#Limbe Wildlife Centre | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileygoth · 1 year ago

Text

21. First Bite Tastes Best

I'm back (hopefully)!!! Sorry for the gap in posts folks, I will try my damnedest to get the rest of the chapters out before the 31st!

Part 21 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Imogen and Eliza go hunting.

Word Count: 2121 words.

CW: Blood, violence, death, implication of rape/assault, brief mention of rats and bugs.

Image from Getty Images.

Find the previous chapters here!

‘I’m hungry,’ Imogen said, as they walked back to her haven. ‘Why am I so hungry? It hasn’t been that long since-’ She thought of Emma, and stopped.

Eliza’s response was gentle. My blood is changing you. I was old. My thirst could only be slaked by the blood of our own kind. You shouldn’t reach that point anytime soon, but you will need to feed a little more often than you used to, I’m afraid. And your companion … She was very young.

‘She didn’t pack enough punch for you, huh?’ Imogen remarked bitterly. ‘She was just an appetiser?’

Eliza remained silent.

Imogen sighed wearily and went on. ‘Well, anyway, I need to hunt and there’s not much left of the night, so…’

How do you do it? Eliza asked.

‘I don’t know. Find a bar, find a guy. The usual.’

Eliza’s disapproval radiate through Imogen’s mind. Sounds humiliating. Would you allow me to take the lead?

Imogen thought about refusing, but she was mentally and emotionally exhausted. The thought of letting Eliza take control and just sinking into the background for a while was too tempting to resist. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But don’t shut me out. I want to know what’s going on.’

Of course, Eliza agreed. And you can take back control at any time.

With that, Eliza pushed forward, and Imogen let her. She felt that strange pressure, the weightless falling sensation as she settled into the back of her own mind, the illusion of looking out through her own eyes from a distance, almost like a movie playing on a screen she couldn’t look away from. Her hunger became distant too, tickling vaguely like some irritating but insignificant insect. Mostly, she felt nothing. It was … peaceful.

Eliza flexed Imogen’s fingers, settling into her skin and bones. Each time she did this she felt more at home in this body, felt her old strengths returning. She felt that if she had enough practice, she’d be her old self entirely - excepting of course her appearance - before too long. The hunger Imogen had complained of bloomed in her stomach. It wasn’t that bad - she was hardly starving - but all the same Eliza relished the chance to stretch her limbs, as it were, and see what she could do.

Old Road, where they had met the activists, was long and boring, home to only dark warehouses and empty plots of land at this end, but it led straight into the heart of the city. It was past 2am and no one was around, so Eliza quickened her pace, first breaking into a run and then moving with preternatural speed, relishing the rush of air on her cheeks and in her hair. As she ran she opened her senses to the world, letting all the sights, sounds and smells in.

She found herself approaching a small park as she slowed her pace just outside the very centre of the city. Here the streetlights were all working and the occasional late or early worker passed by on foot or in their car, so she had to move slowly, like they did. She detected the park from over a block away, drawn by the scent of wet earth and the stealthy sounds of the wildlife. Among the city’s tall buildings they called to her like an oasis in a parched desert. Before long she was walking through a tall pair of iron gates into a manicured gardens that had been sadly neglected over the winter months. Hardy weeds sprouted in the naked flowerbeds and moss grew on the cracked paths. Eliza smiled to see nature in action, reclaiming itself from the neat, well-behaved facade it had been forced into. So many humans failed to understand the true savagery of nature … which worked to the advantage of the predators who hunted them.

She slipped into the shadows beneath an oak tree to one side of the path as her keen ears picked up the sound of someone walking through the park ahead of her. High hells tapped a rapid staccato rhythm on the asphalt path. Into the glow of a streetlamp hurried a young woman, poorly dressed for the weather. Her legs were bare beneath a short skirt, the rest of her outfit covered with a leather coat that she was holding closed. A tiny handbag swung from one wrist. Her blonde hair was falling out of its teased, sprayed style in the damp night air. What caught Eliza’s attention was the smeared mascara around her eyes, the faded lipstick on her lips, and the haste in her steps as she glanced repeatedly and fearfully behind her. She was already being hunted, and she knew it. Eliza lifted her eyes beyond the woman, waiting to see who followed.

Sure enough, a group of three men materialised from the darkness, all walking to match the woman’s speed, their hungry eyes glued to her. Eliza took in the way they wore their hats and hoods to shadow their faces, the way they sneered and licked their lips. One carried something metallic in his hand; one was palming his crotch through his jeans even as he walked. Her lips curled back in a disgusted snarl. Men such as these were sorry creatures, ready to inflict violence and pain for nothing more than their own sordid pleasures. The only thing they were good for was to carry the blood in their veins to those who would use it better … assuming they hadn’t polluted it beyond use.

Animals, Imogen muttered from the corner of her mind.

Worse than animals, Eliza thought back to her. Animals don’t make their prey suffer like these men intend to. And they don’t do it for fun.

The young woman hurried past Eliza’s hiding place, heels tapping urgently. Eliza smelled sweet perfume and alcohol and sweat. She’d been out dancing, gotten separated from her friends somehow, and now was left to get home alone. Eliza watched her pass in silence. She took a deep breath and extended her sense out, into the trees and plants around her. They were weak, sleepy, hindered by the constraints forced upon them by the humans, but they responded. They would help where they could.

The three men passed by Eliza with not the slightest idea that she was there. As they did, a branch of the oak tree dipped suddenly down, the thin twigs its end flicking out like whips. They caught the nearest man in the face, knocking his hat from his head. He recoiled, stumbling, one hand pressed to his face. ‘Fuck!’ he cried. ‘Fucking tree hit me in the eye!’

His two friends paused. ‘Watch where you’re fucking going, man,’ one of them hissed. The other was still watching the woman, who had sped up a little and was almost at the gates. ‘Hurry up,’ he urged, and the two of them started forward again. The nearest lowered his hand from his eye and grumbled under his breath. ‘Fuck you guys, I’m fucking bleeding!’

He was - Eliza could smell it. As his two friends got further away, Eliza crept out of the shadows, her feet making no sound on the damp grass. Before he even knew she was there she had pounced onto his back, her weight making him stumble backwards. She wrapped her arms around him and drove her fangs into the side of his neck. He let out a yell of surprise, then went limp in her arms. He tasted like beer and anger and weed and hatred and though it stung her like fire, it was delicious.

His two friends turned back when he yelled, their faces going slack with surprise as they saw him crumple in the arms of a woman nearly half his size. By the time they started to run back to him, Eliza had already drained him of more blood than he could lose and live. His heart was stuttering helplessly as she dropped him to the floor and stepped over him to meet his friends. When the first one reached her, she grabbed two fistfuls of his hoody and swung him around and off of the path, sending him crashing into the bushes. The plants’ supple branches twisted around him like vines, holding him in place, small thorns catching in his clothes and hair. He yelled in surprise and thrashed wildly, trying to escape. The second was swinging a punch at Eliza’s head as she turned back to meet him. She dodged it easily before swinging a punch of her own into his stomach. He folded easily, the breath leaving him with a loud whoosh and a stink of alcohol and marijuana. She grabbed his head in both hands and pulled him up to face her. She felt a light punch at her hip, a dim flower of pain, and ignored it. Baring her bloody fangs long enough to see the horror dawn in his eyes, she pulled him close as if to kiss him, then tore out his throat. The blood flew out in a strong spray and she drank it open-mouthed.

Once he was dead, she let his lifeless body fall from her grasp and turned to the last one. He was still struggling to free himself from the bushes she had thrown him into, but he saw her coming, her face and clothes splattered with his friends’ blood, and he started to whimper and cry. Like a child, the tears flowed down his cheeks. Looking at him, she saw that he was barely in his twenties.

‘What are you?’ he gasped in terror. ‘What are you?’

She snarled at him. ‘I am the consequences of your sins, I am every woman you have ever laid a hand upon. I am your death.’

His whimpers turned into wails. ‘I’m sorry!’ he cried. ‘I never done it before, I swear! I didn’t even want to! I was just trying’ to fit in with them!’

Bending over him as he crouched half-ensnared in the bushes, Eliza looked deep into his dark, tearful eyes. ‘Tell me the truth,’ she growled, pushing the force of her presence against his weak, stuttering mind.

‘It is the truth!’ he sobbed, his voice turning shrill. His eyes widened even more, the whites showing starkly against his dark pupils. ‘I swear! I swear! God, I’m so sorry!’ A sudden sharp stench of urine stung Eliza’s nose. The boy has pissed himself.

She stepped back. ‘Go,’ she said dully. ‘And don’t disappoint me, child. I will be watching.’

The bushes relinquished their hold on him, and he stumbled out of them and onto the path. With one last fearful glance back at Eliza, he fled from the park, taking the opposite direction to the young woman he had been following with his friends.

Wiping the blood from her face, Eliza turned to the bodies on the ground. A twinge of pain in her hip made her look down. The handle of a knife was sticking out of her hip. With a grimace more of annoyance than pain, she seized it and pulled it out. The slim blade came out cleanly without much pain. It was a flick-knife, and a nice one. She wiped it clean on her hoody and shoved it into her jeans pocket. It might come in handy later. Then she lifted first one corpse, and then the other, and tossed them into the bushes. The branches swallowed them with a dry rustle.

Imogen spoke up. That was really cool!

Eliza smiled in satisfaction. I know.

Are you just going to leave the bodies there, though? Someone will find them before too long.

Eliza closed her eyes, once again reaching out with her senses, but this time she reached out to the wildlife. She sensed the birds sitting quietly in the tall branches of the trees, the rats huddled under bushes and behind the bins, the insects clinging to the twigs and buried in the soil, all of them silent, waiting for her - the predator - to leave. She told them that she meant them no harm. She told them where the bodies had fallen, and she called them to feast.

The undergrowth shivered with movement. Suddenly the park came to life; birds burst from the treetops, rats flooded out from the bushes, more than even Eliza had suspected were there. The tiny buzz and zip of flies and other insects hummed past her ears. And they all descended upon the bushes where the two bodies were hidden. Eliza’s smile widened. They may be found, she thought to Imogen, But there won’t be much left to find.

That’s gross, Imogen responded.

‘Why?’ Eliza said aloud. ‘We all have to eat.’

