kayseriescort12-blog

[eriadav]

What are the best birding sanctuaries in Tanzania?

Travel Company: DAV Safaris

Website: www.davsafaris.com

Email:info@davsafaris.com

Tel: +256757795781 or +256701412430

Tanzania, a breathtaking gem in East Africa, is not only celebrated for its stunning landscapes and vibrant wildlife but also for its remarkable avian diversity. With over 1,100 recorded bird species, this country is a true paradise for birdwatchers. Whether you are a seasoned ornithologist or a casual nature lover, Tanzania offers an array of birding sanctuaries that promise unforgettable experiences. This guide will delve into the best birding sanctuaries in Tanzania, highlighting key locations, notable species, and essential tips for your Tanzania birding tours.

1. Serengeti National Park

Serengeti National Park is arguably the most famous wildlife reserve in the world. While known for the Great Migration, its diverse birdlife is equally captivating. The park hosts over 500 bird species, making it a premier destination for birding enthusiasts.

In the Serengeti, birdwatchers can expect to see the elegant Secretary Bird, the majestic African Fish Eagle, and various species of vultures and raptors. The park’s varied habitats, ranging from open savannas to lush riverine forests, provide a rich tapestry for bird watching.

Birding is excellent year-round, but the wet season (November to April) is particularly rewarding. During this time, migratory species flock to the area, enhancing your bird watching experience.

2. Ngorongoro Crater

A UNESCO World Heritage site, the Ngorongoro Crater is a unique ecosystem that supports a diverse range of wildlife and bird species. Its stunning landscapes create an unforgettable backdrop for bird watching.

The crater is home to the rare Black Rhinoceros and over 200 bird species, including the impressive Lammergeier and the striking Kori Bustard. The mix of habitats—from expansive grasslands to dense woodlands—greatly enhances the birding experience.

The dry season (June to October) offers optimal visibility for wildlife, including birds. This period is ideal for spotting both resident and migratory species.

3. Lake Manyara National Park

Lake Manyara is renowned for its diverse ecosystems, including wetlands, forests, and grasslands. This park is a birdwatcher’s dream, with over 400 bird species recorded.

Birdwatchers can spot the iconic Flamingos, the colorful African Jacana, and the striking Grey-headed Kingfisher. The park is also known for its large populations of pelicans and storks, making it a birding hotspot.

The wet season attracts migratory birds, while the dry season provides excellent opportunities to see resident species. Thus, it’s a prime destination throughout the year.

4. Tarangire National Park

Tarangire is known for its iconic baobab trees and large herds of elephants. This hidden gem offers incredible bird watching opportunities, thanks to its diverse habitats.

Key Species

Look for the Tawny Eagle, the African Pygmy Goose, and the vibrant Yellow-collared Lovebird. Tarangire is also home to many migratory species during the wet season, enhancing the bird watching experience.

The best months for bird watching are during the wet season (November to April) when migratory birds arrive, providing a spectacular display for birdwatchers.

5. Ruaha National Park

As Tanzania's largest national park, Ruaha offers a unique mix of savanna and bushland, providing an excellent birding experience. Its remote location means fewer tourists, allowing for a more intimate bird watching adventure.

Ruaha is home to over 570 bird species, including the striking African Harrier-Hawk and the colorful Lilac-breasted Roller. The diversity of habitats supports a wide range of birdlife, making each visit unique.

The dry season (June to October) is ideal for spotting wildlife, including birds, as they become more active and visible.

6. Lake Victoria

As the largest lake in Africa, Lake Victoria supports a rich variety of bird species. The lake's wetlands and shores create perfect conditions for bird watching.

Look for the African Fish Eagle, Papyrus Gonolek, and various heron species. The lake is crucial for migratory birds, making it a hotspot during specific times of the year.

The wet season (November to April) attracts many migratory species, enhancing bird watching opportunities and making it a prime location during this period.

7. Amani Nature Reserve

Located in the Usambara Mountains, Amani Nature Reserve is a lesser-known sanctuary that offers a unique birding experience. The lush rainforest and diverse habitats provide a haven for many bird species.

Birdwatchers can look for the endemic Usambara Thrush and the vibrant Amani Sunbird, along with numerous other forest birds. This reserve plays a critical role in bird conservation in Tanzania.

Birding is excellent year-round, but the dry season offers the best opportunities for spotting endemic species, making it a must-visit for dedicated birdwatchers.

8. Usambara Mountains

The Usambara Mountains are characterized by a range of ecosystems, from montane forests to grasslands. This area is rich in biodiversity, making it a fantastic location for birding.

The mountains host several endemic species, including the Uluguru Bushshrike and the Tanzania Mountain Greenbul. The lush vegetation supports a variety of other birds, providing numerous bird watching opportunities.

The dry season (June to October) is best for bird watching, as birds are more active and visible, allowing for better sightings.

c provide an incredible opportunity to explore the country’s rich avian biodiversity. From the iconic Serengeti to the serene Amani Nature Reserve, each location offers unique bird watching experiences. Whether you're embarking on Tanzania birding tours or exploring these stunning sanctuaries independently, you’re sure to create unforgettable memories. Prepare your binoculars, pack your camera, and get ready to witness the incredible birdlife that Tanzania has to offer!

Book with DAV Safaris on www.dasafaris.com   or our expert team directly

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Your streak of bad luck continues as you find that the universe is not done putting you in harm's way. Luckily, you have grouchy Spider-man to save you.

Word count: 3,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, near death experiences, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara being a rude bastard and a total softie.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

According to an article that ran in the New York Times: one out of every 40 New Yorkers will have a run in with a Superhero in the time they live here.

That might not sound like much, but considering that nearly 8.5 million people live in this city, it adds up to a lot of people. In fact, most in your friends circle have their own anecdotal story to tell.

I ran into Tony Stark at the Brandy Library and he asked me for my phone number. Bit of a sleaze but he bought our whole table a round of drinks.

Captain America landed on my Fiat on Manhattan Bridge. He dented the roof, but he was very polite about it.

Daredevil was hanging out at the fire escape ladder above the Meatball shop. Gave me tips on what to order.

It's nothing short of a miracle that having lived in this city for as many years as you have that this is the first time you've had a Supes encounter.

It'll be a great story to tell at parties. You fell out of the Chrysler building and were rescued mid-air. It blows all the other stories out of the water. Though, you'll probably leave out the part where he wished he'd left you to die.

You stare blindly at your computer screen. There are endless rows of cells on your excel sheet no matter how far you scroll. Uninterrupted numbers and reference codes for insurance claims that are waiting for your attention. But the numbers and letters all blend into an indecipherable sludge soup. All you can focus on is: 'I should've let you fall.'

Heat prickles your cheek, as you replay his words in your head.

What the hell.

That was entirely unnecessary.

You didn't deserve that.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, you've played the scene on an endless loop in your head, until the memory is worn and scratched like a used up VHS tape.

Did you do something wrong? You must've. Who has ever heard of a Superhero treating a civilian in this manner? You’re just a hapless innocent bystander who fell out of a building due to a supervillain battle they started. To blame it on you and then call it a mistake. Isn't that something a supervillain would do?

Gritting your teeth, you feel yourself seething of the memory of the windows next to you breaking and shattering out of nowhere as a bird-person villain with mechanical wings tumbled past you. Next thing you knew you were tumbling out the window. 

