#alligators are native to north america!

[kittylittersmoothie]

Okay— who thought it was prudent to allow him in the alligator exhibit?

(+ sticker variant)

[bethanythebogwitch]

This Wet Beast Wednesday I'm going to talk about gars. This needs some clarification because there are a lot of different fish called gar, garfish, or garpike. I'm referring to fish of the family Lepisostidae, the only surviving members of the ancient clade Ginglimodi, which I mostly brought up because Ginglimodi is a funny name.

(image: a longnose gar)

Gars are predatory fish found exclusively in North and Central America, though they have been introduced outside of their native range. Their ancestors evolved in Triassic period and once occupied most of North America and large portions of Europe back when the continents were still connected. They are freshwater fish, though a few species will go into brackish or even marine waters temporarily. The name "gar" is though to come from the old english word for "spear", which is appropriate as gar are very elongated fish and often have pointy snouts. Many other groups of elongated fish are also given the common name of gar or garfish for this reason. Their long snouts are filled with sharp teeth which are used to crush through shells and flesh. Gars are opportunistic predators who feed largely on crustaceans, frogs, and fish and will eat carrion if they find it. The long snouts are also used to dig through sediment in search of prey They move slowly through the water, but are capable of short bursts of speed to catch prey. Most species are apex predators with no natural predators as adults.

(image: a longnose gar with mouth open, displaying the teeth)

The body of a gar is covered with thick, diamond-shaped scales. Their scales are an ancient variety known as ganoid scales which are notable for their shape and composition. Where most bony fish scales have layers of a spongy, bony substance called cosmene, ganoid scales instead have an enamel-like substance called dentine, which is also a component in teeth. The scales are also covered in a rigid, glassy substance called ganoine where other scales use enameloid. Ganoid scales also don't overlap, instead laying next to each other in a manner that provided protection while still allowing flexibility. The result is a suit of armor that makes gar very durable. Because of how durable the scales are, they habe been used by humans for many purposes. Multiple Native American groups would use scales as arrowheads, there are reports of native Caribbean peoples wearing breastplates made of gar skin, and Europeans colonists would layer their plow heads with the scales to protect the,. There is currently a market for jewelry made of the scales.

(image: a close-up of ganoid scales)

(image: an arrowhead made of a gar scale)

Gar typically lay their eggs in early spring, with the female coating vegetation with thousands of sticky eggs. The eggs are toxic to humans, capable of causing sickness when ingested. Because of this, they are unsuitable for caviar. Scientists initially thought that the toxin was an adaptation to prevent predation, but natural predators of the eggs like channel catfish and bluegill are immune. Crayfish are affected by the eggs, though it's not clear if the poison is an adaptation targeting them or not.

(image: a shortnose gar)

The swim bladder of gar is highly vascularized, allowing them to act as lungs. Most gar will surface occasionally to take a gulp of air. While they are capable of surviving on their gills alone in good-quality water, air gulping allows gar to thrive in low-oxygen water where their prey will be sluggish from oxygen deprivation. Most species live around 20 years, but the alligator gar can live upwards of 70 years.

(image: a spotted gar)

There are seven living species of Gar: the Cuban gar, tropical gar, spotted gar, longnose gar, shortnose gar, Florida gar, and alligator gar. The shortenose gar is the smalles species, reaching an average length of 62.5 cm (24.6 in) while the alligator gar is the largest species and one of the largest of all American freshwater fish at an average length of 1.8 m (6 ft) in length. The largest alligator gar on record measured in 2.57 m (8 ft 5 in) and 148 kg (327 lbs). Alligator gar were long considered a nuisance species by fishermen as they preyed on sportfish and as a result, they were frequently killed. This resulted in population losses and the fish being extirpated from many states it was once native to. Now multiple states have laws and regulations protecting them and the population is starting to see a resurgence. Alligator gar and now a popular sportfish and have been introduced to places outside of their native range, becoming an invasive species in many areas including China.

(image: two fishermen with an alligator gar)

Gar meat is edible and is described as having a very unique taste compared to other fish meat. They are not commonly eaten in modern times, but some people consider them a delicacy. Gar meat is known to carry environmental toxins like pollutants and heavy metals, which can make eating them risky. Gar are mostly fished for their scales or for sport. Only the Cuban car is endangered (and critically so) while other species may be locally endangered, but as a whole are not threatened. Gar are used as aquarium fish due to their unique appearance, though they need large tanks due to their size.

(image: a close-up of an alligator gar's head)

[pleistocene-pride]

Branta Canadensis better known as the Canada goose, the burnt black goose, or the Canadian goose is a species of geese in the waterfowl family Anatidae is native to the arctic and temperate regions of North America, and has been introduced to France, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, New Zealand, Japan, Chile, Argentina, and the Falkland Islands. The Canadian goose is typically social species which lives in large flock which during migration may exceed 1,000 birds in number. They live in and around water sources such as lagoons, brackish marshes, estuaries, rivers, lakes, swamps, and ponds. Here they feed upon grasses, shrubs, fruit, flowers, seeds, beans, grains, and various aquatic plants such as sea weed. Canadian Geese are preyed upon by coyotes, wolves, bears, feral dogs, alligators, snapping turtles, wolverines, large owls, eagles, goshawks, peregrine falcons, and gryfalcons. Reaching around 30 to 43inches (75 to 110cms) in length, 5 to 24lbs (2.4 to 10.9kgs) in weight, with a 50 to 88 inch (127 to 225cms) long wingspan, the Canadian goose is the largest of the true geese. Canadian geese sport a long neck, webbed hind feet, and a broad body. In terms of coloration they typically sport a black head and neck, white cheeks, white under its chin, and a brown body, however some sport a pepper-spotted or brown neck with brown plumage. These birds often form long lasting monogamous pairs, only finding another partner if there current one passes away. Breeding typically occurs in spring and summer during which time the pair will build a nest out of earth, plant material, and feathers an elevated area near water. Here a female will lay 2 to 9 eggs, which are then incubated until hatching some 24–32 days later. As soon as the goslings hatch, they are immediately capable of walking, swimming, and finding their own food, yet remain by there parents side until they are nearly a year of age. Sometimes groups of Canadian geese will collaboratively raise there young in a crèche. The young learn to fly at around 6 to 9 weeks of age, reach sexual maturity at around 2 years, and may live up to 40 years.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Where to eat in Belem, Brazil's gateway to the Amazon

A gateway to the Amazon, the lively port city is an emerging powerhouse of Brazilian culinary culture, where local ingredients are used to create dishes that blend Indigenous, European and African influences

“In São Paulo, people had no idea about our food — they didn’t value it,” says Thiago Castanho. “They joked that we rode alligators. But things are changing.” The owner of Remanso do Peixe, a restaurant on a quiet street in the heart of Belém — 1,900 miles north of São Paulo — Thiago has become a key figure in the Amazonian city’s rise to culinary prominence. With no cookery schools in Belém, he first had to leave his home town, moving to São Paulo and Portugal in the early 2000s to train as a chef.

