#wibbly critter

[astorichan]

Wibble

trying my hand at some simple animation and - this was surprisingly tough but just as fun! getting my revenge on @slimeshade :3

[normal-cactus1221]

top five silly geese

5: this guy. look at that HAT. the BEAK. just a wibbly wobbly little man! 8/10 silly goose

4: he!!! he has!!!! a dress!!! SILLY LITTLE GUY!! CUPCAKE OF A MAN!!! 11/19 SILLY GOOSE!

3: this halloween season partake in this Silly! Little! Ladyyyyyy!! LOOK AT HER HAT!! SHES SEASONALLY APPROPRIATE!! 7/5

2: just LOOK at these lovely ladies!! my ideal from! they may be graceful and beautiful, but you can be proper AND silly. they look like they would Cause Mischief. i love them 10000/10

1: THIS IS IT. THE SILLIEST GOOSE OF THEM ALL. YOU ARE NOT PREPARED. FOR THE SILLINESS LEVELS OF THIS GOOSE. 13/5

MY BROTHER!! now don’t be fooled by his looks. this isn’t a man. this could not possibly be a human person. couldn’t be ANYTHING but a silly goose. this guys just a Critter and a Silly Little Goose. no other description needed

[sea-angel-yello]

I love the other sea critter scuttling away looking scared out of its mind by the wibbly wobbly cephalopod

[critter-of-habit]

"I can’t deliver the messages myself, it would involve crossing my own time stream.” the Eleventh Doctor says as though he hasn’t been doing it for gimmicks and deus ex mechinas alike for the last season and a half 

[kariachi]

I have gotten myself riled up now

When Ruatha was attacked Lessa survived by hiding in the den of the Hold’s wher (who must have either been too valuable to replace or too dangerous to kill because Fax doesn’t seem the kind’ve moron to just let a massive critter loyal to anyone but him live). For the next ten years that wher remained the only creature she trusted, the closest thing she had to a friend. The final thing he did, the act he died doing, was running out into the sun (which we learn is very painful to whers) to try to fight off a fucking dragon at least twice his size (Todd once stated that gold whers are the size of browns, but shit’s always wibbly) to defend her.

And then he just, is background fluff at best? Does he ever get mentioned again?

Where the fuck is my Lessa, who uses her leverage as Weyrwoman of Pern not just to help the Weyrs but also to help the whers. Where the fuck is my Lessa, who saw a watchwher die for her and remembers it. Who pushes back against the bronzeriders sooner and doesn’t stand for F’lar’s abusive bullshit because there is a final loss still burning beneath her skin and just like her family didn’t die just for Fax to get fat off their land her wher didn’t die for her to be the property of dragonmen. Where’s my Lessa who encourages the Weyrs to take on their own, autonomous, wher packs because she knows from experience that there is no better ally when the world is falling apart around you.

Lessa who gets a tapestry made of her and Ramoth and Ruask, saviors of Pern.

Lessa, who makes damn sure he’s mentioned in Robinton’s song because he saved her and he died for her and without him the world would be nothing.

And Ramoth, precious golden Ramoth, who greets the whers at every Hold and Hall they visit, enforces good manners in her dragons, and grew up guarding her rider against the nightmares trauma brings, wrapped around her and copying the memories of a wher’s soothing hum.

Where’s my world where he meant something.

[disasterhumans]

i swear this isnt malicious, im curious. if its not okay to have a sentient species be 'evil' or 'good,' (and yeah, both are lazy at best), why is it okay for /creatures/ in DnD to be 'evil' or 'good'? why is it okay for less humanoid sentients, like dragons, to be 'chromatic is evil' and 'metallic is good'? and if we recognize traits even within species in real animals (like labradors being really mellow dogs compared to huskies being high strung) why is it awful for sentients to be different?

[Heads up to critters avoiding C1 spoilers that there is some discussion of the Chroma Conclave arc in this post. It’s not super detailed, and doesn’t spoil specific plot points; it’s mostly general analysis of the framing plot of that arc.]