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #wodtober #wod

0 notes

vetion25 · 2 years ago

Text

Orphan baby gorilla snuggles up to caretaker after being rescued

It usually takes a lot of time for a wild animal to put its trust in a human being, but when this tiny gorilla realized the people who rescued him are but kind and gentle, he bonded with them in the most adorable way. The moment was caught on camera and it’s nothing short of heartwarming!

Even though he’s at a very young age, Bobga has been through a lot so far. He was just a few weeks old when he lost his family due to poaching and his chances to survive were very slim. Scared and confused, the tiny gorilla ended up in a small cage, likely to be sold as a pet on the black market. But fortunately, he was rescued just in time and taken to the Limbe Wildlife Centre – a wildlife sanctuary in Cameroon.

Although Bobga had never trusted humans before – and it’s understandable why – it was a human who gave him all the comfort he was seeking. He realized that humans can be kind when he met Alvin Muma – volunteer at Limbe center.

#Bobga #Limbe Wildlife Centre

0 notes

its-deputy-caleb · 4 years ago

Note

If requests are still open, could I request a gender neutral teenage reader (around 16) who is a lord. They are the kindest and most passive of the lords but they are also the only lord that every other lord likes.

Heyy, so I loved writing these they were super adorable and i did it a little differently where there’s some general head cannons for everyone and then there’s also some for each specific character! Also the reader is 18 because I just think it’s easier for me to handle, I hope that’s okay. These are gender neutral so enjoy! and sorry for the delay!

General HC’s

Being the fifth Lord certainly didn’t mean that you were at the back of the group.

Although you were younger than most of the lords, having been the last to have the Cadou implanted, you were the favourite in the eyes of not just the other Lords but Mother Miranda adored you, even the villagers love you.

Unlike the rest of the Lords, who’s Cadou allowed them to harm and take life, your Cadou allowed you to grow greenery and plant life everywhere.

You had the ability to restore old forests, letting flowers grow from you palm and giving them to the children in the village.

Amongst the village, you’re by far the most beloved of the Lords. Each week you bring down foods that you’ve grown so that there’s food for everyone, using the roots of the trees to grow tall and protect them from Lycans that may want to enter at night.

Everyone can tell where you’ve been because you’ll leave a trail of grass under your feet with little flowers appearing when you walk with bare feet.

The village hosts a week long feast for you where all the Lords celebrate with you. There’s lots of gifts, dancing and offerings. It’s the only joyful time of the year and even the Lords who seem sour like Heisenberg, Alcina and even Miranda seem to tolerate each other to celebrate with you.

Your domain is surrounded by forests and streams which have all been restored, wildlife now dwelling amongst the canopy.

Your house is in the centre of it all, the heart of the forest in a large oak tree which is hollow and now where you call home.

You’re a literal ray of sunshine in this ever gloomy world and no matter who or what you encounter; they adore you instantly

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina certainly wasn’t happy that the newest Lord was befriending villagers and protecting them as they were her source of food, but that all came crumbling down when she got to know you.

You couldn’t explain it but your beautiful and bubbly energy transferred to people and everyone noticed that Alcina had become warmer towards everyone else.

She saw you as one of her daughters, so sweet and innocent that she felt that motherly instinct to protect you from all the bad in the world.

She loves to braid your hair, watching as flowers grow between the weaves as she pulls it back gently with her long fingers.

Alcina never complains when moss grows on the walls of her castle as she could never be mad at you. She just gets the maidens to clean it off later.

She hates that she often has to stay in the castle with her daughters so you make sure flowers are growing in all her vases and the courtyard is lit up with bright greens for her daughters to gaze out onto.

Everyone at the castle loves you, the maidens, her daughters and especially the Lady of the House as you instantly make the room brighter.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is in absolute awe of you.

She is always so excited to spend time with you and you make her feel loved and happier.

You’re like the younger sibling she never had and she can’t stop smiling when you visit her manor.

Sometimes when you come over for lunch or spend a lazy afternoon over at her house, you open your palm and let a little white flower grow from your palm. You always tuck it behind her ear with a strand of her hair and then grow a smaller one for Angie and place it on her veil.

Donna has a tendency to close herself off from people and often feels lonely but you’re the only one who makes her feel loved.

You show her parts of your forest, places she’s never explored and if she’s scared you simply hold her hand tightly in reassurance.

Once when you were walking through the path leading from your home a deer had stopped in front of you.

Donna was instantly scared of the creature having never seen one before but you gently took her over to it and got her to hold out her hand.

It smelt her hand, it’s doe eyes looking at her before it ran off again and she’d never felt happier since you were there the whole time with her.

She loved getting to explore the woodlands with you, bringing Angie along of course. She felt safe and comfortable with you and she trusted you enough to show her your world which she was captured by instantly.

You make her happy and always manage to lift her spirits up with your powers and you friendship.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore loves your powers so much. He’s captured by them immediately and is always so excited to see you grow new things.

He can’t believe that you’d ever want to spend time with him so you always try to cheer him up with homemade meals from things you’ve grown or gifts woven out of wood for him to decorate his home with.

You’ll never forget the way his eyes lit up when you used your powers to restore the windmill that had broken. Using tree branches to make the wind turbine and watching the walls grow green.

The reservoir is no longer gloomy like it used to be but instead there is life all around his land.

The snow melts away to reveal lush green fields which reflect the water beautifully and the petals of trees fall into the water, floating on the light.

He loves to see you and always gets giddy when you visit him, watching as he jumps for joy when he sees you at the front gate.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl will NOT admit it, but you’re the literal ray of sunshine in his life, getting excited when he sees you walk through the gates of his factory.

Hes always smiling to himself when he sees moss, flowers and vines throughout the metal benches and grates of his factory but will deny it if anyone asks.

Sometimes when he’s welding away at metal he won’t hear you come in, and only realises it when he takes a break and sees you curled on the floor with three lycan puppies in your arms as you create sticks from your hands to play fetch with.

Karl is very protective over you and hates when you’re at family meetings because Miranda wants to use your gifts of growth and healing to experiment on you further. Wanting to see if you could potentially grow new limbs or heal others not just the natural world.

One time he walked into experimenting rooms ready for another trial on a potential solider when he notices the Soldat had green leaves coming from his wounds and his torso was wrapped in vines. He couldn’t help but smile at your little additions and made a note in his designs to make all his Soldat’s with your touches to them, deciding that they looked better with them anyway.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #RE8 #asks #prompt

3K notes · View notes

if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years ago

Photo

[This is a fantastic and sympathetic piece about an important struggle in downtown Kingston, Ontario, that cuts right to the heart of conflicts over land use, housing, capitalism and those it harms, and wetlands - with a vile local capitalist developer as the villain of the piece. It’s long but read it, please.]

“On a sunny December afternoon in Kingston, Ont., about a dozen people gather by a massive white oak tree a few metres from the shore of the Great Cataraqui River. Poems and other written messages are attached to a fence in front of the oak. “She sits among friends/The targets of their stupid greed/Let their beauty be,” proclaims one message sealed in a Ziploc bag.

Laurel Claus-Johnson, a Mohawk elder, has organized a gratitude ceremony for the 220-year-old tree. The developer who owns the vacant property on which it stands won’t let anyone on the site, so Claus-Johnson and her friends have tied a length of yellow ribbon to the fence, signifying their solidarity.

Midway through the ceremony, Claus-Johnson asks a woman lingering nearby if she’d like to speak. She is Latoya Powder, a planner and de facto spokesperson for the developer, who says she has come as a private citizen but seems eager to defend her employer. “Man has scarred this site for years, I agree,” she says. “It should be protected, and it deserves to be cleaned up.”

“Man does not know how to clean up,” Claus-Johnson retorts. “Man knows how to destroy.”

The sparring that ensues reflects years of discord over the future of the site, a 15-hectare parcel known locally as the Davis Tannery, after a leather-making factory that was located there. It closed and was abandoned in the mid-1970s, leaving a legacy of grievously poisoned soil and sediment. The wrangling has intensified since 2017, when a local developer submitted a proposal to the city that includes decontaminating the site and constructing more than 1,500 housing units in medium-rise buildings near the riverfront. In recent years, formal and informal groups have sprung up around the health of the river, the protection of trees and wildlife, gentrification and homelessness.

But it’s more than a local flashpoint: the debate over the future of the Davis Tannery echoes existential issues facing communities globally. Depending on your vantage point, it’s a story about economic inequality, the climate emergency, resource exploitation, environmental degradation, species bias and the denial of fundamental human rights. It’s a reminder that sometimes you don’t need to look any further than your own backyard to see the forces that shape our world, for better or for worse. ///

Over the years since it was abandoned, the former tannery lands have mutated into a site of contradictions and complexities. Atop the wretched, toxic soil and sediment, a thicket of vegetation, rushes and trees has sprouted alongside the faithful old oak. Squirrels, rabbits and birds scurry under felled limbs, and in the warmer months, turtles lay their eggs nearby and share the shoreline with huddling ducks and herons. More recently, they’ve been joined by unhoused people who’ve been evicted from community encampments and have made temporary homes on the tannery lands.

To the north, the site is bordered by Belle Park, which was a landfill and later a golf course before being turned into a public park. To the south are residential, commercial and recreational centres, including rowing facilities. Its eastern edge is located along the widening of the river known as Inner Harbour, while a mix of small businesses, light industry and housing borders its western perimeter.

The site has been closed off since the 1980s, but the damage to its soil and groundwater had been done decades earlier. Tannery operations on the property date back to the mid-19th century. Its proximity to Lake Ontario, the Rideau Canal and rail transportation caught the attention of A. Davis and Son, which purchased an existing tannery operation on the site after a fire destroyed one of the company’s other plants in 1903. It was one of Kingston’s largest employers and one of the biggest tanneries in Canada. A lead smelter also operated on the site.

The tannery shut down in 1973 and was eventually demolished. The land was subsequently declared a brownfield site — a provincial designation for properties that are “vacant or underutilized places where past industrial or commercial activities may have left contamination (chemical pollution) behind.” Dangerous levels of chromium, lead, mercury and PCBs have been detected at the site. A 2019 report to Kingston City Council described it as “arguably the largest and most contaminated brownfield property within the city of Kingston.”