And then he saved you.

Did he mean to save someone else? Is that why he was so annoyed? But, you didn't see any other people falling from the building on your way down.

You replay the memory. Again.

The looming silhouette of his towering frame over yours as he sneered down at you.

He looked at you like he knew you. Like you had offended him with your mere existence. But you don't understand how. You've never met him before. Never met anyone who looked even remotely like him. You would've remembered a man with red eyes, they're not exactly common. Plus, you don't think you've ever met someone quite so tall. Your neck hurt with the angle you had to crane just to look at his face.

What could you possibly have done in your lifetime to piss off a Superhero you've never met before?

For that matter what Superhero is he anyway? You think back at the dark navy suit clinging onto every inch of skin, embellished by that bright angry red in the emblem of a spider.

Spider-man... 

Except Spider-man is known to be a swell guy with a great sense of humor. Not a rude asshole.

Aren't his colors inverted too? You pull up the browser on your screen and google "spiderman outfit". There's over 800 million hits. In all of them Spiderman's suit is primarily red with blue embellishment.

Whoever the guy is, you don't think he's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman that every New Yorker knows and loves.

With a hapless sigh, you click aimlessly on your screen, trying to look busy at work for the next twenty minutes until you can go on your lunch break. You go through the motions of your soul sucking tasks. Tagging each insurance claim into one of the following categories: approved/rejected/further missing information required.

Peering over your cubicle wall to the wall of windows, you spy the section that has been zoned off since yesterday. The broken window you were knocked out of has already been replaced, but there's still shattered glass and debris nearby.

Your stomach drops, the phantom sensation of the ground beneath you giving way. For a brief second you swear you can feel the weightlessness of soaring through the skies without anything catching your fall.

You stand up from your desk, solid ground meeting the soles of your feet to remind you where you are. 

The office.

There's a monotone drone of workers all around you grumbling and sighing just as unhappily. The quiet tip-tapping of keyboards of the working masses.

Is this the life you managed to escape death for?

Is this it?

It's kind of sad isn't it? You nearly died and lived to tell the tale, only to return to a life so unremarkable your brain didn't deign it necessary to provide you with any highlights (cause there are none).

The most exciting thing that has happened to you the whole of this year was being insulted by a grumpy superhero. The most you've wanted to live was during that span of ten seconds when you were falling out of a building to your death.

You glance at your clock, still 15 minutes before noon. You log out of your desktop anyway.

You barely make it across the street from your office. The light is green as you cross Lexington Avenue when the screeching noise of tires tears down the street and rips through your eardrums.

A yellow taxi hurtles towards you at full speed. Through the car window separating you, the cab driver is staring up at you with wide-eyed horror. In that fraction of a second before the hard metal is going to collide and shatter every bone in your body, you only have one thought: Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. All you see is the familiar blur of shiny blue and red.

Go figure that's the only moment extraordinary enough for your brain to think it's worth replaying before you die.

There's a blunt and forceful shove to the side of your ribs. Softer than you would've imagined a two tonne vehicle slamming into you would be. It doesn't hurt. It reminds you of that time you played football with your cousin and he body slammed you to the lawn. You've heard about this phenomena, the brain will try to protect itself by going unconscious if the pain is too extreme.

But there's no bright light, when you open your eyes all you see is the familiar shiny blue fabric.

A firm weight wraps around your shoulders, and you recognize this, the feeling of being held as you're pulled into their solid chest. There's not enough time for you to look up, you're slammed onto the ground, the solid warmth wrapped around you, absorbing the fall.

The pressure wrapped around you shifts then lifts away entirely. When you open your eyes for a second time, there’s no one there holding you. 

There's no one else there with you. Just the standstill traffic of cars and pedestrians gawking at you.

A concerned woman runs over to you, bending down to help you up on your feet. "Are you okay? That car came out of nowhere."

Your legs feel unsteady, wobbling as you put weight on it to stand up. 

“I’m fine, I think,” you respond, and look down on yourself. There are no scrapes, just a bit of dust on your work-attire from traffic.

"You're so lucky, Spiderman was there to save you."

You blink up at the woman in dazed confusion and it takes your brain a few seconds to process what she's telling you.

Spider-man...

In your mind's eye the flashes of blue and a vivid red invades your vision. It wasn't just your life flashing you by. Not just a figment of your imagination.

He was here. He saved you. (Probably not) Spider-man saved you (again).

A wave of gratitude washes over you. You take back every unflattering thought you had about the man not five minutes ago. Rude? Would a rude man save you, not once but twice in one day? No, of course not, you probably just misunderstood him, or misheard. After all, if he truly regretted saving you, he wouldn't have done it a second time... right?

--

When you get back at your desk, there's a post-it tacked to your computer screen, with an angry scrawl of a handwriting.

'Look BOTH ways before crossing!!!!!'

You stare at the note, and the way the word "both" is capitalized and aggressively underlined.

Rude.

The universe is out to kill you. You're sure of it.

They say that death comes in threes after all. So no one can blame you for being a little bit on the edge after you've gone two for two within the time span of 24 hours.

You stay away from windows in tall buildings. You look both ways, twice, before crossing the street. You try to go straight home from work the minute you clock out from work, turning down any and all initiations with friends to go out after out of precaution. It's just not worth the risk.

And for a while it seems to work. For a while, there are no more incidents. A week goes by and your nerves start to settle and you are lulled into a temporary sense of security before it all goes to shits.

A ceramic flower pot on a windowsill tumbling off the sixth floor of a brown house by Chelsea that would have dropped on your head and split your skull if someone hadn't bumped into you from behind that you weren’t able to catch sight of.

A piece of scaffolding that comes loose and falls from a construction site in West Village as you happened to walk past, and would have been crushed under if you weren’t tackled away at the last second by someone who fled the scene before you could thank them.

A hot dog cart runs amok, hurtling downhill towards you between 184th and 190th street in Manhattan when the cart suddenly out of nowhere, against the very laws of physics like it’s being pulled by an invisible force and changes direction mere inches in front of you, hurtling through the air and crashing into the windows of a bodega instead.

Each and every incident leaves you with an ever growing sense of paranoia that this cannot be explained away by being merely pure bad luck. There are cosmic forces at force that clearly want you dead.

On Thursday, there are leftover cupcakes from a client conference. Mary, the secretary in your team, boxes up four of them for you and tells you to take them with you, because, "you've had a rough week, toots."

It’s not a flattering assessment of you, but when you see your own reflection in the mirrors of the office toilets, you can’t help but think it’s an accurate one. You look rough. Eyes bloodshot with deep furrowed lines underneath. Your face is gaunter than you remember seeing it too. 

You take the cupcakes. 

It's the first good thing that has happened to you all week, and as small of a comfort it is, you take it as a win.

You eye the box from your desk the rest of the day, squirreled away in your tiny cubicle. You are determined not to eat one while at work. Because you'll be damned if Matt from accounting catches a whiff of your cupcakes and asks you to share one with him. You want to properly savor them in the comfort of your home at the end of the day.

But as often is the case when you have something to look forward to, the seconds, minutes and hours tick away with a reluctant drag as if time itself knew you wanted the day to end faster and decided it'd be fun to flip yet another cosmic middle finger in your direction. 

