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a-dinosaur-a-day · 5 years ago

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Apalopteron familiare

By Nesnad, CC BY 4.0

Etymology: Delicate Feather

First Described By: Bonaparte, 1854

Classification: Dinosauromorpha, Dinosauriformes, Dracohors, Dinosauria, Saurischia, Eusaurischia, Theropoda, Neotheropoda, Averostra, Tetanurae, Orionides, Avetheropoda, Coelurosauria, Tyrannoraptora, Maniraptoromorpha, Maniraptoriformes, Maniraptora, Pennaraptora, Paraves, Eumaniraptora, Averaptora, Avialae, Euavialae, Avebrevicauda, Pygostaylia, Ornithothoraces, Euornithes, Ornithuromorpha, Ornithurae, Neornithes, Neognathae, Neoaves, Inopinaves, Telluraves, Australaves, Eufalconimorphae, Psittacopasserae, Passeriformes, Eupasseres, Passeri, Euoscines, Passerides, Core Passerides, Sylviida, Sylviodiea, Zosteropidae

Status: Extant, Near-Threatened

Time and Place: Since 10,000 years ago, in the Holocene of the Quaternary

The Meguro is known only from the Bonin Islands of Japan

Physical Description: Meguro are small, but distinct, little birds - also known as Bonin White-Eyes for their distinctive white patches around the eye. In general they are yellowish and olive in color, and they range between 12 and 14 centimeters long. The heads are yellow with a golden crown, and a very distinctive black triangular patch over the eye. They have long, slightly curved, very pointy beaks. Their backs are olive, with olive and black wings; the tails are somewhat short and also olive and black. The underbellies are yellowish-green. They do not differ in plumage based on sex, and the juveniles are even very similar to the adults!

Diet: Meguro primarily feed on soft fruits like papaya, bananas, mulberry, and sometimes flowers. They will supplement their diet with insects from time to time.

By Lars Petersson

Behavior: These birds will forage alone or in small groups, sometimes in mated pairs. They search together among twigs and leaves, and also in trunks, searching for food sometimes in places where woodpeckers have been. They also will pick up food off of the ground - without other small passerines in the area, they are able to have a very diverse foraging ecology. They rarely sing, but when they do they make very complicated chew-i chit-chit-pee chot-chot-pee che-ee melodies, and sometimes more of a tittling melody, for up to three seconds. They will also make songs indicting it is time to fly from perches, and call to each other with mall “pee-pit” sounds. Meguro also make harsh “weet-weet” calls when mobbing potential threats. They will disperse through most of their range in the non-breeding season, though they don’t seem to move from island to island.

Meguro breed from March through June, and usually produce one brood, though sometimes two broods are made. They have at least a year-long pair bond, and may gather in small parties during the breeding season. The parents build the nest together, making a deep cup out of leaves, grasses, twigs, and needles. They usually place it fairly high off of the ground, laying one to four eggs per nest. Both parents will feed the chicks. The incubation period lasts for about two weeks, and the babies stay with the parents for a month until they leave the nest.

By Tomohide Shimura, CC By-SA 4.0

Ecosystem: These birds are found nearly everywhere on Haha-jima, including in non-forested areas, though of course they prefer forests of all kinds. They breed best in the most native forest patches, ad are rare in low shrubs and less forested areas. Interesting enough, despite the introduction of the warbling white-eye to the region, they are able to coexist and Meguro have adjusted their niche accordingly. They do, however, affect each others’ behaviors to some extent. Meguro are important seed dispersers, helping to maintain healthy forests. They are hunted upon by introduced predators - especially cats.

Other: Despite being hunted upon by cats - and having multiple populations decimated by them - they do appear to be stable in population, and as such are listed as Near Threatened rather than Vulnerable as they were recently. Strongholds in habitat have allowed for the maintenance of population of Meguro despite the increase of cats and rats on the island. They have coped with the introduction of other birds to the island, as far as research has shown. As such, while conservation efforts are ongoing to protect the islands and, thus, Meguro, they do not appear to be in immediate threat of extinction.

~ By Meig Dickson

Sources under the Cut

Jobling, J. A. 2010. The Helm Dictionary of Scientific Bird Names. Christopher Helm Publishing, A&C Black Publishers Ltd, London.

Kawakami, Kazuto; Higuchi, Hiroyoshi (2002). "Bird predation by domestic cats on Hahajima Island, Bonin Islands, Japan". Ornithological Science. 1 (2): 143–144.

Kawakami, Kazuto; Higuchi, Hiroyoshi (2002). "The first record of cavity nesting in the Ogasawara Islands Honeyeater Apalopteron familiare on Hahajima, Bonin Islands, Japan". Ornithological Science. 1 (2): 153–154.

Kawakami, Kazuto; Higuchi, Hiroyoshi (2003). "Interspecific interactions between the native and introduced White-eyes in the Bonin Islands". Ibis. 145 (4): 583–592.

Kawakami, Kazuto; Higuchi, Hiroyoshi (2003). "Interspecific learning by the Ogasawara Islands Honeyeater Apalopteron familiare from the Japanese White-eye Zosterops japonicus on Hahajima, the Bonin Islands, southern Japan". Ornithological Science. 2 (2): 132–134.

Kawakami, Kazuto (2013). "Bonin White-eye" (PDF). Bird Research News. 10 (5): 4–5.

Kawakami, Kazuto; Higuchi, Hiroyoshi (2013). "Estimation of the Population Size and Viability of the Bonin White-Eye Apalopteron familiare in the Bonin Islands, Japan". Ornithological Science. 12 (1): 51–56.

Suzuki, Tadashi; Morioka, Hiroyuki (2005). "Distribution and Extinction of the Ogasawara Islands Honeyeater Apalopteron familiare on Chichijima, Ogasawara Islands". Journal of the Yamashina Institute for Ornithology. 37 (1): 45–49.

van Balen, B. (2019). Bonin White-eye (Apalopteron familiare). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

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birdstudies · 8 years ago

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March 25, 2017 - Bonin White-eye or Bonin Honeyeater (Apalopteron familiare)

Found only on the Ogasawara Islands of Japan, these white-eyes were previously found on the Muko-jima and Chichi-jima Island groups, but now live only on the Haha-jima Islands. They eat a variety of fruits, including papayas and bananas, along with insects and flowers. Nesting in the forks of trees, or sometimes in cavities, they build deep cup nests from twigs, dry leaves, and moss. Both parents incubate the eggs and care for the chicks. Population decline from habitat loss and the introduction of domestic cats to their range has led to their classification as Vulnerable by the IUCN.

#bonin white-eye #white-eye #apalopteron familiare #bonin honeyeater #bird #birds #illustration #art #woodland #birblr art

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ladykissingfish · 3 years ago

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Deidara: You know, Danna, aside from making clay birds, hm, I’m an expert in identifying REAL birds.

Sasori: *points to a flock of birds flying overhead* Okay; what about those?

Deidara: *squinting* Yep; those are definitely real birds, hm.

Sasori: That’s … that’s not what …

Sasori: *sighs*

Sasori: You know what? Good job, Dei. I’m proud of you.

Deidara: As proud as that Bonin White-Eye, or, if referring to it’s scientific name, the Apalopteron familiare, spreading it’s plumage in that tree over there?

Sasori:

Sasori: … what the hell …

#sasori #sasori x deidara #❤️💛

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desiraypark · 4 years ago

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Saturday Night Special

Characters: Flip Zimmerman x “Mae” - an original character (Black, Female, Tall, & Thick - respectfully think Phyllis Hyman, Florence Ballard, or Diahnne Abbott) Setting: Miami (Miami Beach), Fall 1974 Content: N*FW - One-night stand; strangers bonin’ (*bends in like Tyra Banks* but make it safe). Author’s Note: I still have not seen Blackkklansman but have been feeling inspired by other people’s Flip fics. I hope you like it (and that it works out)! Also, I have never been to Miami/Miami Beach/Florida, so sorry if I fucked the geography/location up lol Word Count: 3,318

“There’s a Red House over yonder...that’s where my baby stays...Lord, there’s a Red House over yonder...Lord, that’s where my stays...I ain’t been home to see my baby...in ninety-nine and one-half days...”

Flip Zimmerman walked into the diner liked he owned it. Or like he’d been in it a hundred times. Blue T-shirt tight against his muscles, light denim bell bottoms and red hi-top Converse—not his usual getup, but he was far away from his usual life. He was relaxed and refreshed--and alerted customers and staff of his presence with the ding of a bell over his head.

The diner was across the street from the hotel he was staying in. But it was pretty empty—old ladies were in a booth blushing at him and whispering from a booth; an old couple were blushing at each other like teenagers at a table; a younger couple walked past him, seemingly walking away from the counter. But it was a sunny afternoon in Miami Beach. Everybody had probably already eaten breakfast and were long under the afternoon sun and sinking in the white sand. But Flip had slept in for as long as he could. No assignments, no stake outs or investigations. For the first time in years, he was free to just be.

He sat at the counter. A tall, buxom beauty with a curly up-do, long lashes, and lips painted red stood on the other side, wiping down the counter.

“Afternoon,” she said, putting a menu in front of him. “Afternoon.”

“My name’s Mae, I’ll be taking care of you. Would you like to start off with a cup of coffee? Water?”

“Coffee’s fine...” Flip said looking over the menu. Mae walked over to the coffee pot. “On second thought...may I have some orange juice?” “Sure thing,” she said. She disappeared in front of him, then popped back up with a tall and narrow pitcher of orange juice that was covered with soft fabric. Like a bartender, she put a napkin in front of him, grabbed a glass, and filled it with fresh-squeezed juice.