The Davis Tannery lands were the subject of numerous studies, consultations and community initiatives as they sat derelict and in tax arrears for decades. An attempt to clean up and redevelop the site failed in the 1980s. In 2004, the province passed legislation that allows potential developers to purchase brownfield lands and write off municipal taxes and other expenses against the cost of cleanups. The legislation breathed new life into efforts to rehabilitate the site. A developer purchased the property from the city in 2006 and spent several years trying to cobble together a redevelopment scheme. It failed to materialize, and in 2017 the site was sold to Patry Inc. Developments.

///

Owner Jay Patry is well known in Kingston as a multi-unit residential developer and property manager. In 2013, his company made national headlines when a student housing complex under construction near Kingston’s downtown caught fire and burned to the ground, stranding a crane operator high above the flames. The operator clambered out onto the crane boom and suffered burns to his legs, buttocks and hands before being rescued by a military helicopter. Patry’s company and three individuals including company owners later pleaded guilty to numerous workplace safety infractions and were hit with fines totalling $74,000. Patry made news again in 2018 when he climbed to the summit of Mount Everest, then less than 24 hours later, scaled nearby Mount Lhotse, the fourth-highest peak in the world. Patry, who was 39 at the time, claimed he was the first Canadian, and one of only 30 climbers worldwide, to have climbed both mountains in a 24-hour period.

His plans for the tannery lands are no less ambitious. To build the housing he proposes, he wants to clear the site of vegetation — including the oak tree that was the focus of last December’s gratitude ceremony — grub the ground of debris and remediate an estimated 550,000 tonnes of soil by disposing of it off-site, stabilizing it on-site or reusing it. One of the more contentious aspects of Patry’s plan involves capping a marsh area on the north end of the property — part of a provincially designated “significant wetland” — with a layer of clean soil, which could result in a redrawing of the wetland’s boundary and a revision of its zoning status. The price tag for the cleanup is estimated to be a staggering $70 million, with Patry eventually recouping up to nearly $64 million in tax rebates and other concessions under the city’s Brownfields Community Improvement Plan.

Kingston City Council unanimously approved the financial component of the cleanup plan in 2020. Patry’s development proposal, including adjustments to a number of local bylaws, is currently under review by city staff. Rob Hutchison, the councillor for the ward that includes the tannery site, thinks Patry’s asks are too grand. But he says the approvals process has to play out. “Staff would say it’s a new development application and we, under the Planning Act, have to consider it as such.…By law, we have to take this application on its face value.”

///

Requests for comment from Patry were directed to his staffperson Latoya Powder, who declined to be interviewed for this story.

Nearly everyone agrees that the site would be better off decontaminated. The devil is in the details — when you unpack them, you see a multitude of global struggles creeping into a local concern.

Case in point: Mary Farrar and her turtles. The president of a community group called Friends of Inner Harbour, the 81-year-old Farrar was at the December oak tree ceremony. A week earlier, she told me how she came to be known as Kingston’s “turtle lady.” For more than a decade, the city considered extending a street through a park next door to the tannery. Farrar, concerned about the impact of paving over part of a waterfront park, was looking for allies to help stop the extension. She found turtles.

Turtles are threatened almost everywhere you look on the planet. The northern map turtle — so named because the lines on their upper shells resemble the contours on a topographical map — was included on the list of species at risk in Ontario in 2008 and again in 2013. About 100 of them nest on lands that would have been decimated by the street extension project. Farrar dedicated years to studying the turtles and protecting their nesting grounds. Walking through the area, I noticed small wooden structures topped with chicken wire, testimony to her efforts to protect turtle nests from predators and stomping.

Farrar’s advocacy work eventually won out; the street extension is all but dead, and the turtles are beloved local fixtures. But they’re still threatened. Decontaminating and developing the tannery shoreline would uproot a favoured basking place. “If the development goes ahead, the turtle habitat will be obliterated,” says Farrar. Her group’s Facebook page urges residents to register their concerns with local politicians. “The shoreline should be left to Nature to remediate,” it declares. “It is arrogant to think that humans know better.”

Farrar also belongs to a group called No Clearcuts Kingston, which opposes the removal of an estimated 1,800 trees from the Davis Tannery site as part of the decontamination project, and which rebukes the city for allowing the site to be deforested when expanding the urban tree canopy is part of Kingston’s official response to the climate emergency. No Clearcuts shares common cause with another recently formed organization, River First YGK, an advocacy group focused on the impact on the river and wetlands of the tannery proposal as well as a proposed cleanup of lands owned by Transport Canada adjacent to the tannery site.

On a late November afternoon whipped by wind and wet snow, historian Jeremy Milloy, River First YGK’s co-ordinator, gestures past the chain-link fence along the tannery’s marshy northern side. “We live in a climate emergency, and what is this?” he says. “This is a wetland. It’s a river running through a wetland into a lake, and it’s extremely at risk of flooding as our weather becomes wetter and wilder over the next 50 to 100 years.”

Like his counterparts in No Clearcuts, Milloy worries that removing trees on the site will encourage erosion and increase the risk of flooding on the catastrophic scale experienced in British Columbia last fall. The challenge, he says, is to convince civic leaders and the local population that Kingston is a frontline community in the climate emergency. “There’s not a pipeline. But people here are river people. This is a watershed community.” Just as grasping the scope of the climate emergency demands a holistic appreciation of the planet and its natural systems, the city and developers need to shift from a top-down view of the local ecosystem, Milloy says. “We’re trying to take the river in all its complexity and contingency and conflict, between being a very beautiful, vibrant space and a toxic, compromised space, and have it dealt with on its own terms rather than just another parcel of land.”

///

A rendering of Patry’s proposed project in its finished form imagines four mid-rise buildings arrayed in the sunshine along the riverfront, with a green belt and walkway separating the structures from the shoreline. The development application calls for a total of 1,509 apartment and condominium units and about 5,000 square metres of ground-floor commercial space. It also includes private and public park space and a boathouse for a local rowing club.

Prices for the townhouse-style units envisaged in Patry’s plan jumped locally by more than 30 percent last year. Add to this the development’s prime waterfront location, and it’s a safe bet that the units Patry hopes to sell won’t come cheaply. Same with the units earmarked for rental. And that’s before the cost of decontaminating the site is factored in. “He has to be able to make so much money off the property in order to pay for the cleanup costs,” says Coun. Rob Hutchison. “Honestly, I don’t know why he bought the property.”

Housing — or lack of it — is a major issue in Kingston. In part due to large student populations at Queen’s University and St. Lawrence College, the city has historically registered one of the lowest rental vacancy rates in Ontario. A recent surge in housing starts has improved the outlook, but the increase in vacancy rates has been accompanied by a spike in rents.

Tim Park, Kingston’s director of planning services, says almost 4,000 new housing units are currently slated for construction in the city, but “like any commodity, it’s up to the owner to adjust rental rates.” While Park says the city has requested that the tannery development include affordable housing, he cautions that “right now, the city just has a statement that a certain percentage should be affordable units, but there’s no way to enforce or implement it.”

The tannery lands could eventually be home to several thousand people. At present, the only residents are people like Donnie. In late December, Donnie (who asked to be identified by a nickname as he’s camping on private property) spent his 28th birthday alone near the banks of the frozen Cataraqui River, in a green pop-up tent and some blue tarps set up among fallen trees. He’s been camped out for a few weeks after leaving a homeless shelter. A couple he knows is camping nearby, and he’s envious of the companionship. “I’d give my f—king legs to have someone to talk to and stay warm with in my tent,” he says. “Even just the heat from their body.”

Donnie was born on a First Nations reserve in northern Ontario but grew up in group and foster homes. After he was arrested and incarcerated in 2020, his marriage fell apart and he lost his kids. When he was released last fall, he had nowhere to go and no money. He stayed at the shelter for a while, but it wasn’t a great fit. In the woods, no one harasses him except the animals who also live there. A few nights after Christmas, Donnie skirmished with a fisher and raccoons who wanted his leftovers.

Donnie bristles when he hears about the proposed re-development of the tannery lands — and the suggestion that it could help with Kingston’s housing and affordability crisis. “Who’s it affordable for? It’s not going to be affordable for poor people and homeless people,” he says.

He even speaks up for his raccoon neighbours, asleep in a tree near his tent. Shouldn’t they be considered in this, too? “People already live here,” he says indignantly. “It’s where I live.”

Beyond the fences marking the edge of the tannery lie once-thriving working-class communities that slid into decline in the 1970s as industry closed or relocated. For years, the district was regarded as Kingston’s poorest, but like similar districts in countless Canadian cities, it’s now undergoing gentrification as house hunters and small businesses are lured by lower real estate prices.

In spite of the recent changes, the district is still where you’ll find most of Kingston’s unhoused population, many of whom gather and camp around the nearby Integrated Care Hub, a facility that offers food, safety, shelter and counselling services to the vulnerable. Only one adult emergency shelter remains in Kingston. In September 2020, after unhoused people set up an encampment in a park, the city evicted the residents and removed their belongings. Since then, the city has done little to address systemic housing issues, aside from funding a non-profit’s pilot project to provide 10 sleeping cabins and a warming centre during the winter months.

People who work with Kingston’s poor take a dim view of the time, energy and resources the city mobilizes in the name of private, for-profit developments like the Davis Tannery lands, but not for issues like the affordable housing crisis. An Inner Harbour man, who wants to be known only as Jordan because he fears for his job with a local shelter service, says arguments that laud the tannery development as a solution to Kingston’s housing problems ring false. “The people who are affected by the housing crisis are people who would never be able to even consider living [there],” he says.

In fact, he continues, it’s more likely that the plan would worsen the city’s already considerable wealth gap. “Building a luxury development in a traditionally low-income area is going to actually amplify the housing crisis when thousands of people with more money move into this neighbourhood,” he says. “It’s always the low-income areas near a downtown core that start to get more and more development until the people who have lived there for decades eventually have to move out.”

Canada and other nations recognize access to adequate shelter as a fundamental human right. But here as elsewhere, it often seems that it’s more of a right for some than it is for others.

///

A week before we met at the edge of the Davis Tannery lands, Jeremy Milloy of River First YGK had listened to a talk by journalist Andrew Nikiforuk. Something Nikiforuk said stuck with him: “The study of ecology is the study of consequences,” Milloy recalls. He continues, “The tannery is a really good example because of the legacies of colonialism and capitalism in this space, and how consequential each piece is to the other.”