When it's finally time to end work, you get off your chair so forcefully it knocks it to the floor. You are practically jogging through the lanes of cubicles to get to the elevator, and nearly smack the security guard on the other side with how hard you swing open the front door. 

It's pouring outside, which, of course it is. You take off your jacket and cover your cupcake box with it, because you're not going to let the universe ruin the one good thing you've got going for you this week, as you run towards the station.

The moment you step into the damp and sticky station any remaining sense of joy in you evaporates. There's a hoard of tourists swarming the subway paying no attention to their surroundings. Tourists wearing their caps and backpacks and wheelies knocking over a 'Caution Wet Floor ' sign as they gather in a throng in front of the subway map, blocking the way as you hear the train approach.

It's not that big of a deal. A train comes every two to five minutes, and if you miss this one, you'll just get on the next one. It's not the end of the world. Logically, you know that. Emotionally and spiritually however, the world around you has just taken a little bit too much from you for you to concede to this minor little loss.

You are going to make this goddamned train.

Taking a determined step forward, you shoulder and push your way through the throng of people to fight your way to the front of the track.

You push a little too hard. Your feet skid across the slippery tiles, leg buckling from your own weight and you lose control, tumbling forward.

In your peripheral view there's a blinding light approaching. There's wind beating the sides of your face, and you can hear the screeching metal of the train right next to you. Your foot drops into empty space and you are falling into the tracks. 

Oh god why...

Why?

You just want to live.

The cupcake box flies out of your grip, splattered somewhere across the front pane of the train. There's a hard tug on your shirt as an invisible force you cannot see yanks you back, hard.

Your head whips back and for a fraction of a second, there are crimson eyes staring back down at you, you blink and then it's gone.

You land on your ass with a bruising force to your tailbone with a bone-breaking thud. The subway whizzes by with a demonic roar past you, inches from where you're sprawled on your ass on the dirty tiles of the subway station.

In front of your feet, there's a long streak of white frosting trailing down from your feet to the tracks of what looks like a crime scene.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe you've just had a bad night of sleep (after many successive bad nights with little to no sleep). But something in you breaks at the sight of the frosting smeared across the dirty subway tiles.

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. Chest drawing in tight with a crumbling ache that makes you want to curl up on the cold tiles. You're just so tired.

There are people around you staring at you. No one in their right mind who lives in New York would sit on the floor of the subway.

But your legs are heavy and numb. You can’t move from the spot. Everything tastes like bile. You try to swallow and force it back down but it's no use, your throat has swollen shut. Your cheeks run wet and you press your palms to your eyes to make it stop but that only seems to make it worse. Snot runs down your nose and drips down your wrist. You're crying and you don't know how to stop.

Is this the rest of your life?

In the morning, you wake in your bed with a sore ache that gnaws at your bones. Swollen eyes and a soreness that scratches the lining of your throat.

Your back hurts, and as you try to turn to your side to get out of bed a sharp pain surges up along your entire spine.

Fuck.

It's too bright. The sunlight is offensive. It stings your eyes and makes you sick to your stomach. You only have vague memories of how you made it back home. Feet shuffling through the subway in a daze like the walking dead.

God is that what you are? A dead man woman walking?

You crane your head and catch a glimpse of your clock on the bedside table. 9.13 You're late for work. But that's mind as well, you don't have it in you to make it in.

What's the point anyhow? You hate that place.

Besides, if the subway on the way over doesn't finish off the job this time around, then eventually a taxi will. Failing that the universe is probably going to send over a ninja assassin rat from the subway to come after your life.

There's a soft breeze coming in from the open window that grazes the back of your neck and you turn your head towards it. All you can see from your window is the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even though your apartment is on the sixth floor, you can't see a speck of the New York skyline.

Still the breeze is nice, though you don't remember opening the window last night. You never usually do. It is silly and paranoid. No human robber could possibly climb up your six storey building just to climb into your window and rob you. If they could, they’d find that there isn’t much to rob in your apartment, the most valuable thing you own is a complete Le Creuset Cookware set. 

Your eyes glaze over your work tote bag on the floor next to the window, drifting upwards and spot the pink box sat on the window sill and you stop. 

You didn’t put that there. 

You sit upright in your bed, setting your feet to the floor and force yourself to leave your bed as you pad over to the open window.

It's a fancy looking thing. Baby pink, and chiffon ribbon on its side. Wrapping your pinkie around it, you tug it loose. You perch your thumb against the corner of the lid when you stop.

It's not another one of the universe's assassination attempts is it? You're not going to open it to find a bomb ticking down are you?

You hesitate for another moment, taking a deep calming breath before you gather the courage to finally lift the lid. Inside, there is a gorgeous display of cupcakes adorned with white and pink frosting, topped with strawberries, chocolate shavings and on two of them there's mini macarons.

Way fancier than the day old Costco cupcakes you'd lost yesterday.

Picking up one, you take a bite. The frosting is light and zesty. The refreshing lemon melts on the tip of your tongue as the buttery cream floods your mouth with the rich flavor. It's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Lifting the box, you check the sides of it to see if there's any note left behind, but there's none.

Gladis Bakery. It's from a bakery you've never heard of before. When you google the name the place is outside of New Jersey, 58 minutes away and you would need to take a subway then switch to a tram.

There's no note attached, but you don't need one. The list of candidates who would be physically able to climb up six floors up the bricks of your apartment building to leave cupcakes on your window isn’t a long one. 

Something warm blooms in your chest at the thought, and your fingers linger on the top of the box, savoring the taste of lemon and sugar still lingering on your tongue.

You put your head out the window, not sure what you're expecting to find but find yourself disappointed all the same when there's nothing there. No people in the quiet street below, and nothing unusual above.

"Thank you for uhm... saving me,” you say into the silence with nothing but the traffic noise below to answer you. 

 “And the cupcakes," you add. 

There's no reply. 

~ To be continued.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[hotvintagepoll]

Charles McNaughton (Treasure Island)—he is such a weird little weird pirate in this movie!!!! the whole movie is creeEEEEeepy at this point, weird characters showing up at the bar FREAKING jim hawkins ass out, but charles mcnaughton's black dog (the first of many weirdos) takes the cake for me.

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Charles McNaughton:

Link to the entire movie of Treasure Island [1932]—McNaughton comes in at 12:02. I haven't seen the whole movie in a long time so go forward with caution for content warnings!

Dwight Frye:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy.

The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor.

[editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]

the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

[kedreeva]

I know you've raised several breeds of quail by now- which one has been your favorite? I'm looking into adding one or two quail tractors to my farm to help manage the insect population in the horse pastures as well as roaming them supervised in the barn for the same purpose. (With a hutch in the tack room for the winter and nighttime). I'm just not sure what species to choose! I have quite a few available around me, including button, bobwhite, coturnix, and celadon coturnix.

my "favorite" doesn't really apply to use; my favorite are the bobwhites, but keeping them was a nightmare. In the peafowl pens, the peafowl just ate their eggs. In an indoor pen, they hid their eggs and I was forever finding hidden stashes that were ??? age. In hutches, they seemed miserable and more aggressive. After a lot more reading on research done about it, wild-release captive-born birds pretty much never survive to reproduce, so it was wasted money and time (for the quail, I'm sure the predators in the area didn't mind, nor the outdoor cats).