Thiago always hoped to return. “Every time I saw a dish from elsewhere, I thought, man, this would be incredible with Amazonian ingredients.” His first restaurant in Belém, Remanso do Bosque, spent four years on Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants list before closing during the pandemic. “That was incredible, because it was the only restaurant outside the Rio-São Paulo axis to get the nod,” he says.

In many ways, Thiago has taken up the baton from Belém native Paulo Martins, a chef many consider responsible for putting Amazonian food on the culinary map. Via his restaurants and food festivals, Paulo, who passed away in 2010, encouraged Brazilians to visit the city and get to know it better.

His daughter, Joanna, continues his legacy with Manioca, a company with a line of Amazonian products — including some made with cassava, the Amazon root vegetable also known as yuca or manioc, from which the outfit derives its name. When Manioca launched back in 2014, products from the Amazon were rarely seen outside the region — they’re now found across the country. Tucupí, a sauce of fermented cassava, has become something of an Amazon ambassador food, even appearing on the menu at London’s two-Michelin-star Da Terra.

Unique Amazonian ingredients abound. But unsurprisingly for a city that skirts the Guajará Bay, around 60 miles inland from where the mighty Amazon River system meets the Atlantic, fish is a staple ingredient. Filhote (goliath catfish) is meaty yet tender, reminiscent of monkfish, while dourada (bream) and pescada amarela (yellow hake) are found on restaurant menus city wide. At Thiago’s restaurant, I’m presented with one of Belém’s most renowned dishes, caldeirada. The stew contains filhote, onion, tomato, peppers and boiled eggs, as well as two of the region’s most important pre-European ingredients: jambú, a mouth-numbing leaf, and tucupí (a sauce made from fermented cassava juice). The result is revelatory.

Continue reading.

[rjalker]

went to check on the persimmon trees and had a kid excitedly show me where the baby alligator (more like teenager at this point?) was hanging out. I asked him and his older friend if they liked plants or gardening and they both said yes so I gave them the like, 20 persimmon seeds I had just picked up and told them about the plant. They're probably going to join iNaturalist lol.

The kid was super excited to talk about plants and nature and was telling me about tardigrades and saw my trans pin and was like "What does that mean?" and then was like "oh cool, I'm bisexual!"

Then he asked where the native persimmons were originally from, so I asked if he knew what Pangaea was, which he did and was super excited about, so I explained how Asia has its own species of persimmons and North America has its because they all descended from the same ancestors, which split off when the continents moved apart.

He told me that at some point, a dinosaur skull was found on one continent, and then its body was never found.....until they found it all the way across on the other continent.

[great-and-small]

@geekiemire Easy mistake to make if you are not super familiar with crocodilians but I can 100% guarantee you that is an American alligator on top and an American crocodile below. Notice how the one on top has a U shaped snout while the one on bottom is shaped like a V. The croc is also a paler tan color when compared to a gator. Their native ranges actually do overlap in southern Florida!

Lots of people don’t realize we actually have a native crocodile species here in North America and they’re not nearly as common as gators, so they’re much harder for folks to identify. The American crocodile is a very cool species though and worth looking into!

My friend saw something rad and sent me the best Snapchat I’ve ever received

[intothetlkverse]

Decided to challenge myself by drawing every single TLK character out there, up until this point in time, and post it here. You can see the finished project on my main account, though I figured to post it on my tumblr just show I could proudly show off my work and a few of my head canons.

Got a smaller one here, featuring the penguins and 'beavers' across TLK:

First off is Eiso/Ayiso(ice-Nyanja), an African penguin from the German TLK comic "The Little Prince from the Ice"/"A Visit from Afar". A braggart and snob, this guy was swept inland during the monsoon season where he was found by a then cub Simba, who took it upon himself to help him get back home. The fear of the new land, hotter climate, and home sickness however made the trip not very pleasant, and Ayiso was more then happy when a friendly eagle helped fly him back home, though both princes were more then glad to see the other go back.

Irwin/Pengwini(penguin)- African penguin from the Timon & Pumbaa Show. Dimwitted, clumsy, and forgetful, 'Wini' is just an average penguin that Timon and Pumbaa meet on their retirement(aka post raising Simba/Bunga/other animals) trip to the Southern beaches.

Last of the flightless, aquatic birds is one more well-known, Pinguino(penguin) from the Lion Guard. I have previously done him before along with the other species of the Tree of Life, though the gust is that I swapped him from Macaroni to African penguin, including doing away with his fabulous golden feathers, considering the only penguins in Africa are those coast-dwelling ones. Though the Tree of Life in my verse is now more an Oasis in the desert surrounded by mountains, fresh cold mountain water and water from underground rivers connected to the sea do supply the local penguin flock with enough fresh, cold water, and Pinguino is the confident and vain, pretty much same as in the show.

Now onto the more, shall we say in this context, exotic creatures of the bunch. Beavers. A bit struggle to do, compared to other animals. Got alligators in the show? No problem, crocodiles will suffice. Penguins? Hey, they do exist on the African continent. A semi-aquatic, dam-building, buck-toothed rodent native mostly to North America and Eurasia? ...gonna need a moment to look things up. Sure there are rodents in Africa, semi-aquatic ones even with marsh rats and dasymys(eses?), though really not much else. While looking up rodents, I did come across the South African springhare(surprisingly not related to rabbits), and while it is more like a kangaroo crossed with a squirrel in the desert, I think it looked close enough to what I needed, buck teeth and all. Also apparently, like platypuses, both beavers and springhares glow under UV light, so there's that.

But I digress. Here is Boss Beaver/Bwawa(swamp) and Boy Beaver/Barizi(hang out). Bwawa and Barizi are a father-son, springhare duo living in a lush territory nearby some rivers. They take an immediate dislike to Timon and Pumbaa when their retirement trip takes them to their home and they get into wacky antics which disrupt their working-focused lifestyle. Both duos were glad to never see each other again after they get caught in a small flood.

[blacktooth-the-comic]

"Andrew, you hussy!" -- and other alternate timeline delusions.

Pictured: an MS Paint JPEG of a simplified human figure carefully slapping red car paint on the gnarly horrorclaws of a huge fuckoff lusus. The lusus is styled after the freshwater alligator snapping turtle, a reptile and known child-biter native to Pottowatomi territories. Content Warnings for discussions of racism, hate crimes, assault, sexual abuse, harm to minors, and animal death. May or may not mention the gun we stole from that bodyguard.