On a map of the planet, the Davis Tannery is a tiny pinpoint. But it is a site of immense importance because it embodies such a wide spectrum of distinct struggles. It can feel overwhelming to parse through the site’s complexities, but that’s not a reason to avoid addressing them. “We’re not being called upon to solve,” says Milloy. “We’re being called upon to respond.”

Just as there’s no neat and tidy solution to global ills like climate change and economic inequality, there’s likely no silver bullet that will fix the problems of the Davis Tannery or scores of other hot spots across the country. But one thing is indisputable: failing to confront the ghosts of the past with a more just and ethical world in mind risks creating new ghosts for the future. The Davis Tannery can be a turning point or a point of no return.

The battle rages on. Meanwhile, the turtles lie dormant, hibernating in the riverbed while waterfowl go about their business along the shoreline. The rabbits and squirrels scamper through the bullrushes and around the trunk of the great white oak as it groans and creaks in the raw December wind, as if it’s trying to say something.

- Luke Ottenhoff, “Wetlands vs. developers: A small-town battle with national ramifications.” Broadview. March 17, 2022.

Notes left by land defenders on the tannery's fence. (Photo courtesy of Kathleen O'Hara)

#kingston ontario #davis tannery #wetlands #development #condo developers #housing crisis #homelessness #wildlife sanctuary #brownfield site #local politics #canadian politics #city council #residential capitalism #social crisis #tannery grounds

11 notes · View notes

razieltwelve · 3 years ago

Text

Beach House (Final Rose)

The lawnmower’s startup sequence engaged shortly after midnight. His processors cycled through several streams of incoming data effortlessly to narrow down the reason for his awakening.

There.

His creator had posted drones around the perimeter of the beach house they were renting for their holiday. Those same drones had detected movement outside of the established norms. He took a handful of cycles to peruse the data and request further information.

The drones possessed more advanced sensors, but activating those might alert any intruders to their discovery. Instead, he relied on their passive sensor sweeps. The intruders were using advanced stealth technology, which had all but hidden their presence.

What they hadn’t accounted for was some of the local wildlife detecting them and responding accordingly. It was that wildlife that the drones had detected. The lawnmower issued and order, a passive sonar sweep at frequencies inaudible to both humans and Faunus.

The sonar sweep came back positive. Multiple intruders detected in an attack pattern designed to breach the beach house. A passive thermal scan revealed nothing. The lawnmower gave the mental equivalent of a frown. Thermal camouflage combined with visual camouflage. An Aura sweep would definitely be detected, so he withheld that order.

Instead, he alerted his creator and Thomas, the robotic polar bear that the kids had built.

His creator was at his side in moments. Her fox ears twitched as she kept her Aura calm and steady.

“I don’t know who leaked the location of our holiday, but we can worry about that after we deal with these guys.”

His creator’s wife joined them.

“I’ll go outside with Thomas and the lawnmower. Can you start trapping the inside. If they get past us...”

“I’ll be ready for them. They won’t get the kids.” His creator’s expression was devoid of its usual cheer. “I’ll give control over the rest of the drones to the lawnmower. Have Thomas go out first. He’ll draw their attention. If they’re smart enough to get this close, they’ll have a plan for you. Be careful. Once I’ve got this place trapped and shielded, I’ll lend support.”

“All right.”

His creator’s wife patted his chassis. “You’re with me.”

“Hey.” His creator gave him a sharp look. “Weapons free. No prisoners. Total war.”

The lawnmower processed the words. They were a very specific sequence, one that authorised him to do whatever he deemed necessary to safeguard his creator and her family. His weaponry was usually heavily limited to minimise property damage and permanent injury. Not anymore.

X X X

The lawnmower cut communications with Thomas. The robotic polar bear had already been briefed on the plan. Any further communication might be picked up if their opponents had sufficiently advanced scanners. Normally, the lawnmower made quite a bit of noise when moving around, but he had activated his stealth protocol.

A silencing field combined with multi-spectrum camouflage allowed him to get out of the house and into the garden without being detected. Of course, he doubted his stealth would last once the fight started. When the battle began, his opponents would undoubtedly abandon any attempt at stealth, which meant they would activate all of their sensory abilities to the maximum. Even his creator’s stealth protocols wouldn’t be able to completely conceal him.

It was a pity too that most of the drones he had access to on this trip were not suited for heavy combat. They had stunners and shields, but little in the way of heavy firepower. Oh well. He’d make do. Organics could be surprising fragile. The prongs on a stunner might not sharp enough to kill, but they could easily blind, and electric shocks at opportune moments could easily lead to openings he could exploit.

Not far off, Thomas lay in wait. With his heavily reinforced chassis and exterior built of energy- and force-absorbing materials, the robotic polar bear was ideally suited to draw enemy fire. Still, the lawnmower felt a stir of unease. His friend was sturdy, but their enemy would not have come here without proper preparations.

As his processor counted down the seconds until the operation commenced, he ran another passive sonar sweep. He fed the data to Thomas and overlaid it with his visual feed. Yes. If he looked closely enough, there were minute distortions in the air that matched the general locations of the objects the sonar sweep had picked up.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

X X X

Thomas roared, a handful of powerful speakers built into his frame unleashing a torrent of hideously loud noise pitched at frequencies designed to deafen or disable Faunus and humans alike. At the same time, the drones floating in the air unleashed powerful sensor sweeps designed to overwhelm their opponents’ camouflage. When that failed to reveal them, the drones fired their stunners. Powerful currents of electricity surged down the cables attached to the stunners, revealing their foes.

Several dozen White Fang elites.

Thomas charged forward and was greeted with a hell storm of fire. Heavy calibre slugs designed to tear through armoured Grimm and punch through reinforced concrete slammed into him. His inbuilt shields flared to fend off the assault only to fail a moment later beneath the sheer volume of fire. He staggered momentarily and then pressed on as the storm of gunfire ripped holes in his exterior and clanked off the reinforced interior casing that protected his most important components.

He closed in on his first opponent and swiped with one claw. With strength at least an order of magnitude greater than any bear, his blow smashed right through the Aura of his first opponent and ripped them in half. Panels along his side opened up and unleashed a salvo of buckshot into the White Fang around him. To his disappointment only two thirds of the weapons were able to successfully fire. He had already taken considerable damage.

Yet he was not concerned. Alone, he would have been picked off. His opponents outnumbered him, and his scanners indicated significant amounts of Aura in all of them. However, he was not alone.

X X X

The lawnmower catalogued the damage Thomas had already sustained with a mental frown. His friend had already taken serious damage despite his durability. Their opponents had come equipped for a war. Well, he would give them one.

He trundled up to the closest White Fang member and activated his primary close-combat weapon.

The shotgun was a much-loved close quarters weapon. He was equipped with twin automatic shotguns, each with a maximum firing rate of 300 rounds per minute. Rather than standard shells, he used tungsten tipped, fire-Dust composite shells. The tungsten would allow the heavy shell to punch through most body armour. However, upon impact, the fire-Dust that made up the bulk of the round would then be crushed against the tungsten tip resulting in immediate sublimation.

This in turn guaranteed a complete transfer of momentum from the shot to the target along with the creation of a literal cloud of molten material inside the target. In organics, this typically resulted in a successful centre mass hit simply evaporating the torso.

His opponent had impressive Aura reserves, several hundred times that of a civilian. In the span of three seconds, the lawnmower hit him a total of thirty of the tungsten, fire-Dust shells. His Aura withstood the dirty twenty-seven of the impacts before cracking. The three subsequent hits erased his torso and sent his limbs tumbling away.

Yet even before those limbs hit the ground, the lawnmower was already deploying more of his weapon systems. Nets flashed out. Aura could protect from explosions and gunshots, but nets could still be effective. However, instead of the usual shock the nets were designed to deliver, he upped the voltage by a factor of a hundred. That should be enough to incapacitate those he’d managed to hit. Once that occurred, it was easy to pour shotgun slugs into them until they ceased to be relevant.

In front of him, Thomas continued his assault, lashing out with mad abandon as missile pods in his back opened to fire their lethal cargo: clusters of mini-missiles designed to first overwhelm an opponent’s Aura before creating clouds of shrapnel that would shred flesh and pierce through body armour.

One of the White Fang managed to draw a bead on him, and the lawnmower braced for impact. A rocket-propelled grenade exploded against his side followed by several punishing impacts from anti-materiel weaponry. His shields, more substantial than Thomas’s, were able to bear the brunt of the impact whilst his smaller size allowed for more concentrated armour. Even so, a number of warning came up, and he devoted some of his systems to repair while ejecting one of his batteries.

The battery had overloaded due to the damage done to his shields. Tossing the useless battery aside, he had one of the drones rush to deliver him another as he diverted any additional power he had to his shields.

Someone leapt at him with a spear held high, and he took a trio of cycles to aim before shooting an electrified harpoon. His creator had originally intended it to be used to catch and stop vehicles, but it worked well enough to knock his opponent back. The angry flare of Aura informed him that his opponent was still combat capable, and he turned his twin automatic shotguns toward the White Fang member.

The night was lit up with the roar of his firepower, and his opponent staggered back under the barrage. They dodged in a desperate attempt to get clear, and he activated his tractor beam. He usually used it to manipulate tools or move bunches of leaves around. It wasn’t designed to stop someone with the Aura signature of an A Tier hunter, but it didn’t have to. It managed to trip them over, and his twin shotgun were able to lock on. His opponent did not survive the ensuing barrage.

The lawnmower directed some of the drones to ram themselves into the weaker members of the assault. He detonated the drones in the faces of the White Fang members. Most survived, but they were still blinded. In their moments of weakness, the lawnmower calmly fired a salvo of his own mini-missiles. Unable to dodge, many of them were killed outright in the ensuing explosions. Others staggered into the traps his creator had prepared earlier. Claymores might be relatively primitive, but they were incredibly effective against opponents without enough Aura to protect them. He had the drones handle the rest. Picking up a heavy rock and bashing someone over the head was hardly an efficient way of doing things, but the drones could do it well enough to opponents who were barely mobile and lacking in Aura.

Every now and then, his and Thomas’s attacks were joined by flashes of Aura as his creator’s wife discretely eliminated unsuspecting members of the White Fang with her Aura constructs. Good. She was keeping herself largely concealed. In the chaos it was doubtful that anyone would notice her attacks, so she should still be able to catch the most powerful members of the White Fang attack team off guard.