“Are you still serving breakfast?” he asked. “Yep. All day.” She began wiping down the counter top. “Ever had the steak and eggs?” “Nope. Not the steak. Eggs are pretty good. I like the omelettes,” Mae responded. “What kind of omelette do you like most?”

A waitress flew out of the kitchen and into the dining area.

“I like the Southwestern one,” Mae said with a smile. She finished pouring and covered the pitcher again, and Flip put the menu down. “Then, I’ll have a Southwestern omelette,” he said with a boyish smirk. Mae blushed, pulled out her pad and pencil, and scribbled on the paper. Flip took a sip of his orange juice and got a really quick glance at her chest. A gold necklace was fastened around her neck and disappeared in her top.

“You want bacon, sausage, or ham with it?” she asked. “Sausage.” “Links or patties?” “Links.” “Toast or a biscuit?” Flip thought about it. “Toast.” She finished scribbling on the pad, ripped the sheet off, and slid it through the service window. The cook grabbed it, and just as she turned around, three construction workers walked in and sat the counter. Mae grabbed three menus and walked to them.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. Flip watched her as she placed the menus in front of them. This girl needed to be in movies. She was such a knockout. And stacked, too. Thick long legs and some belly. Hips that would probably knock shit down if the counters were any lower. She took their orders and slid the paper in the service window.

Next, she grabbed three mugs and placed one in front of each man. She walked back to the counter under the service window, where the coffee machine and other appliances and utensils sat, and grabbed the coffee pot and a little porcelain pitcher. The men (including Flip) watched her fill the three mugs with coffee. Then, she tipped the little pitcher over into each of them—pouring cream inside. When she reached the third man, who was closest to Flip, he smirked at her.

“Nothing like putting some cream into a nice, hot, cup of black coffee...” he said. Flip tensed up.

“The night we met I knew I...needed you so...And if I had the chance I’d...never let you go...”

Mae narrowed her eyes at the man. She slid the sugar packet holder close to them and walked away with the coffee pot and little creamer pot. Then, she put both items in there rightful place.

Just as she was walking back to Flip, the same construction worker called her over with an “Psst! Waitress!” Flip could almost feel the fire burning inside of her when she walked over. With his glass of orange juice to his lips, he kept a close watch on the men. Just in case they tried to pull anything funny. “Yes, Sir?” she said. The man bit his lip, as the other two watched with anticipation. He looked at her name tag. “Miss Mae...you got any construction worker in you?” Flip cringed and started to shift in his seat. But before he could say a word, Mae had reached into her bra and pulled out a little pistol. “No, but would you like a bullet in you?” she asked, holding the pistol out in front of the man. Instinctively, Flip stood up and held his hand out in front of Mae. “Maaaae!” the cook called from the back.

“I think you’d better leave,” Flip said to the construction worker. The man stared at the gun and shook his head. “I suppose I should.” He looked up at Mae. “I didn’t want any trouble, ma’am.” “Ain’t no trouble for me,” she responded. The man turned beet red and stood up.

Him and his co-workers walked out, and Flip sat down.

“Crazy bitch...” the man mumbled on his way out.

Mae put the gun back in her bra, and Flip observed how calm the restaurant was. Everyone went about their conversations like nothing was happening. Even the other waitress was leaned against the booth with the old ladies, talking about As the World Turns. “What did that one say?!” the cook asked from the back. Mae grabbed two mugs of coffee and dumped the contents in the sink.

“Asked me if I had some damn construction worker in me!” she yelled back.

“Oh! That’s a new one!”

She walked back to the counter to grab the remaining mug, and caught Flip’s eyes—his thick eyebrows raised high above them. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. She turned to pour the third mug out. The other waitress walked back toward the kitchen. “No need to apologize,” Flip said. Mae dipped behind the counter again and came back up with the orange juice pitcher. She refilled Flip’s glass. “You’re too much, Mae,” she said with a laugh, before disappearing behind the swinging door.

“What’s your name?” Mae asked as Flip took a swig of his drink. He swallowed. "Phillip.” “Thank you for stepping in, Phillip,” she said. “I don’t like to do that. But nobody ever steps in for me, so...” She smiled and walked to where the construction workers once sat, and wiped the counter down. Flip sat at the counter for almost two hours, talking to Mae and watching her serve an old couple that had come in. He told her he’d recently quit his detective job back in Colorado Springs and decided to take a vacation before looking for something new. Mae had dreams of being a chef, but didn’t have the money and resources for school. She began waiting on tables to save money, but had been stuck in the same loop for over a decade. They talked and laughed, and she served the few patrons that straggled in for an early dinner before it was time for her to clock out.

Mae finally took his plate and put it in the service window. “Thank you for talking to me, Mae,” he said as she rung up his check. “No, thank you, Phillip,” she said. “Are you headed off the to beach?”

“I suppose so. It might be too late for some good sunlight...” he said, looking at his watch. Mae peeped outside. “Mmm, I think you could catch a little something, still.” “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” he asked. He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Ohh, nothing much. I’ll fix myself some dinner. Take a long, hot bath, maybe...”

Flip’s fingers pressed into the palm of his hand at the thought of Mae naked in the tub. He erased the thought from his head.

“...catch my shows and go to bed.” She put his check in front of him, and he dug in his pocket for his wallet.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he asked. “In case that man is out there waiting for you?”

“I’ll shoot his ass,” Mae said with a chuckle. “But no thank you, baby. I catch the bus anyway.”

Flip pulled a twenty from his wallet and something caught Mae’s eye. It prompted her to start untying off her apron.

“Well, can I walk you to the bus stop?” Flip asked. She smiled again. “I’m alright, honey.” She walked to the cash register.

Flip nodded and rose from his seat. He walked in front of the register as Mae counted out his change. “Hey, Mae,” a man said, walking past her and into the kitchen. “Hey Mike,” she said back. She pressed the change into Flip’s hands.

“Phillip?” she said. Flip pulled a five from his change and gave it back to her. “Yes?” She leaned close to him and took the five.

“What do you really want to do this evening?” she asked in a low voice. Flip smirked, pulled out his wallet, and bit his bottom lip as he stuffed the change into his wallet. Finally, he looked up at her. “I want to make a pretty waitress who packs a pistol in her bra to scream my name...” ********************** Flip waited for Mae in his hotel lobby. She didn’t want her co-workers to see her sneaking off with a stranger. He led her to his room--a simple little space with two beds, a table in the corner, and a picture window overlooking the city street. Mae walked completely into the room and turned around. Flip was leaning against the door, biting his bottom lip. Mae smirked and sat on the bed closest to the door.

“You’ve got a condom, right?” she asked, crossing her legs. “Yeah.”

She patted the bed. “You gonna come over here?” “I wanna watch you walk across the room again,” he said. Mae smirked, left her purse on the bed, and slowly walked to Flip. She gave him a peck on the lips, then sauntered to the table. With every step she took, she heard a step that wasn’t hers, behind her. The heat of his body radiated against her back. When she got to the table, Flip held her waist and planted kisses on her neck. She pressed her ass against him and felt his hard length in his jeans. Then, he yanked her around to face him, lifted her and placed her down on the table.

“Phillip, I might break this table,” she said.

Flip ignored her and gave her a peck on the lips once. Twice. And she met his lips for a third.

“I can smell your breakfast, still,” she whispered. Flip chuckled. “That’s why I haven’t put my tongue down your throat.” Mae smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, put it somewhere else...” Flip licked his lips and dropped to his knees. Mae toed off her ugly white shoes as he slid his hands up her thighs and tugged at the top of her stockings. He felt for the top hem of her panties, and pulled the undergarments down to her ankles and over her feet. Mae spread her legs to him and Flip stuck his head between her thighs and ran slow licks up and down her clit. As he picked up his speed, Mae reluctantly leaned back on her palms.

“That feels so good,” she whimpered once she trusted the table’s strength. “Mmm-hmm,” Flip hummed. She didn’t have to tell him that he was eating her good. He knew that he was good with his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and gave her clit a nice, hard suck--causing her to throw her head back and yelp. “Oh, Phillip...” Flip looked up. All he could see was some of her chin and the bottom of her breasts. So he looked back down, then pulled away. “Flip...” he mumbled. He returned his mouth to her. “Hmm?” She looked down at him--only able to see his wavy tresses, some of his forehead, and his large nose. “Call me Flip.” She carded his hair and gyrated against his face. He gripped her thighs tighter and left no inch of flesh un-licked--filling the silence of his room with obscene licking sounds and her breathy moans.

“I’m about to come...make me come please, Flip...” she whined. Flip dropped one of his arms from around her thigh and slipped two of his fingers inside of her. She yelped and pressed her fingers into his scalp. Then, she fucked his fingers back, making the table legs rock under her. Quickly, she reached into her bra, took out her pistol and placed it on the table behind her. “You’re doing all of this over my fingers...I can’t wait to watch you take my fucking dick,” Flip said. At those words, Mae fell apart. She cursed to the ceiling and gushed all over Flip’s thick fingers. When she reached the end of her orgasm, Flip pulled his fingers out and shoved them between her lips. With a hum, she licked her juices away. Then, Flip picked her up. She held her legs around his waist until he tossed her onto the bed.