♦

Your name is AMME, as of writing you are NEARLY FORTY GODDAMN YEARS OLD, and when you were a kid you were bit on the head by a snapping turtle.

You were bit on the head by a snapping turtle that you had grabbed to pull you to shore, after your sister's rapists decided against the 'homo' act of assaulting a four-year old boy and threw you into the deep pond to drown.

You had used empty beer bottles and cans to float as far as you could, before those slipped from your cold fingers and you sank, and sank, right to the murky bottom of the turtle's conservation pond, happening upon the hill of his shell in your crawling quest for higher ground.

The people responsible for trashing the pond considered themselves pure of blood and native to these lands, and spoke amongst themselves about the destruction the white man brings, unaware that your sister, aged six, and you shared a halfnative father. Your sister was lily white, blonde with blue eyes; and her teenaged attackers weren't much darker but considered themselves righteously beleaguered (and were also smoking a lot of meth).

This is a true story. Unfortunately, this is a true story. This story, which is true, had to be rewritten by journalists and popular culture in order to avoid riling North America's white supremacy terrorists; my sister rewritten to be a black girl, our attackers rewritten to be white.

"That's the plotline to 'A River Runs Through It'," your friend BILL argues mildly one night, while you are regaling this very real and true thing that goddamn happened to your family.

"I KNOW, SHUTUP," you sputter. Allegedly, your dad went to school with the idiot who would hire himself out to Hollywood by the stage name Matthew McConahaugey, or however the fuck that's spelt. There's a popculture through-line haunting the heels of your reality, outstanding tragedies and escalated ironies the likes of which could make any other Hapsburg cousin blush with jealousy.

When you were four, and your baby brother was not yet born, you and your sister were walking a familiar nightly trek, back from a party to the shack in the woods that your poor mother could barely afford to house you all in. Because of the blood ties your father could claim to an indigenous nation, you and your sister qualified for north america's shittiest healthcare and weakest nutrition, besides being housed in a mouse-infested shack with open dirt cellars shoveling mold toxins through your tiny nostrils every night.

Not even counting the extra vulnerability to stalking, kidnap and rape; known dangers to Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (but a vulnerability anyone below a certain tax bracket would share).

Your mom, see, was a polish-catholic whitey; a sparkling blue-eyed autistic fortunate enough to have grown up in the bounty of the valley farms and woodland resourcing culture. She knew how to hunt and butcher and cure hides, how to fish and garden and ferment, a high bohemian prize in the smalltown wash of second-wave feministique and burgeoning 1980s materialism.

Your father was a golden child to his family and tribe, a football star and upright soldier, vaulted either despite of, or because of, his thick blonde hair and pale green eyes, and the dimples he would pass on to you.

Your uncles through your father were as dark as you, black hair that browned in the fields and snowpelt complexions that darkened and waned with the seasonal labor's exposure to northern continental sunlight.

The teenaged boys who attacked you and your sister the night of the turtlebite were close friends of your youngest uncle; but only knew you and your sister as the children of your white mother -- the fact that it was your dad, the town golden boy, who married a daughter from the untouchable polish clan of quiet academics and violently catholic snobbery, the fact was never absorbed by the brains of these reservation sons, brains soaked in weed, amphetamines, and liquor.

Brains bruised by poverty, generational trauma, and colonialist rape culture.

These teenaged child-rapists only knew that your mother was white, her family owned land, and your uncle, their friend, would not miss either of you for spoiling his free time with unpaid child-minding. That uncle, see, was dating and would later marry your mother's sister, your aunt, and of that union these teenaged boys assumed you and your sister's presence at the reserve; that you were the both of you "white trash", castoffs from a catholic community that was only mad at your mother over her recent divorce, rending you both parasites to your uncle's dating life, resource-greedy clingers-on there to appropriate native culture and displace native children from academia.

These teenaged child-rapists did not, or could not, understand the town golden boy was your father; because your father was on military contract and like, couldn't fucking leave to chase his battered runaway wife? Probably something like that.

"This is where Danny Glover comes in," Bill tells his wife, who is listening to you with an expression of extreme autistic discomfort.

"I still don't fucking know if any of this is real or true," you disclaim, reasonably. "Lotta head injury, all my life. Lots of bad Wipipo medsin." You wiggle your fingers at your roomy, who lifts her eyebrows in her best attempt not to look terrified.

So when your mom was still married to your dad, your dad was stationed at an army base several borders away from the hometown that they shared. As her growing family needed the money, and her ravenous brains needed the enrichment, your mom took up a job as secretary to one of your dad's superior officers.

This dude looked exactly like Danny Glover, or was Danny Glover or just sounded like Danny Glover, or you made the connection between this guy and Danny Glover for his involvement in the movie 'a river runs through it', which your mom had bade you and your sister watch when you were eleven or so (and you don't know much now, as an adult, except that delusions of fame and connection can be inheritable).

"I want to hear about the Harry Potter connection," Bill's mean wife insists, several tax brackets more fortunate than you and somehow leagues unhappier for't.

"And the time I cried snot all over Lily Gladstone," you agree, waving that she shut the fuck up. "There is no ethical storytelling under capitalism, and I still don't even think any of this is true, so let's just stay chronological m'kay?"

The night your sister was raped was recounted too many times in the tones of your victory over the snapping turtle; the night your sister was raped was rewritten before her very witness, over and over, as your turtlefight took precedence for family pride. Your sister would grow up suffering extreme paranoia of brown and mestizo people, her connection to tribal support severed, her connection to catholic support non-existent but for her victimhood pricking at the wells of roman grandparent pity.

Your sister's rape was inescapable in the family lorekeeping, and ruined connections to both sides of your entire family with guilt, shame, fear, rage. Disgust.

Your sister would suffer from impulse control disorders and violent outbursts; she would grow insanely jealous of you and for you, would obsess over imaginary wrongs and plot grand criminal schemes of theft and murder, and would eventually grow to be a child-rapist herself after her failure to murder you, shaded under the harrowing impression that nobody cared, really, when kids got raped.

Especially nobody cared when a white kid got raped, because harmony between the skincolors mattered more to the adults in our life than did the actual truth of extremist rhetorics and which communities were vulnerable to nationalist recruitment tactics. Nobody cared when a boy got raped, either, because the homosexual community was not to be besmirched by over-achieving vigilantes. And especially nobody cared when a mixed race child got raped, either side of the family reluctant to confide in the other, suspicions and blame worsened between clans, adults blind to the actual foundation of acts of sadism like sexual violence against kids; adults blind to what, exactly, narratives of power were going to convince the powerless about.

Kids were just supposed to live past their rapes, shrug and move on, sell their labor to capitalism and maybe squeeze a few more worker bees out of a vagina (theirs or someone else's, and this was marketed to us as the standard for happiness, highest proof of recovery).

