#they’ve been a species I’ve wanted to photograph for a while now

[neofelis----nebulosa]

Finally saw and successfully photographed a Baltimore oriole

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Shuu Maniac [Prologue]

ー The scene starts in the shopping district

Yui: ( ...This place has not changed at all. Although I suppose that only makes sense given we weren’t away for that long. )

( There don’t seem to be any rumors about wolves or such either. )

Shuu: Oi. Keep walking.

Yui: Ah, right.

( Somehow the roles are reversed for once... )

Shuu: ...

Yui: ...? What’s wrong?

Shuu: You just thought ‘I don’t want you to be the one telling me that’, didn’t you?

Yui: I-I didn’t!

Shuu: Heh...Not that it’d matter. Let’s go.

Yui: ( ...Thank god. Seems like Shuu-san is back to being his usual self too. )

ー Shuu starts walking away

Yui: ( ...Huh? )

Uhm, Shuu-san? Are we dropping by somewhere on the way home?

( He’s going into the wrong direction. I wonder where he’s headed? )

Shuu: You’ll find out if you follow me.

Yui: ...?

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the outside of the Mukami manor

Yui: ( This is... )

Shuu: Let’s go inside.

Yui: Eh!? Shuu-san...!

ー They enter the manor

*Creaaaak*

*Thud*

Shuu: ...Nobody’s around.

Yui: Shuu-san, this is the Mukami’s residence...Right?

Shuu: Yeah.

Yui: Are you sure this is fine?

Shuu: Entering this place uninvited, you mean? I don’t see the problem. This place technically belongs to the Old Man after all. 

I assume the Mukami’s fled to the Demon World in fear of the Wolves as well. We’re lucky it’s currently empty. (1)

Yui: ...

Shuu: Don’t worry.

Unlike at the Demon World, the lunar eclipse has come to an end already here. Its effects on us species have faded as well so rest assured.

We’re borrowing this manor just in case. The Sakamaki manor is being sniffed out by those wolves after all.

 Yui: ( Shuu-san actually thought things through. )

( He makes a valid point...I might have gotten worried for nothing. )

Shuu: Hm...So this is what this house looks like.

Even though we’re all Vampires, our lives are so different. It feels odd.

Yui: ( The atmosphere is most definitely different from the Sakamaki’s place. How should I put it? You could say the mood is more light-hearted...Ah. )

ー She walks over to the wall

Yui: ( It’s a photograph of the four Mukami brothers...! )

( They really are close. It looks like a family picture... )

Shuu-san, look at thiー Wait, huh? Shuu-san?

( He vanished into thin air...Where could he have gone? )

ー The scene shifts to the kitchen

Shuu: ...

Yui: Ah, there he is. Shuu-san, so this is where you’ve been. 

( I wonder what he’s doing, staring at the shelf with silverware? ...Ah. )

They’ve got color-coded silverware. Since there’s four kinds in total, I suppose they all got matching ones?

Shuu: ...They’re matching as brothers?

Yui: Looks like it. They really are close-knit...

Shuu: Is this what you’d call...’a family’? 

Yui: Eh?

Shuu: Taking pictures while smiling or using matching plates and cutlery...Those are things I can’t even fathom happening over at our place.

Yui: ( I can’t imagine the Sakamaki’s doing that either... )

Shuu: I’ve always felt disconnected from the concept of ‘a family’.

Yui: That’s not true. You have plenty of brothers, don’t you?

Shuu: Too many. Besides...With the Old Man being the way he is, you can hardly call us an ideal family.

I won’t deny that I’ve always been surrounded by other people for as long as I can remember but...I’m a little reluctant whether or not I can call them ‘family’.

Just having someone there by your side doesn’t necessarily make you feel fulfilled after all.

Yui: ( Shuu-san... )

( Perhaps he actually often felt lonely? )

( Even if he was always surrounded by others, they only stuck to his side because he is the eldest son of the family...So he might have actually been ‘alone’ this whole time. )

Shuu: ...How about your place?

Yui: My home?

( It’s rare for him to ask about me. )

Shuu: I don’t understand very well, but as a human, you can probably grasp the concept of a family very well, no? 

Yui: I wonder...My family might be a little different from the average household as well.

Shuu: Is that so?

Yui: I was raised by a single father after all. Father is my only family.

Therefore, I don’t think I can confidently say ‘this is a family’. However...

I am certain that a close-knit family like the Mukami’s is what an ideal family should be like!

Shuu: Ideal, huh...? Do you feel envious of them?

Yui: Just a little. Me and Father were close too but sometimes I did feel lonely by the lack of any other family members as well.

Shuu: You are actually capable of feeling lonely too? I had no idea.

...No, I suppose I never attempted to see it. I figured there was no point.

Even though we’ve spent so much time together...

Yui: Shuu-san?

Shuu: ...Wanna try becoming a family?

Yui: Eh...!?

Shuu: As fellow strangers to the concept. Well, we’re just gonna play pretend, of course.

Yui: Ah, play pretend...

( He startled me...Because he suddenly dropped the word ‘family’... )

Shuu: It would be best to try it out before we actually do become one, right?

Yui: ...!

( When he suddenly says these kinds of things, it’s bad for my heart... (2) )

( ...But, if it’s with Shuu-san. )

( Exactly because we’ve both experienced loneliness before...It might be nice to try and make our own ideal family here. )

( It’s just the two of us after all. Even if we’re just pretending...As long as I’m with the person I love. )

Then, can I make just one request?

Shuu: What? Tell me.

Yui: I want plates and cups. Of course, matching ones. Is that okay?

Shuu: ...I don’t see why not?

Yui: Also let’s take a picture together too...What else?

Shuu: Sleep in the same bed, for example?

Yui: ...Can we?

Shuu: ...You’re weird today.

Yui: I mean...It’s a normal thing for family to do.

Let’s have our meals together too. It might not be bad to cook together every once in a while as well.

Shuu: ...

Yui: No?

Shuu: Oh well, why not? Even though it’s a drag. That’s what family does, no?

You can do as you wish. Whatever you desire, I do too.

Yui: Fufu, that sounds very family-like too. My family’s happiness is my happiness after all.

Shuu: I see. In that caseーー

ー Shuu moves closer

*Rustle*

Yui: ...!

Shuu: If I do something that makes me happy, it’ll please you too, no?

...Look my way.

Yui: ( I wonder if he’ll suck my blood...? )

Shuu: ...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ( ...A kiss instead of sucking my blood...? )

Shuu: ...Somebody seems disappointed.

Yui: I’m not disappointed or anythi...

Shuu: Just be honest. You were looking forward to having your blood sucked, didn’t you?

That’s why this doesn’t satisfy you...Nn...

*Smooch*

Shuu: ...So, how do you truly feel?

Yui: ...I don’t feel dissatisfied... 

When it’s you...I feel happy no matter what.

Shuu: ...Hah, you really are a natural at flipping my switch, aren’t you?

I was going to leave it at just a kiss, but I’ve changed my mind.

Show me your neck. I’ll live up to those expectations...and suck your blood.

Nn...!

ー Shuu bites her

Shuu: Nn, nn...Phew...

Yui: ...

Shuu: Hah...You’re making a great expression right now.

From here on out...I’ll please you in tons of ways.

My family’s happiness is my happiness, was it? ...Yui.

Nn...

*SCENE SHIFTS*

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall of the Sakamaki castle

Reiji: ...

Kanato: You’re still here, Reiji?

Why not give up already? They’re not coming back anyway.

Laito: Well, leaving Shuu aside, I do think losing Bitch-chan as well was a miscalculation on our part~

Reiji: My thoughts exactly. Why did she decide to chase after Shuu?

Shuu is to blame as well. We are being prompted to proceed with the preparations of the evening gala, yet, that good-for-nothing...

Now that it’s come to this, I shall take command and make the necessary prepaーー...

Laito: Speaking of which, where is Subaru-kun? I know that Ayato-kun can’t move just yet.

Kanato: He has isolated himself per usual. I assume he’s sulking because Yui-san is no longer around?

ー Subaru walks up to them

Subaru: ...Fuck off! Sulking, me!?

Laito: You’re so quick to react, Subaru-kun~ You must be dying from loneliness now that Bitch-chan’s gone, huh?

Subaru: Like I said, who are you callin’ lonely!? Imma fuckin’ end you!?

Reiji: Haah...Keep quiet, you lot!

...I suppose we have no other choice. We shall wait just a tad bit longer.

However, my patience is running thin. ...Shuu.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 助かる or ‘tasukaru’ literally means ‘to save’ or ‘to rescue’. However, the term ‘助かった’ or ‘sentence + が助かった’ is used to express relief or even gratitude towards a certain person or situation. In this case, the Mukami manor being empty works in favor of Shuu’s plan to hide there while the Wolves are possibly trailing them. 

(2) Technically Yui says she is ‘troubled’ by Shuu-san who will suddenly say those kinds of things. 

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<- [ Dark Epilogue ] [ Maniac 01 ] ->

[imagine-darksiders]

Would make a short of Strife rescuing a tiny human? Please ?

Short?

Hi guys, so I was writing this reply when it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve been neglecting you and I owe you, at the very least, a 6000+ word, Strife centric Christmas present. So although it’s isn’t a Christmassy piece per se, it all I have at the moment. 

Thank you so much for being patient with me. XXXX 

—

The photograph stands on a tiny, pink dresser, its edges cut back just enough so that it fits inside a silver frame, out of which peer three humans, their grinning faces never changing as they keep a quiet vigil of the bedroom and its otherworldly visitor, who – in turn – finds his sharp gaze frequently returning to the little, paper snapshot.

A pair of eyes, golden and glowing in the lightless bedroom, screw themselves shut tightly for a moment as their owner heaves a sigh and tries not think about what had happened to the trio of humans. He especially refuses to dwell on the youngest; the little boy in overalls and wellington boots who rides happily on his father’s shoulders in the photo, but who also so, so closely resembles the tiny, emaciated corpse twisted up in a wardrobe nearby.

These are the moments during supply runs that Strife hates the most – where he stumbles across the sad, broken remains of humans, all whilst he rummages through their homes and helps himself to what was once theirs with his only consolation being the humans back at the maker tree, who would survive just a little longer thanks to his pilfering.

If he thought too hard about it, he would be troubled, and the horseman could not afford that. Best to put it from his mind and move on, as he always has. As experience has taught him.

Peeling his eyes open again, Strife turns his back on the photograph and continues stuffing a dishevelled, cuddly pony into one of the leather pouches that hangs from his side.

’Just the essentials,’ he reminds himself before every supply run. ’Food, water and ammunition being top priority.’

But then, Ulthane had brought that kid to the tree and she’d cried all night, asking where her caretakers were and complaining how she couldn’t possibly sleep without a ‘Mister Bear’ and…

The horseman strokes a finger over the toy’s stringy mane before he withdraws his hand and fastens the pack up again, safely sealing it inside.

’In this instance’, he reasons, ’a soft toy is an essential.’

Besides, he’s already gathered plenty of food for today at least, and if he doesn’t get back soon, Ulthane and the other humans will start to worry where he is.

“Where Jones is,” he corrects himself aloud with a bitter frown.

He’s beyond the point of believing they’d care about Strife the horseman in the same manner they care about his human disguise.

Casting one last, solemn glance at the corner wardrobe, Strife once more finds himself fighting to put the humans’ fate from his mind.

It was so much easier when he thought – as many other species still do – that humanity was little more than a savage society with no ambition beyond killing and consuming to survive. Then, he actually met the little species and found everything he thought he knew about them to be a lie. His eyes had been opened, and he’d been left sadder, but wiser.

Humans had been treated like dirt for so many centuries.

And he hadn’t really cared.

Deciding that he’s spent more than enough time among ghosts, Strife steps back over the bedroom’s threshold. 

Moving towards a set of rickety stairs, he reaches out to place a hand on the banister when he suddenly freezes in his tracks, his keen senses honing in on a sound coming from somewhere further down the landing.

A scuffle, then a snort followed by the scrabble of claws on a hard surface.

For several moments, the horseman remains at a standstill as he listens with rapt attention to the pants and growls he’d pin to a Goreclaw, if he had to take a wild guess.

The damn thing sounds as though it’s stuck. That, or it’s looking for something. Either way, it will be sufficiently distracted and chances are likely it doesn’t even know a horseman is in the vicinity.

Mercy’s grip sticks invitingly up from within its holster and Strife runs a thumb over the smooth surface, thinking.

He could just leave. It is only one demon after all.

But then…

The horseman’s mind drifts back to the little body in the wardrobe and his jaw immediately sets.

No way in Hell is he about to let that thing get at it. Dead or not, a kid doesn’t deserve to be reduced to marrow by a hell-dog. Strife could spare him that, at the very least.

Shaking his head and wondering when he’d become so sentimental, he draws his pistol and steps back onto the landing. Following the sounds of guttural snarls, he stalks through the crumbling apartment until he comes upon a broken doorway, torn off its hinges at some point by a hand greater than a human’s. Strife halts just shy of the entrance and presses his back up against the wall before inching his head around the corner, golden eyes narrowed dangerously as he scans the room beyond.

Far be it from him to err on the side of caution but he is curious to know what the demon is up to. His earlier assumption had been spot on. It’s a Goreclaw alright, currently in the midst of trying to shove its long talons underneath a chest-of-drawers, teeth snapping and drool flying from its snout.

“What the Hell are you doing?” he wonders quietly, observing while it retracts its foreleg and presses its nose up to the slim gap beneath the furniture.

He’s only ever seen the dogs get this excited when they’re on the trail of prey.

For a split second, the horseman’s blood runs cold at the thought of a human being trapped under there, though he soon shakes that notion off. No matter how tiny, there isn’t a human alive that could stuff themselves underneath there. Not with barely two inches of space between floor and wood.

Through the window, he’s distantly aware that the sun is no longer shining through a gap in the curtains, having sunk well below a building on the opposite side of the street, heralding the swift approach of night.

Aware that he’s burning daylight, and desperate to put a bullet in something, Strife obnoxiously clears his throat, rounds the corner and aims a cocksure grin at the startled demon when it whirls about to face him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says cheerfully, “Just wanted to stop by and tell you, there’s something on your face.”

A roar of outrage shatters the relative peace as the demon crouches, ready to pounce. It barely manages to plant its hind legs however, before a bullet tears out of Mercy’s chamber and buries itself directly in the Goreclaw’s skull.

“Ope, never mind, I got it,” Strife gloats, a smirk lifting his lips. The demon crumples to the ground, gurgling and twitching for a moment until it eventually lays still, dead on the floral print carpet. “Huh…I was hoping that’d be a little more satisfying.”

With his grim duty taken care of, the horseman turns on his heel to leave. However something nags at the back of his mind and he stops mid-stride, a frown pulling at his brows.

Just what had that demon been so desperate to get at?

Beneath his helm, Strife chews pensively on his lip, turning back to face the unassuming chest of drawers. After a moment’s deliberation, he gives in to curiosity, a newfound trait he wholly blames on the humans he’s been sharing a tree with for the past several weeks. Every one of them has a penchant for sticking their noses into strange situations, and it seems their behaviour has rubbed off on the horseman somewhat.

An obnoxious huff escapes Strife as he grabs each side of the dresser and picks it up effortlessly, as if it weighed no more than a feather and moves it aside to peer down at the dustless rectangle that had been left in its wake. It isn’t long before his sharp gaze lands on something out of the ordinary, a patch of colour in the otherwise murky grey.

“What the?…” Dumping the chest of drawers down to his right, the horseman squats to get a better look at what appears at first glance to be just another child’s toy.

“All that fuss for a doll?” he wonders aloud, reaching slowly down with a finger to prod at it.

Just then, before he can utter anything further, he almost jumps out of his skin as the ‘doll’ springs to life.

Rather, it suddenly leaps to its feet and darts sideways, gunning straight along the wall’s skirting with two, little legs pumping along like a steam engine.

“Hey! Woah there!” Caught off guard, Strife doesn’t think before he shoots out a hand towards the fleeing creature.

It can’t quite skid to a halt in time to keep from colliding with the horseman’s gauntleted palm that abruptly slams to the ground in front of it, and with a soft ‘plink,’ the human-shaped thing collides with his hand and falls back onto its rump so jarringly, Strife can’t suppress a wince. “Oooh, sorry about that,” he says, wasting no time in pinching his thumb and forefinger against the collar of a thin, brown shirt and plucking it up off the floor. “Now, what do we have here?”

Dangling his prize in front of his silver helm, he squints, head tipping to one side so he can get a good look at what he’s caught.

He very nearly drops it again when he realises what he’s peering at.

It’s a human. A boy, to be precise, and a fairly young one at that, clothed in nothing more than a ratty shirt and a pair of equally dishevelled shorts that hang low on his waist, too baggy to fit on his near skeletal form. They’ve even been tied in place by a strip of green twine.

Hanging limply from the horseman’s grasp, the little human tries to work his shirt loose, twisting this way and that but impeded by violent trembles that wrack his body. Realising that thrashing is doing him no good, he opts to reach up with miniature fists and attempt to tear the shirt free, tiny grunts leaving even tinier lips.

“You’re a human!” Strife blurts out, eyes flashing interestedly.

At the sound of his booming voice, the boy flinches and cries out, abandoning his prospects of escape in favour of clamping both arms over his head and curling in on himself, a meagre method of protection against his titanic captor.