“Take all of that shit off,” he commanded. Mae unbuttoned her uniform as Flip pulled his wallet out of his pocket and retrieved his only condom. Eventually, they both were completely naked--Mae lying back on the bed and Flip standing over her stroking his dick. He scanned her from head to toe--sweet face, large tits that she was holding onto and squeezing together. An “H” sat at the end of her necklace. It peeked out from under her hand. She sat up--making her breasts fall just above her stomach--and took Flip’s dick in her hands. “Lay back down,” he said. Mae released his dick and fell back. She watched Flip open the condom wrapper with his teeth and toss it to the side. Then, he slid the rubber onto his hard length. Flip climb onto the bed and between her legs. He wrapped the long limbs around his waist, leaned over her and focused his eyes below and between them. He tapped his firm, heavy meat against her clit. “I’m about to give you the whole thing, okay?” he said. “Okay...” Mae whimpered. She ran her hands up and down his arms, and anxiously awaited him to enter in. Flip stretched open her velvety entrance, then pressed deep inside until he touched her cervix.

“Ohmygod...” she whispered, staring at the ceiling. Flip peppered her collarbone with kisses. He dragged out of her until his tip almost came out, then went back in. “Is it too much?” he asked. She shook her head and smiled. “No.” Flip smiled back and bit his bottom lip. With both of his palms pressing into the mattress beside her head, he dove into her--long and deep, and at a moderate pace. The sounds of her gushing pussy and his balls slapping her ass filled the air. She couldn’t even moan. Her chin was damn near in her chest as her nails pressed into the muscle of his arms. Finally, she released an obscenity. “Fuck!” she squealed. “Take that dick, baby...take my fucking dick...” Flip encouraged. “Ohmygod...” she cried out. “Go faster.” “Go faster?” he asked. “Yes, go faster,” she repeated, gripping his arms again. Flip collapsed on top of her and interlocked his fingers over her head. Then, without an ounce of reluctance, he pounded her hot center--snapping his hips against her hard and fast. “Yes, Flip, yes! Just like that!” she screamed. “Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!” “That’s right baby. Say my name again...” “Oh, Flip...yes, Flip...fuck...” she whimpered. She tightened her legs around his waist, and her pussy involuntarily clenched around his length. “Are you tightening your pussy on my dick? You’d better fucking stop that shit unless you want me to come right now,” he said, voice gravelly. “I can’t help it, baby, it feels so good!” Flip grunted and pulled himself out. He drew in deep breaths and released them as he tapped the head of his dick against her wet pussy. Mae reached between her legs and tugged at his dick, trying to pull him back in. Flip smirked at her, swatted her hand away, then dipped back inside. He slowed his pace and shortened his distance. Mae whined. “The whole thing, Flip...” she said, rotating her hips under him. Flip stopped and shook his head. “I’m gonna bust my fuckin’ nut, Mae...” “I don’t care,” she said, moving her hips faster. “I want the whole thing.” Flip looked down into her eyes--so sweet, so pleading. He chewed on the flesh behind his lip and took her hands. As he stretched over her body, he pinned her wrists down over her head and fucked her nice and deep. No longer caring about his breath, Flip pressed his lips against hers and opened them up with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth as his hips smacked against hers, dick stroking her walls.

Soon, he felt waves tingle all over his body, and his balls began to tense up. Mae felt him twitching and snapped her hips against his again--egging him on until he filled his condom with his pearly white nut. He rode out his wave with shallow thrusts, then fell down beside Mae--both of them breathless. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Wow...”

Flip stared at her profile. Then, he tilted her chin up with his finger, and leaned down to kiss her lips. She scooted close and rested her head on his chest. “What does the “H” stand for?” Flip asked. He rubbed his finger against the monogram on her necklace, and she smiled. “My first name,” she answered. “What’s your first name?” he asked. “I’ll never tell you.” She draped her arm over his abdomen. “You know my first name,” he argued. “How do I know that’s really your first name?” Mae asked. She tossed her leg over his. “I can show you my ID...” Mae let out a wry laugh, then closed her eyes. “It’s Hattie. Hattie Mae.” “Oof...” Flip whispered. Mae looked up at him and pinched his nipple. He winced, and laughed. “That’s an old ass name.” “Fuck you...” she said laughing. “Phillip.” Flip stifled a laugh, then the two of them said nothing for the next few minutes. Mae listened to Flip’s heartbeat, and Flip ran his fingertips up and down her waist. “You don’t have anybody waiting for you, do you?” he asked. “No,” she answered. “Good.” Flip rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. “I’m about to go the pharmacy up the street and buy some more rubbers.” “Oh, you are?” Mae asked. She sat up and rested her head on her palm. She heard him removing his condom. “Yep.” Flip came back into the room and grabbed and stepped into his boxers. “Because we’re not fucking done.” Mae blushed, dropped her face into the bed, and groaned playfully.

#flip x mae

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tanuki-kimono · 6 years ago

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Nihon no kotori (Japanese small birds), cute helpful chart by @T_marohiko listing the following species:

First row - 百舌 mozu (bull-headed shrike) / 目黒 meguro (bonin white-eye) / 川蝉 kawasemi (kingfisher) / ツグミ tsugumi (dusky thrush) / 鶯 uguisu (japanese bush warbler)

Second row - 雀 suzume (sparrow) / 燕 tsubame (swallow) / 椋鳥 mukudori (grey starling) / 駒鳥 komadori (japanese robin) / 赤啄木鳥 akagera (great spotted woodpecker)

Third Row - 頬白 hoojiro (meadow bunting) / シマエナガ shimaenaga (silver-throated dasher) / 鷽 uso (japanese bullfinch) / 菊戴 kikuitadaki (goldcrest) / 白鶺鴒 hakusekirei (black-backed wagtail)

Fourth row - 五十雀 gojuukara (eurasian nuthatch) / 四十雀 shijuukara (japanese tit) / 小雀 kogara (willow tit) / 日雀 higara (coal tit) / 山雀 yamagara (varied tit)

Fifth row - 黄鶲 kibitaki (narcissus flycatcher) / 小瑠璃 koruri (siberian blue robin) / 大瑠璃 ooruri (blue-and-white flycatcher) / 瑠璃鶲 ruribitaki (red-flanked bluetail) / 尉鶲 joubitaki (daurian redstart)

#japan #references #japanese vocabulary #vocabulary #ressources #drawing chart #bird #japanese bird #tori #kotori #small bird #animal #chart

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gauntsghostsfieldguide · 5 years ago

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Traitor General- Part 18 (and last)

@the-fluffy-underbelly

TWENTY-EIGHT

“The charging wave of underground fighters swept like a tidal flood through the checkpoint at the head of the approach road, mowing down the excubitors and the post guards. The troopers in the roadway weapon emplacements didn’t even get a chance to return fire. Rifle grenades swiftly ended their contribution to the occupation of Gereon.” They start well, anyway.

“Nearly a tonne of fyceline-putty explosives — the entire combined supplies of the heartland cells — at last went off in the transport’s freight bay.” Jeez, that’s a lot.

“Six bastion troopers hurried down around the wide stair-turn. Criid and Bonin thumped rapid shots into them. The enemy troopers went over like skittles. Criid had to side-step as one body somersaulted past her down the stairs.” LOL, wow. They are good.

Sturm, predictably, flips out when he sees Gaunt.

““This is an unforgivable outrage,” High Sirdar Brendel announced. “I will of course present his highness the Plenipotentiary with my abject apologies for this miserable failure of security.”” And then Desolane just kills him. Because he’s in charge, dammit!

Oh shit, the vox set’s dead!

“Only Curth — inexperienced in combat — was ignoring Cirk’s instructions. Curth’s anger had broken loose again. She was blasting away wildly with her pistol. It pained Rawne to see the strong, wilful medicae so broken and mad.” :(

“That reason was the pheguth. Desolane’s beloved pheguth. The life-ward had sworn before Isidor himself to protect the life of the Anarch’s precious eresht. Other life-wards had refused the duty, spurning it. A traitor, they believed, an enemy, hardly deserved the sort of protection usually reserved for the most high-ranking ordinals. But Desolane had not. Desolane had seen it as a true challenge of its abilities.” He is interesting. (also, beloved? really?)

“The pheguth had seemed to Desolane a kindly, sorrowful man, broken down by the harsh hand fortune had dealt him, always respectful of the life-ward, always appreciative of every special attention Desolane paid to make his incarceration more bearable. When the attempt had been made on his life, the pheguth hadn’t blamed Desolane. He’d actually refused to dish out the ritual punishment. It had been then that Desolane had realised the pheguth cared for the life-ward too.

Of course, it had been difficult when the mindlock collapsed, and the pheguth had become Sturm again. Sturm was a pompous, arrogant soul, and he had shown far less respect for the lifeward. But even then, Desolane had been able to see the man it had sworn to protect. The humble pheguth, in his slippers and gown, shackled to a steel bed, smiling as he sipped a cup of weak black tea as if it was the most precious thing in the galaxy.” Of course, Sturm was just manipulating him, with the punishment thing. Though interesting that even a creature of Chaos doesn’t like Sturm’s overweening arrogance.

““For the Emperor, then,” she said. He shook his head. “No, for Tanith, first and only.” They got up, lasrifles blasting, and charged down the corridor side by side into the enemy fire.” I love that it’s Rawne, even in his paranoid state, who convinces Curth to do the right thing and overcome her anger.

Sturm finally realizes he’s a fuck up.

“An empty gilt frame hung on the wall, surrounding a blasphemous symbol.” Re-purposed art, I suppose.