But for what you want, bobwhites and buttons are not going to really be feasible. Bobwhites you can't really "roam" them even indoors, because you will have a hell of a time catching them if you can even find them- those little shits can squeeze into pinholes you would not BELIEVE if they are trying to hide after landing from a flush, and they're excellent at flying. I let the WHITE snowflake bobwhite I had into the peafowl pen and immediately lost her when she buried herself in a small patch of longer grass along the barn wall within 3 seconds (I did find her eventually but man she was HIDDEN). Buttons are even worse/smaller, and they're not even cold hardy, so you'd have to actually heat them in the winter, not just keep them in a room protected from draft. You'd kind of run into the same problem with other new world quail like valley/gambel's, or blue scale, or montezuma or whatever. They're all still naturally flighty, survival game birds.

The coturnix really aren't that much better, but at least they suck at flying and aren't as flighty to begin with, but you're still likely to be chasing them around the barn to get them back, rather than them returning to a hutch to sleep. The problem with them is they're fairly lazy, and they don't raise their own kids ever (it's just been bred out of them), so you WILL have to buy more or an incubator if you want to replace them, and they are Meat birds and don't tend to live as long as new world quail. But, of all the quail, that would probably be your best bet if your heart is set on quail. They're ravenous, they're meaty and lay eggs daily year round, and they're pretty tame for a game bird. If you like blue eggs, then you can go with the celadons, but they're a lot more work for selection (and I don't mean selection toward standard, I mean selection so their eggs don't go to shit and start breaking/getting malformed due to the ce gene messing with some health stuff if you're not careful about avoiding it- definitely do research before getting them) and more finicky on nutrition, so you may find they don't do as well ranged on pasture as the standard egg layers do.

HOWEVER. If you have the ability to do it, and you're specifically looking for insect population control, you could always go with some bantam chickens instead of quail. Unlike quail that were never bred for it, chickens DO have a "home base" instinct, which means they're unlikely to disappear into the wild, and there's no native wild chicken populations (assuming you aren't in the jungle where chickens originated, but I could be wrong) escapees could interbreed with (unlike with quail, who CAN hybridize with native quail and Cause Problems) if they happened to leave. They can be turned loose into pastures and get all over the place to eat bugs without you having to move a tractor (but can also be tractored if you prefer to place them). And there are some VERY small breeds out there - seramas, OEG, sebrights, d'uccles/booted bantams, d'anvers, etc - and there are some breeds that come in bantam and standard that are still pretty small (silkies, polish, cochins, etc). AND the smaller breeds can have small coops to be roosts overnight, so their housing similarly doesn't need to take up a ton of space.

Alternately alternately, you could have a look at guinea fowl. They're a "game bird" like quail, but they're able to free range like chickens, but they don't necessarily need or even want a coop; they prefer to roost in trees on most farms I've seen. But they're well known for a) readily declining insect populations where they are, particularly ticks and b) being a home alarm system because they WILL scream about anything weird they see, but they're more accurate about it than, say, peafowl, whose definition of "weird" includes things that are very normal. but they're not as small as quail or bantam chickens, and I don't know what the likelihood of absconding is, so you'd have to talk to someone that keeps them- I'm just mentioning them in case you've never heard of them and want to look into it.

So, yeah, Coturnix (any variety) if you're set on quail and you want to let them out of a cage in any capacity that involves returning them to your care, but I'd honestly advise looking into bantam chickens if you're looking for insect control specifically since they have better ranging ability. Or guinea fowl if you find they're your thing.

[williamedwardparry]

May 24th, 1845: The Illustrated London News runs an informative celebratory article about the Franklin Expedition, which left Greenhithe dock on the 19th. They describe outward and inward features of the ships, which had been visited by reporters, and give an overview of the careers of the ships and of their commander, Sir John Franklin. (In the process they accidentally invert the layout of Fitzjames' cabin, misspell Crozier's and Des Voeux's surnames, and omit to mention Sir John's second marriage.) [Internet Archive link]

Transcription:

DEPARTURE OF THE "EREBUS" AND "TERROR" ON THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION.

A desert waste of waters lies before— Behind, the anxious hospitable shore, Which like a parent bird sees ye depart, Bold wingèd messengers of daring Art ! We know that sunshine always 'round your path Cannot attend ; that rain and tempest's wrath Will be your portion ; but our pray'r shall be You live their fury out right gallantly, And after years you have perchance to roam That science crown'd you safely seek your home ! W.

On Monday H. M. sloops Erebus and Terror left Greenhithe, on their attempt "to penetrate the icy fastnesses of the north, and to circumnavigate America." The fitting out of this expedition was, we believe, definitively arranged by the Admiralty in February last, since which period the requisite equipments have been made ; and, as they involve several novelties, we shall briefly detail them.

The Erebus and Terror, it will be recollected, were fitted out for the South Polar Expedition, in 1839���1843, under the command of Captain Sir James Ross. The Terror had previously visited the Arctic regions ; it being the vessel in which Captain (now Sir George) Back, in 1836, attempted, by "way of Wager River," to trace the northern boundary of the American Continent. This vessel passed up Hudson Strait in August, 1836, and left it on her way home in August, 1837, after encountering extraordinary perils among the ice, and a narrow escape from foundering : she was then compelled to return home in a leaky condition, with her stern-post shattered. This was the fifty-seventh Arctic Expedition from England, commencing with Cabot's voyage (temp. Henry VII.)—the first of the kind that was made from our country; and the Expedition which has just sailed is the fifty-eighth enterprise of its class.

The vessels were put in commission at Woolwich on Tuesday, March 4. The Expedition is under the command of Captain Sir John Franklin, Knight, K. C. H., who is appointed to the Erebus (the larger vessel), with Commander James Fitzjames, Lieutenant Henry T. D Le Vesconte; mate, Charles F. Des Voux [sic]; second master, H. F. Collins; clerk, G. F. Pinhorn; gunner, J. G. Robinson; boatswain, J. G. Terry ; carpenter, W. Weekes. Captain F. R. M. Crosier [sic] commands the Terror, with Lieutenant Edward Little, Lieutenant G. H. Hodgson ; carpenter, Thomas Honey.

The fitting out of the vessels has been superintended and minutely inspected by the Lords of the Admiralty, and other persons distinguished in Polar expeditions. The ships are provided wit hthe most approved Archimedean screw propellers; and in one of the trials in the Thames, the Terror made such excellent progress that she cast off her towing steamer, and proceeded down the river without any additional assistance whatever.