Standing back up to his full height, the horseman continues to study his handful whilst planting his free hand on a cocked hip. “Well damn me, I didn’t think human kids could get this small,” he murmurs. Suddenly, his ears perk up at the sound of a diminutive squeak that emanates from the boy currently hanging from his fingers. ”What was that, kid?”

Shivering, his arms still shielding his head, the tiny boy swallows and raises his voice loud enough to be heard. “I-I ain’t a human!” he claims shrilly. Then, after a small pause, he adds, “And I ain’t no kid neither!”

“Not a human, huh? Well, you sure look like one.” Strife chuffs and raises a claw-tipped finger, prodding the boy in his stomach and eliciting a squawk of indignation. “Sure sound like one too…Kind of on the skinny side though, aren’t you?”

His words cause the boy to turn rigid and his arms peel back slightly to give Strife a view of ebony hair and wide, brown eyes. “What…what’s that s'posed to mean!?” he whimpers, “You’re not gonna…you’re not gonna eat me, are you!?”

“Mmm, haven’t decided yet,” the horseman playfully responds, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much meat on you…Then again, I am pretty hungry.”

Behind his mask, he grins, though the expression promptly blinks out of existence when he notices a wetness has gathered on the boy’s cheeks.

“Uh oh.” That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d been sure human kids loved jokes! Hell, Ulthane had playfully threatened to eat some of the younglings back at the tree and they’d all thought it was a great game, even laughed their heads off when he made a slow swipe at them with one of his meaty paws.

“Oh, hey, no – I – Ah, damnit.” Like a flipped switch, Strife’s tone loses its teasing lilt and slips to something gentler. “Hey, ease off the waterworks, okay, pint-size? I was kidding.” Borderline desperate, the horseman lowers his catch into a sturdy palm and lets go of his shirt, even smoothing down the back of it with the pad of a careful finger for good measure although as he does, he becomes aware of just how prominently the boy’s spine protrudes. Human anatomy varies, sure, but that doesn’t feel right.

Jerking away from the encroaching finger, the ‘not’ human swipes furiously at his eyes, smearing tears across reddened cheeks. In spite of the horseman’s reassurance, he doesn’t appear convinced, eyeing the palm beneath him with about as much trust as he’d give a hungry snake, half expecting it to spring to life and squeeze the soul out of him. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen much of the world, even before monsters fell out of the sky, but he knows enough to tell that this metal-clad behemoth is most assuredly not human.

Human eyes don’t glow like liquid gold.

In the meantime, Strife gives himself a mental kick for making the child cry.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “You… got a name, kid?”

“What do you care?” the boy sniffs, all pretence of bravery made redundant by his trembling, “You’re just gonna drop me or – or squash me or something.”

Drawing his head back, the horseman frowns. “C'mon, you’re like – what? - three inches tall? Be kind of a dick move for me to hurt someone smaller than my thumb.”

Cautious surprise flickers across the youngster’s face and he swipes the back of a wrist under his nose, chin lifting to shoot a suspicious squint at his captor. “But…but ain’t you one of them demons?”

Strife bristles despite his best efforts. “Do I look like a demon to you?”

Ducking his head, the boy gulps but still balls his hands into fists and squeezes out, “Well, I dunno… You big'uns all look alike from down here.” He risks a mistrustful glare at Strife’s luminous eyes. “Like monsters.”

Apparently the Horseman has been spending too much time around humans because that sent an unpleasant pang bolting through his chest.

“Yeah, well…Speaking from experience, not everyone who’s bigger than you is a monster, kid,” he murmurs gently.

The boy blinks, caught off guard by the sober tone of voice he hadn’t expected to hear from this gargantuan, metal man. All his life, he’d had drummed into his head the mantra that if a big one caught him, they’d more than likely kill him. And those that didn’t would shove him in a jar or underneath a microscope - that last one had happened to his great, great grandfather. Or so he has been lead to believe.

And yet so far, there’s no jar, no microscope, and although he knows it’s far too early to be letting his guard down, the longer he goes without becoming a sticky mess under the heel of a boot, the more his nerves relax the strangle-hold they have on his heart.  

Outside, the city grows steadily darker and with the absence of sunlight, a chill seeps its way through the broken window.

Drawing up his knees and hugging them to his chest, the boy falls victim to an involuntary shudder.

“Cold?”

The suddenness of the giant’s voice reverberating overhead causes him to jump and snatch his gaze up from where it had wandered down to his shoeless feet. On impulse, he blurts out a stubborn, “No,” and clenches his jaw shut again to stop it from quaking.

Strife raises an eyebrow and though his skepticism is hidden under a helm, it manages to saturate his voice. “Uh huh. I can see you shivering, kid.” Slowly, his fingers creep a few centimetres closer to the boy. 

“I told you, I’m not a kid,” his handful mutters, “I’m nearly eleven.”

A snort of laughter bursts out of Strife before he can catch it, earning himself an icy glare. “Now, I’m no expert,” he chuckles, bouncing his hand slightly, much to his passenger’s horror, “But I’d’ve said eleven was well in the range of what a ‘kid’ oughtta be.”

“Kids can’t take care of themselves,” the boy explains, agitated, “I can.”

Strife draws his head back in mock surprise. “Oh hoh! Can you now? S'that why I found you seconds away from becoming a demon’s snack?”

Huffing, the boy averts his gaze from the dazzling yellow eyes overhead and mumbles, “I’d have been fine.”

“Whatever you say, half-pint.” The corners of Strife’s lips tilt up as he inspects the boy’s grumpy pout. “You know, you’re pretty feisty for such a little guy. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to go picking fights with demons a hundred times your size?”

Despite his far larger stature, the horseman can pinpoint the exact moment he’d said the wrong thing. The word 'parents’ has barely slipped off his tongue before the boy’s eyes suddenly clamp shut and his back goes rigid against Strife’s fingers. Understanding dawns at once and the horseman’s eyes lose some of that preternatural glow as he exhales softly through his nose. “Oh….Your folks’re not in the picture anymore, huh?”

Face now pressed into his knees, the boy shakes his head.

“Was it a demon?”

This time, Strife receives a slow nod, confirming his suspicions.

Blowing out a puff of hot air, he scratches at his neck and offers, “Damn. I’m…. sorry, kid.”

What else could he possibly say?

“…Hamish.”

Strife blinks, lifting the youngling closer to his eyes and peering down at him. “What’d you say?” he murmurs, giving the boy a gentle nudge with his thumb in the hopes of coaxing the words out again.

Luckily, he’s rewarded when his passenger finally looks up at him with a pair of drooping, brown eyes, their edges tinged red. “My name,” he tries, louder this time, “It’s not kid. It’s Hamish.”

The metal mask does little to conceal its wearer’s pleased grin.

“Hamish, huh?” He decides not to make a fuss about the tears rolling down the kid’s cheeks. “S'good to meet you. Name’s Strife.”

Confusion sweeps across Hamish’s features and he carefully extracts himself from his knees, scrubbing away the fresh teardrops. “Strife?” He hesitates for a moment to scrunch up his nose even further, and the horseman can’t help but notice that when he does, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Yarin after the humans tried explaining the concept of a computer to him. Strife’s grin widens of its own accord at the fond memory whilst its wearer waits patiently for Hamish to finish scrutinising him.

Eventually, the boy appears to come to some sort of conclusion as he huffs and rubs tiredly at one of his eyes, though Strife suspects it has more to do with not wanting to meet the horseman’s gaze when he says matter-of-factly, “That’s a weird name.”

Glad that his little acquaintance has at least stopped crying, Strife feigns offence. “It’s a Nephilim name,” he explains, “and - for the record - how do you know I don’t think Hamish is a weird name?”

The boy gulps, apparently mistaking the giant’s playful banter for real displeasure, after all, he had just insulted an unstoppable behemoth’s name. Eager to move the conversation along, he stammers out, “U-Uh, what’s a…a nephilim?”

The horseman, making note of Hamish’s renewed trembling, softens his tone. “A Nephilim is…It’s, uh…” Something stops him mid-sentence. Is he really about to tell this kid about the Nephilim? A brutal race of bloodthirsty, world-conquering titans? Of which Strife himself was a member? The horseman clamps his mouth shut. What if explaining who the Nephilim were prompts Hamish to start asking questions? Creator forbid the boy discover that the man holding him in his palm was one of four responsible for the total eradication of their own species.

With a hard blink, Strife focuses back on Hamish and notices the boy’s eyes are nervously darting all over his mask. The suffocating spell of silence had lasted longer than the horseman intended. Thinking quickly, he stumbles over an answer that he hopes will satisfy the boy. “It’s…Well, s'just what I am.”

Perhaps it’s only because Hamish has spent his entire life keeping his existence a secret, but the giant’s vague response doesn’t bother him half as much as it ought to. He gets it. The man probably doesn’t want anyone knowing about his existence. Hamish finds the feeling is mutual.

So, instead of calling Strife out on his blatant avoidance, the boy simply offers him a nod and says, “I knew you weren’t human.”

“Ha, only when I need to be,” the horseman chimes secretively, and before Hamish can ponder what he means by that, he’s unexpectedly bounced up into the air, letting out a startled yelp before he lands in the centre of the giant palm again.

“Anyway,” Strife begins, shooting a cursory glance out the window and wincing upon finding it utterly obscured by the ink of night, “There’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other once I get you to safety.”

Hamish’s fingers twitch against the tough gauntlet, a trickling cold slipping into his stomach. “Wait, what?”

“Well, today’s your lucky day, kid!” Strife puffs out his chest and jabs it with a thumb, proudly declaring, “I am gonna take you someplace safe.” Pausing for a moment to let that sink in, he watches the boy’s eyes grow wide, feeling a sense of accomplishment at seeing what he imagines can only be excitement, so he carries on, “It’s warm, away from demons, there’s lots of humans and enough food to last you a lifetime.” He stresses his point by poking Hamish’s belly with a careful fingertip. “By the looks of things, you could use a good meal. So, what do you say? How’s that sound?”

The boy remains silent for several seconds as he processes what he’s being told.

Then, to the horseman’s shock, rather than elation or relief, he’s met with a face full of horror and before he can ask what’s wrong, the boy leaps unsteadily to his feet and bellows, “NO!” at the top of his lungs.

Taken aback, Strife snaps his other hand up to close Hamish in a loose fist when it looks as though he’s about to jump off the horseman’s palm. “Hey! Easy there! What’s the matter?”

Hamish begins pounding ardently on the fingers holding him hostage, kicking his legs to no avail. This hulking stranger wants to take him away from his family home – the place he’s lived and loved and known his whole life - and dump him with a bunch of humans? Not a chance. “Let me go!” he cries, terrified at the prospect of being uprooted, “I’m not going with you!”

Baffled, the horseman tips his head to one side and frowns at the ferocity behind each blow on his metal gauntlet. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” He reaches up and catches one of the boy’s arms, holding it gingerly between two fingers. “Why don’t you want to come with me?”

“Because! This is – It’s my home!” Hamish all but sobs, pushing furiously at Strife’s metal thumb.

“Kid, this is gonna be your tomb if you stay here much longer,” the horseman tries to reason, “I mean, look at you, if a demon doesn’t get you, something else will. You’re skin and bone.”

“I’d rather take my chances out here than be surrounded by humans!” Hamish gives a final heave before collapsing over the enormous thumb, with one arm still held above his head, caught in a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Strife almost laughs aloud at the thought of the humans at the tree hurting anyone. Three of them had actually cried after they discovered a dead bird outside the entrance. But even still, he has to put the boy’s mind at ease. At last relinquishing his hold on the skeletal arm, he sighs, “Listen, kid. Nobody’ll hurt you, okay? They’re good people. Besides – no offence – but I think they’ve got more important things to focus on than antagonising you.”

Unfortunately, Hamish either isn’t listening, or he just doesn’t care.

Glancing up at the giant, fresh tears streaming in a never-ending torrent down his face, he puts on the bravest voice he can muster and yells, “I’m staying here!”  

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not! You can’t make me!”

Golden eyes flash brightly at the challenge. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Strife smirks, and without warning, begins to lower Hamish towards one of the pouches on his belt.

As soon as he spots where he’s headed, the boy’s struggling becomes increasingly wild. “No, no, no!”

“Sorry, kid,” the horseman murmurs, steeling his heart against the frightened wailing, “M'not leaving you here.” Using his free hand, Strife fumbles with the pouch’s leather strap and is just about to get it open when Hamish suddenly cries out, “Wait, wait! Just – I’ll go with you, okay? Just stop!”

The horseman pauses, considering the boy for a moment before lifting him back up to his helm. “What’s up? You claustrophobic or something?”

Little fingers dig imploringly into the gaps of Strife’s gauntlet as Hamish shakes his head. “No, I – I just…If you have to take me, then….at least let me get my things first.”

“Your things?” he echoes, squinting down at the kid and noting, with some semblance of relief, that he’s no longer putting up a fight. “Where are they?”

Shrinking underneath the giant’s dazzling stare, Hamish swallows noisily but manages to raise a shaking finger and points it over his shoulder. “In the walls.”

Puzzled, Strife glances to where he’s indicating. “You….lived in the walls?” He sees Hamish nod from the corner of his eye.

“There’s an, um…like a little crack in the skirting board, over there.”

Once again, the horseman follows a tiny finger as it points down to the bottom of the wall, where there is indeed a hole, just large enough to grant entry to a mouse, or perhaps someone else who stands just a few inches off the ground.

For several seconds, Strife deliberates the situation, his gaze flicking between the dark window, the hole and Hamish until eventually, he blows out a huff and shakes his head, turning back towards the doorway and lowering the boy to his hip once again. “Sorry, kid, but whatever it is, it can’t be that -”

“There’s something in there that belonged to mum and dad!”

Strife’s steps falter and he squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh.

Sensing his captor’s hesitation, Hamish prods, “Please? I don’t want to leave without it! It’s all I have left of my family…”

Family. The word plucks insistently at Strife’s heartstrings and he briefly laments the younger, colder version of himself that wouldn’t have flinched if he’d heard it. For some time, the horseman wrestles with himself, teeth grinding together until at last, he lets out a groan and stomps over to the hole in the wall. “Alright, fine.” Pausing to lift the boy up to his mask again, he levels a stern glare at him and adds, “But you gotta be in and out of there in one minute, okay?”

Hamish’s face brightens and he squirms restlessly as Strife lowers himself onto one knee and places his hand on the ground.. “O-okay, mister!”

Barely even waiting for the appendage to stop moving, Hamish all but dives off as soon as the fingers uncurl themselves, landing on the ground and haring for the wall, but before he can get too far, he finds himself jerked to a halt when the waistband of his trousers is pinched between two, enormous fingertips. Craning his head back, he stares anxiously at the horseman, flinching when a gruff voice booms, “I mean it, kid. In and out.”

“I-I got it!” Hamish replies hurriedly, desperate to put some distance between himself and the metal giant.

After giving him one last, calculating look, Strife finally relents, letting the boy go and leaning back to watch him scurry into the wall as fast as his little legs can carry him. Snorting softly, the horseman eases back onto his haunches, content for the time being to wait for his discovery to reemerge. “And here I thought I’d seen everything,” he muses.

——-

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Strife, a similar thought is occurring to Hamish as he races through the intricate maze of tunnels his ancestors had dug out of the house’s stone foundations. Spiderwebs threaten to catch the boy’s flimsy shirt and hold him back, but a lifetime of memorising every twisting, dust-choked tunnel meant that Hamish could navigate his way through each obstacle without even having to slow down. In almost no time, he’s scaled up the wall’s interior and burst through the tiny, wooden door that leads to his family home.

Slightly winded, Hamish takes a moment to collect himself, peering about at the candlelit kitchen and trying to decide where best to hide because he has no intention of going back to the clutches of that giant. To do so would be in complete violation of everything his family had ever taught him, and if he could do nothing else, at least Hamish could carry their lessons with him. Perhaps his mother would even be proud of him for tricking the giant into letting him go free, had she still been alive. Pressing his lips together, Hamish slumps heavily against the doorframe and exhales roughly through his nose, determined not to cry again.

All of a sudden, his whole world shudders as a thunderous boom hits the wall beside him, threatening to knock him off his feet. Crying out, Hamish drops instinctively to his knees whilst two more booms follow the first, one after the other, rocking the entire foundations of his home and raining dust down into his already grubby hair. Fear of being crushed by falling debris compels him to move, so he crawls across the still shivering room, every now and again having to doge pots and pans that are flung from their hooks on the ceiling until he gets close enough to the kitchen table to throw himself underneath it.

Then, as soon as they’d begun, the booms stop and everything grows silent, save for the clinking of a cup that rolls across the ground before coming to a stop just beside Hamish’s hiding spot.

“Hey, kid! You get the stuff yet?” Strife’s muffled voice calls from outside.

To his irritation, the horseman sounds entirely oblivious to the abject terror he’d just put him through – is still putting him through. Unaware that he’s balled his hands into fists, Hamish aims a harsh scowl at the wall, behind which the voice had come from and, in as brave a tone as he can summon, yells, “GO AWAY!”

There’s a pregnant pause, a heavy stillness that hangs in the air like a lead weight over his head and Hamish is just beginning to wonder if Strife had actually obliged him, when the horseman’s voice cuts through the brick again, considerably softer this time. “You know I can’t do that, little man.”