TWENTY-NINE

“A towering, slender, sexless body sheathed in a tight suit of blue-black metal-weave and draped with a gauzy black cloak that moved like smoke. The monster’s long legs were jointed the wrong way below the knees and ended in cloven hooves. A smooth bronze helmet covered the thing’s head, broken only by four holes: two for the eye-slits and two on the brow through which small white horns extended.” Finally, a full description of Desolane. And he looks weird.

“Mkvenner parried the first cut, swung wide, deflected the second and wheeled back to stop the third. Desolane snarled, swinging round to attack Mkvenner again. The life-ward scythed in low, and Mkvenner managed to turn the ketra blade away, but Desolane slammed its bodyweight into the Tanith scout, and sent him reeling back. Desolane checked and spun again, fending off the sword and splitting Mkvenner’s cheek open from the lip to the jaw-line.” He managed well, considering he’s never used a power sword before.

“Gaunt looked up. Feygor, his face streaming with blood, lowered Larkin’s long-las.

Gaunt smiled at Feygor. “You know,” he said. “I knew there was a reason I brought you along.”” He’s useful at the very last minute!

THIRTY

“Every single one of them was wounded. But every single one was also alive.” That is unexpected. Especially for a suicide misson.

““Ibram, please understand there’s very little chance of getting you off Gereon again. You can transmit a call, of course, but the odds are you’ll be left stranded. Getting you in will be hard enough. Getting a ship close enough to pull you back out…” Van Voytz had looked away.” So, they weren’t leaving even with the vox. Good thing Gaunt has an excuse for why they can’t call an extraction, so he doesn’t have to tell them it’d be this way either way.

“He looked up. From the back of his mind came a memory, strong and unbidden. Tanith pipes. Brin Milo, playing the tune he always played when the Tanith First retired from a battlefield. He tried to remember its name.” ;_;

“The mountain wind rose, cold and unforgiving. It blew the smoke from the fortress out across the heartland, another stain upon a wide, disfigured world.” A sad, ambiguous ending. Fitting.

#gaunt's ghosts #wh40k #traitor general

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sadsoundsiren · 8 years ago

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Meet one of the big shots.

Leon Swan. The Bonin White-Eye Siren.

All the big Shots will be posted soon

#Bonin White-Eye Siren #siren legion #Leon Swan

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years ago

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We Asked 10 Sommeliers: What’s the Best Old-Vine Wine You’ve Ever Tasted?

This month, VinePair is exploring how drinks pros are taking on old trends with modern innovations. In Old Skills, New Tricks, we examine contemporary approaches to classic cocktails and clever techniques behind the bar — plus convention-breaking practices in wine, beer, whiskey, and more.

Who says you can’t teach an old vine new tricks? There’s no official definition, but old vines are typically those that are older than 50 years. Some vineyards have vines that are up to or even more than 100 years old. Because older vines don’t produce as many bunches of grapes, the fruit they do produce bears a more concentrated fruit flavor and tannin, plus balanced acidity. It all adds up to unusual wines that, when produced solely or mostly with these grapes (rather than blended with mostly younger fruit) boast exceptionally nuanced flavor profiles with surprising aromas and tastes.

All wine represents where it comes from, as well as a winemaker’s touch. But many somms appreciate old-vine wines’ ability to reflect a place’s history, whether it’s an iconic winemaker who resurrected old vines in Mt. Etna or a next-generation winemaker carrying on California’s Zinfandel legacy. Old-vine wines are associated with high quality — though this doesn’t always translate to being expensive — and they are often a source of pride for winemakers. So, when somms visit wineries and get to taste these old-vine wines with the vintners themselves, it creates a next-level experience that makes a wine truly unforgettable.

With all that potential for excellence in flavor, we polled sommeliers on the best old-vine wines they’ve ever tasted. Above all, the most memorable are those that surprised and delighted sommeliers with the kind of haunting palate and lingering finish that permanently sears a taste memory in their minds. From a fall-out-of-your-chair-good Sicilian wine to a Georgian wine that sent one somm’s taste buds into a frenzy, here are the expert picks.

The Best Old-Vine Vines Recommended by Sommeliers:

The Steeple Shiraz 2016

Bernard-Bonin Meursault ‘Les Genevrières’

Giodo Nerello Mascalese 2016

Ravenswood ‘Old Hill Ranch’ 1993

Orgo Rkatsiteli 2014

Martha Stoumen Wines Venturi Vineyard Carignan 2018

Domaine Rougeot Bourgogne Rouge ‘Les Vaux’ 2018

Samuel Tinon, Dry Szamorodni, Tokaj, Hungary 2009

I Vigneri ‘Aurora’ Etna Bianco

Jean-Michel Stéphan Côteaux de Tupin Côte-Rôtie 2009

Keep reading for details about all of the recommended bottles!

“Recently I tasted The Steeple Shiraz 2016 made from a 100-plus-year old-vine Shiraz from the Barossa Valley. I’m not the biggest Shiraz fan but the old vines tasted significantly different. You can really tell the difference between a quality wine made from more concentrated, complex grapes. It’s medium purple with notes of blueberries, plums, cranberries, and spice. It has a full body with velvety tannins and texture, and a lingering finish.” —Carolyn Pifer, Wine Educator and Lead Sommelier, Pippin Hill Farm & Vineyards, Charlottesville, Va.

“Bernard-Bonin Meursault ‘Les Genevrières.’ As soon as you put your nose to the glass it is bursting with personality. It was reminiscent of Roulot or Coche-Dury — I fell in love immediately. The purity and honesty of this wine is astounding and haunting in the way that great Burgundy can be. It is bright gold in color with an intense flintiness on the nose along with toasted hazelnut and lemon zest. On the palate the layers of earth, fresh mushroom, and honeyed stone fruit [are] laced with a salty, stony minerality. This wine is medium-plus in body with a long finish driven by the energetic acidity.” —Megan Mina, Sommelier, Zero Restaurant + Bar, Charleston, S.C.

“Giodo Nerello Mascalese 2016. We were at their quaint facility outside of Montalcino, walking the vineyards and tasting the wines. I didn’t realize they made a Sicilian wine, and it was so good, I almost fell out of [my] chair. Tasting a wine I’ve never had, while bringing dear friends to the facility itself and tasting wines created by the maestro winemaker, Carlo Ferrini, was unforgettable. This wine has a light red color. On the nose, I remember it having strawberry, floral, and herbaceous notes. What stands out most is the fine line it walks between being both linear and powerful at the same time. It has a distinct minerality and a strong structure that helps achieve this. It’s a vibrant wine with wild berry, mountain herbs, and volcanic minerality. It’s also a great food wine.” —Jeremy Walker, Sommelier, General Manager and Wine Buyer, Bin 22, Jackson Hole, Wyo.

“I love old-vine wines because they represent the history of a place so well. The heritage vineyards of Sonoma County, Calif., offer some of the best examples. The 1993 Ravenswood ‘Old Hill Ranch’ is like nothing I’ve tasted before or since, with velvety structure and vibrant acidity, leather, and tobacco, but also with Zinfandel’s trademark peachy aromas. There is a reason it holds up as a standard-bearer in California’s old-vine repertoire. I got the chance to open this at Lazy Bear in San Francisco and tasted that and more California history with their sommelier team. The thing that made that experience unforgettable was seeing the future of this vineyard in such capable hands. Ravenswood is no longer under Joel Peterson’s watchful eye, but his son Morgan Twain Peterson just released a bottling of Old Hill Ranch under his label Bedrock Wine Co. We were so fortunate to taste the new release at Bedrock earlier the same day.” —Austin Farina, Sommelier/Captain, March, Houston

“Orgo Rkatsiteli ’14 from Kakheti, Georgia. Having learned about the rich history of Georgian winemaking and use of qvevris [large earthenware vessels used for fermentation], I was excited to try my first Georgian wine. Branched out from the prominent Georgian producer Dakishvili, Orgo produces wines made from old vines of at least 70 to 80 years of age. Not only was this wine well balanced, fresh, complex, and easy to drink, but it also sent my taste buds into a frenzy. Although this was not my first skin-contact white, this wine exceeded my expectations and set a high benchmark for other orange/amber wines out there. This wine had great acidity, complexity, and tannin. Aromas of pineapple, fresh and dried apricot, bruised apple, preserved lemon, dried shiitake mushroom, underbrush, honeysuckle, and chamomile tea jump from the glass.” —Tiffany Bulow, Sommelier, Oste, Los Angeles

“Martha Stoumen’s 2018 Venturi Vineyard Carignan from Mendocino County, Calif. My wife and I visited Pax Wines in Sebastopol, Calif., and were introduced to one of Pax’s winemakers, Rosalind Reynolds. Rosalind proceeded to pour a spread of Pax, Martha Stoumen, and Emma Wines for us while going into the history of Carignan as a once-dominant grape in California, and its triumphant return to the spotlight. Like many memorable bottles of wine, this one had a lot to do with the people I drank it with, and the evening’s conversation. This light-bodied red remains synonymous with dusk in my mind — a deep lingonberry on the palate, floral notes, and medium tannins.” —Clara Kann, Partner and Sommelier, Rooftop Reds, Brooklyn

“2018 Domaine Rougeot Bourgogne Rouge ‘Les Vaux.‘ I poured this wine at my wedding! We got married during Covid, so we had a small get-together at my mom’s house in Laguna Beach. We had steak frites and shared several bottles with family. It’s such a beautiful bottle of wine, in part due to the age of these vines. The vines are up to 70 years old! It’s an approachable wine now but can continue to age. Classic structure, with bright fruit from the whole-cluster fermentation. Hints of plum skins, red cherry, sweet violet, and limestone minerality. This wine is aged in oak barrels for eight to 10 months on the fine lees. The tannins are smooth and approachable in their youth.”—Arden Montgomery, Co-founder, Argaux, Costa Mesa, Calif.