The natives invoked Bikilimbas and lost a rapist or two to gunfire; but the Catholics only badgered that your sister and you forgive her attackers, a monstrous burden to place on a child and an act that was more than a little responsible for your mother's turn to 'Alternative Medicine' for your counseling and recovery.

In the eighties and nineties, see, it was vogue to heinously abuse autistic and traumatized children in the name of curing their behaviors, nevermind their actual peace of mind or feelings of security. Your sister was a chronic masturbator, her brain starved for dopamine and her violated little body in need of reclamation over its parts, and she was also a fantastical liar, spiritual fanatic, pagan posterchild pupiled to poisonous potionbrewing.

Perhaps inevitably, your sister would turn to physical and sexual violence as an avenue of reassurance; acts of sadism to dispel her existential despair, power trips to regain power by. Her situation wasn't helped by the cowardice and vanity of the father you shared, his constant angling for financial compensation from your existence (kids are expensive), nor his brush with labor trafficking and consequent convictions for things like embezzlement, intimidation, slumlordery and homeopathic grifting.

Well before the tribe didn't want your father, though, your father didn't want his tribe.

"We aren't pottowatomi," you tangent, quoting a demented old auntie who could have been lying through her blackened teeth. "We're from one of the 'uncivilized' tribes, so-named for their willingness to sully white bloodlines with brown, or curse brown bloodlines with white, or whatever." Every whitey in the room looks like they want to question that, but it's Your Fucking Turn To Speak. "Like, it was considered chill for natives to marry black slaves, but tribal leaders and colonialists both agreed that mixing marriage with ze jermins or whomever else european peasant there to do a landgrab; like, they thought that was gross? Terribly, there was an entire, specifically german, movement that considered indigenous races as pure as the white race (or aryan or however that shit went) and, much like some movements in asiatic immigrants the same, thought the mixing of two pure races was, like, fine? So whatever; Maiyami didn't get federal recognition but the reason was mostly because we hella goddamn integrated. Mostly with the jewish, and the french."

To Bill's wife, you clarify, "Been here the whole time, bitch!"

She frowns so hard you think her jaw is going to fall off.

Before or maybe after the turtle bite (you broke a beer bottle open on a rock, head still lodged firmly in that huge fuckoff turtle's maw, and stabbed at the eyes of the thing before shoving your flotation-branch down its spiny throat. The feds would find the turtle dead on your crime scene walkthrough, and lie to you that it was gunfire to end the thing's life, to ease your tiny baby environmentalist guilt.) -- but BEFORE or maybe AFTER the turtle, there was THE OWL.

You met the owl well before your sister's rape, a melanistic horned beast swooping through the station wagon's broad open windows to snatch at your mother's mouseback coinpurse, a brush of feathers across the summer night's driving sweat, your sister asleep in your lap and upset she missed the encounter (your mother hysterical and cussing god).

Probably after the rape, when you forgot many things from the scare of it all and nevermind the pondscum encephalitis (and nevermind the harry potter scar, or the concussive bite force of an alligator snapper vs soft little toddler head), was when you met Blackie the Owl in proper, when you were playing with the field mice your mother warned you not to feed.

From the mouse traps, your mother's chore was often to toss the dead mice to the swamp cats to sustain their company, feeding sometimes the kinds of birds to favor mouseflesh too, though Blackie preferred hers still living and was confident enough to snatch anything from the kids that played in her woods, fuzzy hair accessories and barbie doll heads all fair game to line her nest with.

The story is told that you were holding a gerbil, not a field mouse, aloft the day Blackie cursed you with skinwalking talents. The gerbil had been a gift to foster your love of field mice toward something less prone to rabies, and you were holding him up to get some sunlight, you lying on your back in the cool clover and protecting your fingers from angery gerbilbites by carrying him around on a bedpillow instead of in your grasp.

Pillow held above your face to shade you from the noontide sun, suddenly the pillow was shoved down atop you, elbows collapsing with a laugh because your sister would sometimes do this, start pillowfights and attempt to smother you. When you manage to bench-press the pillow off your face, though, you see naught but a pair of dragon talons balled up in the fabric, a head with the ears of a black cat with one long, fucked-up tooth stabbing down at your poor gerbil sacrifice.

They caught the footage on your landlord's security camera, you strong-arming the pillow carefully over your face so you could wiggle out from under the cat-dragon and buckflip yourself upright ninja-style, recognizing Blackie's wings but having no four-year-old's idea of just what the fuck an owl is supposed to look like up close.

"Cat dragon," you insist to your mother at the kitchen sink, ashen. You don't have a lot of words for a lot of things, and your favorite reading material is the chinese zodiac on the restaurant placemats.

"The what-scar?" Bill's mean wife interrupts, hungry to see her fandom represented at last.

"Oh, yeah," you say, laughing. "You know how JK Rowling was in amnesty international? Yeah, so was an aunt of mine. I knew Rowling as 'JoAnne Fabrics', the name of a local textile outlet, but THAT's another story."

"The original Harry Potter is also the original Dave Strider, and no I will not elaborate," your roommate quotes, looking ill now. A YouTube personality said that, once, and you aspirated your drink right there in front of her, and she didn't understand why at the time.

You nod. This story, this very true and actual real thing you're pretty sure actually happened --

This story is about Homestuck.

Specifically, this story is about Andrew Hussie's struggle with racism, his connection to your sister('s group therapy of similarly traumatised children striving to appease the normalcy-starved adults in their lives).

You say, "I knew Andrew Hussie as Drew Hussar, to distinguish him from Andy [redacted], my cousin. But then again -- a common name, Andrew Hussie, and we might have only been reading Homestuck and clowning on the forums, not necessarily in an active friendship with him or his."

Your buddy Bill nods, looking relieved to hear your measured acknowledgement of probably realities. You agree, this is all just too fantastic to be any kind of true, at least forgiving that you are hilariously faceblind and struggle with associative pattern-finding.

Maybe you're just from another timeline, displaced by all the beatings, stabbings, and poisonings your sister raised against you, her high functioning intelligence and eventual academic and financial stability won at the cost of your safety, your ability to make connections with other people, your confidence. In preteen and teenaged years your sister would set you up to get raped, repeatedly, and the both of you understanding this as just a facet of reality, a Spy vs Spy game risking nothing but catholic ideals on virginity.

Of course you just wanted your sister to make friends with other people, so she could leave you the hell alone. Of course your sister always wanted to share you with her friends, until the jealousy kicked in to get you murdered; so you learned to swerve these social connections early, and often.

'Anti-social' your family would joke of your reluctance to party.

You were very social, actually, and suffering extreme depression from the isolation, but okay. Family could joke, it wasn't them that got raped by indigenous supremacists. And you did party with your sister on her invites, which sometimes ended in serious injury to others bordering second-degree murder. Accidentally. Allegedly.