The boy scoffs aloud. “Yes, you can,” he retorts, “You just have to turn around and leave.”

“Hamish.” The pointed use of his name isn’t lost on the boy. “I am trying to look after you. Now would you come back out here so I can actually do that?”

The voice sounds closer now, as though Strife is speaking directly next to the wall outside his hiding spot and Hamish realises too late what a stupid move it had been to shout and give away his position. So, with lips pursed and arms crossed, he offers the horseman a stubborn silence. A full minute passes before he hears a low sigh from the other side of the wall.

He expects Strife to continue banging on the wall until the sound becomes so annoying, it drives him out. He expects the horseman to at least pretend to leave, then snatch him up again the second he steps from the mouse hole. What Hamish doesn’t expect, however, is for the wall of his kitchen to suddenly explode inwards.

A cacophony of sound beats on his eardrums and in a desperate bid to avoid being deafened, Hamish throws his arms over his head and presses himself into the floor, his scream swallowed by chunks of plaster and brick showering down all around him. When the dust settles, he still doesn’t move, not even when silence is all he can hear aside from the blood pounding through his eardrum.

Then, movement. Not from Hamish, but from the gaping hole that has appeared in the brick and cement, exposing his kitchen – his home – to the world outside. Choking on the fear that weighs down on him as surely as the ceiling above, Hamish raises his head and peeks out between trembling arms to see a colossal fist slowly dislodge itself from the tight confines of his kitchen wall, fragments of which tumble down around it, plinking off metallic plating and leaving a coat of dust in their wake. With a final tug, the fist breaks free, retreating enough so that what little light is left can spill through the gap and illuminate the hovel. As Hamish watches, too rigid with anxiety to move his limbs, a familiar pair of luminous, yellow eyes loom out of the dust and peer inside, swiftly finding him cowered underneath the kitchen table. Their gazes lock and they stare at one another, the boy’s eyes widening as a direct contrast to Strife’s, which narrow at the sight of him.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being lied to,” the horseman grumbles before adding curtly, “I thought we had a deal?”

Pinned helplessly beneath that glare, Hamish attempts to shuffle backwards further under the table, though his limbs have locked up and refuse to cooperate with his intentions. However, his mouth hasn’t suffered the same petrification. “I-I don’t make deals with giants!” The words tumble out before he can catch them. “I’m not going, so just!- Just leave me alone!” As he speaks, he continues to shimmy away until he emerges from beneath the table, all the while his every move is followed intently by an unwavering, yellow gaze.

An entrance to one of the many tunnels his family had built into the walls is just to Hamish’s left – shrouded in darkness and invitingly safe. If he could just reach it, he’d be able to disappear into the brickwork.

Taking a fairly solid guess on the boy’s next course of action, Strife growls out a warning steeped in thinly veiled concern. “Come on, kid. Don’t make me do this.”

With the deliberate slowness of one who doesn’t wish to provoke a predator, Hamish gets to his feet and in utter silence, they stare each other down, one defiant and the other dejected.

Then, the horseman eyes squeeze shut just for the briefest of instances, as if in pain.

It’s all the opening Hamish needs.

Like a rabbit with a fox at his heels, he bolts sideways in a mad dash for the tunnel entrance, his mind fixated on one thing only: Escape.

Although he’d always been the youngest family member, he could boast an impressive swiftness, outpacing even his mother and father as they raced through the apartment in playful capers.

His father had once said that Hamish’s speed would keep him safe.

His father was wrong.

The enclosed doorframe comes within reach and another round of adrenaline fizzes across his brain at the the tantalising prospect of freedom, so close it puts a hopeful smile on his face. He would not be made to leave his home. Fingers grasp the wooden edge of the door and Hamish readies to propel himself those last, precious few feet through the gap. He’s so focused on where he’s going, he doesn’t notice the rush air that whizzes past him, nor that it’s soon followed by a large, ominous shape sliding past his body in the darkness and curling into his path. However, he does notice when he slams against a solid wall of metal and leather - a wall that begins to gently scoop him backwards, away from the door, away from the safety of the apartment’s labyrinthian tunnels and straight towards a home-wrecking giant.

“No!” he shrieks like a banshee as strong fingers fasten around his midsection, ensuring him that this time, there will be no escape. The horseman will not be duped again. All too soon, Hamish finds himself dangling back in front of that avian mask and shying away from the palpable disappointment radiating from beneath it.

“Okay,” the low, unimpressed voice chimes, “I can tell there’re gonna be some trust issues between us.” Before continuing, Strife holds an admonishing finger up right in front of the boy’s face. “But you need to understand that you can’t just run off like that, kid! What if you’d gotten hurt?”

Reflecting on what he’d said, the horseman has to suppress a shudder. ’Shit, I’m starting to sound like Death.’  

“What do you care if I get hurt!?” the boy challenges, “You’re the one who’s kidnapping me!”  

Bridling at the accusation, Strife sets his jaw and snaps, “You got duskwings in your belfry, kid? I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need you protecting me! I was doing just fine on my own!” Hamish bellows, balling his hands into fists and throwing them wildly in the direction of Strife’s mask, more as a show of defiance than anything else. He’s borderline hysterical now, barely sucking down enough air to keep himself conscious during the throes of panic.

Meanwhile, the horseman watches his display, taking in the boy’s skinny frame, the shorts that barely cling to his narrow hips, the dark bags hanging under his eyes and the grime covering his skin and clothes. “No,” he says with an air of finality, “You weren’t.”

There’s no further opportunity for Hamish to retort because he’s promptly swept in a downwards arch towards the horseman’s pouches once again. No amount of pleading, thrashing or crying garners a reaction out of the stone-faced giant who has turned a deaf ear to his tiny captive. Only when he lifts the flap of his frontmost pocket and lowers Hamish inside does he speak, simply to say, “This is for your own good.”

The boy’s backside touches something soft and fuzzy and he balks, inadvertently grasping at the fingers that unfurl from around him, as though they would pull him out of the very prison they’d slipped him into. The last thing he sees before his world is plunged into darkness is a now familiar pair of amber eyes gleaming down at him and pulling a whimper off his lips.

—

Strife expels a hot breath as he fastens the clasp on his pouch and finally allows himself an indulgent second to relax. Then, giving the bottom of the pouch a few, gentle pats, he turns once more towards the pitch black hallway, smirking when a minuscule foot kicks against his palm. 

[soaringsearingphoenix]

Top 5 bugs!

Bugs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Uhhhhhhgdhagfkfh ALL of them? I really love bugs but, okay, gotta say most of my favorites are gonna be hymenoptera, so like, bees, wasps, ants. Here's a handful that I like

1. Blue carpenter bee, xylocopa caerulea. I mean, it's my icon on this account right now. Honestly there is not a lot of research on this guy, or not that's available, but it's native to southeast Asia and its BLUE. So cool.

2. Hunt's bumblebee, bombus huntii. I met some of these friends when i was in Arizona, very pretty, very opinionated. One of the first bees i learned about and THEN identified in the wild. I walked up to a flowering tree, fragrant in the warm sunlight of early evening, where they and some other bumblebees were landing and just observed them for a while. They would occasionally decide i was getting too close (and i mean, i was right up against the tree) and zip past my face, wavering there sometimes, clearly telling me to back off. So i did... and then gently approached again, slower. I got some good pictures but i've gotten a new phone since then and didn't transfer them all over.

2.5 Side note, just assume all bees are up here. And also that i appreciate honeybees in a different way than I appreciate native and generally solitary bees.

3. Ants that grow fungus, and really any ants with a sense of agriculture, like the ones that herd aphids. Also ants that create "Devil's Gardens" in the Amazon, those little monoculture patches of forest that are like the ants' version of a big city. I don't know all their names by heart but i get so excited about ant technology and culture, the sort of ideal demonstration of emergent behaviors that they represent. I could spend a whole hours-long road trip just talking about ants, mostly parroting from youtube videos (and i have spent parts of drives talking about them but my mom's attention span for a fascinating-topic-but-not-her-field-of-interest is about the length of a ted talk or podcast episode, which is to say, significantly less than an hour.) I am just so proud of ants. They've accomplished so much.

4. Wasps have really grown on me in the past year. I don't know what species it is that I have been pulling out of my birdbath, but they have really helped me get over my fear and prejudice for wasps. I've only ever been stung by a wasp once in my life and it was because i'd accidentally carried it on my shirt into a math classroom where i was going to talk to the teacher because i thought i had failed the class so that was neither of our best moment. Anyways, specifically the two most prevalent species in my backyard take this slot, but like the ants this is as much a category as a specification. I also have a soft spot for tiny specialized parisitic wasps, as their recent discovery is part of the reason scientists now think hymenoptera species may rival or even outnumber beetle species so like. Go team?

5. Orchid mantises. Mantises are such chill dudes a lot of the time. Everyone wants to talk about the cannibalism, and it's like, calm down, a lot of species do that. Octopodes, lots of species of spiders, it's pretty common for more solitary species. I mean if you want someone to carry your kids the least you can do is give them a meal, it takes a lot of energy to bring new life into being. Anyways I love orchid mantises specifically because they are bright pink and they stand like they mean business. They're like the ballerinas of the insect world. They're poised, they're ornate, and they WILL kick your ass without breaking a sweat. Which is honestly goals. If i am observed and considered beautiful, I want it to be in an intimidating and vaguely unsettling way.

Honorable mentions:

-hoverflies. These little guys look like bees kind of if you don't know what you're looking for, and they tend to hang out in the same spots, and i respect their contribution to pollinating. Underappreciated friends.

-dragonflies also. Y'all test my patience, being fast and hard to photograph. Like your friend who brags about being hard to take candid photos of. Their flight control is a marvel of physics. I know little else about dragonflies

-butterflies and specifically painted lady butterflies because they migrate through here, so the first butterfly migration i ever saw was right over my elementary school

-ladybugs. There are so many kinds. We had a book on them when i was little, which had these transparent pages that would like overlay the pictures on the pages on either side, it was really cool. I used to catch them on the playground, just to hold them. They have a really distinct smell and when i tell people that it feels like no one knows what im talking about. Their larvae kept crawling on me in the park recently i do not know why but they were incredibly persistent about it

-crickets and grasshoppers. There were a lot of these guys in arizona too. Sorry i was such a menace. I didnt mean to startle you i swear

-stick bugs. Once again, saw these in Arizona, for the first time in the wild in person. I held one and it was absolutely magical.

Ok now i am just listing bugs i know. But i love them all!!! Anyways this list is constantly changing but that's it for now!

[goosegoblin]

hi Jess. I’m assuming you’re not a parent, but I thought outside perspective might help. I’m a mom to a wonderful 3yo. She loves animals. I haven’t gone to the zoo in years bc I know how they treat the animals and it’s exploitation. But she really, really wants to go to the zoo. Do I just shove my morals to the side to make my kid happy? I want to, but I also feel immense guilt when it comes to zoos and aquariums. We don’t live anywhere that allows pets btw. Thanks girl

Zoos aren’t immoral! Zoos are not immoral at all!

If you haven’t been to the zoo in years, then you likely haven’t seen what zoos are like now. They’ve changed a lot since when we were young kids. Zoos exist first and foremost to promote conservation. They also focus heavily on education.

Here are some photos of modern enclosures. I’ve seen all of these in person, so I can guarantee they aren’t misleadingly photographed.

Zoos undergo regular internal and external welfare examinations/checks. Look for professional memberships- EAZA for Europe, BIAZA for UK, AZA for America, WAZA for worldwide (although that one isn’t used as frequently). If you want to be extra careful, look for non-profits as opposed to for-profits, and avoid private collections.

My Masters is in this field, so I can tell you there’s so much science out there. There are whole journals dedicated to researching how to improve the welfare of animals in human care, and how to better spread the messages we’re trying to spread. There’s research on behaviour, nutrition, social groups, physical health, mental well-being, enrichment and lots, lots more. 

Personally, my research was with flamingos as part of a wider project to see if they prefer to be more active at nighttime- if they do, then zoos will move to opening their houses at night (often they’re shut away at night for safety reasons) and moving them to nocturnal feeding. My classmate was trialling different forms of enrichment with sloe loris, while someone else was comparing and contrasting the reproductive strategies of birds commonly kept in zoos. I also did a meta-analysis of how captivity affects animal microbiomes- that’s a field that’s really going to explode soon, in my opinion. 

Zoos seek to emulate the natural behaviour and environment of an animal as much as possible. One zoo near me literally has a large rock that they imported from Madagascar just because they know the lemurs lick it to gain minerals. People spend weeks in freezing temperatures desperately tracking the behaviour of certain species so that they can better understand how to make them happy in our care. If you can name a species, it almost certainly has a ‘working group’ with its own annual meetings, committee and publications, who exist purely to figure out how to improve that animal’s quality of care. I attended a reptile and amphibian working group conference last year, so I can tell you there are 100% people out there devoting their lives to trying to reintroduce certain species of frogs to ponds by lovingly rearing tadpoles, releasing them and tracking them as they grow.

Zoos have helped many species regain their numbers, to the extent of actively bringing some species back from the brink of extinction. The Arabian oryx is a classic example of that- from extinct in the wild to just ‘vulnerable’, a gain of thousands and thousands of animals. Zoos also use the money from ticket sales to fund a great amount of conservation work in the areas where they reintroduce these animals, working with local people to ensure local culture is respected.

‘I know how they treat the animals’

How do you know this? You’ve already said it’s not from visiting, and I doubt it’s from research, so... friendship with zookeepers? Reading reports from independent welfare investigations? Tracking longevity and health in captivity v.s. wild? Because I’ve done all those things, and I certainly didn’t conclude ‘exploitation’ from any of it. You can’t go out and catch an ostrich and bang it in a cage any more- capturing from the wild is very rare now, and it’s only done if we have no other choice (i.e. ‘this species is 100% going extinct unless we intervene’.)

It’s also worth pointing out that zookeeper wages are very, very low. Hours are long, and the work is incredibly tiring. Every person you see at a zoo is there because they love their animals more than they could ever put into words.

Here are a few things that zoos I have personally visited do:

- donate entire rooms to tanks of endangered snail species they are trying to save

- extensively monitor wild populations of Grevy’s zebra to follow population dynamics over years and years

- build a customised retirement house for a rescued circus elephant

- spearhead projects to reintroduce outcompeted species of orchid in the UK

Like, look at some of this:

https://www.zsl.org/science/research 

https://www.zsl.org/conservation

https://www.zsl.org/education

That’s just one zoo group (two zoos). They even have this great page on how zoos have changed over time, which I think you’d find really interesting:

https://www.zsl.org/education/the-modern-zoo

Zoos are not perfect, and honestly, a lot of zookeepers really wish zoos weren’t necessary (hell, I think we’ve got something like 70 years left until we hit the point at which it’s genuinely planned that we should ideally have figured out something better). Unfortunately, right now they’re our best hope right now of keeping certain species alive. Anybody who criticises zoos honestly needs to have a better suggestion of what we should do, because I certainly haven’t found one- and trust me, I’ve looked.

xx

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Queen of the Journey”

Stuck on a bus traveling home for the holidays, so I decided to do some writing. I’ve had this idea since the beginning, but one of you readers recently reminded me of this idea again, so thank you and enjoy :)

There is something indomitable about the human spirit. It’s something no one, not even the humans, will ever truly understand. There are two ways of doing things in the rest of the galaxy. You can be isolated, and individual that understands only the genetic knowledge of his species. You may interact with others, you may have family units, but you will never understand those around you on a personal level. Or you can be connected, this comes in many forms, a hive mind or a collective well of knowledge the entire species pulls from. They understand each other quite fully. No one is ever alone.

But then there are humans, I won’t start by saying that humans are special or unusual because I think that has been said before. What I want you to understand is that humans are isolated in their knowledge of themselves. There is not a specie wide well of knowledge from which they can pull their behavior and understanding. There is not a template by which they live their lives, yet, somehow they can experience a welling of empathy to understand others around them. They seem to know the struggles of their fellows without the hive mind to connect them.

Not only this, but no matter where the human comes from, there is always an understood knowledge of thing humans can connect with. They speak of the same anthems, stories, photographs, and memories like they all have a personal connection. Though the humans were not born with a hive mind to connect them, that did not stop them.

They made one.

They share their knowledge by casting it out into the ether, to an unknown server of vast knowledge to access at their leisure no matter their location across the galaxy,

I know it sounds farfetched, but because of this man-made hive mind, the humans understand each other’s experiences in a way that any other species like them will never understand their fellows. A human from earth and a human from Mars may still understand each other and connect over the same things.

They have been doing this for thousands of years.

***

“Keep moving, human!” Captain Vir stumbled a bit against the weight of the slap delivered to the back of his head. Krill could hear the sound of his bionic leg desperately trying to react to the imbalance and keep the man upright.

With a glower, the human turned to the alien soldier eyes narrowed. He probably would have spit at the creature, but the aliens had taken precautions against the human’s poison breath, placing a spit shield over his nose and mouth. Not only that, but the human’s hands were bound behind him.

A soldier grunted turning to ignore the human to look down at Krill, “What do we do with this one?” He asked

A slightly larger beast, likely the soldier’s commander, trundled up turning to look down at Krill’s small, trembling frame, “He has chosen his side, let him suffer the same as they.”

Krill was pushed aggressively forward violently careening towards the ground, saved only by a last minute inflation of his hydrogen sack.

Behind him, the creatures laughed cruelly.

