Ever notice how when someone is frightened, they look all around, but almost never look up?
Humans are stupid.
Grey-winged Trumpeter (Psophia crepitans)
The grey winged trumpeter, as seen here, has black wings and no trumpet.
Unrelated, did you know that when naturalists explored new places, they would often imbibe in the native alcoholic specialties?
Throwback Thursday
It appears as though this fish may be infected with a neurological disease. Since many of these diseases are caused by prions which can infect humans, it should not be eaten.
Flamingo
Flamingos are suspicious of your true intentions, but are willing to try just one more time.
Pelican
Sometimes a mirror can disclose the true reality, warped but recognizable, with the façade stripped away.
Preying Mantis
A while back, I read Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin, which discussed the basic plan of chordates and how all animals have similar growth patterns. Interestingly, he briefly mentioned similar findings for insects as well, at a genetic level. This would imply that, if we could find the right genetic tweaks, you too could get Batmanesque arm spikes.
Tentacled Snake (Erpeton tentaculatum)
Tentacled snakes use their appendages to locate obstacles, such as this glass ceiling, commonly experienced within large American corporation.
White Cheeked Turaco (Tauraco leucotis)
Turacos have no shame.
No
His crime was saying “no”.
When his brother asked him, he said “no”. When his chief demanded, he said “no”. When his wife and daughter begged him, tears streaming down their cheeks, he said “no”.
He would not fight.
The tribe geared for war, each soldier, in turn, giving him a scornful look as they marched. The spouses left behind watching them go, then turning to look, anger glaring from their eyes.
His next chance came with the priest, initiates trailing, hauling a heavy cart. He responded affirmatively to each of the priest’s inquiries … all but one. Yes, he loved his family. Yes, he cared about his friends. Yes, he knew what he should do, what he had been raised to do, since he was a child. But no.
No.
He would not fight.
With a sigh, the priest motioned and the cart was drawn near. Out came the shackles and chains. He did not resist as he was lain in the cart. His only movement, closing his eyes against the bright glaring sun, as he baked in the fiery summer heat, each rock beneath the cart’s wheels lancing pain into his back. Two hours later, he was held at the alter, panting, bleeding.
The priest asked one last time.
Parched from the heat, he could no longer speak. Instead, one slight shake of his head and the priest sighed released him, collapsing between the two standing stones and upon the altar.
There, in a torrent of smoke and flame, he beheld Tekaletali. The god of his family. The god of his tribe. The god of War.
Tekaletali stared and he withered, charring under the gaze of the god. Then he felt the voice, reverberating through the very core of his being.
“YOU WISH TO LIVE …”
“THEN LIVE YOU SHALL. LIVE FOREVER, BURNING IN SUN, FOREVER THIRSTY, FOREVER WANTING, YOUR VERY BLOOD STAINED YELLOW WITH YOUR COWARDICE.”
“YES. LIVE. LIVE AND LOSE ALL YOU HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED.”
He felt himself transformed, stretching, down into the earth, immobile against the sharp piercing rocks, skin cracking in the heat of the sun.
Eons later, there he stays, long after his tribe is gone, vanquished and slain. The alter stones, worn by the winds, broken and pillaged by the enemies of his tribe. All traces of his home, his people, gone. Bones, stones and moans, all turned to dust. And there he stays, forever living, forever bleeding, a blind and mute witness to the passage of time.
He did not have to fight.
Sacred Ibis (Threskiornis aethiopicus)
The sacred iBis is known throughout the world, due to the fervor of their worshipers. Though there are many birds that are just as good, the iBis has a vast and powerful marketing team behind it that provides ongoing self-reinforcement of its own fame.
Bongo (Tragelaphus eurycerus)
Each horn of the bongo has a slightly different sound. The lower tone of the macho horn, when combined with the higher tone of the hembra horn, allows the antelope to create highly intricate rhythms with no additional instrumentation.
Butterfly
In the Autumn, the butterflies change their colour to organges and reds as the trees suck all the other pigmenting away as they prepare for Winter.
Jungle Nymph (Heteropteryx dilatata)
The jungle nymph grows random spikes as a youth, to better fit into the punk scene.
Sand Cat (Felis margarita)
A year wasn’t enough.
She remembered them, small and mewling. She remembered their loud purrs, echoing in their cave throughout the night as they suckled and slept. Later, she’d bring them meals, carefully parceled out for their tiny teeth. A gerbil a day, perhaps a hare. They grew so quickly. Soon they were hunting on their own.
The grasshoppers were amusing. It took them a while to master the technique, but until they did, their hops, alerting the grasshoppers … a passel of bouncing across the desert.
As they grew, they pursued greater prey. Jerobas, larks, geckos, all eventually fell to their tiny claws.
She’d lost one to a viper. That had hurt, but the others had helped. Her family reduced by one, she became more careful, collecting the threats, one by one. She showed them all the tricks, ensuring they knew how to attack. Snakes, from behind. One massive strike to the head preventing another. Scorpions, flipped, removing the sting with the sand. She’d tried to teach them of drought, but that is a lesson they would need to learn on their own.
She knew it was time when their play took them further afield. Some nights, one wouldn’t return, and her heart would race a bit faster. They’d be there come morning though. All but the one she’d lost — the brave one. She hoped the others would be brave, but not too brave. They gradually moved further, coming home less and less often. Until now, when none returned. Three nights she’d watched, hoping, waiting.
Tonight, she just listened.
She thought she heard one, off in the distance, the soft slide of sand cascading down a dune. She imagined another, far in the East, lazing after a kill, first to see the sunrise. She hoped for the best for them, but knew her time with them was done. She’d done her best. Made them as strong, as quick, as smart as she could. Their lives were their own now. She knew it was right. She knew it was proper.
Still, a year wasn’t enough.
Water Skippers
Waterskippers mostly communicate through constellations. Here, they form the image of the Apollo command module detaching from the service module, as they ask about humanity’s recovery plans for after we destroy our habitat.
Throwback Thursday
This tilapia, while being perfectly fit for human consumption, is currently located inside a shark and might be rather dangerous to access. It should be thrown back.
Ray
Unlike traditional fish, rays never successfully evolved legs. Instead, they’ve been trying to go straight to rock climbing … for millions of years.
Sea Otter
Capturing sea otters is fairly easy. One need simply slide the otter through the glass while still small. After surprisingly few feedings, the otter quickly grows too large to pass back through and is then in captivity.
Heron
When doing adjusting frequency, one generally turns V-Hold and H-Hold until the reflection matches the heron. The location of these knobs changes per manufacturer but are generally found under a lilypad or sticking up from the bank near the back of the lake.
Caterpillar
I think caterpillars are neat in large part because they have urticating hairs which stick in predators and allow their venom to flow, protecting them. In adults, these sometimes turn into urticating scales. That’s right. You’re living in a world with venomous butterflies.