But you're pretty sure you were in the company of the origins of the homestuck character beats, you and one of your fellow rape survivors (from your sister's therapy group, and from a few hometown incidents you yourself had the privilege to survive). You remember your sister violently upset by the name "Dick Strider", and you remember explaining that your handwriting had not yet recovered from your most recent hospitalization, that the name was "Dirk', that it meant sword.

You chose Dave Strider after Dave-the-army-buddy you used to tail around the base, mistaking his mustache for your dad's. And Strider after the dude in the Hobbit cartoon, and Dirk because you, Amme, and your sister and your newly born brother all had four-letter names, a delicious joke about cussing you didn't yet have the words to define.

You are way beyond age four when this all goes down, of course, it's just that the head injuries... Nothing doesn't ever stop keep happening, time is a flat circle, and you warned him about the fucking stairs, bro.

Being a taurus to the colonial zodiac, and being in a wheelchair at the time, you somewhat fancy yourself the original tavros, your personality just as malleable and digimon-obsessed, even if you also ranted like karkat (carket, actually, like the demand to Cork It, and named after your love of cars and ketamine).

Perhaps somewhere in this hazy recollection of camaraderie amongst defectives is a lost cousin or two, a monied benefactor to fund you all, some happiness and intelligence and helpful distraction. You remember feeding your friend's ant farm something from the back yard, a moth or dead bee or such, accidentally infecting the colony with cordyceps fungi, and scrambling to turn the tragedy into story fuel because hey, at least the ants weren't raped by their uncle's friends (and let that be a lesson about closed ecosystems and building immunities anyway; no sense in living life as an ant if they're going to live and die behind featureless, sterile glass).

You remember confessing to your aspirations to have twelve children exactly; not for any heteronormative aspiration for large family or tradition or whatever, but because you wanted one of each zodiac, to run tests on and see if the personality traits, strengths and flaws really were all that accurate if you simply never taught those kids about western zodiac. There was an entire other half of the world, after all, who based personality shortcuts on a completely different calendar, and most days you felt way more tiger-ish than bull.

You remember a lot, just not if any of it is real. The way everyone around you behaved, you're scared to know which. If these delusions and connections were true, then it was also true that your sister was routinely drugging you to treat your 'social anxiety', and eventually was routinely pimping you out to friends and contacts in ever-worse grabs for connection to fame and success.

If any of this is true, then maybe all of it could be true; Danny Glover sexually harassing your mom, terrorising your entire family for the sake of his own bruised pride over your mom's rejection of his advances; a skit that Dave Chappelle would one day freeze your entire stomach with, the punchline being that your mom wore a squirrel-fur coat and was a money-chaser, and that Chappelle's character was only merely 'petty', and gleeful in his bloat of wealth and fame while the hometown beauty despaired of her humble life.

In reality, your mother chose honesty and peace before she ever chose money or fame; and the only n-word you ever dropped was landed at the loafers of your mother's abuser, and the only reason you ever dropped it was specific to the understanding that the word was harmful; because you legit had and have black family, and would have in your early life known the vagaries of casual racism.

In reality, your mother was harangued by this black dude several leagues wealthier and more powerful than she; and he was a conservative christian too, an admission that would cement your judgement against all who would claim similar, if conservative christianity meant grownass COs physically cornering your mother, right in front of you, to sexually intimidate her and curse her for a racist when she preferred to stay faithful to her marriage.

The divorce with your dad, see, was because your dad did not stick up for your mom when she was being sexually harassed on that army base way back when. Your dad even suggested that your mom simply sleep around with whomever asked, a longstanding workingclass trope and expectation of new mothers trying to secure gainful employment.

And Drew the Hussar (corsair, like a pirate, yeah hussie doesn't mean sexually avid so much as it's like, idk, some european shit? like how gary is actually the name of a type of gardening tool or primitive farming tech or some damn thing).

You are maybe eight or nine years old when you David yourself a Goliath, and land yourself in the hospital with a spinal injury about it all; and you have no regrets about the attack nor the n-bomb, except for the attention that your bravery draws from the town. White supremacy attentions, like. And second-gen Welsh and Irish catholics very easily racist, themselves, having little enough heritage to slave ownership and more than enough historical victimhood under the same colonialist royalty to plague american shores!

So like, your family's pain was always under pressure by the recruitment tactics of extremists looking for a righteous cause to do violence over. Your mother was never racist, never a liar, and never crazy -- not until her abusers found it more useful that she be thus, that the judicial system continue to favor the comfort of the higher tax brackets, and that malignant narcissists stay unchallenged by a world that also expected its children to remain civil in the face of extreme injustice.

And the fact that you dropped the n-word mattered more to your father than did the assault and harassment metered out against your mother, by the Danny Glover lookalike.

But you're not an idiot, and you know the uselessness of prejudice as just like a pattern-finding pitfall. It was bad logic, was racism, and it was bad logic to blame your pursuit of justice on the sin of Wrath, so neither the natives nor the catholics had solved the problem of the wealthy preying on the vulnerable poor.

Your mother bonded with JoAnne Rowling over their shared victimisation, and told the british interloper your entire history. JK Rowling, see, ... well, that story is on Twitter, under the name Professor Blacktooth, probably.

This story is about being homestuck, and probably also a child soldier, and probably also a vengeful Owl Spirit defending its ha'nativ babies through the calculated violence of a terrorised child.

You are maybe eleven, or twelve, or thirteen for the halloween party where you crack the joke "Andrew, you hussie!", because your best friend who-was-a-girl had a crush on the tallest cousin at the house, and he wasn't even your cousin but only shared a name with him, and that cousin had to move to Argentina besides, which sounds fake as hell, so either way you don't want to date the only Drew at that party, and not just because your friend who-was-a-girl liked him but also because You Are A Dude.

You were a dude with a documented circulation problem, even, and was stoned enough to cuddle with anything that sat still long enough to lend you their body heat, and Drew was cousin-shaped and thirteen wasn't too old to stop cuddling your cousins, and really only white people had that bad habit of sexualising kids and teens cuddling anyway, while the rest of the poors chose to live with the practical realities of heating costs, and halloween costumes with no fukken layers.

And yeah, okay, so you were cuddling The Tallest Girl At The Party and it was in the top bunk bed, because Drew was wearing a wig and you thought it was funny to hit on him, and you had a bad back from your storied history of stabbing evil chumps, plural, and you almost always wanted to just Go Lay Down Somewhere Quiet, and you the both of you shared migraines and social anxiety, and you might have wished out loud that Drew was a girl or at least shorter than you right before your friend-who-was-a-girl came into the room to try and make out with her crush, only to be crushed to discover you yourself canoodling in a bed making the tallest girl at the party turn several shades of red.