Up ahead, Captain Vir had turned to watch him. Krill desperately looked to the human for an idea, and while the man’s gaze was reassuring, Krill didn’t dismiss the worried twist of the human’s lips as he stared around at the hulking soldiers.

Like a big, slow tide of dripping syrup, the herd of humans trudged slowly down the mass corridor at the behest of their captors. Isolated instances of rebellion were put down with extreme prejudice leaving the rest of their counterparts cowed.

Krill kept to the captain’s side seeing out his quiet confidence and indomitable optimism to trick himself into thinking they would be alright. He could see the human’s brain working, gears grinding along in his head as he tried to think his way out of the situation.

It was looking less and less likely.

Ahead, the hallway slowly opened expanding outwards into a massive cavern alive with the sound of hushed voices and the oppressive heat of many bodies.

Captain Vir paused at the lip of the room eyes widening at the sight before him. Krill paused at the same time and for the same reason. There were HUNDREDS of humans here, many shapes, colors, sizes, and races all packed together side by side. As the new visitors arrived, they lifted their heads sunken eyes and pinched cheeks demonstrating their defeat. They looked on with disinterest and apathy as the newcomers were shoved forward to join their midst. They did not speak, they did not laugh, and they did not rebel.

It was a terrible sight, the hollowness of so many humans given up from ever escaping their captivity.

Krill had never imaged something so terrible. So impossible. Humans didn’t give up.

Humans could not be brought low, but here was his proof.

They had waded a good way into the cavern by now, and at the behest of their captors, they were shoved to their knees to sit next to their dead-eyed counterparts.

Captain Vir took it upon himself to immediately make conversation with the next human over.

���Where are we/”

The human turned to look at him sad dark eyes glazed halfway with his defeat, “Does it matter?”

Captain Vir sat back frowning as the human went back to his contemplation. Head down, silent.

He took another look around the room glancing at Krill, “We could take them. There are so many more of us than there are of them. If we all moved at once, than there would be nothing they could do.”

Off to the side, the first lieutenant shook his head, “That doesn’t matter if they’ve given up.”

The captain frowned, “Than I guess we will just have to increase morale.”

The other members of the crew shook their heads in exasperated admiration. There was no getting that man down.

Captain Vir tapped his foot softly listening and waiting as the hours past. He kept his head down, but his eyes were sharp. Vir wondered what the man was concocting, what could he come up with that would lift the spirits of a thousand humans all at once.

There couldn’t be something that powerful, could there.

The hours dragged on.

Krill was just beginning to fade into his sleep-like trance, when Captain Vir sat up suddenly. The rest of the crew sensed his movement and turned to look eyes expectant and hopeful.

“What?”

The Captain shook his head, “You’ll see.”

And then he began to sing.

Just a small town girl

He stopped quickly as around him, the humans lifted their heads in confusion and recognition. The deep thrum of his voice echoed around the cavern causing an immediate shift as the other humans turned to see who was singing. Krill felt a burst of shivers run over his body, but despite the human’s voice, he didn’t see how this would help.

Living in a lonely world!

Around him the crew members shifted in confusion and surprise, but slowly they joined in. Krill wasn’t really surprised that they knew the song.

She took the midnight train going anywhere!

All around the room eyes were raised and bodies shifted.

Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit! He took the midnight train going anywhere!

A sudden crack of noise, and a soldier stepped forward, “STOP!” A whip cracked, the humans flinched. The captain clutched his arm in pain.

The cavern went silent.

The soldiers turned back to their duty satisfied the humans had been cowed. Krill slumped, oh well it was a long shot anyway.

And then, from across the cavern, a voice responded.

A singer in a smoky room.

The smell of wine and cheap perfume.

The alien soldier hissed and turned, but the singer had gone quiet. He stalked forward.

For a smile they can share the night it goes.

On

And on

And on

And on

Each time the lyrics rang out a different voice, or many voices accompanied it. Never the same person twice. The soldiers shifted around in circles doing their best to identify the source of the sound.

Humans weren’t supposed to have hive minds were they! Than how were they doing this!

Strangers waiting up and down the boulevard.

Their shadows

Searching in the night.

There were too many voices now, too many human voices rising into the dark making the cavern shake and ring.

Don’t stop! Believin’

Captain Vir turned to the crew a grin spreading across his face at Krill’s confused awe. Humans around them that had once slumped in defeat raised their voices to the tune of defiance. Eyes once dull sparked to life with the glow of human spirit rill knew so well.

“Now on to phase two.” Around them, the song was trailing off. They were moving to the end and the humans weren’t sure where to go, “A battle anthem.”

Thud thud Clap…. Thud thud clap

Grins

The rest of the crew easily joined in, and then the humans close to them took up the rhythm as easily as only humans could.

Buddy you’re a boy make a big noise

Playin’ in the street gonna be a big man some day

More feet, more fists, and a hundred more voices.

We will we will rock you

Humans were rising to their feet now straining against their bonds as the soldiers rushed around in panic and horror.

You got blood your face!

You big disgrace!

Now they were all surging to their feet in one mass wave. Soldiers everywhere snapped their whips and brandished their weapons, but there were so many humans, and they were so close. Their voices raised louder and louder till their overwhelmed any other sound. Krill felt as if he was being carried upwards on a wave of exaltation as the humans roared their battle cry. He leaped to his feet with them surges of pride and anger rolling through him.

Somebody better put you back into your PLACE!!!

Somewhere a set of bonds snapped. Krill watched in stunned shock as another man broke his own thumb in order to slip out of his bonds.

WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU

They moved forward like an unstoppable wave taking back their freedom in a matter of moments in the space of two iconic songs

***

The Captain says that not EVERY human knows those songs, but he had wagered to bet that the majority of them would know. It’s a weird thing about humans, they connect to each other in ways that other species don’t understand.

Their writers and their singers capture emotion and shackle it to their songs.

They speak through the ages with these emotions victory, and oneness that every human can understand.

The humans don’t understand the power of their collective understanding, and I don’t think they ever will.

You cannot capture the spirit or the pride of a human, you may hide it, or you may lock it away for some time, but there is no capturing, and there is no defeating their true nature.

You cannot bind a human’s soul.

[dansnaturepictures]

06/08/2020-A very hot day at home and Lakeside and my reflections on the Big Butterfly Count this year

Just before my lunch time walk to Lakeside Country Park today I took the first picture in this photoset of the garden looking very nice with the colourful array of flowers which I am really enjoying seeing lately and in high summer want to make the most of having looking down from my bedroom window. Looking out the window to see lovely flowers in the garden whilst working from the third storey has been a strong theme for me this week in lovely conditions mostly. 

I then got to Lakeside and really enjoyed walking through the fenced off meadow area the nature reserve on a very hot and sunny day. Here I took the majority of my photos today really I did produce 23 in the end and tweeted lots more on Dans_Pictures as like last Thursday I liked having my normal lens which I don’t always bring on these walks to lap up the landscape opportunities. I took the second, third and fourth pictures in this photoset of view here. In this meadow area I got some great dragonfly action seeing an Emperor and Black-tailed Skimmer both somewhat regular appearance makers in my Lakeside walks whilst working from home this year the latter a year tick on my less seriously taken dragonfly and damselfly year list on 1st June. Its made me realise what a great area Lakeside is for dragonflies and damselflies which I suppose it makes sense for it to be in spring and summer with the watery habitat. 

I walked on and took the fifth, sixth and seventh pictures in this photoset of some lovely green leaves against the bright blue sky another big theme of my photos on my walk today on a path along the south of the place, a nice flower and a view down the path. I got fantastic butterfly views down this path, memorably a Brimstone possibly the same one as I saw during a big butterfly count survey yesterday. I think I am coming to the end a little of doing them at Lakeside this year purely because I have done so many at different parts of the site and really enjoyed doing it and gathering data seeing so many amazing and a lot of species and so many individuals but if I find some unique spots now to do it or see a notable amount of butterflies here I may do another one. That goes for any other places over the weekend with butterfly counts done by me at so many other places across Hampshire too many iconic butterfly locations for me really including here. But I have realised I actually only have three more days left to do some farewell counts if I find I want to and feel it will help add unique ideas of what butterflies are about as the count closes on Sunday. It really has been so much fun being out seeing butterflies as I realise I have for months now the peak season has been brilliant for me but gone so quick and be able to count them and take part in an amazing citizen science project. Its became a way of life counting butterflies when out for me really and I’ve been lucky to see so many. Obviously you could submit sightings early this year as I’ve said before I did so about a week prior so I’ve been doing it for a month really especially on those many sunny days. Its felt like so many people have taken part this year it must be one of the highest amounts of participants they’ve ever had. Its been so nice to have the map especially in my local urban area covered in the green dots to denote someone’s count. Butterfly Conservation really have done a fantastic job running the count this year again. 

Its been a great community feel about it and I must say I think the account setting on the website or app has been brilliant in 2020 compared to other years. Being able to see how many you’ve counted and I am up to the best part of 700 currently which is phenomenal really and gets me to appreciate just how many butterflies I’ll see on an average summer walk and I’ve seen many for the count from home too. And having a leaderboard added a bit of friendly competition for serial counters like me haha, I am 40th right now in terms of how many butterflies I’ve counted so I’m very likely to finish in the top 50 out of millions of participants which is just amazing. Its not too late to do a big butterfly count if you have yet to do one and are interested: https://bigbutterflycount.butterfly-conservation.org/ As I walked on I also got brilliant Large White views a real star of the count winning a lot of mine alongside the many Gatekeepers and Meadow Browns about and even Common Blues at Magdalen Hill on Sunday. 

As I walked along this path at the south of the site I was very happy to see two lovely Bullfinches, getting a fantastic view of the male in my binoculars. A bird I had not seen well for a while that I was delighted to. My bird of the day for sure whilst it was lovely to see the Great Crested Grebes again. I also took the eighth picture in this photoset of some more lovely common red soldier beetles on the nice white flowers in great numbers it was teeming with them really. I couldn’t resist whilst I didn’t take a photo today checking out the Great Crested Grebe family on concorde lake and I was happy to notice one of the chicks swimming on the water on its own as opposed to on the mother’s back with the other adorable humbug chicks. As I walked down the path through the woods back home I had a brilliant butterfly moment when I saw the lovely Speckled Wood in the ninth picture I took today in this photoset and another further down a nice bit of wildlife flair added to my photos today. One I have done well for this year and here a lot and during the big butterfly count too. 

This evening I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset of a view out the back from my room after I finished working, showing the trees and other nice bits of the gardens across the way looking very nice in colour especially the big green tree in the garden at the back which I have photographed so much this year. It showed what a wonderful and hot and sunny evening it was with blue skies as it was for the whole evening which I saw out of the window which was very pleasant indeed. A beautiful end to another beautiful day. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary: One of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebe, Mallard, Mute Swan, Moorhen, Coot, Black-headed Gull, Bullfinch, House Sparrow, Starling, Woodpigeon, Collared Dove, Gatekeeper, Meadow Brown, Brimstone, Large White, Holly Blue, Black-tailed Skimmer, Emperor, common red soldier beetle and fly. 

[starbuck]

Mid-Atlantic Gulls in Winter!

gonna put species info and field marks under the cut so feel free to take a look if you wanna learn more about gull identification!

(starting from upper left and moving left to right)

1: Black-headed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

These guys are a European species and are becoming newly regular on the East Coast in wintertime! This particular bird is hanging out (with two of his friends) at a wastewater treatment plant in Delaware which is, thankfully for me, open to the public!

The main identification hurdle with Black-headed Gulls is that they look a lot like Bonaparte’s Gulls (8) and tend to associate with them when roosting or feeding, making differentiation difficult at times. The easiest way to know for sure is to look at the bill color - Black-headed Gulls have blood red bills while Bonaparte’s Gulls have thinner black bills. Black-headed Gulls are also slightly larger than Bonaparte’s Gulls and have more extensive black coloration on their underwings.

If you’re curious, the name ‘Black-headed Gull’ comes from their breeding plumage in which they (and Bonies as well) have fully black heads rather than just the spot they have in winter. The rest of their plumage remains largely unchanged from winter to summer. 

2: Great Black-backed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

This is the largest gull species in the world! You can tell this one is extra fierce because he is defending a cache of cheesy pretzels that someone dropped on the beach.

There’s very little that one might confuse with these certified Big Boys except for Lesser Black-backed Gulls (6) which essentially look identical to them in all cycles and plumages. As their name would suggest, however, Lesser Black-backs are smaller and, in adult plumage, are easily told from their larger counterparts by their bright yellow legs - Great Black-backs have pink legs their entire lives. 

I’ve also been told that a way to differentiate adult-plumaged birds is that Great Black-backs have slightly darker black mantles/backs than Lessers and... *throws hands up in the air* I GUESS!

3: Iceland Gull (2nd winter)

These guys are pretty easy since they are one of only two gulls on the East Coast to be known as the “white-winged gulls,” meaning that they have white primaries/wingtips regardless of age rather than black ones like every other species.

The other species of ��white-winged gull” is the Glaucous Gull (which I helpfully do not have a photo of) and the main way to tell them apart is that Glaucs are really chunky while Icelands are less-so. That’s literally it. 

Icelands also tend to be less pale than Glaucs but this particular bird I photographed on my pelagic was quite pale so that’s not always a great field mark in practice. Just focus on the chonk. 

When they reach adulthood, both Iceland and Glaucous Gulls settle into the typical “white body, light gray mantle” plumage and superficially look a lot like Herring Gulls except for the color of the primaries which are still white.

4: adult nonbreeding Black-legged Kittiwake (center), 3rd winter Herring Gull (upper right), and 1st winter Lesser Black-backed Gull (bottom right)

okay one at a time here!

Kittiwake: 

I’ll hold off on going in-depth on this guy since I have two solo photos of him later in this set but they’re very cute! Look at him!

Herring Gull:

Like I said above, this guy is in 3rd winter plumage. This means that he is unusually ugly. Herring Gulls are just sort of ugly all the time regardless of plumage and they look very different from year to year until they reach adulthood. Oftentimes, I’ve seen people staring at a gull flock saying “I don’t know how to tell these apart!” when they’re really just looking at a group of differently-aged Herring Gulls.

Personally, I just consider them the generic “medium-sized gull” (since they’re the most common at the shore) and judge everything off of them. I don’t really have a lot of good ID tips for them... They look a little like Ring-billed Gulls (5) in adult plumage but they’re larger, have pale pink legs rather than yellow, and lack the prominent black bill ring that Ring-bills are named for (although they may have black or red splotches on their bills so don’t let that trip you up).

Lesser Black-backed Gull:

As I mentioned earlier, Great and Lesser Black-backed Gulls are almost impossible to tell apart, particularly in 1st winter plumage but the way I’m ID’ing this guy is by the thickness of the brown streaks on his chest and the way his head looks smaller than I would expect a Great Black-back’s head to look.

It’s a tough call though honestly, and I’d welcome a second opinion on this one.

5: Ring-billed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

The typical “parking lot gull” of the Mid-Atlantic! Sometimes spots near the beach get Laughing Gulls in the summer as well but, where I live, it’s all Ring-bills, babey! Who needs the ocean when you have concrete, amirite?

These guys are pretty distinctive. Relatively small with bright yellow legs and bill, and of course the black ring around the bill. As I said, they’re smaller than Herring Gulls (4) and they’re bigger than Laughing Gulls, Black-headed Gulls (1), and Bonaparte’s Gulls (8) - the latter two of which they associate with at that same wastewater treatment plant although I took this particular photo at the inlet!

6: Lesser Black-backed Gull (2nd winter)

I already discussed these guys vs Great Black-backs so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much!

Mostly including this one to point out that the 2nd winter plumage is much more patchy than 1st winter, with extensive white on the front and also because this photo shows the small head really well.

(Also, peep the Ring-billed Gull partially in frame there lol)

Fun fact: Lesser Black-backed Gulls used to only show up as vagrants from Europe but are now common here, particularly in winter. Maybe this is what the future looks like for Black-headed Gulls as well?

7: Black-legged Kittiwake (adult nonbreeding)

If you’ve never been far offshore, there’s a good chance you’ve never seen one of these cuties before (unless you live in Europe where they’re just all over the place for some reason. Y’all get Northern Fulmars from land too - what is wrong with your seabirds??) but they’re SO COOL! I’ve been lucky enough to see them breeding on sea cliffs on St. Paul Island, Alaska but seeing them at sea is unparalleled! The way they fly is so unique among gulls and has to be seen to be believed!

Identification-wise, they really don’t look like anything else in the Mid-Atlantic. One distinctive field mark is that their wingtips sort of look like they’ve been dipped in ink, forming almost perfect black triangles at the primaries. They’re also exceptionally small in comparison to Herring Gulls (4) and either species of Black-backed Gull (4), however, they’re only slightly smaller than Ring-billed Gulls (5) overall (but are pointier than Ring-bills if you compared them in flight).

If you go to St. Paul Island and have to tell them apart from Red-legged Kittiwakes, a good tip (other than the leg color, obviously) is that their mantles/backs are paler than those of Red-legged Kittiwakes and they’re slightly bigger.

8: Bonaparte’s Gull (adult nonbreeding)

This is an incredibly cropped photo but I didn’t want to leave the Bonies out! They’re just too cute!