I’m not sure that I do think it’s okay for sapient creatures to be “evil” or “good.” Or at the very least, I’m not sure it makes sense for sapient creatures to have ingrained moral alignments. At the same time, even just bringing it down to semantics, it’s different to have an evil “race,” versus an evil “creature.” It’s a distinction that gets wibbly, because of course Orcs are just as fictional as dragons. But where Orcs were derived from existing racial stereotypes, dragons are derived from folklore and fairy tales. Part of the point I was making in my previous post is that the moment the word “race” got involved in the project of essentializing traits in fantasy species, the concept became inextricably linked to our real world understanding of race.

“Monsters” and “creatures” are often used as allegories in the stories they appear in–this is how the Chroma Conclave works in campaign 1. Sure, Vorugal, Umbrasyl, Raishan, and Thordak all have character and personality traits. But Matt’s construction has them representing traditional “vices” (wrath, pride, greed, vanity, etc.). It doesn’t make any particular sense why a red dragon is vain, or a green dragon is deceitful, but those details are drawing from a narrative tradition of using symbolism to represent specific themes and attributes. I don’t think that having inherently evil dragons contributes to the problem of implying race has a determining factor in morality in the same way having inherently evil Orcs, Goblins, or Drow does. At the same time, I think that it’s a weak narrative tool if you’re planning on having dragons populate your world as actual characters (and not just allegorical figures). 

The fact that J’Mon Sa Ord is a fully developed character with motives, beliefs, and goals, where most of the Chroma Conclave exist as caricatures* doesn’t make a whole lot of logical sense. What allows metallic dragons to be paragons of virtue and to operate within humanoid cultures, where chromatic dragons are seemingly only interested in acquiring wealth and power? What prevents J’Mon Sa Ord from being a black dragon versus a brass dragon? There may not be anything “wrong” with chromatic dragons being inherently “evil,” but what purpose is it serving? I get that when it comes to role-playing games and world-building that it’s sometimes easier to paint with a broad brush: if your hero can identify an evil dragon on sight, it makes saving the world a lot easier. That doesn’t mean those decisions don’t have broader implications.

I think this question hits at two separate–if intertwined–conversations about some of D&D’s fundamental building blocks. You’ve got the conversation about representations of “race” in the game, and the moral alignment system that makes up a large mechanical component of the game. I have a objections to D&D’s morality system that are entirely separate from my issues with how D&D canon handles race. Morality (much like racial traits) gets simplified into something that can be quantified or fixed, ignoring the ways morality actually operates in the world. I understand the way mechanizing this concept provides a foundation for entry into a complex gaming system. I even think there are creative ways to use and explore the alignment system–sometimes the constraints of a rigid system allows you to explore what happens when you push up against those very boundaries. But the alignment system often logically falls apart the longer you look at it.

As far as personality traits in other species goes: first off, I don’t think dog breeds exist as a helpful point of comparison for this conversation. I am not an animal behaviorist, nor a biologist, so I’m not going to go into the concept different dog breeds having different observed temperaments. I am also not a philosopher, so I’m not really equipped for a larger conversation about sentience vs. sapience. But, the important thing about sapience over sentience, is that sapient beings generally understand the concept of there being “right” and “wrong” actions, and make decisions accordingly. There’s a reason why beasts in D&D are unaligned: non-sapient creatures act primarily on instinct, without regard for morality. 

I will also point to something I said toward the end of my earlier post–“seemingly inherent racial/species differences can be rooted in things that are legitimately value-neutral qualities of your fantasy race.” I don’t think that it’s “awful” to suggest there might be inherent differences across species. You could, for example, have one race in your world have, on average, higher levels of serotonin. That’s not going to markedly affect their actions and morals, beyond them generally having a happier disposition and better executive functioning skills, perhaps. 

The idea that different races are inherently more aggressive, or virile, or “lazy,” are all based in racist and eugenicist logic. That’s without even getting into the way specific fantasy races have drawn on specific racial stereotypes. The very idea that there is some biological imperative involved in morality or behavior is specious. And, look, I get that not every sci-fi/fantasy writer has studied race, gender, and sociology. I get that these things are ingrained into our understanding of the genre. It’s easy to fall back on those narrative and world-building shortcuts when creating a story or setting. I’m not trying to make a value judgment or moral accusation against the writers at Wizards of the Coast. However, I think it’s important to point out the places where creatives are (often unintentionally) reifying negative social dynamics.