In their visit to Woolwich, the Lords of the Admiralty proceeded to the west-end of the dock yard, opposite the wharf-wall of which was stationed the Rattler steam-vessel, fitted with a screw propeller. Their Lordships witnessed the manner in which the screw was shipped and unshipped by tackle and chains suspended over the starboard side of the vessel, and then proceeded on board the Erebus to witness the manner in which the screw-propeller could be taken on deck and replaced in its proper position, by letting it down through a well formed in the stern of the vessel. The advantages of this mode of attaching and detaching the screw, are self-evident, and the principle is so simple and easy of accomplishment, that any vessel in her Majesty's navy may by its aid be fitted with a screw-propeller, the objection and difficulty of shipping and unshipping it on the outside being completely obviated. Their Lordships went below and witnessed the construction of the tubular boiler and steam-forming apparatus, which occupies but a very small space in the vessel, and by aid of a large pipe, about one foot in diameter, conveys hot water under the deck to warm the men's berths, and all parts of the vessel. The funnel of the furnace is near the side of the vessel under the rigging, and is only about nine feet high. The pipe for blowing off the steam is not three feet high above deck, and is near the centre and over the boiler. Several other ingenious contrivances have been adopted to render the whole as simple and perfect as possible. The decks of the Erebus and Terror are constructed on the diagonal principle, and about twenty feet on each side of the bows of the vessels have been cased with strong sheet iron. There is not any copper sheathing on either of the vessels, as no danger is to be apprehended from the attacks of shellfish or barnacles, the ice soon clearing them from incumbrances of that description.

The arrangements made for the comfort of the officers and crews are excellent. The quantity of stores taken on board is considerable, and consists of preserved provisions of various kinds, a large quantity of tea, and extra strong West Indian rum, 35 per cent. over proof. The consumption is thus provided for a prolonged expedition. Ten fine live oxen have also been shipped at the Woolwich Dockyard, on board the Barretto, Jun., hired transport ship ; she will accompany the discovery vessels to the edge of the ice, and these animals may then be killed, and their flesh preserved fresh for any length of time.

Each ship has been supplied with 200 tin cylinders for the purpose of holding papers which are to be thrown over board, with the statement of the longitude and other particulars worthy of record, written in six different languages, and the parties finding them are requested to forward the information to the Admiralty.

The compasses of the vessels have been adjusted by Captain Johnson, and the most perfect arrangements made for the peculiar service in which the vessels of the Arctic expedition are to be engaged.

We annex, also, a portrait of the gallant Commander of the Expedition, who has already taken a share in three Expeditions to the North. Sir John Franklin is a native of Spilsbury, in Lincolnshire, and was born in 1786. At the age of fourteen, he entered the Royal Navy, as midshipman, and was on board the Polyphemus when Nelson made his daring and resistless attack on the Danish line and batteries off Copenhagen, April 2, 1801. Franklin next sailed with Captain Flinders on his Voyage of Discovery on the coast of New Holland, in which he endured shipwreck. We pass over several other of Franklin's services, but must not omit that on board the Bellerophon, at the Battle of Trafalgar. His first Expedition to the North was as commander of the Trent, in company with Captain Buchan, in the Dorothea, in 1818 ; both vessels returning in the same year.

Lieutenant Franklin's next enterprise was in connection with an expedition of Lieutenant (now Sir W. E.) Parry ; a journey by land, which, in point of severe and protracted suffering, has not been surpassed in the annals of discovery ; he left England in May, 1820, and did not return till July, 1822. In February, 1825, he left Liverpool on a similar journey, and returned in September, 1827.

Captain Franklin was promoted to the rank of Commander in 1821, and to that of Post-Captain in 1822. He is a Fellow of the Royal Society, and has published the results of his several expeditions. He married in 1823, Miss Porden, the daughter of the architect, William Porden, Esq. : this lady unhappily died of consumption, in her 30th year, in 1825.

Our illustrations show the cabins of Captain Sir John Franklin, and Captain Fitzjames, in the Erebus. Sir John's cabin is in the stern of the vessel, and has double windows.

Among the external peculiarities of construction may be mentioned the following: —Round the outside of both vessels is a projection as far as the shrouds, inclosing the chains as a protection against the ice : it is flat on the surface, except at the bows, which form an angle. What is generally the figure head is a solid block of wood ; the vessel is double, and the bows are a mass of timber about eight feet thick. The stern is nearly perpendicular, for unshipping the rudder ; and an ice board is raised above the bulwarks, which projects over the side, to aid in steering clear of the ice. The screw-propeller is worked by an engine of 25 horse power, which formerly ran upon the Greenwich Railway.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompts-all-the-Time; just a wee silly interlude today]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) 14: eavesdropping (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Greg Lestrade has tried only three times, in the several aggravating years of their acquaintance, to surprise his friend Sherlock Holmes. It has yet to work, even when Sherlock was off his tit. The bastard.

But Greg has a new plan. Time has passed; he'd like to think he's learned a thing or two. And he has a new ally: Rosie Watson. 

Sure, she's too small to be a super spy--yet--but she is a very excellent excuse to come round the flat. 

She's undoubtedly getting spoiled, this one, as if everyone involved is trying to miraculously compensate for a lost mum, even though they know it's futile. 

But also? Kids are fun when they're little. And Greg has no issue admitting he misses those days. Especially when he can hand the kid back when the nappy needs changing. It's brilliant.

And it's nearly John's birthday, so he figures he can kill two birds with one stone. Surprising Sherlock is just a bonus, a personal challenge he lays out for himself every once in a while. To keep his mind sharp. Like sudoku, but one where the sudoku insults you afterwards.

Today, he's prepared: He's bribed Mrs Hudson with some (completely legal, thanks) CBD sweeties. He's noted which stairs squeak. He's planned it for a time he reckons Rosie will be home and awake. He knows Sherlock isn't on any case for the Yard.

Yes, there's a chance John will be at his day job, or Sherlock will be on a private case, but those are chances he just has to take.

He holds the carefully wrapped package under his arm and starts up the stairs. He can hear music, immediately recognisable as Frozen II, but not much else.

One he gets to the landing, he considers the two doors in front of him. He listens again, harder, and thinks he can hear Sherlock and John conversing under the soundtrack, and thinks they're in the sitting room.

So he just goes for it. Opens the kitchen door slow as treacle, then peeks round.

He blinks, then pulls back. Has he just seen-- 

He peeks around again.

Yep. Yep, he has definitely seen Sherlock and John standing in front of the fireplace, in between their well-loved chairs, and kissing like the world is theirs to command: That feeling of a new relationship, which is a bit of luck considering how long those two blokes have known each other, but…

He rubs his eyes, then goes back for one more look.

Same picture, only this time-- Sherlock, eyes closed and expression intense as he holds John's face in one hand and explores his mouth without shame, uses the other hand to make two fingers in Greg's direction behind John's back.

Greg almost laughs out loud. Instead, he leaves the gift on the landing and heads back out. There's only so much a man wants to know about his mates.

He grins to himself. New new plan: Never try to surprise Sherlock Holmes again.

[ <3 ]

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 2 Group D Match 6

expand for propaganda! (major wall of text warning)

Henry Rollins:

"Honestly, Johnny Mnemonic Henry with the glasses and the lab coat was pretty hot"

"A wonderful physical specimen. Plus he’s really funny and weird….best hot ones interview of all time."

"I want him to run me over with a bus"

Stephen Malkmus:

"i can't even stand stephen malkmus but there's a very special girl out there who needs this win"

"My perpetually stoned, nonsensical girlfriend...if we don't invent the time machine soon I might die. He's like 6 ft tall so unfortunately I'd be like one of those birds that ride on giraffes and eat bugs out of their fur. And then I'd die in a weed accident during the recording of Wowee Zowee? Before that though I'd spend 25 hrs a day in bed with him. Alright thanks"

"Stephen Malkmus chronically addicted to moaning and gasping in Pavement songs like he’s getting the best dicking down of his life in the back of the tour bus while everyone else is asleep"

"This is the indie-label match, right? Then it has to be Malkmus, he *made* the scene. And he's still releasing excellent music today. He's just the most influential rockstar of the 90s."