They’re the smallest gull that normally occurs here (rarely we get vagrant Little Gulls which are REALLY small and make me cry because of their smallness) and, as I already compared them to Black-headed Gulls (1) in detail, I won’t do so again. The black line trailing along the edge of their primaries is pretty unique to them and, as I said before, their thin black bills are distinctive. The redness of their legs also tends to be more orangey-pink than that of Black-headed Gulls (1) but the legs look pretty dark in this particular photo so this is a good example of the fact that you should often throw individual field marks out the window and just view the bird as whole, comparing its look to those around it. 

As a small tangent based on that idea: oftentimes I’ll start to convince myself that one of the gross-looking Herring Gulls in those mixed-cycle flocks I mentioned earlier is actually something different and rare but then I stop and ask myself “is there anything about this bird’s build and structure that looks different from the Herring Gulls around it?” and, if the answer is no, then it’s just a Herring Gull that I was overthinking. Never a bad thing to step back, especially when looking at a type of bird as confusing as gulls can be!

9: Black-legged Kittiwake (adult nonbreeding)

Nothing new to say here but ain’t he cute?? He’s got a lil piece of chum in his beak!

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Star Trek Gold Key #25: Dwarf Planet

Happy New Year everyone! 

Next episode still isn’t coming until the seventh, but while I was re-organizing my excessive amount of books I came across something and thought, hey, this might make for a fun holiday treat. Besides, I felt bad leaving you guys on a cliffhanger for so long. 

So this...

[ID: A photograph of a copy of Star Trek The Key Collection: Volume 4, with a cover showing Kirk, Spock and McCoy against a background of stars, with Sulu and Scotty in insets.] 

...this is one of my Gold Key comic collections. 

The Gold Key comics were the first Star Trek comics ever made, running for sixty-one issues from 1969-1979. What I have here are volumes three and four of a five-book collection of the comics put out back in 2004-2006, which actually only goes up to #43—the last two books were planned but never published.

Myself, I first found volume four here at a used bookstore not too long after I had first gotten into Star Trek. (I found volume three at another store quite awhile later. I apologize for not starting at the beginning here, but this is what I have. There’s no continuity anyway so don’t worry about that.) I was very much not prepared for what I was about to find inside.

For the thing about these comics is that they are incredibly and hilariously bad. The plots themselves wouldn’t always be out of place for Trek, but the combo of dodgy art, weird dialogue, and overall off-ness that gives the sense that the writers were working off a Wikipedia article about Star Trek instead of ever actually having seen the show, all adds up to a final product that doesn’t resemble Star Trek so much as a weird fever-dream version of Star Trek from an alternate dimension.

Don’t believe me? Let’s take a look.

[Image Description: A comic splash page titled STAR TREK: DWARF PLANET Part 1 showing Scotty, wearing a blue and white polka-dot loincloth, throwing rocks at a slimy green thing while saying, “What kind o’way is this for a lad like me to be dyin’--trampled by a hairy-legged—MICROBE!” The narration box at the top of the page says “Come along with the crew of the starship Enterprise as they race to solve the mystery of a world in which all life is rapidly shrinking to—oblivion!”]

Our issue for today, Dwarf Planet, opens with a splash page of Scotty in a spotted loincloth throwing rocks at a microbe, which I think gives you a pretty good idea of what we’re in for here.

[ID: A dark green Enterprise shuttle, landing on an empty airfield with a green field in the distance. The narration box reads, “Captain’s Log, Star Date 19:24:8—Lt. Uhura, Chief Comm-officer, has detected intelligent radio signals from the little explored area of space, sector 199-D!” Inside the ship Kirk is saying, “You were right, Lt. Uhura! There is advanced life on this planet! Mr. Spock and I will investigate!” while Uhura says, “With the captain’s permission, I’d like to accompany you!”]

The story itself, however, begins with an Enterprise shuttle—newly painted green, apparently—landing on this planet to investigate some intelligent radio signals. I don’t know why Uhura waited until they actually got down to the planet surface before asking if she could come with.

Anyway, they find a fully-built city, but it’s completely deserted, no one around. The only living thing are some bushes that turn out, upon closer examination, to actually be miniature trees. Kirk thinks this is weird, which is a bit judgmental of him. Maybe people on this planet just like their bonsai.

The mystery deepens when they find another city within a mile of the first—also abandoned, and much smaller than the first one. And I don’t mean smaller in terms of zoning. I mean the buildings are about two or three feet tall. Uhura speculates that there may have been multiple intelligent species of different sizes living on the planet, but there’s no sign of any of them now.

Kirk then recommends they split up, gang. He heads off into the countryside, where he finds a tiny rocketship that he assumes is a toy belonging to a child. Except it promptly flies off and returns with a bunch more ships, which trap Kirk with a net. He helpfully narrates all this as it’s happening.

[ID: A page of four panels showing Kirk being surrounded by small rockets which are firing weighted ropes at him, slowly driving him to the ground. First panel: “They’ve opened fire! Shooting heavy stranded wire!” Second panel: “They’re forming a net over me! I’m being captured by a pack of toy rockets!” Third panel: “Can’t break these things! And they’re pulling me down! ARRRRGGGGH!” Fourth panel: “One of them is landing! If I could only get my hands on the child who’s controlling these fantastic toys!”]

Thanks Kirk.

It’s not until the rockets land and open that Kirk finally realizes they’re not toys being operated by a child, but real miniature rockets being flown by tiny people, who shoot Kirk in the face with some paralyzing gas before he can get a message out over the communicator. One of the tiny people—speaking through an unexplained device on his forehead—introduces himself as General Kwy. I have no idea how to pronounce that.

[ID: Two panels showing Kirk laying on the ground while a small bald man in a red tunic and black pants stands on his chest. In the first panel he is saying, “You would like to say ‘I come to planet Kujal in peace! Why do you treat me so?’ Because you are a giant! And where one has come, others will follow!” In the second panel he says, “My people will become slaves to yours! Household pets or worse—sideshow freaks! Not while I live, giant! Never!”]

General Kwy has some weirdly detailed predictions about what’s going to happen if his people are discovered by ‘giants’ and he’s not having it. So he brings out a couple cranes to load Kirk onto a board, Gulliver’s Travels style,  and has him wheeled off to a third, even smaller, city.

[ID: Kirk laying on a wooden wheeled board in front of a dais covered cloth, where a woman sits on a gold chair next to General Kwy. The general is saying, “Madame President, I’ve brought the giant prisoner mentioned in my report!” Kirk is thinking, “A woman leader! A more advanced world than many!”]

Kirk is brought in front of Madame President, which Kirk reminds us is So Advanced. Madame President is a little nicer than General Kwy and orders Kirk to be de-paralyzed, but then reveals that Spock and Uhura have been captured also. And stowed under the bunting on the dais. No, I don’t know why.

Madame President lays down some backstory: there was only ever one species of people on the planet, which was once human-sized. They “were a happy world until sudden explosions rocked [their] sun with fantastic intensity.” Don’t you hate it when that happens?

[ID: A panel with a narration box saying, “But, in time, these ceased and life resumed as before! Until, one day...” Below, someone in a gray robe is approaching a woman sitting at an oversized table, talking into a large rotary phone. The person in the robe is saying, “We are growing smaller with every passing day!” The woman is saying, “Yes! It’s true! Others report the same! But why?”]

Yes! It’s true! Others are reporting the same, right now, on my giant rotary phone.

The shrinking kept happening, causing the next generation to have to build an entirely new city, and the next generation to do the same. Eventually they figured out that because of the sun explosions “some new radio waves have caused all living cells to shrink.” Sure. Anyway, looks like now their civilization is doomed because eventually they’re going to shrink out of existence. Bummer.

Uhura points out that the Enterprise could very easily move them all to another planet, but Madame President gives the standard answer for why we can never just use the easy solution, which is “no we love our planet so much we’re all gonna stay here even if it kills us.”

General Kwy wants to have the three of them executed straight away, but Madame President belays that and lets them all go sit and eat tiny food and talk while she figures out what to do with them.

[ID: Spock, Kirk and Uhura sitting among the small buildings eating and talking. Narration: “Later, as crowds watch from a distance...” Uhura: “How could they think of altering their sun even if they had the ships to reach it?” Spock: “Quite impossible! All the harnessed power of the inhabited worlds of the universe could not destroy—or even alter—a star!”]

All that harnessed power of the inhabited worlds couldn’t alter a star! It takes inexplicable space explosions to do that.

Since altering the star is out of the question, Kirk proposes making some kind of antidote or shielding to deal with the shrink rays. But to do that, they’d have to fly close to the sun to gather samples of the rays. I don’t know how you capture samples of radio waves but he seems confident. Little does he know, however, that the general has an “audio-magnifier” trained on the trio to eavesdrop on their plans, because just listening would be too easy.

Madame President is okay with this plan. Suspiciously, so is General Kwy, though he proposes that they leave a hostage to guarantee they don’t just escape. Which doesn’t work super well when the people in question have remote teleportation technology, but he doesn’t know that.

[ID: A very pale-looking Uhura leaning over Madame President and saying, “In that case, Madame President, I volunteer to be the hostage!” Madame President is saying, “I was hoping the woman among you would show that courage! Congratulations, Lieutenant!”]

As a woman, I was hoping the woman among you would show courage! Here on my advanced world, we like it when women show courage. Have I mentioned I’m a woman recently?

Uhura is often—though not always—quite distressingly pale in these comics. With the way it varies I’m not sure whether it was intentional whitewashing or just bad coloring. Or some awful combination of both, maybe.

With Uhura staying behind, Kirk and Spock prepare to leave, although not before General Kwy stops them to give them a container of fruit as a gift. Absolutely no one bothers to check that the box does indeed contain fruit. Surprise! It doesn’t. It contains a couple of stowaway soldiers assigned to sabotage the mission. Because Kwy still thinks the humans want to make slaves of them all. Or something.

Part Two begins with the Enterprise approaching the sun, as Kirk says that they have no way of knowing whether the ship’s anti-radio shielding will stop them all from getting shrunk. That seems like something they should really have made sure of before doing this. Oh well, too late now.

As they get close to the sun, Sulu tries to raise the radio energy analyzer dish—it’s a thing, apparently—but it won’t go up. Apparently there’s a mechanical problem that necessitates someone go outside and unjam the thing. Even in the future, someone still has to occasionally go personally hit things until they work again.

Luckily, Scotty’s on the case, showing up all dressed in special anti-radio foil before Kirk even has a chance to give any orders. Kirk is a little miffed about this since he’s supposed to be the captain and all but Scotty doesn’t have any time for that.

Scotty struggles with the radar dish while everyone stands around watching and making helpful comments.

[ID: Four panels showing Scotty struggling to lift a radar dish on the top of the ship while Kirk, Spock and McCoy watch on a viewscreen. In the first panel, Scotty is thinking, “But it must be doin’ the job—or those rays would be shrinkin’ me already! Now to get the dish up into position! UGGGGGH!” Second panel, Kirk: “It’s jammed all right! Look at him struggling! I wish we could communicate with him!” Spock: “Our radio signals can’t get through that foil, either, of course!” Third panel, narration, as Scotty raises the dish with a ‘whooosh!’ and ‘klang!’: “Finally, with one mighty effort...” Kirk, from offscreen: “He made it! Nice work! Even you have to admit it, Bones!” McCoy, from offscreen: “Why, Captain? He’ll be telling us all about it for months! Ha-ha-ha!” Fourth panel, showing Scotty collapsed on the top of the ship, McCoy: “Hold it! Something’s wrong! He’s collapsed!” Kirk: “Emergency! Break out another foil outergear! I’m going after him!”]

I wasn’t aware that Scotty and Bones had any particular rivalry, but this writer seems to think otherwise. 

Anyway, as you can see, Scotty promptly collapses, and since as we know there are only about ten people on the whole Enterprise Kirk has to personally go out after him. Instead of Scotty, though, he finds an empty suit.

[ID: Kirk, wearing a foil spacesuit and holding up another spacesuit, seemingly empty, while McCoy looks on and Spock leans over the suit with his hand to his ear. Kirk: “This is exactly what I found! But how could--” Spock: “Shhhhhh! Listen! Do you hear it?”]

I don’t know why, but that picture of Spock with his hand to his ear is cracking me up.

As you can probably guess if you’ve been paying any amount of attention to anything, Scotty done got shrunk. Apparently the radar dish tore a hole in the protective foil. Don’t design your radar dishes with sharp edges, folks. Since Scotty was so close to the sun at the time, he got a heckton of radiation (that’s a scientific term), so he’s still shrinking. In fact, Spock speculates that Scotty might quickly be reduced to microscopic size, meaning that “the very bacteria in the air will menace him as much as a prehistoric mammoth would us!”

An odd choice of metaphor, but we can’t have Scotty be menaced by mammoth bacteria, so they rig up a sterilized environment for him.

[ID: First panel, Spock and Kirk are looking at a glass dome with a tube going into it. Narration: “Full technical facilities of the starship are put to work on the problem and shortly...” Spock: “Under that dome is a complete antiseptic atmosphere! The ‘breather’ tube circulates sterilized air!” Kirk: “A microbless world! That should do it!” Second panel, McCoy is holding up a miniature Scotty wearing a blue handkerchief around his waist. McCoy: “I’ll say one thing, Scotty—that kerchief looks better wrapped around you than it ever did in my pocket!” Scotty: “And what’ll I be wearin’ next—a speck o’ dust for a fur coat?”]

This one’s for you, Scones shippers. I...guess. (???)

Luckily for Scotty it doesn’t take long to identify the mysterious radio energy, as someone helpfully announces over the intercom.

[ID: First panel, McCoy is standing next to the dome and looking off to side, listening to an announcement from the intercom. Narration: “Painful minutes tick away as Scotty continues shrinking..” Intercom: “Attention! We have identified the mystery radio energy!” McCoy: “Did you hear, Scotty? We’re half-way home!” Second panel, McCoy is looking into the dome, now empty with the handkerchief huddled at the bottom. Narration: “And then the dread moment...” McCoy: “He’s gone! Yet I know he’s still in there—too small for the eye to see!”]

Unluckily for Scotty, the two little soldiers have arrived on the scene, and take the opportunity to fire on the breather tube. McCoy quickly captures them and puts them away in convenient storage box, which is just an empty box with ‘storage’ written on it.

[ID: McCoy putting two miniature soldiers into a box labeled ‘Storage.’ McCoy: “We’ll settle with you later!”]

He seals the tube with a bandage, but it’s too late—down in the land of microbes, a germ has gotten in.

[ID: First panel, Scotty is facing off against a large green eyeless worm-like thing. Scotty: “Glory be! A microscopic monster! Some germ that broke through the sealed system!” Monster: “EEEYAWWWRRRR!” Second panel, the monster lashes out its tongue at Scotty, who narrowly dodges under it. Scotty: “Missed me! But how long can I keep this little dance goin’?” Monster: “UNNGAWWRRR!”]

Sure, that’s what germs look like. Why not.

As promised by the splash page, Scotty has to engage in some germ warfare, using some microscopic dirt boulders that also got in as ammunition. It’s thrilling. Truly.

With the germ monster defeated, Scotty gets retrieved by McCoy, who’s wearing some sweet micro-specs.

[ID: First panel, Scotty is being lifted by a thin pointed silver rod. Scotty: “I’m caught! Feel like a whale being harpooned! No—more like a sardine! But what’s doin’ it?” Second panel, Spock looks on as McCoy, wearing goggles with a giant scope in one eye, lifts the rod. Narration: “And, in the world of ‘giants’...” Spock: “Are you sure you’ve got him, doctor?” McCoy: “Yes! I can see him clearly through these micro-specs! He’s struggling like a demon!”]

They stick him under the newly invented anti-shrink ray, which hasn’t been tested because there’s NO TIME, but it works because of course it does. Everyone’s very happy about this.

[ID: The Enterprise flying away from the sun with a ‘fwooosh!’ while people onboard exclaim “Hurrah!” “Yahoooo!” and “Eeeyowwww!”]

Eeyowwww, indeed.

[ID: First panel, Spock and Kirk watching a small Scotty gesturing. Spock: “Listen! He’s trying to tell us something!” Kirk: “The first report by a human returned from the land of microbes!” Second panel, Scotty: “--I said, ‘Get me some clothes, mon! I’m poppin’ out of this silly thing!” Spock: “Ha-ha-ha!” Kirk: “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”]

Ha-ha-ha-ha. Yes, that’s Spock laughing. I guess “Spock doesn’t laugh” wasn’t covered in the, I’m guessing, three sentence summary of Star Trek that the writers of this had to go on.

Anyway, they go back to the planet and tell Madame President that they’re going to deliver the anti-shrink rays so the population can be restored to proper size, although ‘proper size’ is not the size they’ve been used to being all their lives so one wonders if they really want that, but, eh, who cares. With General Kwy’s treachery exposed, Madame President has concocted a special punishment for him: he’ll be the last one on the whole world returned to full size. That’ll show him.

A happy ending (?), but of course we have to wrap up with something pithy.

[ID: Kirk sitting in the captain’s chair while Scotty and Spock stand nearby. Scotty: “--And I’ll tell you one thing, I’ll never make fun of another man’s size again!” Spock: “Experience is a great teacher!” Kirk: “Teacher? This kind of experience is a full professor!”]

Well, they tried.

