#sandpiper shore

[adorkabletwilightandfriends]

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[uncharismatic-fauna]

Uncharismatic Fact of the Day

If any bird was going to be recognized for its pride, it would be the fabulous ruff. This bird was one of the first species in which homosexual behaviour was documented by a naturalist, Edmund Selous, in 1906!

(Image: A pair of male ruffs (Calidris pugnax) by Sulin Gopalan)

If you like what I do, consider buying me a ko-fi!

[robo-dino-puppy]

hfw: burning shores | aloy 33/?

[richs-pics]

Purple sandpiper: between rocks

[wingedjewels]

Dowitcher by Kip Hutchison Via Flickr: Walking the shoreline amongst the Seaweed.

[everydayesterday]

I don't know what "palmated" means, but if you add these two together, you get it.

top 2 photos: Semi-Palmated Plovers bottom 2 photos: Semi-Palmated Sandpipers [EDIT: The last photo is a Least Sandpiper!]

photos by me. 2023-08-23 Sachuest National Wildlife Refuge (RI)

[pmg227]

Favorite Bird Shots of April '24

Pileated Woodpecker Wood Duck ducklings Ducklings and Otter Wood Duck pair Red-winged Blackbird White-eyed Vireo Blue-gray Gnatcatcher (male) Red-headed Woodpecker Great Blue Heron (notice the fishing line around his legs) Solitary Sandpiper Red-shouldered Hawk on nest (I paid for this shot. When I turned my back, she dive-bombed me and hit me on the top of the head. I thought a coconut…

[dragonsongmakhali]

Haven't actually played the game in so long that when I saw a red AOE I instinctively slammed the mouse button I've assigned to dodge from GW2 and had a real Moment where I had to realize I was still very much in danger

[meadowlarkx]

sea stories

Ficlet for @sindarweek day 2: Folklore | AO3

They say that Elwing and her husband never returned to Middle-earth, but some know better. The first sea-bird sailors see once the ship is underway sometimes shimmers a little too brightly to be an ordinary skimmer. A sign of a good catch to come, a joyous return homewards. If they are lucky, she will greet them again when they seek the shore, white-winged harbinger of safe harbor. A Númenorean navigator once said he feared no voyage, however distant and deadly, for the same gull always met him without fail three days before land was sighted. With such a guide as Star-spray he could not waver. And of course the star sailed with him.

The fair folk know voices carry in water. Like a child, she laughs in the hidden valley’s falls, so like those for which she was named at her birth. Like a woman, she moans in the sea-caves of the Havens, sings and sobs in each tumbling wave. They hear her and feel a longing for far-off lands, for grey mists and birds’ shrieking, for love once lost thought never to be regained.

When storms blow in and cover the sky in the fishing villages, women weaving nets have heard her calling for her sons. She never finds them. But they temper their fear for their own babes, because children caught by the tide speak of being led home by such a voice, by a ray of pale light, by a hopping sandpiper.

On some summer nights without wind the sea lulls smooth as glass. Light bridges the dark water from the evening star’s ship to the grasses at the river’s mouth. You can see him alight then, despite the gods’ doom. She embraces him, cloaked in white feathers, a jewel at her throat and on his brow. At times she surges up from the reeds’ hidden nests; others, she floats down beside him like a wisp of cloud. On the banks of the undrowned world, they walk together. They meet there still.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 3 - honeymoon

graves x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 800 words, money and financial stuff, tradwife vibes, established relationship, dry humping, implied clothed sex, fingering.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

Your wedding had been a simple affair. A few family and friends on your side and some work colleagues from his had met at your shared house for a small do after your court house nuptials. Drinks (beer), a grilled dinner, and a bonfire that led long into the night. It was cheap and satisfied all involved. 

Not that Phil was tight with his money, anything but.

“Your money too now, baby,” he reminded you over the phone on one of his rare calls while on the job. You had been worrying about the cost of tickets, especially after all the money you’d already spent on luggage, swimsuits, and other clothes for the two of you. You didn’t even want to think about the hotel yet. “Set up that joint account for a reason. Pick us out something nice,” the connection crackled, threatening to break before fading back in. “-and your pretty ass in that bikini on the beach. Fuck-” You heard him tip the speaker away from his mouth to groan.

You bought the plane tickets while shoving down the feeling that everyone would see you as some sort of gold-digger. You could almost read the comments from your family on your future pictures. The ones that passive-aggressively cooed over how “nice” it must be to marry into money, to not have to work, to go on expensive vacations and sit in that big house alone all day.

You hated it. Hated that they would never know the truth. You didn’t even know what your now-husband did when you met. In fact, it took him a full month to get around to it. Even then, he was more concerned if the constant distance of his military life wouldn’t work for you. Nothing about the morality of it all, the violence, the fact he had a very real chance of dying while away and you would be the last to know. 

No, you had told him. You didn’t mind. You liked him.

So you waited, because you didn’t just like him. Not that you wanted him to think you were that serious this soon, but you were. You were falling hard and fast and he did nothing to stop you. Your little nights out quickly developed into nights in: the weekend at your place, staying at his for days at a time. How naturally you slotted into each other's lives. It just felt . . . right.