"my gay pavement fan uncle gets out of prison tonight and he knows you ratted him out in '06. the only way to make this right is to vote for stephen"

"Pretty please vote for him, my friend loves him and he really wants him to win"

""There were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch"." I have also heard him refer to himself as a brat, a queen, a primadonna, a sociopath, and a narcissist. All of these descriptors have made me want to slam him against a wall and turn his neck fun new colors."

"I mean, Pavement is THEE indie band of the 90s. The lowkey snark, Koreaaaa, so much style that it's wasted. And Malkmus is an understated cool rockstar: the hair, the face, Silver Jews! He never ever sold out. He's the 90s."

"the most beautiful man ever he looks like a gorgeous fairytale prince. he has been hot since he emerged on the scene and continues to be so as their reunion tour comes to a close. stephen forever"

"we have to consider the autism swagger. find me a pavement write up that doesn’t spend three paragraphs waxing lyrical on his inability to make eye contact. find me a YouTube comment section that doesn’t have hoards of moms swooning over his flat affect. his refusal to wear anything more formal than a flannel for the first decade of his career? genuinely culturally influential. 30 glorious years of expressionless performances. sunglasses in the dark. so many straight men falling over themselves for him they made a joke about it in the Barbie movie. raw tbh sex appeal. and he’s got a great nose"

"he had a couple of unfortunate haircuts during this period but highkey i would break both of my arms to just be able to make out with him. please vote for SM my life is in danger if you don't"

[dearestaeneas]

Pappappappappap.

Turn left. Up three slats. Forward for a bit. Hang a right.

Ancient drywall dust speckled the ground at his paws, the wood old and dry and at risk for splintering. It was an absolute playground.

The rat did not know this, but the house had been abandoned for years. On the other side of the wall sat dusty furniture and heavily graffitied wallpaper, empty glass bottles, and general litter. The town had debated knocking it over, putting up a parking lot, but decided against it.

There wasn’t even a shopping mall. What would we need the lot for?

So there the house remained. Abandoned and unloved by humans. The teens who hid in the leaf-filled kitchen to smoke after school did not love the house, with its 3 floors and creaky stairs. The college students who appeared each Thanksgiving night to drink and reminisce, pretending they were anything other than babies in the world did not love the house’s study, home to an elderly desk that no one cared enough to look in. The rats and birds and insects and squirrels did not see the need for the money, or the books, or the gold watch that still, despite it all, ticked.

Pappappappappap.

His little feet pounded ever forward, his little round body squeezing effortlessly upwards between wooden planks.

The little rat, with his round body and busy feet, loved the house. He did not care about the once-expensive looking rugs, or the elegant, but stained, crown molding, and he did not care about the ornate door knobs. The little rat, in no particular order, loved these things about the house:

He loved the still-somewhat-silver silverware that sat in a kitchen drawer for the noise it made when he scurried over them (knives make for a particularly pleasant noise, with their flat edges that slide off of one another).

He loved the bookshelves that lined the walls of most of the rooms, because they made for excellent perches to sit on to survey the floor (not to mention that if one of the books could be knocked over, a page could be taken for a nest with incredible ease).

He loved the plushies left behind in one of the smaller upstairs rooms. There was one that looked like him! Although this was not his favorite (that honor belonged to a little brown bear, who lay on his back, leaving his stomach open for the most wonderful of naps), it pleased him. A mirror had been knocked off the bathroom cabinet and shattered, its shards sparkling on the floor. The little rat tended to avoid that room, knowing simply that the little silver points were bad news, and not needing more information than that. However, he had not come to this conclusion without first exploring the room, for the initial shattering had mimicked the pleasant sounds of the silverware, but times a thousand. He was intrigued by the other little round-bodied rat who looked back at him from one of the shards. He hoped he was not lonely in there.

But the little rat did not love the house for what it contained. Its contents were beneficial and made life interesting and wonderful, but he would have loved the house if it were vacant and cold and bare and boring. The little rat loved the house because it was his home, and because his home loved him.

His home protected him from the rain and the snow and the cold and the heat, his home kept him entertained and safe and happy. He needed nothing and wanted for less.

Pappappappappappap.

He wanted to do something nice for his home. But what did he have to offer? He couldn’t fix the leaky roof, or replace a cracked tile, couldn’t put a chair back upright or even change a lightbulb.

Ultimately, he decided the best way he could show his love would simply be to live in his home. His home would understand his limitations, while still seeing that the little rat stayed because he wanted to, and because staying was important to him.

He climbed higher and higher, ascending more and more wooden slats and boards, scurrying from opening to opening, until finally: a break in the wall.

Drywall parted, and the little rat felt himself becoming giddy. He inched forward, his little nose twitching furiously, his little black eyes boggling.

He panted slightly, having climbed all the way up to the second floor. A journey that would take a human seconds had taken him several minutes. He looked out from his little hole in the drywall to see the ancient chandelier at eye level. If he wanted, he could climb all the way to the very top, and look down onto the chandelier. He’d done this several times, and would, inevitably, do it again.

But there was something magical to being eye level with the sparkly glass. He would say nature played a cruel joke on him, leading him to his home and cursing him with his blurred vision, stopping him from admiring the intricate details of the crystal before him, but the simple problem with this is that he didn’t know any better, didn’t know there was a world outside of the outlines and colors he saw. He loved his home for its outlines and colors, for the way that the chandelier caught the light at certain hours of the day. He loved the sparkle of the rainbow that was cast about the entryway.

Nature was not cruel, nature did not punish him or play jokes. It loved him. It loved him the way he loved his home, it protected him and marveled at him and delighted in his joy.

He sat there, squeaking with great contentment as the sun went down and its rays caught the glass, bathing him and the home he loved in color.

[wolfsblog]

WOLVES AND RAVENS ...

Naturalist Notes: Wolves and Ravens ... Wildlife, Wolves, Yellowstone, Yellowstone Quarterly

Ravens and wolves have a special relationship. Called “wolf birds” by various cultures, ravens have important ties to wolves. Like many scavengers, the common raven (Corvus corax) is especially tied to large predators that serve as potential food providers. Wolves provide many Yellowstone species a year-round food not necessarily available prior to their re-establishment in the park: carrion. Bears, eagles, magpies, and several other species also benefit from this food source ... Ravens begin eating carrion quickly, usually arriving not soon after a kill, but rather—because of their close association with wolves—being there when the kill is made. As many as 135 ravens have been seen on one carcass! Interestingly, these birds will not only eat some of the food, but cache (store) as much as possible. It is believed that in some cases the raven, not the wolf, will harvest the majority of a large animal carcass ... Wolf at Blacktail Pond. NPS / Jim Peaco ... Pic 2 ... Ravens are highly regarded for their social skills, a complicated communication system, and excellent visual recognition. These vocal birds make lots of noise when they find a dead animal, drawing attention to the carcass so that larger, more “tooled” scavengers can open up the hide and eventually provide food for the ravens ... Those social skills have not gone unnoticed when observing wolf/raven interactions. Ravens have often been seen interacting with wolves, especially pups and yearlings. These intriguing birds have been known to grab sticks and play tug-of-war with wolf puppies, to fly over young wolves with sticks and tease the small canines into jumping up to grab the sticks, and even to boldly pull the tails of wolves to initiate a reaction. Some scientists have theorized that individual ravens may even develop special bonds with individual wolves within a pack ... Perhaps we will soon know more about this fascinating animal relationship, as a new research study in Yellowstone hopes to shed light on many facets of raven life, including their relationship with wolves on the landscape ...

