here today from Algeciras, Spain. Topaz, which is one of the world's largest yachts, is of mysterious ownership, although the owner, as reported here, may be His Highness Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, Deputy Prime Minister of the United Arab Emirates.