X X X

Thomas noted the damage he’d sustained. Two of his limbs were barely operational, and he was relying more on his inertial manipulators to move. However, he was still a large, heavy machine, which meant simply ramming his opponents was a completely viable option.

Most of them were already running low on Aura as his barrage of mini-missiles had been able to catch the majority. Furthermore, the lawnmower was laying down a hellish storm of fire with his shotguns. Hitting a target at long-range with the shotguns would have been difficult even for the lawnmower’s advanced fire control systems, but this was a phone booth fight with the majority of their opponents no further than fifteen feet away. The chaos also made it easy for their creator’s wife to strike without giving herself a way. A razor-thin Aura construct to the heart would be impossible for most organics to notice in the midst of the battle. Likewise, a noose tightening to slice a throat open would be easy to miss with explosions, gunfire, and lasers everywhere.

As a sword stabbed into his side and glanced off the reinforced armour around his power source, Thomas twisted and bashed his barely working front right limb into his attacker’s skull. His attacker flopped to the ground, and he took a split-second to gauge the distance before dropping several canisters of gas onto the ground.

With their full Auras, his opponents would simply have been able to ignore them. Running low, however, the poison gas stood a decent chance of working. Of course, he and the lawnmower would be fine. There was a flash of light. Good. The lawnmower was using his lasers. Lasers weren’t all that useful against a skilled and powerful opponent with their full Aura, but against someone without Aura, they could easily disable or kill.

Thomas lumbered forward, swatting aside on White Fang after another as they tried to shake off the effects of the gas. A few tried to get around him and the lawnmower only to come apart in clouds of gore as the lawnmower triggered the mines his creator had laid earlier in the day.

As another White Fang faltered, only to be crushed beneath his bulk, Thomas considered the battle. They were doing well -

BOOM.

X X X

The lawnmower used his tractor beam to slow Thomas’s flight to a manageable level. The robotic polar bear slammed into a tree. One of his limbs broke off, and his chassis gave an ominous creak. Almost all of the White Fang were down, but the two that were left had made short work of the rest of the drones and had devastated the impromptu defences his creator had set up.

The lawnmower braced himself for battle. Both of the targets were at least S Tier with Aura signatures measured in tens of thousands the capacity of normal civilians. Simply put, he was not equipped for battle of this level. Nevertheless, he would continue to do his best.

He unleashed his shotguns again, only to have them dodged. Scowling, he switched to lasers. They were far faster but less able to do damage. The attacks were ignored, and he found himself crushed into the ground as his shields flared to halt an attack that would have turned a typical truck into a tin can. The pressure on his shields increased, and the ground gave way beneath him. This was enough force to reduce a house to kindling, and it was only increasing.

The other high-level White Fang headed for the house. The lawnmower bit back a curse. He was currently unable to intervene. Thomas shambled back onto his feet and fired a salvo of bullets that were dodged with contemptuous ease.

The lawnmower gave the mental equivalent of a sneer.

The would-be assassins were getting overconfident.

There was a reason his creator’s wife had yet to intervene.

X X X

Lumina had to fight the urge to wade into battle as the beach house’s defences were destroyed and both Thomas and the lawnmower found themselves on the receiving end of beat downs. Thomas was barely functional, and the lawnmower was only still in one piece thanks to the absurdly strong shields Vanille had given him.

But there was a reason for this.

In battle between S Tier individuals and higher, the first blow could often be the decisive one since people with that kind of power could generally warp combat in their favour so heavily that regaining the initiative became impossible.

As one of the assassins ran toward the house, Lumina readied her attack. It was a monomolecular ribbon of Aura reinforced with a full twenty percent of her total Aura reserves. Her target continued to rush forward, and Lumina struck. In a split-second, the ribbon wrapped around the White Fang member.

There was a brilliant flash as her opponent’s Aura flared to try to protect them, but Lumina gestured sharply. The ribbon tightened. Had the ribbon been wider, the Aura in it would not have been as densely concentrated. Her opponent, who was certainly skilled and powerful, had already instinctive deployed a dense, full-body protective shell of Aura.

It was actually more Aura than Lumina had put into the ribbon, which meant her opponent had some very impressive Aura reserves in their own right. But Lumina’s Aura was concentrated over a far smaller area. The result? Her Aura ribbon sliced through her opponent’s protective shell in a quarter of a second before tightening around them.

Lumina didn’t hesitate. She let the ribbon tighten completely, and her opponent fell to the ground in pieces.

With her opponent dead, Lumina turned her attention back to the lawnmower. His shields had finally given way, and his battered form flew threw the air. She used a sliver of her Aura to form a net to catch him. Despite the damage he’d taken, he continued to shell away with his shotguns and lasers. He even fired a few nets.

Her last opponent dodged all of the projectiles with ease. They were good. Very good. Just then, her communicator blinked. It was a signal from Vanille. Lumina took a step forward and gestured. Swords and spears of Aura rained down on her opponent.

Stifling pressure formed and then erupted outward - some form of air or gravity manipulation - and she leapt back to avoid the worst of the blast. Instinctively, she formed a sphere around herself, and just in time as her enemy launched a barrage of projectiles at her at super sonic speeds.

Lumina replied in kind only for her projectiles to be batted aside. Interesting. Why had her opponent dodged the lawnmower’s attacks? Was it to conserve power for fighting against her?

Lumina shook her head. She could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to keep her opponent occupied. She unleashed another barrage and then created a monomolecular net. Her opponent must have seen what had happened earlier, and they threw themselves clear.

Which was exactly what Vanille was waiting for.

X X X

Vanille took a split-second to check her aim. Having a binding rod that could transform into a rail gun was great.

X X X

Lumina bit back a smirk as her opponent’s Aura flared. A projectile slammed into her at roughly thirty times the speed of sound. The impact sent out a shockwave that would have knocked any normal person over, and the explosion that followed courtesy of the projectile’s exotic payload lit up the whole night.

Extending her senses, Lumina was only faintly surprised that her opponent was still alive. However, their Aura reserves were far lower than they had been. As her enemy struggled to get their bearings back, Lumina rained more Aura constructs down on her. They fought to fend off the assault, but Lumina wasn’t done. A tiny, incredibly thin snare formed and tangled around her opponent’s right ankle. She tightened it, and her opponent’s foot came off. They screamed, and their focuse wavered. A split-second later they went down, impaled by dozens of Aura constructed. Lumina beheaded them just to be sure.

“Any other threats?” she asked the lawnmower.

X X X

The lawnmower scanned the area. There was no point hiding anymore. His powerful active scanners swept over the surrounding terrain. There were no more remaining targets. However, just to be sure, he dispatched the few remaining drones into a defensive formation and had them run their own scans.

That done, he trundled toward Thomas. The polar bear was badly damaged, to the point that he could no longer move under his own power. The lawnmower stopped at his side and began repairs. They would have to acquire new components to get him fully operational again, but he should be able to fix Thomas up enough for the robotic polar bear to control his own movement again. Thankfully, his most important components had survived serious damage.

X X X

Author’s Notes

One of the best shots the White Fang had at Vanille. The attack team consisted of two S Tier or higher hunters, several A Tier or higher and everyone else was B Tier. However, Thomas is exceptionally tough, and the lawnmower was designed with anti-hunter combat in mind. The attack team was also put together with Lumina and Vanille in mind. They were not prepared for Thomas, the lawnmower, and a garden that had been trapped. Even without Thomas and the lawnmower, Lumina and Vanille could have won, but it would have been a tricky fight.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #fanfiction #lumina #oerba dia vanille #lawnmower #thomas

6 notes · View notes

notesfromasmallworld · 3 years ago

Photo

I give you teenage ape on a stick, with a sideorder of gruffiness This young western lowland gorilla found posing on top of a tree stump that gave him quite an overview. Distinctingly observing my group of visitors and photographers. The western lowland gorilla (Gorilla gorilla gorilla) live in lowland swampland and forrest in western Africa, from Angola to Gabon and north to CAR. They are the smallest of the four main subspecies of gorilla. These gorillas travels in smaller and larger groups and often covers 3-5 kilometer a day. The groups are both breeding family groups and non-breeding groups of often young gorillas. During their "bachelor-age", male gorillas can change between groups of breeding and none-breeding, or even travelling solitary. This bachelor sweet age can go on for years, so no wonder this fellow is a bit grumpy. But he was brought to the wilderness sanctuary to keep him safe from humans, so at least he is alive. As all gorillas, lowlands gorillas are endangered animals close to extinction. The main enemy are human activities like deforrestation and hunting for bushmeat. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_lowland_gorilla #ape #gorilla #nature #naturereserve #limbe #wildlifecenter #refuge #cameroon #observing #curious #western #lowland #Gorillagorillagorilla #roadtrip #2015CE #Nikon #NikonD800 #D800 #300mm #f4 #Kamerun #cameroon #africa #mbe #Cameroon #ngaoundere #selfie (ved Limbe Wildlife Centre) https://www.instagram.com/p/z7jeLMD-nB/?utm_medium=tumblr

5 notes · View notes

wisdomrays · 3 years ago

Text

TAFAKKUR: Part 390

ECOLOGY AND MAN

Our environment comprises all the living and non-living creatures on this planet and around it which are all interconnected and interdependent, and it is sustained as a whole and in all its elements by the laws of God, the All-Wise, the Most Merciful. The environment is a unified system, operating through a fine balance of energy and matter. Our survival in it depends on the extent to which this fine balance established by our Creator is sustained. Man is responsible, through the powers of knowledge and intelligence with which he is endowed above all other creatures, as a guardian and trustee. This responsibility entails personal accountability for all his deeds, including his treatment of this world around him in which the seeds of the Hereafter are sown. Creation is pre-planned, with calculated proportion, meaning, purpose, systematic order and balance where man has a special place and duty, namely to preserve the vital system he depends upon and needs for his survival. However, he has not been faithful to his trust throughout a major part of history and has, more often than not, attacked the life-line which supports him.

The environmental crisis humanity faces at this stage in their development is an outward manifestation of the internal crisis arising from the break with traditional beliefs and values, and their surrender to the disease of ‘problem denial’ characteristic of modern urban, industrialized societies. This state of mental and spiritual sickness takes man down a vicious and destructive spiral. Human-centred, short-term gain and economic surplus-oriented societies have led people to put their trust in science and technology to solve their problems, regardless of the cost to ‘others’. This way of life is not sustainable and creates new and worsening problems, doing perhaps inevitable long term damage to ‘other’ people, other species, the environment as a whole.