“Samuel Tinon Dry Szamorodni, Tokaj, Hungary 2009. The winemaking technique here is super cool. And Samuel Tinon is iconic. The Szamorodni comes from the Határi vineyard, which has 90-plus-year-old bush-trained vines. The volcanic soils here in Hungary have a 15-million-year-old base and the wines produced are aged under floor in a similar style to sherry. This is a grand cru and is exquisite. It’s not as nutty or oxidized as sherry, but it has a super-unctuous texture full of dried apricot, dried orange peel, honey, and almond. With all that going on, it’s still, like sherry, very versatile. I’d sip on this with pork with sage or fennel, or a platter of ALL the cheeses.” —Zwann Grays, Sommelier and Wine Director, Olmsted and Maison Yaki, Brooklyn

“One that stands out as a favorite is the I Vigneri ‘Aurora’ Etna Bianco from the volcano Mt. Etna, Sicily. It’s a blend of about 90 percent Carricante and 10 percent Minella and comes from very old vines, some over 100 years old, that had been abandoned and were revived by winemaker and key proponent in the wine appellation’s renaissance, Salvo Foti. The vineyard is at over 1,200 meters above sea level, in the village of Milo, the one demarcated grand cru for the white wines of the region. What made it so memorable was just how hauntingly delicious it was. I can still taste it when I think of it. It had a vibrant light-golden hue, aromas of lemon, quince, flinty stone, and honeycomb. The palate was textured, creamy but incredibly lifted, with a striking purity and freshness of fruit, a mineral backbone, and a long, elegant finish.” —Iris Rowlee, Wine Director, Octavia, San Francisco

“Tasting across 17-plus years professionally, the old-vine wines always stand out. The best are light on their feet and powerful. I find the very best old vine wines are left on their own with very little cosmetic winemaking. I love the whole-cluster old vine Gamay, Syrah, and Mencia. I seek out Jean-Michel Stéphan Côteaux de Tupin Côte-Rôtie 2009. I’ve had this amazing wine many times over the years, most recently during my stint as sommelier at Sierra Mar at Post Ranch Inn in May. The wine is elegant and deep. The attack is spicy, slightly sour, full of sweet herbs, meat, and ripe plums. Mid- palate deepens these flavors, and the finish is lightning — everything brightens, and black pepper and crushed stone cleans the palate. The finish here is technically short, but you’ll think about this damn wine forever.” —Ted Glennon, Advanced Sommelier, Asilomar Fine Wine, Salinas, Calif.

The article We Asked 10 Sommeliers: What’s the Best Old-Vine Wine You’ve Ever Tasted? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/wa-10-best-old-vine-wine/

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johnboothus · 3 years ago

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We Asked 10 Sommeliers: Whats the Best Old-Vine Wine Youve Ever Tasted?

The Best Old-Vine Vines Recommended by Sommeliers:

The Steeple Shiraz 2016

Bernard-Bonin Meursault ‘Les Genevrières’

Giodo Nerello Mascalese 2016

Ravenswood ‘Old Hill Ranch’ 1993

Orgo Rkatsiteli 2014

Martha Stoumen Wines Venturi Vineyard Carignan 2018

Domaine Rougeot Bourgogne Rouge ‘Les Vaux’ 2018

Samuel Tinon, Dry Szamorodni, Tokaj, Hungary 2009

I Vigneri ‘Aurora’ Etna Bianco

Jean-Michel Stéphan Côteaux de Tupin Côte-Rôtie 2009

Keep reading for details about all of the recommended bottles!

The article We Asked 10 Sommeliers: What’s the Best Old-Vine Wine You’ve Ever Tasted? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/wa-10-best-old-vine-wine/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/we-asked-10-sommeliers-whats-the-best-old-vine-wine-youve-ever-tasted

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tiktoklover35 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1: I just give off a creepy ‘I’m coming onto you’ vibe

A/N: This story is ongoing and in the making! The first couple of chapters I really just want you to get a feel for the characters and who they are! Please note that many people in my story are not as they appear in real life, for example: Tayler Holder is painted as a bad guy, and Bryce Hall is the sensitive best friend type. So please understand, these are characters in a story NOT the real people. Thanks and enjoy!

"This airport is huge. Where do we even go?" Kelsei looked at me and then looked around the massive LA airport.

"I don't even know, I texted Bryce and he said he would be at the front doors waiting for us," I grabbed her hand and pulled her through a throng of people heading towards what looked like baggage claim. "Ok, we get our bags and follow other people to find the exit."

After waiting for what seemed like forever to find our baggage, we finally found our way to the front of the airport and Bryce was standing there with Josh and Blake. Bryce held up a sign that said "Kate Everly" and Blake's said "Kelsei Green". I waved as my eyes met Bryce's and he ran over to me, picking me up in a big bear hug. He placed my feet gently back onto the ground and turned to Kelsei.

"It's nice to meet you Kelsei, I'm Bryce!" He hugged her gently and Josh and Blake walked over.

"I'm Blake, so nice to finally meet you both, I've heard so much about you!" Blake hugged us both, it was strong hug, very firm.

"I'm Josh, a HUGE fan of your videos Kate, you're awesome!" Josh hugged us both. He was gentle and more careful than the other two. It was like we were made of glass and he didn't want to break us.

Kelsei's eyes lingered on Blake a little too long. I couldn't tell if he noticed, but I definitely did.

"It's so awesome to finally be here! Ya'll are too kind letting us make the trip to LA!" My country accent wasn't strong, I wasn't born and raised in SC, but on occasion, it showed up.

"We're stoked to have you here! Right now it's just us 3 living at Sway right so we have plenty of room for you both to have your own rooms for the week. The rooms you'll be staying in are sometimes used by people who drop in for a weekend to collab with us or something like that. So it's perfect." Bryce smiled at me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "I cannot wait to show you ladies around LA, you're going to love it!"

Blake and Josh turned and grabbed our bags from us and carried them to the car while Bryce rambled on to me about how he started Sway and wanted it to become the most popular collab house in LA.

When we got back to the house I suddenly realized how tired I was. Jet lag was setting in and I could tell Kelsei was feeling it too. Blake offered to show her to her room and I gave her a little nudge as she walked away with him. Bryce grabbed my bag and showed me to my room.

It wasn't much. Four white walls, a king-size bed with no headboard, a small wooden table beside the bed, and a matching dresser in the far right corner. The closet was a walk-in and the room had a master bathroom that was a decent size. Bryce sat my bags on the floor in front of the closet and smiled at me.

"This is it! What do you think? I know it's not much, but it's clean and I changed the sheets this morning," he pointed to the bed and I giggled.

"That was awfully thoughtful of you, thank you. The room is perfect. I didn't expect to have my own bathroom, but that's a nice surprise." I threw my jean jacket onto the bed and sat down. Bryce motioned to the spot next to me and I nodded my approval.

"So, to be honest, I have ulterior motives for inviting you here other than just 1 week of collabs." I looked at him and bit my bottom lip as my eyes got wide. "No, no it's not what you're thinking, I mean you're gorgeous, but I definitely see us as more of friends."

"OHHH THANK GOD!" I flopped onto my back as he laughed.

"Was I giving off that vibe? I tend to do that sometimes I think it's because I'm a big goofball, but I'm also intense so I just give off a creepy 'I'm coming onto you' vibe. Sorry about that!" I laughed and smacked his arm.

"I was hoping that was what it was! But anyways, what did you bring me here for?"

"Well the guys and I have been talking and some of the best houses have guys AND girls. We want to mix things up, if things work out and you like it here and we all get along, we'd love for you and Kelsei to move here." I sat back up and looked at him.

"You want me to move my country bumpkin, country music lovin', square dancin', horseback ridin', cowboy boot wearin', hill-billy bonin' ass to surfer dude city California?" Bryce busted out laughing and I just stared at him completely taken aback.

"Yeah girl, why not? What do you have to lose?"

I thought about my hometown, filled with the same kids I went to high school with. I thought about bonfires at Ricky's house and trips to Myrtle Beach with Kelsei's family. I thought about homecoming football games and Clemson vs. Carolina games. I thought about dirt roads and watermelon stands. But LA was a whole different ball game. The air here was dry and the heat was...bearable, even in September. The traffic was horrible, that was apparent with how long it took to get from the airport to the house, a 15 min drive that took 45 min. As I contemplated the idea I realized I didn't have much in SC that I would miss other than my parents and they were so supportive that there was no way they wouldn't be okay with the move.

"I don't really have anything to lose. Let's see how things go, I don't hate the idea."

"I'm sure Kelsei won't either considering the eyes I saw her making at Blake at the airport."

"You saw that too?"

"Absolutely. He's definitely into her too. I can tell," Bryce smiled and stood up. "Well, I can tell you're exhausted even though it's only 6pm. Why don't you get some sleep and me and the guys will have breakfast ready for you in the morning?"

"That's so sweet, thank you! I definitely could use some rest." He smiled at me as he closed the door behind him. I laid on the bed for a few minutes staring at the ceiling and before I knew it, I was asleep.

________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning I woke up in the same clothes I had arrived in. My first order of business was a shower and fresh clothes. After I had managed that, I made my way out the door and into the kitchen where a distinct burnt scent was blazing through my sinus'. I found Blake and Bryce in the kitchen arguing about how much butter to use. I let out a cough and they both turned and looked at me.