You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when he proposed. 

“I know it’s sudden,” he had said reading your shocked face. It was the middle of a long, lazy summer week. You had gone out to the shore to beat the heat, spending the afternoon walking the cool tide-line, watching the sandpipers and seagulls. It was peaceful. As you sat, wrapped in his arms in the soft grass, watching the sunset, that was when he’d asked you, “but I trust you. Love the shit outta you,” he added with a smirk pressed to your forehead. “Want to come home to you. Wake up next to you. Start a family. All that.”

Everything had led up to this moment, tumbling into your private cabana, both exhausted after a long international flight and an even longer taxi ride. Both you and Phil let your bags fall to the floor. You heard Phil kick off his shoes while you face-planted into the fluffy white duvet. Your husband groaned in relief, relaxing over top of you.

“-room fer you over-” you said, face smashed into the sheets, trying to get Phil to roll his tense, muscled body over onto any part of the vast, unoccupied space available. He was the one who had wanted the king suite. 

He shushed you, rolling his hips up against your ass. “Been waiting for this all day,” he sighed, breath ruffling your already messy hair. 

His hands pried apart your thighs, just enough to flip up your dress to press the stiff front of his shorts to your warmth. You whimpered as he groaned. You had both been on edge the whole trip and unable to comfort each other with anything more than the squeeze of a hand or a pat on the shoulder. You both needed this. Needed some release. 

Phil rolled you to the side, hungrily palming your breast with one hand. You followed him, pushing yourself up against his chest. You grabbed back for him, needing to feel his lips on yours, bucking your hips against him in the process. 

“Fuck baby,” he whispered, pulling you around to kiss down your face. “This how you want it? Want me to make you my wife like this? Fuck you for the first time like a fuckin’ animal against the bed? All our clothes still fuckin’ on?” he babbled, hand trailing off your breast, down your body, past your panties to play with your clit.

“Yeah . . . yeah,” you whined, turning your head to arch into the kiss you’ve been aching for. 

You heard his shorts drop to the floor and him press his cock to your pussy. “Tell me,” he huffed, rocking once against your tight slick before restarting, “tell your husband how you want him to fuck his wife.”

[outofangband]

I had a lot of fun with my Anairë headcanons and people were so nice 🪼🦎🌷 so I wanted to share some Eärwen headcanons! As always I like to use these as an excuse to world build

More in the Teleri tag

One Telerin festival that centers around Telerin children involves the making and flying of handcrafted kites. These are woven, built and painted and then flown along the ocean. Some of Eärwen’s most treasured memories both as a child and later as a parent with her own children were of this celebration. Movement and dance are deeply important methods of storytelling and the kite dancing often involves elaborate and fantastical plays

Eärwen’s father, Olwë was (canonically) born on Middle Earth but her mother was among the first of Telerin children born in Valinor or perhaps on Tol Eressëa. She was vastly curious of the lands of her father’s past and loved to hear of them in story and song

Eärwen speaks Telerin, Quenya and the Vanyarin dialect of Quenya. She also has a good understanding of primitive elvish and the dialects of early Sindarin that Olwë her father brought from Middle Earth. She had a great interest in language and in word play and poetry. Her own poetry is rich in sensory descriptions of wind, sand, water, feather and light.

Eärwen has silvery hair and dark brown eyes. She is tall and athletic, learning to swim as a very young child as is common for Telerin children. She grew up playing chasing and finding games on the shores with her brothers.

Eärwen’s favorite colors are a light blue and sand brown.

I enjoy the notion of Eärwen being something of an epessë or after name, given for her love of sea and water birds and for her ability to communicate with them through both sound and movement, a rare gift among the Eldar. Swans and sandpipers are her favorite birds.

[adorkabletwilightandfriends]

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[uncharismatic-fauna]

Uncharismatic Fact of the Day

For snails, traveling long distances can be a bit of a challenge due to their size and extremely slow speed. Fortunatelly, snails in the genus Physa have found a workaround! In early February, about 20-30 snails will attach themselves to the wings of an upland sandpiper and hitch a ride south with the bird's migration.

(Images: The freshwater snail Physa acuta and its temporary host the upland sandpiper (Bartramia longicauda) by David Liebman and Nick Varvel respectively)

[robo-dino-puppy]

sandpipers

[themorningowl]

63°25'19"N, 21°04'08"E

July 4, 2021 25°C. Sunny. Notes: An Eurasian hobby hunting swallows + first sighting of Arctic tern of the year. Wood sandpiper, common redshank and common curlew at the water's edge, looking drowsy in the heat. A bat that stuck its head out of a nest box but returned in horror at the sight of us! In the water closest to the shore shoal after shoal of small, small perch.

Valsörarna, Finland

[mostlythemarsh]

Just before the high tide we were lucky to have a small flock of sandpipers land just in front of us on the shore. We sat on a log and watched them for a while. As the tide rose they moved from one overcome rock to another. We were close enough to hear their peeps.