Industrialization has led to a simplified, throw-it-away world view which encourages people to dominate and manipulate all available resources in a frantic race for growth in levels of self-indulgence. The causes of environmental overload or degradation are pollution of water, air and land, and depletion of resources. Urbanization and industrialization where large amounts of pollutants are concentrated in small volumes of air, water and land have led to the overloading and disruption of the natural dilution, breakdown and recycling of the chemicals essential for life. The effluent of fertilizers, pesticides, toxic heavy metals, and (partly or wholly) treated industrial waste, is allowed to run off into lakes and streams. The effects are already very tangible: nauseating smells and tastes, smog causing reduced atmospheric visibility, corrosion of metal work, erosion of buildings; reduced tree and crop production; a decrease in biodiversity-each year at least 51,000 species in all become extinct, often as direct consequence of human activity; serious damage to human health-as in the spread of infectious diseases, irritation and diseases of the respiratory system, genetic and reproductive defects, and cancers (for example of skin and liver).

The scale and rate of environmental degradation demand serious and urgent reform. We desperately need to change our attitudes and concepts conform more with the laws of nature as ordained by God. Only if we do it so can we hope for true success in this world and the Hereafter.

As noted, excessive and wasteful use of material resources is a major factor in environmental degradation. We have three types of material resources. First, deep-mined non-renewable (exhaustible) resources such as petroleum, coal, natural gas, and minerals such as copper, aluminium, iron, and uranium which are purified from ores supplied by the earth’s crust. Fossil fuels are finite and could be exhausted quite quickly at present rates of consumption; further, when burned, these fuels are converted to waste heat and exhaust gases which are serious pollutants.

Second, there are perpetual resources, namely solar energy, wind power, geothermal energy, and flowing water. These must become our main future sources of energy.

Third, the potentially renewable resources so-called because, they can be replaced through natural processes on a human life-time scale. Examples are trees in forests, grasses, wild animals, fresh surface water, in lakes and streams, and most ground water, the earth’s most valuable resource. If these resources are used at a rate that does not reduce their availability, they can yield a sustainable source of energy. However, when the natural replacement rate is exceeded, then the supply is depleted and environmental degradation results. Some examples are typified by the covering of productive land with water, concrete, asphalt, or buildings to such an extent that crop growth declines and wildlife habitats are lost. Excessive removal of fresh water from aquifers and from surface waters leads to water scarcity. Deforestation without adequate replanting causes destruction of wildlife habitats where timber-growth cannot be sustained.

Alarmingly, nearly half of the world’s original expanse of tropical forests have been cleared. Each year, about 171,000 km2 of tropical forest are destroyed. These losses reduce biodiversity because niches for thousands of plants and animals are destroyed with the trees.

Around 35% of the world’s coastal and inland wetlands have been drained, built upon, or seriously polluted (e.g. the ‘Golden Horn’ in Istanbul). Most of our wastes accumulate in the oceans. Oil slicks, floating plastic debris, polluted estuaries and beaches, contaminated fish, are just a few of the ugly scenes that result. However, man’s carelessness not only affects other species: world-wide, an estimated 16 million people lose their homes and land due to environmental degradation alone.

Resource depletion or scarcity can be absolute or relative. Absolute scarcity occurs when supplies of a resource .are insufficient or too expensive to meet present or anticipated future demands. For example, the world’s finite supplies of petroleum oil may be used up within the next 50 years decades at present rates of consumption. Relative scarcity occurs as a result of unbalanced and inequitable distribution of a resource which, if equitably distributed would meet the demand of everyone in need.

Relative scarcity dominates the world scene at present: industrialized economies of the West, the United States especially consume a huge disproportionate share of material and energy resources at the expense of other nations. This further widens the gap between the rich and the poor countries. It is a fact that the rate of damage inflicted upon the environment, and hence the damage to the stability and security of others’ lives, has been greater in this past century than since the beginning of man’s history. The Muslim World today, once the pioneer of true civilization is being steadily corrupted by serving the lifestyle of the Western powers. The balanced, traditional lifestyle which conforms with the law of God and hence is more environment-friendly nature is being eroded at alarming speed. The Muslims and other victims of modern civilization lack control over their lives, once self-sustaining, and are forced into the global ‘cash economy’ manipulated by a small, cynical elite who gamble, quite literally, with commodity and stock prices without the least concern for the millions of human lives disrupted and destroyed as a result.

Mankind are heading toward an abyss of anxiety and insecurity while the natural world deteriorates around them. Unless we make a concerted and sustained effort to recover the fitrah state, a life-style that accords with the balance and order of creation, destruction and disorder on a hitherto unimagined scale await us in this life and, in the next, the torment of knowing we failed our responsibility. For in that life we shall be questioned in detail about what we did in this; each of our senses and limbs and organs will bear witness against us; and we will account even for every drop of water we used well or wasted.

4 notes · View notes

woodlandtrust · 4 years ago

Link

Among failings relating to ancient woodland, wildlife and its own processes, HS2 Ltd has:

Erroneously claimed Phase 1 would impact 18 ancient woodlands when it turned out to be 34.

Removed ancient and veteran trees and some ancient woodland for temporary works meaning they have been lost forever unnecessarily;

Broken four assurances - commitments made between the Secretary of State, HS2 and the Woodland Trust under the Hybrid Bill Process. These include:

failing to engage with the Trust in reasonable time ahead of any work adjacent to or within 100m of ancient woodland;

failing to have regard to the guidance in Natural England’s advice on avoiding damage to or loss of ancient woodland or ancient and veteran trees and for compensation for any unavoidable loss;

failing to ensure that there are no construction works within a certain part of Newyear’s Green Covert in Hillingdon; and

failing to consult with the Trust in respect of any construction activities undertaken within, or within 100m of, an area of Ancient Woodland.

Begun to submit planning applications for additional works outside the works boundary on Phase 1 which will have a detrimental effect on a further two ancient woodlands not currently on the list

Ignored industry best practice and a commitment made in its own strategy and standards by attempting to translocate ancient woodland at the wrong time of year. Four woods in Warwickshire were destroyed this spring as they were bursting into life instead of when it was dormant in the autumn. It has also planted new trees on the receptor site for the translocated ancient woodland soils at the wrong time of year, further increasing the chance of failure.

Failed to complete translocation of Broadwells Wood in Warwickshire before their bat licence from Natural England ran out, despite being given an extension period more generous than the Woodland Trust and other environmental groups have ever heard of. This means the final 20 per cent of the woodland being translocated from Broadwells will now be removed in September and the work that the removal of the wood was facilitating will now be further behind schedule. Translocation is an inherently risky process – HS2 has massively increased the risks of this failing by doing it at the wrong time of year and then spreading it out over 6 months.

Breached its bat licence during the translocation work in Broadwells wood by de-limbing a tree without checking it for roosting bats first. The Woodland Trust has since become aware Natural England is investigating a second possible breach.

Failed to give clarity on which ancient woodlands will be destroyed next, this autumn, despite repeated requests being made.

Repeatedly said – and is still claiming - there will be “no net loss to biodiversity” on the scheme.. No net loss is impossible to achieve where ancient woodland is destroyed because it is irreplaceable. No amount of new planting can compensate for that loss even at the recommended ratio of planting 30 new trees for every one lost.

Refused to only plant trees sourced and grown in the UK and Ireland, which would reduce the risk of importing pests and disease and make the newly planted landscape more resilient and less of a biosecurity risk.

#woodland trust #HS2 #ancient woodland

12 notes · View notes

uncomfortable-writers · 6 years ago

Text

To Love Another (Steve x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Steve Rogers

Persona: Female

Word Count: 3,214 (whoops)

A/N - This will contain spoilers for Endgame near the start! It will probably be angsty in some places too and there will be multiple time skips <3

Steve was crouched on the floor, a hand in a pile of ash which he used to call his best friend. He watched in horror as more and more people turned to dust around him, “Oh God”, he whispered softly feeling the distress in the pit of his stomach curdle violently.

The Avengers had failed. His worst fear come to life.

Dropping down next to him, tears welled in your eyes, “We...We lost”, you whispered completely distraught, it couldn’t be true could it? The Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes, finally defeated? You were a few seconds away from breaking down, sensing this Steve silently pulled you into his side by clamping an arm around your shoulder. Without a second thought you had his suit grasped in your hands as waves of sobs were unleashed, your face completely buried in his chest.

Steve wished with all of his heart that he could find the right words to console you, but not even himself, (who was full of optimism in the worst of times), could find the good in this. So he let you cry into him, silently holding you as close as he could out of fear you might disappear from his eyes within seconds.

Five, long, painful years passed without a solution; Thanos was dead, the stones destroyed and the vanished long gone. It had been hard but Steve took each day as they came.

The Captain was just returning from his latest group therapy session in which he was the leader, something he knew Sam would’ve been proud of and just the mere thought of that was one of the things which inspired Steve to keep going. He locked his car door, fishing in his pocket he found his other set of keys and walked up the steps to his apartment. The walk through the corridors was silent much like the rest of the surrounding world, he had noticed. The world was so quiet now, so void of life that it constantly reminded him of his own failure, constantly weighing him down.

Steve put the key into the lock. The keys jingled and the locked clicked open, he didn’t bother calling out to announce his presence, it was still early afternoon.

Hanging his coat on the rack, he kicked off his boots and left them with the other sets of shoes neatly sitting by the front door. He walked with little noise towards the living room where the t.v was softly emitting noise but he found the room to be empty. Changing the course of his destination, he went towards the kitchen too but alas it was still vacant, Steve felt a little bit of worry building up but he tried to push it to the side. Going towards the bedroom, the door was slightly ajar, nudging it gently he peaked his head into the room.

Lying in the centre of the bed, fully clothed and not under the covers he found you. Steve felt the worry die down. It was instead replaced with sympathy and sadness. While Steve dealt with the Snap by keeping busy and rarely dwelling on his feelings of failure, you tended to have days where all you’d do is mope. At the start they were such a common occurrence that Steve rarely left your side, but now five years later, you were doing much better recently though. Still everyone had their days.

“(Y/N)”, Steve called out softly, resting on the doorframe, “I’m back from the group, how’ve you been love?”.