[origami-goblin]

Starfinder Theme Focus - Spacefarers and Xenoseekers

--

First of all, let me apologize. It's been MONTHS since I teased the final article on Starfinder themes and leaving this series in a perilously unfinished limbo. I wish that I had a decent excuse to explain it, but unfortunately I don't have that either. So please, accept my apology, and let's get to the conclusion of this series!

We've covered a lot of bases - Ace Pilots, Bounty Hunters, Icons, Mercenaries, Outlaws, Priests, and Scholars, which means that today we will be talking about Spacefarers, Xenoseekers, and briefly touching on the Themeless concept. That's still a ton of ground to cover, and I'm a bit intimidated even thinking about it. Concluding this intense detail into Starfinder's themes will be bittersweet - not only because it'll be over, but also because there's no way to fully encapsulate the entire, endless spectrum of characters you can create within Paizo's Starfinder universe. That's what's really great about the Themeless option; if none of the other themes do your character justice in describing their schtick, then you can always go Themeless and solve that particular problem.

Whenever I create a character, I will usually start by trying to find an interesting or obscure feat, characteristic, theme, etc and build the character around that. Some people are really creative and come up with amazing backstories first and build the character to fit their artistic vision. Although that'll happen on occasion, I'll generally determine a character's backstory after I've fleshed out their vitals and statblock. The important thing for me is that my characters stand out. Not from a min-max perspective (if that's what you enjoy then keep doing it!), but from a standpoint of going outside the norm and playing a character with abilities that people may have never experienced before.

Stone Warder Sorcerer? Breadth of Experience feat? Archivist Bard? All of these types of choices go leaps and bounds to hint and what the character is all about. A Stone Warder Sorcerer would be something like an Earth Bender from Avatar, gaining their powers from the rocky world around them. Characters with a Breadth of Experience are ancient, meaning that they've seen and heard nearly all there is to know. Bards with the Archivist archetype aren't going to be dishing out much damage, but they are constantly scribbling down their experiences and every bit of lore they can get their hands on. And just like that, a single piece of your character's statblock can literally define them.

That's partly been the point of these posts about the Themes in Starfinder. Sure, you can come up with an absolutely AWESOME character concept and attach a theme that fits that character. No problem. But if you're having trouble coming up with a character, the options listed in these posts are meant to assist you in launching off into the incredible Imagisphere to create a truly unique character.

Alright, I've babbled so much that I've turned into a brook. (Sorry if I've used that particular moniker already...it's been a long time since my last Starfinder post). Time to finish off the series!

Spacefarer Character Concepts

"Your longing to journey among the stars can't be sated. You yearn for the adventure of stepping onto a distant world and exploring its secrets. You tend to greet every new opportunity with bravery and fortitude, confident that your multitude of skills will pull you through. Perhaps you simply find joy in the act of traveling with your companions, or perhaps you are just out to line your pockets with all sorts of alien loot!"

Clueless Tourist - Let's face it. You saw a map of the Pact Worlds and immediately searched the best places to visit on each planet. Theme parks, monuments, parks - you want to visit them all and document your travels on a blog that you're still coming up with a creative name for. Experiences are the best currency to be paid in, and your goal is to become filthy rich on them. Now, you might not understand all of the different cultures or customs in the places that you're visiting, but in your eyes everybody else should be happy that you're bolstering the economy in all of your destinations. Excuse me - could you please take my photo?

Deductive Meteorologist - Perhaps in the same vein as the Environmental Engineer concept from the Scholar post, this character would be all about the weather and is drawn to the varied climates and conditions present in the Pact World planets. Have you ever seen the sunrise through noxious fuchsia clouds or felt thick, oily rain land on your head? All of these phenomenon can be explained through science. Maybe you'll publish a scholarly journal on your findings, or maybe your more of a storm-chaser bent on surviving the most wild and dangerous conditions. No matter how you spin it, you're fascinated by the weather, whether your companions like it or not.  

Hospitable Flight Attendant - Time to make everybody else's travel experiences as enjoyable as possible. You're an expert at socializing and keeping everybody's minds off the baggage fees and severe lack of legroom. In your eyes, there's no part of a space commute that can't be made better by a tall glass of sherry or a delicious sack of Zeni's Zesty Znacks. While traveling, you are sure to keep all the amenities nearby to heighten the enjoyment of those around you. You might have gotten into the gig because you wanted to see the universe, and maybe that itch is just beginning to surface once more.

Curious Explorer - Hardly anything fancy about this one. You love exploring. The mystery, intrigue, and discovery thrill you to pieces. Every time you come across a corner, you just HAVE to see what's on the other side of it. This is known to get you into heaps of trouble and situations where you end up on the wrong end of a 'No Trespassing' sign. But, through your foolhardy actions, you've been able to experience things that very few other people have, and your stories are the things of legend. There are countless star sectors to visit and only so much time...what are you waiting for?!

Budding Photographer - Your goal? The perfect shot. You might be a movie producer scouting locations for your next sector-buster. Or maybe you're an artistic photographer determined to capture the essence of the human (and alien) experience. You never miss a moment and you are incredibly easy to track based on the trail of snapshots that you leave behind. Whether your honing your craft or a complete amateur when it comes to lighting, focus, and apertures, space grants you the freedom to create magnificent works of art. Every horizon has another potential shot, and you'll hitchhike your way around the galaxy if you have to if it means catching your elusive unicorn.

Xenoseeker Character Concepts

"The thought of meeting alien life-forms excites you. The more different their appearances and customs are from yours, the better! You either believe they have much to teach you or you want to prove you are better than them. Of course, the only way to accomplish your goal is to leave the Pact Worlds and travel to the Vast, where a virtually endless number of aliens await."

Captivated Anthropologist - This concept makes perfect sense. As an anthropologist, you live and love to study the differences between humanoid species. You can even take it a step further to be fascinated with specific aspects of each of the races. What are the secrets behind the Lashunta's psychic abilities? How tough are the scales of the Vesk? So many questions and not enough time to find all the answers. You might become acutely interested in your crewmates, asking them all sorts of intrusive questions in order to develop an understanding for their specific gifts and talents. Beings with surgical enhancements might be particularly interesting to you as humanoids continue their never-ending quest for power.

Inquisitive Marketing Guru - If you want to sell something, you HAVE to know your market. Double blind surveys, focus groups, experimental expos...you will stop at nothing to understand the people buying the products you're pitching. Whether you're a part of an elaborate Ponzi scheme or a well-known enterprise, you are hungry to understand the psychology of buying patterns and habitual spending. If you can unlock those secrets, you will be the most valuable asset to whichever company decides to employ you. And, by developing an understanding for the beings around you, you'll undoubtedly be an asset in any situation involving sweet-talking with honeyed words. Heck - maybe if you can find some delicious edible aliens, you will be the next great snack mogul in the Pact Worlds! Second only to Zeni himzelf.

Experimental Doctor - You embrace the uniqueness of yourself and encourage others to do the same. Stand out from the crowd, you say. Set yourself apart! Implant yourself with one of the many augmentations that you can provide! Your interest in the countless creeping aliens and obscure creatures skittering around the Vast stimulate your imagination and provide you with the necessary...tools to allow you to develop exciting new attachments for your adoring fans. Or maybe you're more secretive and don't think your work should see the light of day. Will you be a mad scientist or a renowned surgeon? The choice is yours!

Calming Zoologist - People will pay loads of money to see an exhibit they've never experienced before. There are countless numbers of mindless creatures out in the far reaches of space that would be welcomed additions to a zoological attraction. Your history in taming wild beasts and soothing the animalistic nature in the creatures you've encountered makes you the perfect person for the job. There is a fantastic space zoo that'll pay top dollar for new specimens, and you're itching to get paid. This isn't to say that you are inconsiderate of the creatures' feelings, however. The zoo that you're working for is more akin to a resort, and they take great care of the residents that live there.

Talkative Space Taxi Driver - While taking fares, you've come across just about every type of intelligent being known in the sector. Long nights that turned into early mornings were a staple of yours, and you've delivered passengers to slums, clubs, and luxury estates, learning about them all the while. You love a good conversation; it helps pass the time and gives you an amazing repertoire of stories to share with your crewmates. Everybody comes from a different background, and you have learned to appreciate the intricacies and uniqueness that everybody brings to the figurative table. You might have a bit of a lead foot as well...but who doesn't?

Themeless Characters

If you don't fit the bill with any of the other themes, then you are probably Themeless. By choosing to forgo a theme designation, your statistical bonuses will suffer compared to a character who has a theme, so if you're more concerned with numbers and maximizing your character, then this might not be for you. Choosing this option, however, will allow you to portray your character as a vast canvas, awaiting your masterful strokes.

Hopefully I've portrayed the wide variety of concepts that the Starfinder themes can cover. With a dash of creativity, you can morph at least one of the themes to fit the base core of your character. Try to think about each of the themes in new ways; don't get caught up in the specific 'title' of the theme. Read the blurbs about each one and search for synonyms that line up with the character that you're envisioning in your mind.

---

At the end of the day, play a character that you WANT to play. You should be excited every time that you portray your character, and play the game in whatever way is going to be the most fun for you.

I hope you've enjoyed this series on the Themes of Starfinder! See you in the stars!

[csnews]

What dolphins taught this scientist about effective communication

Jaymi Heimbuch - Apr. 15, 2018

Scientists spend years conducting careful research, but what happens when they can't effectively reach the public with what they've learned? Often, it can mean a change in roles.

More and more, scientists are making the leap from researcher to communicator. A perfect example is Bethany Augliere, who spent years on a research team studying dolphins but finally found her passion in photography and science communication.

We talked with Augliere about her years out with dolphins of the Atlantic, the things she learned about them, and how they inspire her to talk with the public — particularly children — about the natural world.

MNN: You’ve been swimming with dolphins for the Wild Dolphin Project since 2010. That must be an amazing experience! What made you go in this direction for your research?

Bethany Augliere: At Virginia Tech, where I earned my bachelor’s degree, I did undergraduate research on the movement patterns and habitat use of black bears in Virginia. I really fell in love with learning how animals use their space and why. I knew I wanted to continue to do this kind of research in graduate school, and I was open to working on just about any species.

As I began searching for graduate programs, I came across the work of Denise Herzing and the Wild Dolphin Project. I saw that she studied wild dolphins in the Bahamas, but hadn’t published much on their movement patterns. I emailed her that I was interested in her work and studying the home ranges of the spotted dolphins. She ended up accepting me, so I started graduate school with her in the fall of 2009 at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton.

The project studies Atlantic spotted and Atlantic bottlenose in the Bahamas. What are some of the key aspects of these species that the project wants to learn about?

Herzing started studying these dolphins in 1985, and it’s the world’s longest running underwater study of dolphins. Denise’s original goal was to start a long-term, non-invasive project and learn about dolphin natural history, including information on social structure, behavior, feeding, communication, habitat use and the impact of environmental disturbances. She immersed herself in their world, much like Jane Goodall did with the chimpanzees. Now, Denise has tracked four generations of Atlantic spotted dolphins, and watched calves live to become grandmothers. Since she founded the project, there have been many discoveries on those different topics.

One of Denise’s primary interests is dolphin communication and discovering if they have language. In order to do that, you need to know the context of the vocalizations you’re observing and recording. Is the animal whistling male, female, young or old? Is it a mom with a calf, is it two young males, is this situation aggressive, is it play, mating, feeding, etc. That’s why she first had to figure out who the dolphins were and what their communication signals meant.

You’ve witnessed quite a bit of interesting behavior in your years diving as a research associate. What’s the most amazing thing you’ve witnessed so far?

That’s a tough question; I have certainly seen some amazing things spending so much time with these dolphins. I’ve watched moms teach their calves how to hunt and catch fish, males of two different species fight each other for hours, and youngsters explore their environment, playing with things like seaweed and sea cucumbers. But, I’d say one of my favorite experiences has been freediving with the dolphins at night, just because it’s so different than anything else I’ve ever done.

Most of the time, the spotted dolphins cruise around the clear and shallow sandbank. At night, however, they move off the sandbank into water more than 1,000 feet deep. If conditions allow, we follow them out to this deep water to collect data, like who is feeding, what prey is around, and recording their echolocation. To do that, we get in the water.

It’s nighttime, the stars are overhead, you’re in the water and it’s dark all around, minus some lights from the boat, and these dolphins just come in and out of your field of view, zipping around chasing prey. They’re not interested in playing or interacting because they’re super focused on eating, targeting prey with their echolocation. Sometimes the fish or squid hide around us humans for protection. I’ve had dolphins grab squid inches from my face. If you look past the edge of light, the dolphins almost glow, as they disturb the bioluminescent plankton. It feels like another world.

Have you seen any particular conservation issues arise for these species in the years you’ve been with Wild Dolphin Project?

Yes, a couple things come to mind. The first is that, these dolphins are very habituated to humans. They’re curious of people and love to bowride on the fronts of boats, which means there’s a huge tourism industry to dive with these animals. There’s also just a lot of boats around in general for fishing and other water activities. Sadly, I’ve seen both young and old dolphins with chopped flukes or gashes in their back from boat propellers.

It’s been shown in other areas where people interact with wild marine mammals, like Hawaii and the Pacific Northwest, that boat traffic and eco-tourism can disrupt natural behavior, such as resting, mating or feeding. Most of the operators in the Bahamas that I’m aware of are actually very respectful of the dolphins, but I worry about recreational boaters jumping in and not realizing how their behavior is impacting the animals, even if their intentions are good. I know most people just want to connect with nature, so that’s why I think education and outreach are so important. I give talks to dive shops, schools and nature centers for that reason.

Because of all the boat traffic, one of the questions I’m personally interested in exploring is how noisy their environment is, and if that noise disrupts their communication and behavior.

On another note, I recently co-authored a paper with Denise that described a mass exodus of 50 percent of a resident community of dolphins from one island to another island in the Bahamas, about 100 miles away and required crossing a deep water channel. This kind of kind of movement pattern had never been documented before in Denise’s 30 years, and we wanted to know why they moved. What we found was a change in oceanographic conditions at the original island, which suggested a collapse in the food web. This change didn’t happen at the island the dolphins moved to. So potentially, they left for food. It’s something to keep an eye on as ocean conditions and prey distribution change because of climate change.

There’s a growing movement of scientists who want to become more effective communicators, and you’re a perfect example of that, building your skills in writing and photography alongside your research. What pushed you to gain these skills instead of just focusing on science?

I had been doing research since college, while also taking nature photos personally as well as for my job as a biologist. As my interest in photography grew, I became sort of obsessed with the work of National Geographic photographers like Michael "Nick" Nichols and Paul Nicklen, among many others. I flipped through the pages of the magazine, captivated by the important stories they told with these images. At that time, I didn’t know how to become a professional photographer, so I just continued to pursue my career as a scientist.

After several years working with the Wild Dolphin Project, I had built this catalog of images — dolphins playing with seaweed, moms bonding with their calves and dolphins feeding. I knew the dolphins as individuals with distinct characteristics and I wanted to share their stories, beyond scientific literature. I wondered and hoped if I could tell the stories of these animals, it might inspire people to not only care about the dolphins, but the ocean and environment where they live. I could use photography and writing as a tool to raise awareness and, potentially, inspire an interest in science, as well as positive action toward the environment. So, I started blogging for the project and using social media to share our work and information on the dolphins.

Eventually, I wanted to tell stories of other threatened wildlife and ecosystems at risk, and the scientists working to study and protect them. That’s how I got into science writing and conservation photography.

You’ve said that you really love reaching out to young kids and getting them interested in nature and science. How do they tend to react when they hear from scientists like yourself?

Working with kids is one of the best parts of my job. They are always so enthusiastic and excited. It doesn’t take much to get kids interested in the natural world, and show them why it’s worth protecting.

One classroom of first graders that I visited in Northern Virginia has become dedicated to giving up plastic straws. Not only that, they want to write to their school board and get rid of straws in their school. I know none of them use straws for breakfast or lunch, so that’s 50 less straws a day out in the world.

Sometimes, I even introduce classrooms to scientists from photography projects that I’ve been working on. One of my favorite stories was from last year, when I Skyped in a gopher tortoise biologist in Florida, to this kindergarten classroom in Virginia. The kids got to ask her questions to learn more about tortoises for their nonfiction unit. One of the young girls was visiting Disney World in Florida with her family for spring break. The parents later told the teacher that all their daughter talked about was wanting to visit Amanda, the tortoise scientist, because she knew she was in Florida somewhere. How cool is that?!

Your photography work goes well beyond dolphin research, and has been featured in a diverse range of scientific news articles, from coyote-wolf hybrids to ocean acidification to exploring mountains. Is there any particular topic you’re most excited to pursue for publication right now?

I��ve been working on a project about manta rays in Florida for the past year that I’m really excited about, and it has a very strong conservation angle. I’ve been collaborating with scientists from the Marine Megafauna Foundation who started this new project.

It might be a bit ambitious because it’s challenging photography. The rays are hard to find, solitary, skittish, and often in murky water. But it’s worth it, because it’s a story worth telling. It’s also pushing me as a photographer to still get shots despite tough conditions, and figure out a way to still make interesting images.

[vieuxnoyesrp]

Addie. First as our grief-stricken warrior queen, Hayley, and then the dark and foreboding, but equally torn, Mary, you’ve captured our hearts with the wit and deliberation with which you write your characters. It’s no surprise to us at all that you brought that same talent to Bonnie. As one of the Quarter’s most dearly beloved characters, she requires a deft hand: stubborn, but kind, devoted to her morals, but careful not to allow anyone else to dictate what those morals should be, Bonnie is complicated. With your intense attention to detail and your thoughtful approach to each character you write, we are confident that your Bonnie will come to life in just the way she deserves in our story.