And here's what you remember, of the time you nearly lost your eyeball (it was dangling down your cheek, the world in cockeyed split screen); or maybe this was the injury set from the time that paparazzo hit you with his car princess-diana style, or that other time the town pedophile hit you with his car in an attempted excuse to 'drive you to the hospital' (to somewhere secluded, more likely), or maybe this was the injury where your sister clubbed you over the head with a decorative old wrench, and you played possum in that driveway so long that your blood glued your long warrior's hair to the gravel in the settling frost.

You remember either Drew or some cousin, or one of your wealthier guests, was colorblind, and so your bloodshot eyeball looked not red, but black to them, and the green eyes of your fishbelly maiyami heritage looked only to this person as a very pale grey, nearly white the whole way through, though they could still register the flecks of gold and gosh, didn't you just have the prettiest eyes in the joint?

And wasn't it true, that the only cousins in that house were merely your cousins through your mother's second marriage, and your babies likely unflippered?

And you remember your sister constantly trying to set you up with one paramour or another, despite your highly autistic asexuality and preference toward intellectual and creative pursuits (and god bluss lady gaga, anyway, for explaining to a magazine how sexual relationships usurp creativity).

At that Halloween party, you remember this entire cultural mountain of pressure to 'be normal', to recover from your several encounters with horrorshow monsters in full, which meant an average interest in sex; and you remember not being afraid, at all, to do as your sister encouraged, knowing full well that being young was for making mistakes, and that none of these relationships were supposed to matter by the time you were an adult.

♦

"So that's it?" Bill's mean wife says, sitting back with crossed arms and a jaw set against compassion.

"This is, like, a mysteriously numbered repeat attempt to communicate all of this," you answer, hurt. "I keep forgetting shit. Remembering shit. Drinking to forget shit. I accidentally joined the army, completely unawares I had an entire medical file, psych record, AND TRAIL OF JUDICIAL PAPERWORK behind my entire twenty six years of life to disqualify me, not to mention a cadre of completely alarming health upsets whose origins are sometimes a mystery to me, which comes off as I'm either a hypochondriac and malingerer, or stubborn idiot refusing to acknowledge his limits."

You flap your arms penguin-style. "I do know that I am... pathologically honest, though, and not at all lying or exaggerating about the concussions and memory losses and whatnot, and if it suits your comfort to toss delusion or schizophrenia atop all of that then I ain't gonna squawk. I just wanted to share with my friends that, well, yeah I Had Opportunities and still chose to leave them behind with my sister's social circles, because of all the --"

"All the rapes, yeah," Bill helps, helpfully, nodding and sorry in the eyes.

It matters that Bill is white and has black family, too. It matters that Andrew Hussie's early comics were kinda hella raycist.

"All the associative memories," I explain. "And from experience, my sister was never going to change, around me. I'm her trigger. I'm her reminder of the unfairness of the world, her treasure and her curse, her supporting witness and her amnesiatic disbeliever. And she's my Bro Strider, hypersexual and violent, jealously hoarding me inside of a shitty apartment under the guise of safety but really just to monopolize my loyalty, and sell footage of me to creeps online, if we had things like webcams and internet growing up. Which we didn't. On account of the poverty."

"Kinda feel like poverty isn't what made your sister ... do. Everything that she did." Your roomy adds, still on your side despite the stress of uncertainty hovering around all these fantastic claims and possibly misremembered spikes of trauma.

This is your conclusion for this post on tumblr dot com, in the hopes that you aren't fruitlessly scaring the bejeezus out of an innocent webcomic author;

"Generational poverty stole our family early to their graves, left many of us languishing in monotony and pain, starved us and saw our babies born dead. Poisoned us when our economic superiors polluted our lands, denied us access to critical infrastructure, stole our children away, *legally* displaced these kids to white schools and churches that murdered them. My grandma was sterilised by an evil ladyparts doctor, my uncle born with disabilites from a syphillitic infection that the army had given to my grandpa with reused blood-draw needles.

"And," you continue, cold with nausea. "And any possible brown or black ally I could ever have in this country, is going to see my vitiligo and cast judgement."

"YOU DO NOT HAVE VITILIGO, YOU JUST HEARD THAT FROM MICHEAL JACKSON," Bill's shitty wife explodes, repeating an old elementary school taunt.

You argue in a drawl, "Auto-immune disorders triggered by heinous amounts of childhood stress, hey, those existed way long before the celebrities were around to 'raise awareness', but thanks for participating. Mypipo called it the moon's curse, and nicknamed me Pony for the palomino spotting, but y'all going to stay sexist and assume the moon curse is about menstruation and the pony nickname was a sexual innuendo, cos white people fucking suck." This examples the rapid-fire lacony that inspired dave strider's deadpan delivery, his 'cool' in actuality an irrefutable depression, his brother dead through most of the webcomic because truths came to light about your sister's psychopathy and she got roundly excluded from many of the projects she had roped you into.

But the conclusion is thus, as you finger-guns at your roomy and moonwalk out of the small kitchen you're all hotboxing to save on product, "No war but class war, babes."

[whitepolaris]

The Thing from Tahlequah

Reading newspaper archives form the early 1900s seems like it might be the driest of all hobbies, but we should all by grateful for those unsung library moles who endure the tedium and frustration of loading a microfiche machine, for it is they who uncover the most marvelous of articles.

A prime example is an item once buried deep in an issue of the Oklahoman published in November 1920. Boldly featuring the word monster in its title, the article recalled an incident said to have occurred near the eastern Oklahoma town of Tahlequah in 1842. The "thing," described as reptilian, reportedly lived in a cave of unknown depth, which opened onto a bluff overlooking the Illinois River. For reasons unexplained or inexplicable, the creature left its home and started making its way across the prairie north of town, an action that unnerved the locals enough to call in well-respected elder and noted warrior Archibald Campbell.

Through the snow and ice, a messenger faced to retrieve Campbell, who took up his knife and his gun, and gathered a group of brave trackers to hunt down the beast. When the posse reached the prairie north of town, they discovered a broad track that had been cut clearly through the snow. The track, the men said, appeared "as if some animal the size of a bear had been dragged along." It remains unclear if the description was meant to convey the size of the creature itself or if perhaps the beast had been so powerful as to actually take down such large game, though either conclusion would have been reason enough to hunt it down.

Unfortunately, the creature had a considerable head start on the men. When the party reached the Grand River several miles west they got a glimpse of the monster. Climbing the snow-covered grade on the opposite bank, the creature turned and raised its head, which shocked the entire posse when they saw that the face resembled that of an alligator.