By YF Institute Staff ...

This article was originally published in the Spring 2020 issue of Yellowstone Quarterly ...

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Round Two: Heracles vs Heliothraupis

Heracles inexpectatus

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Unexpected Herculean Parrot 

Time: 16 to 19 million years ago (Burdigalian stage of the Miocene epoch, Neogene period) 

Location: St. Bathans Fauna, Bannockburn Formation, Aotearoa  

Heracles was a truly alarmingly large parrot, related to modern day Kea, Kaka, and Kakapo, known from the fantastic avifauna of St Bathans. Standing more than two feet tall and weighing about fifteen pounds, this animal was much larger than any expected from the St Bathans fauna, which represented the initial colonization of Aotearoa (Zealandia) after it returned above sea level. Heracles is also the largest known species of parrot, ever. It was presumably flightless, though it is uncertain if it was nocturnal like its living relative the Kakapo. Its exact ecology is still uncertain, given the material known from Heracles is limited and its living relatives have very disparate ecologies, though it is possible it was omnivorous similar to the Kea and Kaka today. The St Bathans fauna lived in a freshwater lake system, in a subtropical emergent rainforest. Separated from land bridges, the fauna was dominated by birds, with early relatives of the Kiwi, New Zealand Wrens, Adzebills, and Wedge-Tailed eagles found in the fauna, as well as somewhat modern looking Moas. Smaller flamingos, large fruit pigeons, and a huge variety of geese and other waterfowl are known. In addition, frogs, tuataras, other lizards, crocodilians, turtles, and many different types of fish are known from this fascinating ecosystem. 

Heliothraupis oneilli

Photograph by John C. Mittermeier, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: O’Neill’s Tanager of the Sun God Inti 

Time: Unknown to the present, Holocene, Quaternary 

Location: Western Bolivia and Southern Peru, South America 

Rarely do we get to talk about a newly discovered living species of bird, but this is one of those excellent times! This bird, a bright yellow tanager with a distinctive black stripe across its eye, was found in the Neotropics - specifically in the Yungas region. Given that Latin America has the largest number of bird species in the world, it makes a certain amount of sense that we may have missed some! First spotted in the nineties, it was properly identified and described over the course of the 2010s. The distinctive appearance of this tanager lead to it being nicknamed the “Kill Bill Tanager”, in reference to its similarity to Uma Thurman’s yellow jumpsuit outfit. Distinct in appearance and population from other tanagers, it was deemed not only a separate species, but an entirely separate genus. It is migratory, breeding in the northern Machariapo Valley and going down to the eastern Andes for the nonbreeding season. It lives in deciduous forests, and breeds in bamboo grasses. It is a loud and vocal bird, making distinctive songs and choruses that happen long after the dawn chorus of most other birds. As it lives in a fairly isolated region of these countries, its habitat is not particularly threatened at this time.

[casswithmywholeheart]

Is there any more information you can share about your Spidey Golden Guard AU? I am absolutely frothing at the mouth over this it is literally so cool, and the art you made for it is EXCELLENT it is scratching my brain so well, you have no idea

Also I know this was asked before but it was a while ago, so would you allow fan art of this?

Thank you!!

Oh well! I coulda go on for hours and hours for this.. It's been three years but I still remember the burning passion I had for this!

This is actually just a very very vague idea in which <Hunter is a high school student who is secretly a superhero named golden guard>. I gave spiderman traits and spidey-like characteristics to his hero identity, such as joking (to hide his insecurity and weaknesses), may come across as mischievous (a social menace) but is actually just trying his best to use his powers for justice, and a masked guy who must keep his real face and name unrevealed. As a teen he is classic peter parker cause he is nerdy (for birds), struggling for everyday life at school against the bullies.

The only difference might be that he's trying to get a boy -instead of getting a girl- cause he's in love with his classmate Edric lmao edric is basically his gwen stacy. And that he had to be trans bc I'm ftm, so extra trans struggles(like wearing a binder to a fight and stuff). Also he uses a magical staff as a source of power so all his superpowers come from that, instead of spider webs or a spider bite.

I didn't specifically think of a concrete or consistent storyline or setting (when it comes to making AU's I tend to be weirdly unspecific); I just drew a bunch of doodles of whatever scenes that came into mind. All the posts were created like that. The margin ones where gg is shooting webs from his wrists are literally just brainrot doodles- I don't think that's canon. I don't think the golden guard as a hero should be bitten by a spider (he has a whole staff to use). He is the masked golden guard who uses magic powers to save people but normally is an insecure teen named Hunter(not ben); the classic story we all know.. It's as simple as that. (Since it's vague and unspecific I think it makes easier for others to hop on and enjoy with their own views!)

There are tons of doodles in old textbooks and on printouts and papers from back then.. but for now, here are some drawings that I found.

I remember the start being a random thought where I made a connection between these two because I thought their vibes were very similar.

And yes! You're absolutely welcome. I would always love to see any kind of fan art for this idea. I always think of a green t shirt with white long sleeves beneath it with a pair of beige pants when I think of spidey Hunter, but I did draw an orange hoodie once, and I don't mind if people made him wear what they would like for him to wear. Even I couldn't decide if he had round or pointy ears, but I believe he is human in this au, so even if they were pointy it would be due to genetics. (One last Tmi: I like to think his arch enemy is emperor belos who is actually his own uncle, just like how spidey's enemies are sometimes among his own neighbors.)

And last, thank you so much for giving love and attention to a silly little AU I made. 💛💛 It's so precious to receive asks like this.

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Finale Friday everyone! Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week. You can find previous rec lists here.

A reminder I'm putting my fingers in my ears and ignoring discourse here for all buddie/bucktommy/buddietommy configurations, though these last two weeks I've been pretty down bad in my messy and hurting Eddie Diaz feels and it's manifested in the form of pining fics.

I'm always on the lookout for more henren fic to read, so please send recs my way!

31 May 2024

7x10 coda by @ghosthunterbuck was the Eddie pov fic that was exactly what I needed to read after the finale. Obviously spoilery for the episode so I'm not going to go too into detail here as to the what, but for the why - I think it perfectly captures Eddie's head space going forward, his emotional journey, canon compliant relationships, and the family dynamics at play. The last line got me good.

i love you like a dog with a bird at your door (and sequel) by @shitouttabuck (and this gorgeous fanart by @midbam too) absolutely stole my heart. A slowburn buddie fic, set post-season six. In which Buck reflects on his childhood in how he demonstrates and feels love with dogged devotion, and his love for the Diaz family. Through the ups and downs of life together at work and at home, and with some A+ 'moving in to take care of each other' vibes. I just loved getting swept away in the sweetness of this fic, it really warmed my heart. PLUS just...incredible deft, light handed and excellent use of metaphor that encapsulates Buck so so well.

love on the brain by @lizzybizzyzzz yes yessssss sexy henren fic!!! In which Karen oh so casually asks if Hen's going to pose for the firefighter calendar, Hen bluescreens for a bit, but then ropes in Athena to help out with a surprise. Set pre-6x06 (and the follow up delves into it and takes an angstier turn), this was just delightfully fun and I loved Hen stepping a little out of her comfort zone to show off for her wife. Those poses *fans self* where do I get me a Hen calendar?

meditating on your lips by @coldbam look I can't possibly summarise this one better than the actual summary. Buck comes out, and Eddie has some interesting dreams:

“I take it the date went well then? Cleared some things up for you.”