"Kate! You're up! How did you sleep?" Bryce asked.

"Pretty well thanks. What are you boys up to?" Blake shook his head and Bryce motioned for me to sit down at the bar.

"Well, we're attempting to make breakfast for you and Kelsei, but neither Blake nor I know what we're doing."

"YOU BURNT THE TOAST BRYCE! TOAST!" Blake shook his head and sighed. "I may not know exactly what I'm doing, but my eggs will be edible." Blake continued to viciously stir the eggs and Bryce grabbed the toast and put it on a plate. Kelsei appeared from the other side of the house and sat next to me.

"Good morning friend and extremely good-looking boys I just met yesterday," Kelsei smiled and winked at Blake. His face turned bright red. Bryce punched him in the arm and Blake put some eggs on the plates. Bryce handed us girls each a plate first before getting one for himself and Blake.

"Where's Josh?" I asked.

"He spent the night at his girlfriend's. He does that some times, such a simp." Bryce tried to take a bite out of the toast which turned out to be extremely hard and inedible. The eggs were a bit runny, but not bad. Once we were done with breakfast, Bryce suggested we create some content and we spent 2 hours creating 3 different dances and posting them to our TikToks. After that, we went for lunch and spent the rest of the day getting to know each other.

Bryce was definitely a bad-boy. He pretended like he could get any girl he wanted, but truth be told he was still hung up on his ex Addison. He talked about her like she was some greek goddess who walked this earth.

Blake was playing it cool, but he spent most of the day just trying to get to know Kelsei. She told him about wanting to own her own gym and how she loved lifting and long distance running. Blake told her he loved those things too and I wasn't sure if he was just trying to connect with her or he was being honest, probably a bit of both.

At the end of the night, we met up with Josh at the house and all spent some time watching sitcoms and laughing together. The vibe was good. We could tell that we were all going to be great friends. All great friendships start this way, but they never end the same way they start. And our friendships with these boys would alter our lives forever.

***If you want more of this story now visit my wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/982581670-the-sway-girls-chapter-1-i-just-give-off-a-creepy

Thatwriterbetch

#swayla #brycehall #tiktok #swayboys #blakegray #noahbeck #joshrichardson #sway #tiktokboys #fanfiction #swayfanfiction #wattpad #story #originalstory #originalfanfiction

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crabstreet · 7 years ago

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Coenobita purpureus is exclusive to Japan. Their collection and export is strictly regulated making them difficult to obtain outside of Japan. Let's meet this beautiful species! Common name: Dubbed ‘Blueberry’ by Felix Wang Distribution: Riau Islands and Kalimantan/Borneo coasts, Japan (Ryukyu Islands, Bonin Islands, Ohsumi Peninsula, Tokara Islands, Amami Islands [2]), Singapore, Taiwan, Habitat: Live in the forest near the coast but can be found in the beach during beginning of summer and autumn. Ecology: Mostly nocturnal, supratidal, terrestrial Lifecycle of larval stages: purpureus has five zoeal and one glaucothoe stages. The duration of the first to the fifth zoeal stages were 6, 4, 5, 2, 10 days. [3] Characteristics: Coenobita purpureus (colloquially referred to as the purple land hermit crab) is a species of land hermit crab native to Japan. Dubbed ‘Blueberry’ crabs by Felix Wang. Their coloration is usually purple, blue, purple-blue, or purple-red although as young crabs they are colored white. Their eyestalks are long and their eyes are oval in shape. The joints of their pincers and walking legs are yellow and the abdomen is short and fat. They can be 17mm in length. They live in the forest near the coast and can be found near the beach in the beginning of summer and in autumn. Click the link in our profile to visit this species page. #speciesspotlight #purpureus #blueberry #hermitcrabs #hermitcrabsofinstagram #crabstigram #instacrab #instahermit #claws #pinchers #coenobita #lhcos #csj #crabstreetjournal #clawlife #shelllife #thoseeyestho #allaboutthatpincher #crabby #crabbysquad #properpetcare

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thekillerblogofkillers · 7 years ago

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Randy Steven Kraft (1945-?) PART THREE

At 1:10am on May 14, 1983, 2 California Highway Patrol officers saw a Toyota Celica driving erratically on the Interstate 5 Freeway in the Orange County community of Mission Viejo. Having seen the vehicle perform an illegal lane change, the officers, suspecting the driver was drunk, signalled for the vehicle to stop. The driver slowed the vehicle down to a halt and got out of the car, throwing the contents of a beer bottle onto the pavement as he did. Officer Michael Sterling met the individual, who identified himself as Randy Kraft, at the front of his patrol car and saw that his jeans were unbuttoned. Sterling performed a sobriety test on Kraft. He failed. Kraft was arrested for driving while intoxicated. Sterling’s partner, Sgt. Michael Howard approached the Celica and saw a young man slumped with his eyes closed and empty beer bottles strewn around his feet. Howard tried to wake the man, and got no response to his verbal efforts. Howard tried to wake the man by shaking his arm, only to notice that the man had a very low body temperature. Having felt for a pulse, Howard noted that the man was dead – a ligature mark was visible around his neck. Lifting the jacket from the deceased man’s lap, Howard saw that the victim’s jeans had been opened to expose his genitals. The deceased’s hands had been bound with shoelace and his wrists showed welt marks. He had been strangled to death. He was later identified as 25-year-old Marine Terry Lee Gambrel, who had been stationed at El Toro Air Base. Kraft was initially charged with driving under the influence of alcohol and held in custody while detectives conducted a search of his vehicle. On the rear seat of the car they found a belt, the width of which matched the bruising around Gambrel’s neck. Other evidence found included alcohol, tranquilisers, various prescription drugs and stimulants. The passenger seat and carpet of the vehicle was heavily bloodstained but Gambrel had no open wounds. Investigators removed the upholstery for forensic analysis. The results confirmed that the blood was human. Beneath the carpet, investigators found an envelope with over 50 pictures of young men in pornographic poses. Many of the men in the pictures appeared to be either asleep or dead. Inside the trunk of Kraft’s car, investigators found a ring binder containing a hand-written list of coded notations. A search of Kraft’s home revealed more incriminating evidence, including clothes and personal possessions from numerous young men who had been murdered over the last decade. Fibers taken from a rug matched those found on victim Scott Hughes. The couch in Kraft’s living room was identified as being the one in the photos found in Kraft’s car.

The coded list of 61 printed terms and phrases found in Kraft’s car is believed to refer to each of Kraft’s victims. Many entries appear innocent, but each is believed to correspond to a specific murder victim or double murder. Several entries clearly refer to victims’ names (for example, “EDM” are the initials of Edward Daniel Moore, “Vince M” refers to victim Vincent Mestas). In other cases, entries indicate torture or mutilation inflicted on the victims’ bodies and/or places they were last seen. The entry “Marine Head BP” is believed to refer to victim Mark Marsh, a Marine found decapitated having last hitchhiking near Buena Park. Other entries refer to body dump locations. The entry “Golden Sails” refers to the fact that the body of Craig Jonaitis was discovered in the parking lot of the Golden Sails Hotel. The list also contains entries indicating at least 4 double murders – “GR2” (victims Dennis Alt and Christopher Schoenborn, last seen in Grand Rapids), “2 in 1 Beach” (victims Geoffrey Nelson and Rodger DeVaul), “2 in 1 Hitch” and “2 in 1 MV to PL” (neither of these entries has been linked to any double murder or disappearance to date). Investigators believe that 2 victims whose murders Kraft was convicted of do not appear on the list (Eric Church and Terry Gambrel), but since the list is coded, it is possible that Eric Church is included using a reference that police just haven’t linked to him. Terry Gambrel may also be on the list, but as Kraft was arrested whilst trying to dispose of the body, it is possible he may not have added an entry for him yet. These possibilities indicate that the scorecard lists a minimum of 65 and a possible 67 victims. The entry on Kraft’s scorecard reading “Navy White” is believed to refer to 17-year-old James Sean Cox, a Marine stationed at Mather Air Force Base who was last seen on September 29, 1974, hitchhiking near Interstate 5. His body was found several weeks later in Rancho Santa Fe. At the time of his disappearance, Cox was dressed in his white navy uniform. Another entry on the scorecard reading “Iowa” is believed to refer to 18-year-old U.S. Marine Oral Alfred Stuart, Jr. Stuart was born in Iowa and his body was discovered near a Long Beach condo in November 1974. He had died as the result of blunt force trauma. His body was unidentified until March 2012. Investigators noticed a similar MO in the murder and body dump of Oral Stuart to that of Kraft’s known victims. 22 of Kraft’s estimated 67 victims remain unrecovered and unidentified. This is large due to the fact that the killings occurred in several different states, with the bodies being dumped in various locations.

On May 16, 1983, Kraft was charged with the murder of Terry Lee Gambrel. By September 8, investigators had interviewed over 700 witnesses and gathered more than 250 pieces of physical evidence that pointed to Kraft’s guilt in a further 15 homicides committed between December 1972 and February 1983. Kraft was charged with these 15 further homicides (Edward Moore, Kevin Bailey, Ronnie Wiebe, Keith Crotwell, Mark Hall, Scott Hughes, Roland Young, Richard Keith, Keith Klingbeil, Michael Inderbieten, Donald Crisel, Robert Loggins, Eric Church, Rodger DeVaul, Geoffrey Nelson, Terry Lee Gambrel) as well as 2 counts of sodomy and 1 of emasculation on September 8. Kraft’s trial began on September 26, 1988 in Orange County before Judge Donald A. McCartin.