Regrettably, the late hour forced the party to camp for the night before continuing its pursuit. Moreover, by the next morning many had decided to drop out and return home. Campbell, however, backed by a few indomitable hunters, forged on. Given the path left in the snow, not to mention the horrible stench it was said to produce, the posse found no difficulty in tracking the creature. By late afternoon, they spotted him once again. Before they could get close enough to take aim, however, the men were stopped by a group of Osage Indians.

The Osage, who were familiar with the creature, had caught sight of it was well and intercepted, the hunting party to warn them not to continue. Insisting that the creature's thick scales were impenetrable by their bullets, they said continuing the chase would be futile. Besides, they said, it was not a creature to be trifled with.

The article conveyed few details of the ensuing conversation, but "so urgent were the appeals" that the Osage convinced Campbell and his bloodthirsty group to turn back.

Local history has since recorded no other sightings of the creature, though it has been suggested that the beast may have turned south and sought refuge in Mexico. It's also possible that the creature may have traveled as far as South America, which may have, in fact, been its original home. Interestingly, ancient artifacts uncovered from the Chiriquian natives who once lived in Panama are rife with images of a deity whose body was that of a human and whose head was that of an alligator.

[headspace-hotel]

I've been thinking a lot about how throughout history, almost all people even in agricultural societies have used "wild" species for food at least occasionally

People in rural areas, whether it's in Sub-Saharan Africa, China, or North America, regularly use wild animals as a food resource. When I was a kid we had a skunk under our house and we tried to trap it but we trapped a groundhog instead. Our family friend came out, shot it, took it home, and they cooked it up and ate it. People in USA freaking out about how ~weird~ it is that Foreign Countries eat wild animals not traditionally thought of as game, when Americans eat their rattlesnakes, possums, and alligators...and it's a LOT of people that have eaten deer or turkey or crawdads or some kind of wild fish.

I was talking to my Mamaw the other day and she told me about going into the woods to collect Mayapples and ramps to sell. I didn't even know there used to be a market for those things. But wild mushrooms and pawpaws have a market now. And in terms of important plant foods for personal harvest and consumption you have poke salad, all manner of wild greens, mulberries, raspberries, elderberries, blueberries, and it keeps going. And how could I forget American chestnuts, sadly declined to near-extinction.

When i was taking a class on the Romans, I remember reading in a book about how Roman slaves couldn't have lived on the amount of food they were given by their masters, so they are thought to have harvested part of their food from the countryside. Which reminds me of how slaves in the USA, thousands of years later, also used wild foods to sustain themselves.

So many plants aren't wild OR domesticated! Dandelions were brought to North America as a crop, Chicory is still both a crop and a common "wild/naturalized" weed, and Kudzu, the infamously invasive vine as it is known in the USA, was a cultivated crop for food, fiber, medicine, and paper in China, Japan and Korea for literally thousands of years.

Most plants that are "weeds," are intentionally cultivated somewhere in the world. Then there's plants like Purslane that pop up as weeds that are conveniently edible. Amaranth is a weed in USA, a crop in Mexico. Weeds turn into crops, crops turn into weeds. It's all the same thing. It's all symbiosis.

Do you see what this means, though? The colonizers were farmers that just so happened to need to hunt and forage to not starve. The Native Americans were hunter-gatherers that just so happened to keep personal gardens and orchards and fields. There's a bias being applied here.

Without industrialization, do 100% agricultural societies even exist?

I get a little annoyed at how writings don't give Native North American peoples any agency in agricultural technologies

Domestication takes hundreds or thousands of years to accomplish, so it's weird to me that so many sources claim that food plants native to North America were cultivated into existence after European settlement, from a "wild" ancestor into a highly desirable crop

Take for example, the famous Concord grape. Supposedly it was bred from wild ancestors in a few years by just one guy.

With pecans, the word itself is Algonquin, so it's harder to deny that Native Americans cultivated them, but supposedly "domestication began in the 1800's". and as the source says, "wild-type" pecans are perfectly acceptable for sale in the market

And then there is nonsense like all the sources that will tell you pawpaws are an "evolutionary anachronism" from when they were distributed by giant ground sloths and other megafauna, as though humans don't count.

Are we to believe that indigenous peoples knew nothing of plant breeding? When the Cherokee were given peaches, apples, and watermelon, they adopted the new plants for use in their orchards and soon developed their own breeds.

Don't even get me started on all the plants that were almost lost and largely not used anymore, like Rivercane and the American Chestnut.

[fishfolkart]

North America Freshwater Fish Group - This is a representation of the fish species that are native to North America.

Row 1 Redear Sunfish, Warmouth Sunfish, Green Sunfish, Longear Sunfish, Bluegill Sunfish, Rock Bass, Northern Sunfish

Row 2: Pumpkinseed Sunfish, Orange Spotted Sunfish, Redbreast Sunfish, Black Crappie, White Crappie, Shadow Bass

Row 3 : Black Sotted Sunfish, Redspotted Sunfish, Black Banded Sunfish, Dollar Sunfish, Ozark Bass, Bantam Sunfish, Sacramento Perch

Row 4: Flier Sunfish, Roanoke Bass, Blue Spotted Sunfish, Banded Sunfish, Shoal Bass, Guadaloupe Bass

Row 5: Smallmouth Bass, Suwannee Bass, Largemouth Bass, Redeye Bass, Spotted Bass

Row 6: Striped Bass, White Bass, White Perch, Yellow Bass, Walleye, Yellow Perch

Row 7: Pickeral, Northern Pike, Muskie, Rainbow Smelt

Row 8: Blue Catfish, Channel Catfish, Flathead Catfish, White Catfish

Row 9: Black Bullhead, Brown Bullhead, Yellow Bullhead, Freshwater Drum, Humpback Chub, Northern Pikeminnow

Row 10: Bull Shark, American Paddlefish, Alligator Gar

Row 11: Goldeye, Bowfin, Texas Cichlid, American Shad, River Carpsucker, Burbot

[tabletgeekz]

A Fascinating Journey through the Animal Kingdom: Discovering Animals That Start with 'A'

The animal kingdom is filled with a diverse array of fascinating creatures, each contributing to the rich tapestry of life on Earth. In this article, we embark on an exciting journey through the animal kingdom, focusing on animals that start with a. From awe-inspiring mammals to astonishing insects, let's explore some of the remarkable animals whose names begin with the letter 'A.'

African Elephant:

One of the most iconic animals on the planet, the African Elephant is the largest land mammal. With their distinctive large ears and elongated tusks, these gentle giants inhabit the grasslands, forests, and savannas of Africa.

Arctic Fox:

The Arctic Fox is a master of adaptation, residing in the frigid regions of the Arctic. These small, fluffy mammals possess thick fur that changes color with the seasons, allowing them to camouflage effectively in their snowy habitats.