You wiggled around lethargically on the bed until Captain America came into view, “Hey Steve, I’m just tired”. He could see that your eyes were red. You cheeks also had a gentle dusting of pink and not because you had been rubbing at them viciously to remove any evidence of your tears. Steve lightly chewed his lip as he devised how to approach the situation. Pushing off from the doorframe he uncrossed his arms.

“How many hours did you get last night?”, he asked, dropping onto his side of the bed he rested his back against the headboard, leaving his chest and lap free for you to claim. Wasting no time you placed your head on his legs, wrapping your arms around the tree-trunk like limbs for the comfort you needed.

“I got a few”, you responded with a sniffle, one of Steve’s hands tangled into your hair while the other drew small circles up and down your back. He knew you didn’t rest well last night, your tossing and turning was evidence enough. Rubbing the fabric of his jeans, you skillfully changed the question, “How was group?”, Steve noticed this but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to push you on matters you didn’t want to speak about. “Same old same old. We talked for a bit, cried a little”, he hummed thoughtfully in response. He felt you nod against his legs. A silence fell in the room, Steve could still sense your sadness and he wished he could take it away and make it all better.

“We haven’t seen Nat in awhile, would you like to go visit her?”, he let the question hang in the air. Steve knew you enjoyed the visits to the compound to see her, she was like your sister after all. You took solace in the car rides too. Steve let you take your time to answer, he wasn’t going to force you into going out. You appreciated how thoughtful Steve was, how supportive he was.

Lightly, you pushed up off of his lap and sat up. Your hair was slightly messy, your eyes were still red but Steve thought you were still gorgeous, “I’ve missed her, it’s about time we went to see her again”. Steve let his hand wander to your hip which he used as leverage to gently pull you against him, “Let’s go surprise her then”, he nuzzled his forehead against yours and pressed his lips to yours. Despite all the grief in the world along with the rest of the bad things, Steve was grateful to have found comfort in you, as ultimately it was the Snap which had brought you together.

The love Steve felt from you made life more bearable.

He smiled broadly as you let your head rest on the window of the car, you watched intently as the trees and wildlife whizzed past at phenomenal speeds making you feel at ease. Steve reached over and rested his hand on your knee while he kept his eyes on the road, you quickly turned it over and placed your small one into his. Despite Steve always using his fists to fight, they were surprisingly smooth with only one or two calluses.

It took a little over an hour for you to arrive at the compound, the sight of it used to fill you with a sense of pride, of duty, but now it only served as a reminder of the defeat the Avengers couldn’t prevent.

Before Thanos had happened, you were the seventh member of the Avengers. A late comer to the team, absolutely afraid about if the original six were going to accept you or not. When Fury first introduced you, you were the very epitome of anxiety itself. You didn’t have to worry for long though, they all made extra efforts to make you feel welcome, Natasha and Steve even went the extra mile. Instantly the Avengers were more than just a team to you, they were your family and as you stood there looking at the compound, you couldn’t help but remember the better times. A sorrowful expression graced your face. Your family was scattered: lost in space, in another state or just specks of dust.

The car door slammed shut, it clicked as it was locked by Steve. He walked round to you, his hand stretched out to reclaim yours. Reaching down he chastly kissed your temple, “C’mon let’s go inside love”.

The walk through the compound was even more mute than the outside world, each step through the empty corridors echoed violently, each workstation you passed horribly lacking human life. The effects of Thanos were unescapable. Natasha was the only one who still occupied the place, having nowhere else to go, (even though you and Steve gave her an invite to live with you, Tony even offered to buy her her own place anywhere in the world she liked. She politely declined both offers).

Soft sniffles could be heard way before you’d even reached the common room, you looked up at Steve who was already looking down at you, he decided to take lead and stepped in front of you, you trailed behind him. “I’d offer to cook you dinner but it would probably make you feel worse, just ask (Y/N)”, Steve joked with a sincere smile coming into Nat’s vision.

You feigned a look of disgust, “Gosh Nat, you don’t even want to know how badly Steve can mess up toast”, punching him playfully you glided over to the table and took a seat opposite her. “Hey!”, Steve frowned, “My toast isn’t that bad”. You and Natasha started to giggle as she quickly regained posure, it was strange to see her cry. “Y’know me and (Y/N) saw a pod of whales on the way over here”, he announced making his way slowly over to you both. “They were so pretty”, you chimed in, a toothy grin displayed on your features. Steve noticed how you were perking up, glad that Natasha was able to make you feel happy. The Black Widow looked from you to the Captain, “If you’re about to tell me to look at the brightside, you’re both going to get a peanut butter sandwich thrown at your heads”.

Steve sat down beside you, “Force of habit sorry”, he chuckled. Before anyone was able to talk, a notification was triggered. Natasha pulled the videofeed up and you could not believe your eyes, Scott was on screen. Scott who was supposed to have vanished in the Snap. “When is this from?”, you asked incredulously standing up without realising, your friend copied your actions, “(Y/N) that’s the front gate”.

///Timeskip to after the battle\\\

Anthony Edward Stark, the Earth’s Greatest Avenger, had saved the world again, for the final time. Thanos was dead, your friends were back and your family was together again, albeit without Tony. It stung but you were immensely gratuitous towards Iron Man, pledging yourself silently to his family as you watched him fade peacefully in his final moments. Something about Steve was off though and it wasn’t just because of the fact that one of his closest friends had just passed.

The funeral was beautiful, the planning Pepper put into it was everything Tony would’ve wanted; a peaceful affair to celebrate his life.

You put Steve’s standoffish behaviour down to grief. At the funeral he stood close to the lake along with Rhodey, Happy, Pepper and Morgan. You remained at the back, unwilling to interrupt Steve’s final goodbyes. You also didn’t want to cause a scene especially at Tony’s memorial, it would be unfair to his memory and unfair to everyone else. So you stood with your other friends, Bucky, Sam and Wanda lamenting over not only Tony but Natasha too. You couldn’t help but feel like part of you had died with them even though you tried hard not to be sad. You were resting your head on Bucky, he had an arm wrapped around your waist to comfort you. Sam also patted your arm, “They wouldn’t want to be sad (Y/N)”, he reminded you, you tried to smile at him through the tears, “I know Sam”.

After the wreathe floated away, Pepper was the first to return to the house bringing Morgan along with her. The others followed suit, but not Steve. He stayed by the lake, watching the water ripple slowly. You waited a few moments before going over to join him.

Wordlessly, you slipped your hand into his own, yet he didn’t hold it like he used too. Since coming back from collecting the stones, Steve was acting different. You didn’t have time to press him on the matters before and now still wasn’t the time either. Although his actions hurt you, you placed it down to the events. “He’s in a better place now Steve”, you squeezed his hand encouragingly, “They both are”. The Captain said nothing other than offer you a nod in agreement, he hardly acted even when you leaned up and placed a tender kiss to his cheek.

Steve stood solemnly, unable to bring himself to reciprocate your affections.

Going back in time had given him a chance to think of what could’ve been, especially when he had stumbled into Peggy’s office. Seeing his first love brought back feelings which were lying dormant inside of him for years, the butterflies he felt when he thought about her were making him sick as he stood in the present, holding your hand, not hers. It wasn’t right, he didn’t belong here and you didn’t deserve this. Steve loved you, yes he adored your very being, but he loved Peggy too. As he stood there, towering over you in his tight-fitting suit, he made his plans to correct all of his wrongs.

He gently patted the compass he had stashed away in his breast pocket.

“You sure this’ll work?”, Sam asked Professor Hulk. Another quantum tunnel had been built outside by the ruined compound. “Of course it will”, Bruce responded, prepping the machine, “Just remember to return the stones to the time we took them from okay?”.

“Yeah I know”, Steve replied picking up the case which contained the colourful objects. He looked positively gorgeous in his time-travel suit. You smiled awkwardly as Steve looked at you, things were rocky recently and anytime you tried to get Steve to talk about it, he dismissed it. “See you soon (Y/N)”, Cap’s voice was raspy, he gently placed a hand onto your shoulder and pulled you into a one-sided hug, “Don’t be long”, you joked back, trying your best not to show you true emotions. “How long will this take?”, Bucky piped up catching Bruce’s attention. Steve walked over the machine as the professor said, “For us? Five seconds, for Steve? As long as he needs”.

The answer satisfied Bucky who came to stand next to you, Sam copied his actions.

Steve stood on the time machine, you swore he got paler as the seconds passed but it could’ve been a trick of the lighting. “See you soon Cap”, Bruce shouted before pressing the button, Steve disappeared in a flash of light. Loudly, the Hulk counted down the seconds as they passed until it was time for him to come back. Hitting the button did nothing though, “He’s gone passed his mark!”, Bruce announced in a panic. Sam instantly jumped over to his side, “What do you mean? Bring him back!”.

You gripped onto Bucky out of sheer alarm, the Winter Soldier tilted his head as movement caught his eye. Bucky knew in an instant what Steve had done, “Guys”, he spoke softly getting everyone’s attention, he jolted his head towards the small figure sitting on the bench.

Sam was the first to go over and greet him. You stood with Buck feeling nauseous to your very core, the Steve you had known wasn’t the Steve who’d came back. The inkling you had was right all along, you knew something was up and it broke your heart that he didn’t talk about it with you. You didn’t realise the full extent to how disturbed Steve was and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. In all the years you’d known him, especially in the last five, Steve had been there for you. Steve handed over the shield to Sam, you felt happiness for him and you knew he made a perfect candidate for the mantle, the new Captain started walking back over to you and Bucky. “Go talk to him”, Bucky gave you an encouraging push in the old Captain’s direction.

Reluctantly your legs moved on their own accord as if slowing your movements could prevent you from the events to come. Of course it couldn’t and you were soon stood by Steve.

“I guess you took your time”, you chuckled with a strain, lowering yourself down to sit on the bench next to him. “Yeah, sorry about that”, Steve’s voice was familiar yet so different. It felt comforting and strange at the same time. Just like the rest of him, it had been weathered with age. A few moments ago Steve displayed no signs of his true age, looking as young as he did back in the 1940s. His once form of Greek deity was nowhere in sight, instead it was replaced with a very mortal, frail body that showed he was well over one hundred. “I had unfinished business”, he informed you. He paused for a moment, taking in the sunset and the way the light bounced off of your eyes, “I’m...sorry I didn’t tell you about it”.

It stung like a fresh wound, it really did hurt your soul.