Addie, thank you very much for applying. As for Bonnie…

       ⚜ ~ WELCOME TO VIEUX NOYÉS!!! ~ ⚜

Wondering what to do next? Click here and let the good times roll!

⚜ Roleplayer:

⤜ Name/alias: Addison (Addie works too) ⤜ Pronouns: Female ⤜ Age: 20 ⤜ Timezone: EST ⤜ Activity: 7-8. I’d say during the week I’m able to get on a fair amount, enough to get out two or three sets of replies a day. Though, there are days I may not get all replies out as well. Weekends are a lot more open for me, so I’m able to do the most during that time. ⤜ Best form of contact: I’d say tumblr on Hayley’s chat function, but I’ll happily provide a skype if it’s needed for another form of contact. ⤜ Any Triggers? No. ⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? I came across it in the tags, but I’ve also heard about it from a few other members of the rp community and decided it was time to check it out for myself. ⤜ What drew you to the RP? I’m most interested in the way that the shows have been incorporated together. I enjoy the way they’ve been weaved and knit together to make a cohesive tale. ⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? I’m most intrigued by the witches plot line. I think it will be interesting not only for those within the species but also those along the sidelines. It will be entertaining to watch how alliances form or deteriorate as the story and players change. Who knows who will end up on top, and until that’s determined, it’s essentially placing your bets and seeing what pays off.

⚜ Desired Character: Bonnie Bennett

⤜ Why do you want this character?

I think that Bonnie was my most beloved character on TVD for two main reasons. The first is the amount of sheer effort and dedication she manages to place into her relationships, even though her past has left her reeling at the expense of familial relations. I enjoy that she thinks of herself in a second hand sense, and it’s a very different perspective than my other two characters. I also enjoy that whilst hailing from a powerful line of witches, Bonnie hasn’t had a strong supernatural upbringing. I think it will be interesting to delve into the intricacies of her mind to figure out how she’s going to sort herself out on her own, without the watchful eye of her grandmother. All in all, I think Bonnie has a lot of room to grow, but only after multiple, internal debates about the person she was and the woman/witch she intends to be, and I’d like to be the person who explores that process.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character?

One thing I’d like to explore with Bonnie is growing her knowledge of magic and the supernatural. I think Bonnie is going to have a drive after losing Shelia that will thrust her into her supernatural heritage. I want her to explore her past, her lineage, and the witch community in general. I think it will be good for her for both coping purposes and endowing a new sense of self-confidence in the witch.  

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time?

Most weekdays, Bonnie has morning classes at Tulane. So, she’ll do classes until around lunch time before heading off to the library to spend a few hours studying. Once she’s satisfied with her academic studies, Bonnie tends to drift into studies of her magic and ancestors. Whether it is exploring Rain’s Apothecary, sitting down with her grandmother’s grimmoires in the back corner of Cafe du Monde, or walking around Lafayette Cemetary, she’ll dedicate at least an hour or two a day to expanding her knowledge of the supernatural. If she’s not studying, you can likely find her hanging out with Elena and Caroline, or possibly even Vincent, getting in some much needed relaxation.

Weekends are mostly spent at home or in Audubon Park, where she feels at one with nature. Bonnie’s apartment isn’t extravagant, but it isn’t a cookie cutter college apartment either. Bonnie enjoys cool tones for the most part. Her apartment leans towards the minimalist side, but she’d be lying if she told you she didn’t have a myriad of junk drawers around the house. Aside from her bedroom, she’s allowed Issac to essentially take control of her small living room and the couch that is housed there. As a result, a lot of her more personal things (the Bennett talisman, her grimmoires, and photographs of her grandmother) are now kept within an old trunk at the foot of her bed.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice. 

Bonnie has gotten a job at Cafe Du Monde as a waitress/barista. With all of the crazy that’s now entered into her life, Bonnie was seeking out a bit of normalcy in her life. She wanted something that was, albeit, normal for a college student. The witch had already been doing most of her studying in the back booths anyways, that when a spot opened up, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Not only does it give her a break, it also helps her to cover expenses at the same time.

There are two pages missing from the back of Sheila’s grimmiore. For the life of herself, Bonnie cannot help the curiosity that has begun to develop within her. Who tore the pages out? Why were they torn out? With no leads, Bonnie can’t quite make sense of any of it, but she’s determined to take the rest of Sheila’s things out of storage and try to find clues about what was taken and where she can get it back.

Bonnie is an avid runner. Whenever life becomes to stressful for the young girl, she takes to working out her issues with exercise. Some days, it only takes a mile or two to bring the girl back down to earth, but other days can lead to hours of running along the outskirts of the city. She loves the burn of her muscles and the way her mind is only able to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your character?

-I’d like to explore Bonnie’s relationship with Elena. I think it’ll be interesting to see how Bonnie deals with her best friend being associated so closely with the two brothers that led her grandmother to her end. I think it’s going to be a very complex internal struggle for her and will eventually pit her hatred of vampires and her loyalty to her loved ones against each other.

-Another plot I’d like to explore with Bonnie is her relationship/attraction to Jeremy. I think that’s another grey area that Bonnie is going to have to navigate. While Elena’s been her best friend forever, and Bonnie wants to respect that, I think it’s not going to be cut and dry. Bonnie hasn’t ever really wanted anything just for herself, and maybe, just this once, she may decide to go after what she wants.

-Finally, I’d like to explore Bonnie meeting other witches. I think it’ll be interesting for her to learn about how they were brought up and also, if any of them can explain why the city limits don’t hinder her power. Though, I think Bonnie will be slow to trust another witch, which will inevitably leave her weighing the risks and rewards of it all.

⤜ Para sample:

(Retained for privacy.)

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? Hm, possibly Evelyn? ⤜ Have you read the rules?: I have!! ⤜ Anything else? Nope, I think I covered everything.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Friday 4th December 2020

Round Up

♦ bold type indicates an outside link for further explanations or information, which is not affiliated to this Blog

Because of the change in the weather and season it’s becoming a bit more difficult to get new photographs and so I’m interspersing my Blog with photos from my stock and random musings.

Here’s the tea room at Bateman’s earlier this week. It’s called The Mulberry Tea Room and is converted from the old dairy buildings. You can see the age of the structure from its mossy roof.

I feel so sorry for all these places that have a healthy growing programme to supply their tea rooms and restaurants and who rely on the income. Such a lot of devastating blows this year. I’m sharing one of their recipes that they kindly host online Cheese and Tomato Muffins from the National Trust. I haven’t made them myself yet, but they sound right up my street.

Another item I’ve picked up for sharing here is from the BirdTrack newsletter. BirdTrack is an initiative by the BTO, RSPB and others and sends regular mail outs.

December marks the beginning of winter and, whilst most species will have completed their migration, some winter swans, ducks and geese are still on the move. There is also the possibility that a cold snap in the coming weeks might bring further arrivals to our shores, and there is still time for a larger invasion of Waxwings.

Weather conditions have been mild for most areas of Britain and Ireland so far this autumn and this is reflected in some summer visitors, such as Swallow and House Martin, still being reported in some places. Some more unusual late stayers in November included several Willow Warblers and exceptionally late records of Whinchat in Shropshire and Northumberland at the end of the month. You can follow the movements of these birds through EuroBirdPortal and the BTO's Migration blog.

Well, I was going on about buds and shoots and late Magnolia flowers yesterday, but Swallows and House Martin in December, that really has surprised me.

I took this of a picturesque picnic spot among the trees at Bateman’s but no, we weren’t lingering like late Summer visitors

Thank you for the advice about my hip and leg pain and what to do about it - Sciatica. I should’ve cottoned on as it’s related to the Piriformis Syndrome I had back in 2018. My goodness at the time I felt like that put 25 years on me (at least) and it was absolutely excruciatingly painful. This isn’t as bad as that. I know exactly what caused it. It was in the days when we did a dedicated one hour walk every day and I was fitter than I am now. Got home and bent down to untie my boots and OUCH! I knew immediately. I think it was just the way I twisted diagonally. It took months to get right and gentle exercise (shuffling along like an Octogenarian who’d let herself go) although painful and painstaking, had to be done. This time I think I simply sat too long in one position while I was chatting on the phone and as I stood up, wham! again.  Never mind, my left arm aches a bit from where I had the jab yesterday, so that’s taking my mind off the right hand side...joke. It’s not quite that bad yet. I had a couple of hours last night when I felt decidedly off colour as it were - alternately hot and cold and nauseous, but it passed and I think that was the only side effect I had.

Enough about all that. It’s being in the house so much I suppose, we focus on things that would normally be shrugged off without much thought and as I wrote to a friend this morning. I never expect anything to go wrong with me and never remember what I’ve done that might cause something, bruises being a case in point. I know I bruise easily but I’ll bang into something and think Oh, that hurt but when I see a bruise I always wonder where it came from.

Much more entertaining has been hearing about Ms NW tY’s first venture into a full sized Christmas tree. We’ve bought her a real one before now, but something like a four footer in a pot that she could easily manage. This year her partner’s gone into overdrive and ordered an 8′ one - her apartment has very high ceilings. Not sure they’ve given consideration to the girth though...or about how to secure it safely...or how her cats will get on with it...or, indeed, that annual Nature Watch Household Olympic Standard Event...dismantling and removing said tree in January. As I always say though ‘It’s all fun and games’ *

*I leave off the end of that well known phrase ‘until someone loses an eye’

I did say I wasn’t doing any more Christmas talk yet, but everyone’s so early this year. I think it’s to cheer us all up a bit. My favourite Ms NW tY tree story is from when she lived alone in a basement apartment, not quite like Cinderella, with the late Minxy (her white cat) and she came home from work to find her tree inexplicably bare. She was totally confused, until she got into bed and found a treasure trove of baubles removed from the tree and stashed under the duvet by little Miss Innocent. I do miss Minxy, but there are two cats in residence still and no doubt more high jinks to come from them. One year here, Mr B went missing and was found half way up in the depths of our tree, probably on an Owl hunt again. I shall have to reprise that story again at a later date on the off chance a reader has missed it.

No decorations on these trees

but I have noticed an awful lot of Ivy around here this year

After all my waffling on, if you’d like a break with a wonderful magazine to browse LINK from the British Nature Guide. This really is a fabulous free read, I can’t recommend it enough whether you’re experienced or want to entertain  children with lots of colourful pictures and activities to play along with. There’s an article about the Wirral Coast - Hi Ed! and one on California - *waves again to American pals, but the one I’m heading to first is about Woodpeckers. I’ve seen the photo of a Golden-Fronted Woodpecker and want to read more. Enjoy it.

Male Great Spotted Woodpecker in our own garden

December 4th Advent Door. EEEK!!!

[wolfesadventureold-blog]

First Pursuit

(Previous day - Departure)

Day Two - 1/03/18

Dear Diary ~

6:00 am.

I’ve just about woken up. I had an odd nightmare about getting shiftblock (the inability to shift - it can occur at any time or be triggered, and lemon juice tends to sort it out) in the bathroom and panicking about being stuck as a child. In the nightmare, the door handle was so high that I couldn’t reach it in the form of a child. I have strange nightmares. Very strange indeed.

I now need to get dressed, brush my teeth and neaten my hair (It seems to have decided to look like a bird’s nest this morning, and that isn’t exactly the look I go for these days. Maybe it was when I was at university, but certainly not now. I didn’t realise how ridiculous it looked). After that, I’ll go down and ask around at breakfast for a few hours to see if anyone’s seen Axel.

My main plans for today are to inquire in the restraunt during breakfast (I have a bizarre talent of making a bowl of cereal ask for several hours whilst still looking like I’m eating it), and then I’ll search for a few werewolves at the beach to see if Axel’s scent has been detected by anyone. I have his scarf in a carrier bag in my rucksack, so they’ll recognise it if they’ve smelt it anywhere. If I find someone who knows his scent, I’ll ask them to show me where they found it, and see if it leads anywhere. Hopefully, by then it’ll be mid-afternoon, so I will be able to ask around at any fish and chip shops. I know that there’s a cheap one in the area that we went to last time we both came, and I also know that fish and chips is his favourite food of all time. If he’s been here, he’ll have visited a fish and chip shop.

After all of that, there are two likely outcomes: I’ll have found a lead on him or I won’t have found one. Sadly, the latter seems a little more likely. If the former happens and he’s close by, I’ll track him down as quick as I can, even if it means being up all night. If the latter happens or he’s not close by, I’ll spend another night here and work things out in the morning.

9:32 am.

Good news and bad news. The good news is that no one stared at me for putting my rice krispies on toast. The bad news is that Axel left yesterday evening. However, this could be useful. It means that he’s been predictable. And a predictable Axel means a happy Victor. In other words, I should be able to guess where he’s going next, simply by thinking. I’ve lived with him for two years, and as a shifter, I pick up on people’s behavior patterns very quickly. I have to put on different personas to accurately pretend to be someone, and I know him very well. I can think how he thinks.

The other bad news is that it’s snowed overnight. A lot. I hate snow. This is also bad, because I planned on asking around to see if anyone’s noticed any frozen puddles, but all of the puddles will be frozen today. I should probably make my way to a busy café and ask people if they’ve seen him - or better, ask the wolves if they’ve scented him. As I mentioned earlier, Axel and I have been here before. I know of a café that’s frequented by mostly werewolves and vampires. They’ll notice that I’m a shifter almost immediately, but that’s fine. Shifters are accepted into the magical community here, unlike some places. It’s never nice to be part of a rejected species. The name of the café is “The Poisoned Lily”, which deters most humans and draws in those of the magic world. Anything with magic in its veins knows to never touch a lily.

12:44 pm.

I’m in the café now, with a cup of tea (milk last of course, very strong, one sugar) and a piece of cheese on toast. I very much like cheese on toast. Most places have a few cafés or pubs that are mostly visited by magical creatures or magic users, but this one is mostly used by vampires and werewolves, so I keep getting a few stares or glances. It’s run by werewolves, but they can easily get the stuff that vampires drink, so they tend to come here often as well. There’s even a pair of werewolves staring at me right now, so I might take that opportunity to ask them. You don’t pick fights in places like this, especially if you aren’t part of either species. Both species will get very territorial if they think I’m causing trouble. This is technically their territory, and they have the right to kill me if the alpha of the pack running the place thinks it’s the right cause of action. This is the reason why I usually wait for the right moment to ask people things. Picking fights is a bad idea, no matter what you are. They seem to have finished their conversation, so now might be a good time to ask.

I’ve asked the wolves, and they seemed rather friendly. They both smelt the scarf, and one of them said that one of the pack members smelt the same when she came in, so I should ask her. He said that she’s the one with ginger hair always tied in a very tight fishtail plait, so I’m going to finish my tea and go to find her. I’ll shift my way there; I don’t want to be detected if I’m going to go undetected. Without a photograph to study, I won’t have the time to mimic every detail without being close if I’m doing it without walking. It’s very busy here, so no one will think anything if I push past a few people. Pushing past people lets you touch their hand or arm without them noticing, an easy way of shifting to them without watching them first. There’s a vampire giving me the evil eye from the table behind me. She’s behind me, but I can see her reflection in the side of my mug. I don’t like that look, so I’ll have to leave my tea. If I shift to numerous people on the way until I find a pack member, anyone who’s been watching me should lose me by then.

1:03 pm.

I spoke to the werewolf girl, and it turns out that she helped Axel out when he was lost in a busy place. It was too noisy for him, so he panicked and nearly shifted. If she hadn’t got him away in time, he would have shifted in public. Not good. It might be slightly less obvious if I shift in public, but a werewolf trying to resist a shift can experience quite a bit of pain. That’s why they usually give into it, but obviously not in places like that. He’s going up to Tintagel to throw off the hunters, but then he’s planning on leaving tomorrow evening. If I want to catch him, it would be a good idea to get there as soon as possible. I asked her if they have WiFi, but they didn’t. I need to find out how to get to Tintagel from Newquay as quick as I can. It looks like the best cause of action is to go back to Journeybreak and connect to the internet there. It’s free internet, but I’m always terrible at connecting to it. I’ll ask for help.

1:52 pm.

Someone helped me connect to the WiFi in potentially the most patient way. I just shifted to an elderly man and asked for someone to help me “connect my phone to the wiffy”, and they helped me immediately. I’m in my room looking online now. I wanted to shift back, as my own hands are a lot less stiff than that particular elderly man’s hands.

Looks like I can get there by bus, and it should only cost me about £10. 

4:12 pm.

I’m now waiting for the werewolf near the castle visitor centre. I’m currently sheltering under a steep bit, but the wind is so strong that I’m getting snow on my diary, so I’ll have to shift soon. Tintagel Castle is closed today, due to the bad weather, so we’re taking advantage of that. We’ve both agreed to meet in wolf form, so I had better shift before he arrives. If he’s over ten minutes late, we’ve agreed that I’ll meet without him.

6:17 pm.