Anaconda:

The Anaconda is a large, non-venomous snake found in the tropical rainforests of South America. Known for its impressive size and strength, the Anaconda is one of the world's longest and heaviest snakes.

Albatross:

The Albatross is a magnificent seabird known for its impressive wingspan, which can reach up to 11 feet. These majestic birds are skilled gliders, spending much of their lives soaring over the open ocean.

Aardvark:

The Aardvark is a unique mammal native to Africa. With its long snout, sticky tongue, and strong claws, it specializes in feeding on ants and termites, earning it the nickname "earth pig."

Archerfish:

The Archerfish is an extraordinary fish known for its remarkable hunting technique. It can shoot jets of water from its mouth to knock down insects perched on overhanging branches, successfully capturing its prey.

Antelope:

Antelopes are a diverse group of hoofed mammals found primarily in Africa and parts of Asia. These agile creatures have adapted to various habitats, from grasslands to deserts, and display impressive speed and agility.

African Penguin:

The African Penguin, also known as the Jackass Penguin, is a charming bird species found along the coastlines of southern Africa. These penguins are known for their distinctive braying call and their unique adaptation to the marine environment.

Aye-Aye:

The Aye-Aye is an unusual and elusive primate native to Madagascar. With its distinctive appearance, including long fingers and a bushy tail, it uses its specialized elongated middle finger to extract insects from tree bark.

Alligator:

Alligators are large, semi-aquatic reptiles found in freshwater habitats across North America and China. These formidable creatures are known for their powerful jaws, which they use to hunt prey and regulate their body temperature.

Conclusion:

The animal kingdom never ceases to amaze us with its incredible diversity, and animals that start with the letter 'A' are just the beginning of this remarkable journey. From the mighty African Elephant to the elusive Aye-Aye, each animal brings its unique characteristics and adaptations. Exploring the animal world broadens our understanding of the natural world and highlights the importance of conservation efforts to protect these magnificent creatures. So, let's continue our exploration and uncover the wonders of the animal kingdom, one letter at a time.

[kashmirmonitor]

'Crocodile-like' Alligator Gar in Dal Lake baffles Kashmir scientists

SRINAGAR: The Jammu and Kashmir Lake Conservation and Management Authority (LCMA) discovered a rare type of fish for the first time during the ongoing cleaning of Dal Lake on Thursday. The fish, which is said to be an “Alligator Gar,” is known for its crocodile-like head and razor-sharp teeth and is native to North America. Masood Ahmad, an expert from J&K LCMA’s research and monitoring…

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Noticing the Nutria

The nutria, or coypu (Myocastor coypus) is a species of rodent native to the lakes and wetlands of South America, from Bolivia to Tierra del Fuego in Chile and Argentina. It is often confused with capybara or beavers due to its size and shape; adults are typically 4-9 kg (9-20 lbs) and 40-60 cm (16-24 in) long. The fur is brown, and like its look-alikes the coypu has four large incisors that are a distinct orange color, which comes from the high amounts of iron in the enamel. M. coypus can be distinguished from other large rodents by its tail, which is long and slender-- ideal for swimming.

In addition to its thick three layers of fur, the nutria has several adaptations for a semi-aquatic life. Four of the five digits on the hind feet are webbed, and they have strong lungs that allow individuals to remain submerged for up to ten minutes. Females have nipples high on their flanks, to allow their young to suckle while they float in the water. The coypu's large teeth are used to feat on aquatic plants, as well as small animals like snails and mussels. Both the teeth and the tail are also used to deal with predators; when evading birds of prey, alligators, garfish, and other mammals the nutria will try to swim away, while the teeth can be used to deter turtles, snakes, and smaller predator fish.

In their native habitat, survival rates for M. coypus are extremely low. 80% of nutrias die within their first year, and it's rare for individuals to exceed three years of age in the wild. Males reach sexual maturity at 4 months old, while females can become sexually mature at only 3 months. Nutria are highly social, and can live in groups of 2-13 individuals, usually a large male and several mates and their litters. These groups construct platforms out of vegetation and burrows in muddy river banks- reaching up to 15 m (50 ft)-- where they mate and raise their young.

Mating occurs year-round, and it's not uncommon for a female to have 2 or 3 litters in a year. Gestation of a litter lasts about 130 days, after which she gives birth to an average of 5-7 young, though it may be as many as 14. Baby coypu are born with their eyes open, and can swim and feed on vegetation only hours after birth. These pups only remain with her for 4-8 weeks, after which they are weaned and either join the group as adults or leave to find another colony. This allows their mother to prepare herself for another litter-- an important task, as she is ready to become pregnant again the day after giving birth.

Conservation status: The IUCN has yet to rate the nutria, although studies have suggested they're disappearing from their native rivers and lakes. Conversely, M. coypus is highly invasive in parts of North America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, where it has been introduced by fur ranchers.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a kofi!

Photos

Greg Lasley via iNaturalist

Petar Milošević via Wikipedia

Joel Sartore

[riverthebooknerd]

hear me out. HEAR ME OUT.

i’ve seen a lot of different theories/headcanons of what the human!turtles from rise would look like, and i’d like to propose a theory

they’re all partially asian (because they have splinter’s DNA) and partially whatever their species is native to

i don’t think that i did a good job of explaining that, so here’s an example

red eared sliders are native to southern usa and mexico, so i think that leo would be asian, mexican, and native american

i hope that makes sense lol

ALSO! alligator snapping turtles are from the usa, so raph would be asian and native american

softshell turtles are from africa, asia, and north america, so donnie would be asian, african, and native american

last but not least, box turtles are from america (but there’s also a species of asian box turtles) so mikey would be asian and native american

(also please correct me if any of the information is wrong because i basically just looked on wikipedia)

[tired-fandom-ndn]

You know, there was absolutely no reason for Rowling to use Native spirits for the fucking Ilvermony house mascots.

First of all, unlike English schools apparently, American schools don't have houses! With the exception of a handful of universities, that's just not a fucking thing here.

Second, Hogwarts used regular ass animals. She could've grabbed a handful of North America's indigenous fauna. Moose, coyotes, fisher cats, alligators, Gila monsters, black-footed ferrets, pronghorns, blue jays, bison, bald eagles, California condors, beavers, gray wolves, mountain lions, etc. We have SO MANY incredible animals, many of which aren't found anywhere else in the world, and Ilvermony could've been a great way to showcase them!

Third, if Rowling (who is a terrible person ofc, there's my disclaimer) really wanted Ilvermony to stand out from Hogwarts and still have houses (🙄), she could've used plants! Again, there's a ton of native flora in North America that could've been really fun to play around with. North America is pretty infamous for our huge variation in landscapes and there's no shortage of unique plants to pick from.

Instead, we got. Racism and cultural appropriation. It's just some absolute bullshit.