Steve placed a leathery hand onto your knee, it was covered with age spots and with a wedding band.

You smiled at him as you placed your hand over his, once his hand would’ve covered yours but now your hand was bigger. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, “You don’t have to be sorry silly, as long as you’re happy”. Steve tried to return the smile, “I am”. You could tell he was although something seemed to be bugging him. “You feel guilty, don’t you?”, you stated already knowing the answer. “How can I not? I did love you (Y/N)-- I still do-- I just didn’t belong here”.

His words pierced your heart, you could feel the utter pain trickling into every part of your body.

“Of course you belong here, we wouldn’t of made it without you, but you wanted to be there and I don’t blame you Steve. It must if been difficult coming out of the ice and trying to adjust here”, Steve appreciated your words, “You just need to fill me in on all the things I’ve missed, like who the lucky lady is”, you wiggled your eyebrows at him, masking the heartbreak you felt.

The sickness in your stomach was starting to fade. There was still a small amount of bitterness in you as you thought about how another woman got to love Steve the way you did, how she got to marry him the way you had wanted too, but when you thought about who this woman was, (you already knew who she was, Steve only ever loved one other woman the way he loved you), you couldn’t explain the gratitude you felt towards her. She made Steve happy and that was all that you wanted. You mentally sent out a thank you note to her.

Although your losses had been great of late, you had your family back, your friends too. Things, even though they didn’t seem it right now, where starting to look up.

“You Steve, I think I’ll join you in that retirement home, I could use a good rest”.

169 notes · View notes

worldbuildguild · 6 years ago

Photo

Looking for advice on anatomy and foreshortening, mostly. Marked the bottom of the chest and line of the spine in white because it was getting a little lost in my messy coloring, and included a rough sketch of the normal standing shapes.

I’m aiming for more raptor/humanoid than frog, which is what I feel like it’s reading right now. Coloring advice would be cool, but I am more interested in help on how to keep the anatomy grounded in what is physically possible, while making it distressing in a horror creature sort of way. Thank you!

The blank eye was a really good, eerie touch, but imma leave it out, for now, to make the pose a little more consistent. I really like your thin, stick-like arms too, and tried to mimic them ( with little success as you can see ). It’s a really nice pose!

https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/other-garden-wildlife/amphibians-and-reptiles/common-frog/

The reason you might read an amphibian of this creature is in part due to the structure of the legs looking identical to that of a frog, with the thick ‘thigh’ and skinny calf. The claws fanning out at the bottom also resembles that of the frog's long toes, and that coupled with the rich green colour makes the read overwhelmingly amphibian.

I shortened the calf of the creature too. It seems to boast the ability to stand upright somewhat, based on its vertical spine, although, running and walking with a leg structured like that, without some sort of healthy density to it could prove awkward. Especially, since based on the original picture - I gathered that its leg-to-torso ratio was pretty uneven, and it would need some pretty dense limbs to carry that sort of unbalanced weight. I gave the legs a bit more balanced weight distribution to do away with the frog-leg read. As well as defined the claws a little more, adding the large talon in the centre. This should do away with the frog-resemblance somewhat.

Undoubtedly, the colour also has a lot to say about the amphibian read. Our classic fairytales almost always depict frogs in bright and vibrant green, which means that we associate said colour with said critter. If you want to stick to the green palette, then I recommend you breaking it up with another hue, such as blue, yellow or grey-ish.

- mod Wackart ( ko-fi )

#submission #human anatomy #animal anatomy #poses #perspective #character design #creature design #mod wackart #original art by #tinypuffballofanger #theredlinestation

94 notes · View notes

wildlifeaid · 6 years ago

Photo

This young dove has a calcium deficiency - an ailment that is a very common sight at this time of year. Historically, collared doves bred in sub-tropical Asia, where vitamin D from a constant supply of sunlight would ensure healthy calcium levels. Unfortunately, they have not yet adapted to the UK's comparative lack of sunlight over the winter and young birds frequently fall victim to significant calcium issues. These issues can include 'soft' beaks, problematic feather growth, an inability to fly and/or even limb deformities but, luckily, help can be given if the problem is caught early enough. This little one is currently in one of our incubators on a course of vitamin and calcium supplements and it is already showing signs of improvement. It still has a way to go, but we hope it will leave the centre fit and healthy when fully grown. 🕊 #wildliferescue #animals #wildlife #bird #dove #vet #young https://www.instagram.com/p/BtZAzODAEHO/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1kasfp3m2pu2w

#wildliferescue #animals #wildlife #bird #dove #vet #young

30 notes · View notes

wheresmogs-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Hanging with orangutans in Borneo

One of the main reasons we came to Borneo was to attempt to catch a glimpse of their world famous orangutans. If you watch Our Planet by the legend that is Sir David, you might know that wild orangutans are only found on the islands of Sumatra and Borneo. The Bornean orangutan was classified as a critically endangered species in 2016, after around 150,000 of them disappeared from the island in 15 years. Due to loss of habitat, logging and poaching, these wonderful animals are facing a huge challenge - but there’s hope.

We wanted to find a place where orangutans can still be seen in their natural habitat, so after some research we decided to travel to Sabah, in North-West Borneo. First, we went to a remote little village on the Kinabatangan river. The rainforest along the river (a total of 26,000 hectares) has been a protected area since 2005 and is a haven for wildlife. Local guesthouses offer river cruises with knowledgeable guides who have crazy skills in spotting animals in the forest. Of course there’s no guarantee that you’ll see anything, but that’s the beauty of it: it’s not a zoo.

We were incredibly lucky and spotted lots of amazing animals including a massive crocodile, beautiful birds such as the Rhinoceros Hornbill, and groups of the funny-looking Proboscis monkeys unique to Borneo. That would’ve been worth the trip already.

But on the second day, ten minutes into our afternoon cruise, our guide suddenly stopped our boat and pointed to the canopy of a massive tree. And there it was: a young orangutan, casually sitting on top of a tree, munching on leaves and tree bark. He was not bothered by our boats as we quietly approached the riverside to get a better look and attempt to take some photos - an epic fail, thanks to our mediocre iPhone cameras.

To be able to observe an orangutan in the jungle was such an incredible experience and something we’ll always remember.

When you only have one week in Borneo and you know that you might not have the opportunity to come back in your life, you want to maximise your chances of seeing an orangutan. The easiest way to do it is to go to a rescue centre. We had mixed feelings about this but after some deliberation we decided to visit the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre.

It’s located at the border of a huge protected area of rainforest and they’re doing an incredible job to rehabilitate orphaned and injured orangutans that otherwise wouldn’t stand a chance in the wilderness. They successfully release around 66% back into the wild and the only orangutans that remain around the centre tend to have some serious illness or disability that would make their survival in the jungle unlikely.

The centre opens its doors twice a day allowing visitors to watch the morning and afternoon feedings, or see the young orangutans in the unfenced outdoor nursery from behind a smoke screen glass. They essentially let you stalk them, in a non-creepy way. A huge part of their work is focused on preparing the orangutans for a self-sufficient life in the jungle. They train them to be able to swing from tree to tree, to use ropes, to identify danger, to find food, to fend for themselves - things that luckier babies learn from their mothers. The outdoor nursery is where this important work takes place: it’s a safe zone where young orangutans can test and learn.

Whilst watching the young resident orangutans frolic in the nursery is a lot of fun, the main act that gets visitors excited is the feeding. Twice a day, the park rangers head out to the forest and place a basket load of fruits on a platform around a tree. This is for the orangutans that have already been successfully released back into the forest but might need to supplement their diet. Some of them never come back for food, others, only when there’s less fruit in the forest, or when they’re pregnant or have a baby. So again, there’s no guarantee that you’ll see any of them: they’re wild animals who might or might not care about your bananas that day.

There’s a viewing platform for visitors, built 10-15 metres away from the feeding platform, so people can observe the animals without disturbing them - in theory. In reality, some people are physically unable to stay quiet.

When we visited, there was an exceptionally huge and annoying crowd of Italian and Chinese tourists who really struggled with the concept of ‘observing’ and felt the need to loudly comment on every single macaque that showed up - and there were many. So despite the promising start (we got to the platform first and grabbed a premium spot, ideal for ape-watching), we were not having high hopes of seeing any orangutans. Just when we got bored of the antics of the cheeky and opportunist macaques, a dark figure appeared on one of the ropes leading to the platform: it was a female orangutan, with the cutest little baby holding on to her! She carefully approached the ranger, keeping a safe distance from the macaques, using one hand to hold her baby protectively and the other to grab bananas and lettuces. A few minutes later another, young-looking orangutan appeared and instantly made the feeding more entertaining: he refused to take any bananas but had a soft spot for lettuces; and of course he was not amused by the cheeky monkeys. At one point he launched into a fake-attack, swinging his arms towards them and showing all his teeth. What a lad.

Once there were no more fruits left, the orangutans disappeared in the trees, and so did most of the tourists, thankfully. Little did they know that the best part was yet to come. Mummy orangutan cleverly waited until the crowds were gone and made another appearance, this time purely to chill on on a tree with her baby.

This was when we started feeling like we’re actually observing a wild animal in its natural habitat. The baby now left her mum’s arms and proved that it was not as useless as I’d previously (and unfairly!) thought. With its tiny hands and skinny little limbs it was hanging from the branches and picking leaves like a little pro. Mummy seemed pretty chilled about this activity, so we decided that the baby’s probably not going to fall from the tree, which is rather impressive for a few month old animal. (We couldn’t help comparing baby orangutans to baby humans, who are the definition of uselessness: it takes them months to learn how to turn from their back to their stomach, let alone hanging from a tree with one hand!)

By this point, it was just us and 3 other people at the viewing platform. We were all quietly watching these two beautiful animals up in the tree. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the forest beautiful, and at last there was just the sound of the jungle around us. We didn’t know how much time had passed, and we didn’t want to leave before the orangutans did. So we waited until the mother gently placed the baby back onto her back and started climbing down from the tree and onto a rope, then started making her way back to the forest.

It was weird to think that most people who paid the entrance fee didn’t seem to want this kind of intimate experience. For us, being able to simply sit there, a few metres away from a wild orangutan, and just watch them live their lives for half an hour, was the best part of the whole visit. We still feel extremely lucky and privileged, and if possible even more aware of the unfairness of the orangutans’ situation in Borneo.

2 notes · View notes