It went brilliantly. He was quite quiet, but he’s brilliant at his job. We tracked him from the bus stop down the path to the castle, where he had a rest for a long while, and then we tracked him as far as a nearby café, and we couldn’t find any more scent after that. Clearly, it would be weird if we just walked in and the werewolf went and sniffed everywhere in the café. Axel didn’t leave the café through the front entrance. We parted ways and I’m now sheltering in the café, waiting for a good time to shift to Axel and ask if the man at the counter knows where he went. The werewolf gave me the evidence, I thought it through. If he didn’t leave through the front entrance he could have left via a back door, a window, or some other entrance. And he can’t have done that without speaking to the man at the counter. Ah, simple logic. As soon as the man turns his back, I’ll shift to Axel and speak to him. He’ll likely be confused, as Axel just left, but I’ll question him about what happened. Axel isn’t running from me.

6:19 pm.

Axel already left. A few hours ago. He said he was going to Bodmin Parkway to get to Southampton by train. If I leave now, I’ll be able to get to the train station as soon as possible. I’ll get there at quarter past eight, and then I can check what time I can get the train. I need to hurry, so I’ll come back to my diary when I’m on the bus.

6:31 pm.

I’m on the bus. Barely, but on the bus. I’m completely exhausted, but I can’t rest yet. Not when I need to get to Axel. I don’t have signal on my phone, but I’ve ran out of data, anyway, so I wouldn’t have internet even with signal. I’ll read my book to keep myself occupied, and then I’ll get off the bus when it arrives.

8:20 pm.

I’m at the train station. I’ve found a timetable booklet, and I can check that for train times.

I’m too late to get all the way to Southampton now, but I can at least look into whether or not he left on the trains. Ideally, I would ask my friend Irene to help me by turning me invisible with her air magic, but she’s back in Ekkionport. Either way, this is a very little station. The best I can hope for is to find some form of information about when Axel was here. I have a picture of a vampire on my camera, so I can shift to him and use the night vision. Axel would have been one of the only people here for the last train - potentially the only person here. All evidence would point to him. If he was here at all. However, I know him. I can find out if he was here. The ticket machine would have his fingerprints. I bring fingerprinting powder with me because fingerprints are my speciality. I shift to the person, leave a fingerprint on a smooth surface and take a close up of it. Then I compare it to the fingerprints I find. I keep a small amount of luminol and an ultraviolet torch with me in case I have to check an area for vampire attacks, too. There are a lot of messy vampires in South Wales, believe me. It’ll also be useful to know if Axel bled, if I can find a hotel room he stayed in.

The ticket machine had prints all over it. I should have known. Stupid me. It should have been obvious. But despite all of that, there’s a ticket on the floor for the last train. I’ll fingerprint that to see if it’s his.

Bingo. He’s on a train to Southampton. He’ll get there this evening, but I can get there tomorrow morning. I’ll have some catching up to do, but he has a false sense of security now that he’s there. He won’t be as paranoid. However, I need rest. I’m low on money, so I can’t afford to sleep in another Journeybreak (if there’s one nearby, which there probably isn’t) or any other form of cheap hotel. I’ll have to sleep outside tonight. But that’s okay. Wolves have thick coats, so if I sleep outside a wam building in wolf form, but still hidden, I should be all right. I’ll be cold, but I’m utterly exhausted. I’ll go to sleep now and get up early to find a job. The earliest train leaves at ten past six. I don’t have enough to ride the train, but no one checks the luggage area for seagulls... or shapeshifters pretending to be seagulls...

Anyway, if I’m to get any sleep, I’ll need to put my diary away. This is Victor Wolfe signing out.

[peckhampeculiar]

Bug life

Penny Metal has identified a staggering 555 different types of insect living in a small park in Peckham. Now she’s published a book on her findings, which include the first sighting of one bug in the UK

Words Miranda Knox

Photos Penny Metal

At first glance, Warwick Gardens – the small park located behind Lyndhurst Grove – appears a pleasant but relatively insignificant green space.

It’s tiny for a start, consisting of just 1.52 hectares of grassy land maintained by Southwark Council, with a football pitch and a children’s play park, a couple of picnic benches and a wild meadow.

It’s often regarded as a shortcut to Camberwell, and unassumingly nestles between the train tracks and a row of back gardens. But on closer inspection there’s so much more to this small south London park, which is just minutes away from bustling Rye Lane and Bellenden Road.

Graphic designer Penny Metal has lived in Peckham 24 years and has been visiting the space almost every single day for the last six, keeping a record of the smaller, less assuming park regulars – the insects.

“I’ve always been interested in insects to an extent, and initially liked bumblebees in particular,” says Penny, when we meet in the park for a chat. “The design and engineering of insects is amazing.

“I had a Canon 550D camera and a macro lens. I started taking pictures of bumblebees and then I got really into it. The idea behind the photography is to show people the beauty of insects.”

Penny expected to find a handful of interesting insects to photograph, but the little park has exceeded expectations – so much so that she’s now collated a 236-page book on the various species living within the patch.

“I expected to find about 50 insects but my count is now 555,” she says. “The council leaves the area to the side of the football pitch as a meadow and it’s full of plants like yarrow, which attracts tachinid flies, butterflies, bees and wasps.  

“There are days you can come and there isn’t anything,” she admits. “It all depends on the weather. Sometimes you can be here for three hours spotting things. I’m still discovering more – in April I found a hoverfly I’d never seen.”

Penny chose to survey Warwick Gardens – which won a Green Flag award recognising it as a well-managed park in 2012 – partly for convenience (she lives on nearby Choumert Road) but also for its normality.

“I like the fact it’s just your average park – on the surface it looks nothing special,” she says. “I started visiting and realised I really enjoyed it. I’d come round every day, fascinated about what I could find and where I could find it, and spotting things I’d never seen before.”

While they might be tiny, Penny has an eye for recognising insects most park-goers wouldn’t give a second glance. For example, not many people will have been lucky enough to spot one of the park’s three 10p-sized wasp spiders, so-called for their striking patterned bodies.

Penny explains: “Wasp spiders first appeared in the UK in the 1990s. I noticed them the first year I came to Warwick Gardens – we had one. Now I’m really pleased that we have three.”

However, getting to know the park’s diminutive dwellers isn’t without its challenges, she says. “It’s been a massive learning curve over the years – I knew the basics but then you suddenly start delving in a bit and you think, ‘Blimey, what’s that?’

“Twitter, Facebook and Flickr have been amazing because you’ve got a whole load of people who are also taking pictures of insects, and it’s a way of finding out what it is you’ve seen. There’s a lot of specialist groups.  

“I know the park so well, so when I see something I’ve never seen before I get so excited,” she adds. “There used to be a big ivy bush that got cut down last September, which is where I discovered the mosaic leafhopper. I called it the Peckham leafhopper.

“It was the first sighting of it in the UK, and it put Warwick Gardens and Peckham on the entomological map. I’ve looked every day for it but it’s gone now unfortunately. I’m gutted. Last year we had 10 nymphs, so they were beginning to establish themselves here.

“For me, it’s about promoting the idea of a small, insignificant park and what you can find in it. The Peckham leafhopper did that – it increased interest. I’ll still see someone with a sweep net, or others come and look around because they’ve seen on social media what you can find.

“Another insect the Natural History Museum was very interested in was the mottled shieldbug – that’s come from France, and we have one of the biggest populations in London in this park. When I first found them in 2011 it got a lot of reaction online.”

Other insects residing in the park include the endangered stag beetle, which has been spotted flying on warm evenings during late spring and early summer. The beetles typically grow up to 9cm long and have a life cycle of several years.

How one of Peckham’s smallest parks has such an array of wildlife within its iron gates is a slight mystery. “We’ve got gardens along here so they come in through planting, plus we’ve got the trains so a lot of things get swept in,” says Penny.  

“It’s also really protected – it’s like a mini climate. There’s absolute full sunshine in some areas because it’s south facing, so it’s a real good habitat for plants and insects. We have southern oak bush-crickets, buddleia attracting butterflies, and lilac.”

Sadly factors including the changing climate mean that some insects don’t survive. “We did have a scarce fungus weevil that used to live in one of the logs,” Penny says. “Apart from the Peckham leafhopper it was one of the best beetles I’d seen.

“When you look through insect identification books you think, ‘I’d love to see one of those’ and for him to be in this park you needed a certain kind of fungus that is indicative of old woodland. Sadly I think the foxes took all the fungus and a spider got him in the end.

“The whole point of my book is to include [these insects] in our community,” she adds. “Having lived here for 24 years, I’ve been looking at what’s going on in Peckham and looking at what’s happening in the park too.

“We’ve got more people coming into the park and into Peckham now and everyone wants to put their own stamp on it. For me it’s about looking after the old residents on the street, and being a bit careful about those who live here already – just to be aware.”

.........................

Insectinside: Life in the Bushes of a Small Peckham Park costs £20 and is available now from Review bookshop on Bellenden Road or from insectinside.me. 

[nataliehegert]

The “native” vegetation of the South Plains seems primarily to consist of pricklies, stickers, and pokeys: plants that grab you, stab you, and don’t let go. These tough weeds evolved to cling virulently to passing ruminants and spread like crazy, but they’re a torment for humans, our clothes and tender bare skin. I’m convinced that goatheads, for instance, are tiny manifestations of pure evil.

While traveling through California in 1919, the barb of the cholla inspired London-born author and photographer J. Smeaton Chase to denounce the cactus with this memorable quip: “If the plant bears any helpful or even innocent part in the scheme of things on this planet, I should be glad to hear of it.” If he’d paused to observe the cactus in more detail, he might have noticed the desert rats and birds that take refuge in the cholla’s spiny fortress. Chase’s quote exemplifies a Western attitude about plants, and about nature in general, that frames them as either antagonistic or beneficent. Plants are categorized as “helpful,” “useful,” “beautiful,” “rare,” etc., or, if they are none of those things, they’re just “weeds.” People have cultivated or eradicated plants according to their place on that spectrum — culinary, medicinal, or aesthetic. With the advent of capitalism came the “cash crop”: plants as commodities.

Humans have inadvertently tracked seeds and spores around on their boots, and spread noxious weeds to different continents on boats. They’ve chopped down diverse forests to plant vast fields of one single crop. All of these levels of human intervention have had the effect of diminishing the diversity of species on the planet, and contributing to the next “great extinction” powered by human activity.

Artist J Eric Simpson grew up in the midst of a monoculture, on a farm just outside of Lubbock, Texas, growing cotton and corn. After attending grad school at the University at Buffalo, New York, Simpson — an alumnus of the Land Arts of the American West program at Texas Tech — made his way back to the family farm, where he currently “daylights.” In his art, he deploys the materials and tools of industrial agriculture to critique the “current mode of crop production that implements an anthropocentric agency over the land.”

Simpson’s work combines the keen eye of a naturalist, the sharp mind of a researcher, the activist impulse of social practice, and the immersive monumentality of installation art. In a recent series of performative paintings, all entitled A Painting for Monsanto, Simpson set up canvases out on the vast, flat cotton fields of the farm (pictured at top), mixed various herbicides and pesticides, and proceeded to use an industrial sprayer to apply the “paint.” The result is monochromatic paintings in a yellow that’s somehow simultaneously sickly and vivid.

As luck would have it, my yard got sprayed the very day I went to visit Simpson at his studio. I asked the college boy who came unannounced to dispense the herbicide what was in the stuff he was spraying. Some kind of general broad-leaf weed killer, he mumbled. It made my goatheads shrivel up and turn brown. But their cruel spikes were still left in the dirt. The whole exercise seemed utterly pointless to me.

“The true product is the weed,” Simpson pointed out, describing the cyclical nature of the relationship between herbicide-resistant, genetically modified cottonseeds and the “superweeds” that develop resistance to the herbicides. Of course, both the cottonseeds and the herbicides are the intellectual property of the multinational agro-chemical companies that sell them to the farmer.

That evening, Simpson’s studio, which is in one of the live-work spaces in the Charles Adams Studio Project (CASP) in Lubbock, was still set up with the installation he showed at the First Friday Art Trail the weekend before. Each sculpture was grounded by a little patch of dirt. A pump that was hooked up to a length of clear plastic tubing sent a blue liquid from an herbicide container into one of Simpson’s paintings, a naturalistic rendition of a generic bottle of Roundup, painted using Monsanto’s genetically modified cottonseed as paint medium. The room was suffused with a pink glow, courtesy of greenhouse UV grow lamps.

There was a shelf displaying several pages of heavily redacted emails, drawn from the highly publicized trial that ordered Monsanto to pay a California groundskeeper $289 million for his cancer caused by repeated exposure to Roundup. The emails demonstrate that Monsanto was well aware of the carcinogenic effects of glyphosate, a chemical used in their herbicidal products. They tried to cover up the facts by ghostwriting sections in scientific papers, a fact that seems to also implicate researchers who would be willing to “edit and sign off” on sections essentially written by Monsanto. During First Friday, I watched as Lubbock locals filed past the emails, and nearly every person responded to the exhibit. This is something they relate to.

“There were only four agro-chemical companies controlling 91% of all cottonseed sales in the U.S.,” Simpson told me. “And it’s even less than that now, because they’re all merging with each other.” The German multinational firm Bayer acquired Monsanto earlier this year, while Dow and Dupont merged in 2017. Even without the mergers, these corporations are intricately intermixed due to cross-licensing agreements of genetic traits between them, which creates an oligopoly or cartel-like system. These mega-companies hold extraordinary, pervasive power over this region. “So, in a way,” Simpson says, “the strain is put on the farmer who becomes a bystander to all the ‘big decisions’ happening in the world of bio-technology. The power [that farmers] once had, a diverse market from which to buy products from for instance, is all but depleted. For instance, try to find a local dealer for non-GMO cottonseed. I assure you it is very difficult to do.” He picked up a transgenic cottonseed from where a pile of them were scattered on a video monitor. It was bright and unnaturally blue: about the same color, size, and shape as a blueberry-flavored Jelly Belly. I thought fleetingly about the proprietary blue meth from Breaking Bad.

As pointed out in an earlier Glasstire review of Simpson’s work, using a piece of heavily protected intellectual property in an artwork is pretty gutsy. Though it is extremely unlikely Monsanto (now Bayer) would pursue a lawsuit against an artist who used a scattering of seeds in an installation, the implication is present. (More troubling is the work by Simpson’s collaborator in the exhibition reviewed, Caleb Lightfoot, who made a video of himself in a Bayer greenhouse while an employee of the company.) In a town that is essentially run by Big Ag and the scientific research institutions that enable it, that’s no trivial matter.

Simpson clearly doesn’t kowtow to the powers that be in Lubbock, but he isn’t an antagonist, either. He mindfully emphasizes that he’s not against the farmer, or the scientists, or even against the corporations. “I know personally some people who work for these companies,” he said. “From my experience, these people are not gaining any personal power over the farmer. Nor do they want the farmer to fail. In fact, just the opposite. They are doing intense research to help the farmer succeed.”

So what does he see as the future for the farm? “Realistically, we can’t go back to a time of agrarian subsistence-level farming,” he says. But we urgently need to invest in devising and developing sustainable practices. He has faith that science will help us reach that point, and that art can help us envision it. Simpson has been working on a sculpture that would collect rainwater and solar energy, with an origami-like shape that opens up to receive rain, and closes to collect and store sunlight, distributing the water as needed through a root system. “The idea is that the sculpture would function as a ‘mother plant’ to surrounding vegetation,” he says.

As a CASP resident, Simpson has been extending his efforts out into the community, through curated exhibitions and talks. His curatorial endeavors so far have been outstanding. Each exhibition in the series takes one of the “four vital resources of Lubbock”—earth, wind, sun, water—as its theme. For ��earth,” sculptor and ceramicist Nicolle LaMere exhibited her “dorodango” collection—perfect shiny spheres of dirt. And last month, Ryder Richards showed his phenomenal installation Empowerment, for “wind.” I’m eagerly anticipating the “sun” exhibition, opening February 1, which will have “art objects, modular solar panel kits, and floating habitat workspaces.”

With an art studio as interdisciplinary research space, Simpson creates a fruitful dynamic between the fields of art and agriculture. Because CASP studios must engage with First Friday crowds — and these crowds are diverse, not just “art folks” — they serve a public function in Lubbock, and, one would hope, can strengthen different communities through mutual understanding. Simpson wants to create an “actual dialogue” with viewers, real conversations “on topics that impact their local economies and ecologies.” “During First Friday events,” he says, “I’ve been able to meet biologists, engineers, weed scientists, farmers, bankers, you name it, all of whom are able to engage with an aspect of the work, as it was rooted in this place.” The work is “about Lubbock, for Lubbock — it’s hyper-local in that sense,” he continues, but it can be shown elsewhere. Monoculture impacts landscapes all over the world and its effects have serious consequences for the diversity and sustainability of life on this planet.

As research continues to pour in showing that our planet is under threat, that human-driven climate change will have even further-reaching effects than we’ve previously imagined, touching every level of life (even the bugs are disappearing, for God’s sake!), it becomes apparent that we, humans, are the mammalian version of weeds. We’ve spread to every corner of the planet, and wherever we are we choke out other species. We should be looking at the weeds to understand more about who we are.

The landscape here is deceptively simple. It is flat, dry, dusty, with cotton as far as you can see. But Simpson’s work identifies it as a complicated system, with far-reaching effects. The dialogue he’s opening up in this corner of Texas, while clearly addressing the lives and livelihoods of locals, concerns itself with the ways we treat landscape and agriculture and how that will affect the world and our future. There are important lessons in it for all of us.