At trial, nearly 160 witnesses were called to testify on behalf of the prosecution and over 1000 exhibits were introduced as evidence. This evidence all pointed to Kraft’s guilt and included physical evidence such as bloodstains and hair/fiber evidence found at Kraft’s Long Beach home and in his vehicle, fingerprints found on glass shards found at the scene of Mark Hall’s murder, the negatives and photographs of young men who had been identified as murder victims found hidden in Kraft’s car which showed the youths either dead, drugged or asleep and which backgrounds revealed they had been taken in Kraft’s home or in his car, in addition to the belt used to strangle Terry Gambrel and the prescription drugs and buck knife found in his car. Other evidence included work and travel records and gasoline receipts which put Kraft in locations where victims had been abducted and/or dumped and the personal possessions of various murder victims found in Kraft’s possession following his arrest.

Kraft’s defence relied on alibis and alternate suspects. His attorneys dismissed much of the evidence as being circumstantial and they tried to portray Kraft as an articulate, hardworking, upstanding member of the community. They did not deny that the 16 victims for whose murder their client was on trial for were in fact murder victims, but they argued they were “victims of someone, but not Randy Kraft.” The defence stated that several of 16 victims had originally been believed by investigators to have been killed by 1 of 2 other serial killers (William Bonin and Patrick Kearney) and argued there was “no concrete evidence” that Kraft had killed any of the victims. The trial lasted 13 months and would be the most expensive trial in Orange County history. On April 29, 1989, each side began closing arguments, which lasted for 3 days. The prosecution again listed all of the physical and circumstantial evidence that suggested Kraft’s guilt and the defence argued as to the circumstantial case the prosecution had put forward that indicated all the murders were connected and accused them of “glossing over” the truth. The jury deliberated for 11 days before reaching a verdict. On May 12, 1989, the jury found Kraft guilty of 16 counts of murder, 1 count of sodomy and 1 count of emasculation.

On June 5, 1989, the same jury reconvened to hear further testimony from the prosecution and defence as to Kraft’s penalty. This phase of the trial lasted until August and at this point the prosecution introduced evidence of several more homicides committed in Oregon and Michigan which they were certain Kraft was responsible for and for which he had not been tried in Orange County. The defence dismissed the prosecution’s argument as being “highly speculative” and introduced new testimony relating to a PET scan performed on Kraft which, they claimed, showed abnormalities in the frontal lobes of Kraft’s brain, reducing his ability to control emotion and impulse. The prosecution rebuffed this argument by stating: “There is nothing wrong with Mr. Kraft’s mind other than that he likes killing for sexual satisfaction”, adding that the fact that his family and friends found it difficult to believe had killed anyone simply showed “what a good salesman he is.” On August 11, 1989, the jury recommended the death penalty. 3 months later, on November 29, Judge McCartin formally sentenced Kraft to death. The sentence was upheld by the California Supreme Court on August 11, 2000. Kraft remains on death row at the San Quentin State Prison. He continues to deny guilt in any of the murders, both convicted and suspected.

#randy kraft #scorecard killer #freeway killer #death sentence #murder #serial killer #marines #air base #orange county #california #michigan #oregon

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deadpresidents · 8 years ago

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Bush 41: War Hero • President • Patriarch • Patriot

The USS Finback, a 312-foot-long Gato-class submarine surfaced a little before noon on September 2, 1944 in the treacherous waters near Chichi Jima, the site of a Japanese military base on one of the Bonin Islands, approximately 150 miles north of Iwo Jima. The Finback was assigned “lifeguard duty” and was performing search and rescue missions for American airmen who had been shot down in action and might have survived via bail-out or crash landing.

Earlier that morning, four TBM Avenger aircraft had launched from the USS San Jacinto targeting radio installations on Chichi Jima. At around 8:30 AM, one of the Avengers was blasted by Japanese anti-aircraft shells as it made its bombing run over the island. With the plane on fire and losing control, the pilot continued his run, dropping his four 500-pound bombs on the target he had been given that morning on the San Jacinto. Turning back towards the sea, smoke and flames filled the cockpit, choking the crew of three. Working hard to create distance between the island and the failing aircraft, the pilot ordered his crew to bail out by parachute, shouting “Hit the silk!” over the Avenger’s radio.

As the pilot exited the aircraft, his head smashed into the plane’s tail, slicing a thick gash above his eye, tearing panels from his chute, and sending him plummeting towards the sea at a higher rate of speed than he should have been. Still, he splashed down in the Pacific Ocean and another American plane in the vicinity dropped a life raft near him. He was alive. He was alone.

On Chichi Jima, four miles to the southwest, Japanese authorities began to organize a search party to capture any downed American pilots who might have survived. Boats were launched to find them. The pilot, stung by a Portuguese man-o-war, vomiting from ingesting sea water, and dazed from the trauma of the attack and the bleeding head wound, still had the presence of mind to begin paddling away from Chichi Jima. Allied forces never captured Chichi Jima during the war, and reports of atrocities ranging from Japanese soldiers summarily beheading Allied prisoners to cannibalism of POWs by Japanese troops led to the post-war execution of five of Chichi Jima’s leading officers, including the commander, Major Sueo Matoba.

The current was sweeping the Avenger’s pilot towards Chichi Jima and he desperately paddled against it and out into the open sea. Other members of his aerial squadron opened fire to keep away the Japanese boats heading towards him while another American aircraft radioed the downed pilot’s position to the Finback, which steamed towards him.

When the submarine surfaced, it was unclear to the pilot whether he had been rescued or captured. Then five American submariners appeared on the deck. Grainy video footage, now over 70 years old, survives of the Finback’s submariners fishing the gangly, 6'2" pilot from the sea after his three-hour-long ordeal battling injuries and the Pacific Ocean.

Like so many of the soldiers and sailors risking and sacrificing their lives on distant continents and in remote seas, including the men who saved his life on that September 2, 1944, the pilot was very young – just 20 years old.

His name was George Herbert Walker Bush.

•••

Today, George H.W. Bush celebrates his 93rd birthday and is one of the longest-living Presidents in American history. As of today, only two U.S. Presidents have lived longer – Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan, both of whom died at the age of 93 (former President Jimmy Carter will turn 93 this year, as well). On October 11th, Bush will have lived longer than Reagan, and he will break Gerald Ford’s record as the longest-living President in American history on November 25th. He was 17 years old and attending the elite Philips Academy boarding school in Andover, Massachusetts when Pearl Harbor was bombed on December 7, 1941. As Bush and many of his fellow well-to-do classmates prepared to graduate in 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson gave a commencement address urging the patrician prep school grads to go to college first rather than to enlist in the war. Four days after graduating, Bush turned 18 years old and immediately enlisted in the United States Navy.

With the influence of his father, Bush could have found himself in any number of safe, stateside jobs in the service. Instead, he became the Navy’s youngest fighter pilot. Even before being shot down over Chichi Jima, Bush had experienced the rough landings of flight training and ravages of war. During training, he totaled a plane during a crash landing. In June 1944, he was forced to ditch his plane – fully-loaded with bombs – in the sea during a mission, escaped the plane just before it exploded, and had to be rescued by the USS Bronson. By the war’s end, Bush had flown 58 combat missions during 1,228 hours of total flight time. There were 14 pilots who originally formed Bush’s VT-51 torpedo bomber flight squadron; when he was discharged from the service in September 1945, only Bush and three other pilots from that squadron survived.

Yet, it wasn’t what he saw that haunted George H.W. Bush – indeed, what haunts him still today. It was what he didn’t see as he parachuted out of the burning wreckage of his TBM Avenger on September 2, 1944. Or who he didn’t see.

•••

As Bush prepared to bomb Chichi Jima that morning, he was joined by two crew members in his TBM Avenger, tailgunner Ted White and radioman John Delaney. At 26, White was a few years older than Bush, but their fathers had been classmates at Yale, which created an obvious connection between the two young men aboard the San Jacinto. White wasn’t a normal member of Bush’s crew but, that morning, requested that he be allowed to replace Bush’s regular tailgunner, Leo Nadeau, and received permission.

When their plane was hit, Bush did all he could to order his two crew members to bail out of the plane and assist them in doing so, but the black smoke and flames tearing through the aircraft made it impossible for the pilot to see if White and Delaney had indeed exited the plane. Not only had Bush turned the badly-damaged plane out towards the sea, but he dipped the wings to make it easier for the crew members to pop open their door on the left side of the aircraft and bail out. By doing this, Bush cost himself some precious time and made his own exit from the Avenger more difficult – perhaps the reason he slammed against the tail of the aircraft as he parachuted out.

Other American pilots in Bush’s squadron that morning said that they noticed two parachutes deploy from Bush’s Avenger. As Bush plummeted towards the Pacific Ocean, he scanned the sky for the chutes of Delaney and White, but saw neither. As he paddled with one hand in his life raft to get as far away from the coast of Chichi Jima as possible, Bush continued to search the sky and the sea for his crewmates. But it was to no avail. John Delaney and Ted White were never found. If one of the two men did bail out of the plane with Bush and deploy his parachute, he was immediately lost and the same pilots overhead that radioed Bush’s position to the Finback never located him. The other man most likely went down with the crippled TBM Avenger.