“You can say that again, Hen. Not only am I now a proud bisexual man, it turns out I’m excellent at sucking dick!”

Eddie chokes on his coffee.

No notes. (And then I proceeded to read all of coldbam's backlist and had a DELIGHTFUL TIME. Gardening fic! Phone sex! Athena/Eddie friendship. Pining!!!!! What fun!)

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels is from a few years back and was my favouritist of tropes, Buddie secretly writing to each other anonymous penpals, simultaneously falling in love, but all threaded through on the concept that they never clicked as work besties as they did in the show. I loved the balance of canon and reinterpreting the series through this lens. Deeply sweet and romantic and fun, and also heartwrenching.

drive you into a corner (and kiss you without a sound) by @hauntsorchards in which Eddie joins the 118 and can't seem to stop kissing Buck when he does something heroic, delightful or goofy. But it doesn't mean anything, right? In which the entire firehouse deserves a raise for putting up with them.

looking for an ocean breeze/so i can fill my mind with ease by newtkelly was the bucktommy fic ALL over my dash earlier this week and for good reason. Look I love a pun based fic prompt, and “Can I top you off?” was the perfect wedding scene one. It captured Tommy's sardonic humour so well, as well as exploring some of Buck's potential hang ups. And also now we know what we know...works very well on a kink exploration level. A sexy and fun 7x06 coda.

be you in time (it's easy) by @mycenaae my favourite fic exploring Tommy's reaction to seeing Captain Gerrard on the guestlist as a post 7x09 coda. Excellent bucktommy dynamics, as well as my very favourite thing...the Tommy and Hen and Chim groupchat. Please let this become a thing show, because it's perfect.

don't just stand there by @smallandalmosthonest AND FINALLY my favourite buddietommy WIP posted it's final chapter this week. Here's my summary from before: In which Eddie interruptus and Buck is maybe kinda sorta okay with that actually. A+ accidental exhibitionism kink discovery, with fantastic dialogue characterisation and just really really fun established bucktommy and buddie dynamics all wrapped into one. The final chapter is chefs kiss on flipping the narrative perspective and tying everything (and everyone) together!

Happy hiatus - treat each other kindly, and bang it out in fic form if you have to! If you need me I'll be over here revelling in Eddie going through it fic (oh Eddie indeed.)

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Cozy Up to the Madagascar Hissing Cockroach

One of twenty hissing cockroach species, the Madagascar hissing cockroach or simply the hisser (Gromphadorhina portentosa) is found only on the island of Madagascar. There, it prefers the dry leaf litter and rotting logs of lowland tropical rainforests, though it can also be found in cool, damp, dark areas of buildings. These habitats are ideal as they can offer both refuge from predators like rodents and birds, and food: hissing cockroaches are detritovores, feeding exclusively on decaying plant and animal matter. This makes them important members of the ecosystem as they recycle nutrients back into the soil.

G. portentosa is one of the largest species of cockroach in the world, reaching up to 7 cm (3 in) and 24 g (0.8 oz) when fully grown. Unlike other cockroaches, the hisser lacks wings and travels exclusively over the ground. Fortunately their hard, dark brown exoskeleton provides excellent camoflage against the forest floor. Males and females are nearly identical; the only difference is the pair of horns, or pronatal humps, found just behind the male’s head.

Though they may live in close quarters, madagascar hissing cockroaches are largely individualistic. Males fiercely guard small territories, only leaving occasionally to find food and water. Females and young are somewhat more social, and move in and out of these territories freely. As their name implies, hissers communicate primarily by hissing. This sound is produced by expelling air through their bodies. Four distinct hisses have been identified, each with different meanings; territorial displays, mating calls, and an alarm hiss to warn away predators.

Hissers reproduce all year round, provided the weather is warm enough. Males attract females by hissing loudly, and fight off rival males through hissing competitions and posturing. When a female enters a male’s territory, she emits a chemical to attract a mate. When the pair meet, they enter a brief courtship ritual involving vocalizations and touching each other’s antennae; they then position themselves end to end and remain there for upwards of 30 minutes.

The female will carry her fertilized egg case, or ootheca, for about two months. Up to 40 nymphs will hatch from the case while still inside their mother, who then expells her young all at once. These nymphs resemble adults in structure, but are smaller and lack reproductive organs. Initially they are white, but quickly turn brown or black as they grow, molting about once a month until fully grown. Sexual maturity is reached at about seven months of age, but individuals can live for up to 5 years.

Conservation status: The Madagascar hissing cockroach has not been evaluated by the IUCN, and populations are considered to be stable. In addition, many zoos and private collectors maintain hissing cockroaches for display or food for other animals, as the species is low maintenence and easy to breed in captivity.

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Photos

Liz West

Lincoln Park Zoo

Alexandria Zoo

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

Ann-Margret (Bye Bye Birdie, Viva Las Vegas)—While she started as a singer, the lovely and talented Ann-Margret also left her mark as an actress in Hollywood. She won a Golden Globe for her first role in Pocketful of Miracles and was nominated again for Bye Bye Birdie, and very nearly stole the show from Elvis Presley himself in Viva Las Vegas.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

Ann-Margret:

She can sing! She can dance! She had excellent chemistry with Elvis! She reportedly survived a 22 foot fall off of a stage! The movies and old and problematic but I love her 1000%

[astragreenwoode]

It took a while, but I finally made a version of them I'm happy with. Hoppy Hopscotch and Picky Piggy are up next!

Typed-up version of their headcanons below the cut in case my handwriting is hard to read.

KICKIN CHICKEN

• California Dude Bro

• Hawaiian Shirts 24/7

• HATES Learning

• Lives on the beach

• HARDCORE PARKOUR

• Wants Summer to be year-round

• Loves surfing and skateboarding equally

• Attention Seeker

• Clumsy. Fails his stunts half the time

• Endless Energy

• Early Bird

• Workout buddies with Hoppy

• "Hang loose, bro!"

• Secretly very emotionally fragile

BUBBA BUBBAPHANT

• Needs routine to function

• Excels in every subject

• Hyper-Organized

• Makes smart jokes no one else understands

• Hates working out, but is also the strongest of the critters, somehow

• Bookworm. Runs a Book Club with CatNap

• Shy

• Easily Flustered

• Insecure about his intelligence

• Skeptic

• Simon Petrikov Energy

• On the front page of r/iamverysmart

(Theres more on him, but I ran out of room, so here's that continued)

• Gentle Giant

• Kins Angus from Night in the Woods

• Very Nice, but will lose his shit if he's pushed to his limit

I hope you like my work and please let me know what you think, as I really appreciate it and use it as motivation. Be sure to follow me and come back for me, please!

Stay wild, free, and safe, my dears!

-Astra