Nearly 60 years later, when Bush’s son had also been elected President of the United States, Bush visited the Bonin Islands and spoke to CNN about his ordeal. With all of the experiences of his life – all of the triumphs and tragedies – it was the loss of Ted White and John Delaney which continued to weigh heavily on George H.W. Bush. “I wake up at night and think about it sometimes,” the former President told CNN, “Could I have done something differently? I’m not haunted by anything other than the fact I feel a responsibility for the lives of the two people that were killed. I wonder if I could have done something different? I wonder who got out of the plane? I wonder – wonder why the chute didn’t open for the other guy? Why me? Why am I blessed? Why am I still alive? That has plagued me.”

How much did it plague George H.W. Bush? When the author and historian James Bradley interviewed the former President about his story for Bradley’s 2003 book Flyboys: A True Story of Courage (BOOK | KINDLE), Bush startled Bradley by asking the author if he had any new information about the fates of John Delaney and Ted White.

•••

When the Finback surfaced and fished George Herbert Walker Bush out of the sea, the submariners treated him for his wounds, fed him, gave him new clothes to wear, and he became a part of the Finback crew – an honorary submariner – for the next month, as the submarine continued its mission, patrolling hot spots in the Pacific Theater just in case another downed pilot required rescue.

Everything was still raw when the future President sat down the next day at a typewriter on the Finback and pecked out a letter to his parents back home in Connecticut. It is the testament of a 20-year-old man born with all of the advantages in the world, sharing his story with his parents and letting them know how the war had touched him…and how it could easily touch them:

Dear Mother and Dad,

This will be the first letter you have gotten from me in a good long while. I wish I could tell you that as I write this I am feeling well and happy. Physically I am O.K., but I am troubled inside and with good cause. Here is the whole story at least as much of it as I am allowed to relate right now.

Yesterday was a day which will long stand in my memory. I was on a bombing hop with Delaney as my radioman and Lt. (j.g.) Ted White as my gunner. He did not usually fly, but I asked him if he would like to go with me and he wanted to. We had the usual joking around in the ready room about having to bail out etc. – at that time it all seemed so friendly and innocent but now it seems awful and sinister.

I will have to skip all the details of the attack as they would not pass the censorship, but the fact remains that we got hit. The cockpit filled with smoke and I told the boys in back to get their parachutes on. They didn’t answer at all, but I looked around and couldn’t see Ted in the turret so I assumed he had gone below to get his chute fastened on. I headed the plane out to sea and put on the throttle so as we could get away from the land as much as possible. I am not too clear about the next parts. I told them to bail out, and then I called up the skipper and told him I was bailing out. My crewmen never acknowledged either transmission, and yet the radio gear was working – at least mine was and unless they had been hit back there theirs should have been, as we had talked not long before. I heard the skipper say something but things were happening so fast that I don’t quite remember what it was. I turned the plane up in an attitude so as to take pressure off the back hatch so the boys could get out. After that I straightened up and started to get out myself. At that time I felt certain that they had bailed out. The cockpit was full of smoke and I was choking from it. I glanced at the wings and noticed that they were on fire. I still do not know where we got hit and never will. I am now beginning to think that perhaps some of the fragments may have either killed the two in back, or possibly knocked out their communications.

Fortunately I had fastened all my straps before the dive and also I had left my hatch open, something I hadn’t been doing before. Just the day before I had asked the skipper and he advised leaving it open in a dive. The jump itself wasn’t too bad. I stuck my head out first and the old wind really blew me the rest of the way out. I do remember tugging at my radio cord which I had forgotten to unplug. As I left the plane my head struck the tail. I now have a cut head and bruised eye but it is far from serious. After jumping, I must have pulled the ripcord too soon for when I was floating down, I looked up at the canopy and several of the panels were all ripped out. Just as I got floating down, I saw the plane strike the water. In the meantime, I noticed that there was a liferaft down in the water. Not until later did I discover that it was mine that was supposed to be attached to my lifejacket. I had forgotten to hook it on, and when I left the plane it had come loose and had fallen into the water. Fortunately, the wind didn’t carry me too far away from the raft. The entrance into the water was not too bad. I had unloosened several of my chute straps so that when it came to getting out of the harness I wouldn’t have too many buckles to undo under the water. I went fairly deep when I hit, but not deep enough to notice any pressure or anything. I shook the harness and the wind carried the chute away on the water. The wind was blowing towards shore, so I made every effort to head the other way. The skipper saw me and he saw my raft, so he made a pass over it to point it out to me. I had inflated my mae west [sailors called their inflatable yellow life vests “Mae Wests”] and then started swimming towards the raft. Fortunately, the fall hadn’t injured the boat, so it inflated easily and I struggled into it. I then realized that I had overexerted myself swimming, because suddenly I felt quite tired. I was still afraid that the wind would take me in closer so I began paddling. It was a hell of a job to keep the water out of the raft. In fact I never did get it bailed out completely. At first I was scared that perhaps a boat would put out from shore which was very close by, but I guess our planes made them think twice about that. A few fighter planes stayed nearby the whole time until I was rescued and you can imagine how comfortable that was. One of them came right over me and dropped me some medical supplies which were most welcome, since I had no idea how badly cut up I was. It turned out to be slight, but did use the iodine anyway. I had some dye marker attached to my life jacket and also there was some in the raft so I sprinkled a bit of that on the water so the planes could see me easily. I took inventory of my supplies and discovered that I had no water. The water had broken open when the raft fell from the plane I imagine. I had a mirror and some other equipment, and also was wearing my own gun and knife.

There was no sign of Del or Ted anywhere around. I looked as I floated down and afterwards kept my eye open from the raft, but to no avail. The fact that our planes didn’t seem to be searching anymore showed me pretty clearly that they had not gotten out. I’m afraid I was pretty much of a sissy about it cause I sat in my raft and sobbed for awhile. It bothers me so very much. I did tell them and when I bailed out I felt that they must have gone, and yet now I feel so terribly responsible for their fate, Oh so much right now. Perhaps as the days go by it will all change and I will be able to look upon it in a different light.

I floated around for a couple of hours during which time I was violently sick to my stomach, and then the planes started zooming me, pointing out my position to my rescuers. You can imagine how happy I was when I saw this submarine hove into view. They pulled me out of the raft and took me below where they fixed me up in grand style. As I write this I am aboard the sub – don’t know how long I will be here, or when I will get back to the squadron.

As I said physically I am o.k. The food aboard here is unequaled anywhere I have ever seen. I am getting plenty of sleep and am even standing watches so that I will get the air occasionally. My back ached as did my leg last nite, and also my seat was a bit sore from the chute straps, but the pharmacist mate rubbed me down and today I feel much better. Last nite I rolled and tossed. I kept reliving the whole experience. My heart aches for the families of those two boys with me. Delaney had always been a fine loyal crewman. His devotion to duty was at all times highly commendable and his personality most pleasing. I shall most certainly write to his family after I am sure they have been notified by the Bureau.

As for Ted White, I have spoken of him several times in my letters before. He was the fellow from Yale, one class ahead of Stu Clement [Bush’s first cousin]. He comes from St. Paul Minn. White Bear Lake to be exact. Perhaps Dad, you know the family. If so do not write them until you get the word from me or elsewhere that the family has been officially notified. There is a possibility that they parachuted and I didn’t see them, but I am afraid it is quite remote as we received a message aboard here last nite saying that only one chute opened. All in all it is terribly discouraging and frankly it bothers me a good deal.

As time goes by I shall add bits to this letter and will mail it at my earliest possible convenience. I shall do the same by Bar, but shall not go into detail like this over my experience so please read her the parts of the letter which might interest her. It’s a funny thing how much I thought about Bar during the whole experience. What I wouldn’t give to be with her right now. Just to see that lovely face and those beautiful eyes and to know she was by my side. Right now I long to be with you so much. To be with you both and to be with Bar is my main desire – at least it won’t be too long, the time is going by quite rapidly.

Please excuse all my misspellings – they are caused not from ignorance but from carelessness in operating this machine.

much much love to you all, your ever devoted and loving son, Pop

••• As he celebrates his 93rd birthday, George Herbert Walker Bush has been many things to many people, and has done so much for so many more.

During the Vietnam War, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song “Fortunate Son” sang: “It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no Senator’s son/It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no.”

Not too long after World War II, George H.W. Bush was a Senator’s son – his father Prescott was elected to the U.S. Senate from Connecticut. Later, George Bush blazed his own trail. Oilman. U.S. Representative from Texas. An unsuccessful candidate for the U.S. Senate from Texas (famously encouraged by the Texas Democrat and President Lyndon B. Johnson that the difference between the House and the Senate was the difference between “chicken shit and chicken salad”). U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. Chairman of the Republican National Committee. Chief U.S. Liaison in China. CIA Director. Vice President of the United States under Ronald Reagan. President of the United States (“41”). Father of one Governor and President (“43”) and another Governor who was once considered a top candidate to become “45″.

But before everything – George Herbert Walker Bush was a war hero. And he was a war hero because of his love, honor, and duty to his country.

Just don’t ask George Bush if he was a war hero.

“It was just part of my duty. People say ‘war hero’. How come a guy who gets his airplane shot down is a hero and a guy who’s good enough that he doesn’t get shot down is not? Ask [John F.] Kennedy about it, why are you a hero? 'They sank my boat.’ Why am I a hero? They shot down my airplane.”

#History #George H.W. Bush #Bush 41 #President Bush #Presidential Birthday #41 at 93 #World War II #Presidents #Presidential History #George Herbert Walker Bush #George Bush #Longest-living Presidents #Happy Birthday Mr. President

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