At the heart of it, I think the idea of inherent morality is limiting. It limits the stories you can tell, the types of characters and cultures that exist, and it limits an audience’s understanding of what their own world looks like. Fantasy isn’t exempt from acting as a mirror to the “real” world. Its representational work may happen on the level of metaphor and allegory more often than realistic fiction does, but it’s ultimately still exploring themes that connect to the world the audience lives in. By questioning the default assumptions we’ve come to take for granted in the genre, we open up new, and more complex stories to explore and share.

*Two things on my Chroma Conclave comments: 1) I think Raishan exists outside my framing of the Conclave as caricatures–on an allegorical level her “vice,” pretty much requires she have more dialogue. We also see Raishan interact with VM more than any of the other conclave members. At the same time, Raishan plays into a whole other narrative trope which links disease to corruption and failed morals. That’s not a conversation I really want to have right now, but I think it’s generally important to keep in mind that a lot of tropes that exist in fiction are drawn from stereotypes and prejudices aimed at various disenfranchised populations. 2) Absolute none of this was meant as a dig on Matt. I enjoyed the Chroma Conclave arc, and found the allegorical aspects of it to be intriguing.

[meowyjean]

tysm @wibbly-wobbly-blog for the tag!!🫶

my buzzcut grew out into fuck-ass-bob length this year

no-pressure-tags to these little critters: @fiend-likequeen @morallygays @ihavenoideahowtodream @asterisadisaster @icedmatchalatt

Challenge >:3

using this picrew make it look like you :D

no magical color eyes

Make it look as much like you as possible

you can do whatever with the background and stuff tho

Tagging: @ranboothesillyartist @raccoon-in-a-dumpster @i-ate-your-children @anonymouscringe @spideygal @seagull-dustin @sotogalmo @maecraft @i-like-cats-and-stars36 @ascendeddd @astertheabbs

@deadpuppetboi @connectionterminated13

[nymandtyler1-blog]

Quantum Dot Vs OLED, Which Is actually The Better Present?

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[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #459

Top Ten Christmas Elves

It’s the last one of these before Christmas! And yet Christmas is still ages away really! Maybe I should have done the Christmas one next week! That’d be Boxing Day! Is that more Christmassy! Who knows! Woohoo!

Ahem.

Right, every year I try to do one of these that’s something about Christmas because, well, Christmas. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Just once I’d like a regular normal Christmas. Eggnog, a chuffin’ Christmas tree, a little turkey. But I’ve got to right these mother flippin’ lists all the time. And the more of them I do, the more I use up all the easy lists! Three years from now, what on Earth can I find to tie into Christmas? I’ll be ranking the Christmas specials of The Vicar of Dibley.

(That’s not a slam on Dibley, by the way, which is obviously in a particular style but can be devastatingly funny, and the recent specials have been quite moving, touching on the death of Emma Chambers. Anyway, there’s a Dibley Digression for you.)

Anyway, here’s another one that you kinda thought I’d have already done, and one that you’d kinda think would be pretty easy: best Christmas elves. Except when I sat down to write, it transpired that although there are a lot of Christmas movies, and a lot of movies featuring Santa Claus, elves are comparatively thin on the ground. Especially as I’m talking about real Christmas elves here; so Tony Cox in Bad Santa does not count.

And so, across movies, TV, and literature, and with a hearty “ho ho ho” in our hearts, and with no further ado, here I present my favouritest of favourite festive elves; a veritable cavalcade of Santa’s Little Helpers. Merry Christmas everybody! Be good – and what’s your favourite colour?

Buddy (Will Ferrell, Elf, 2003): I mean, it’s got to be, right? He’s the embodiment of Christmas spirit, he’s kind, he’s attentive, he throws a mean snowball, and he brings down the Elf Choir by a whole octave – in a good way! Elf is slight film, but a really enjoyable feel-good one, and Buddy is just so damn nice. He really is the best elf.

Bryony (Ashley Jensen, Arthur Christmas, 2011): a spikier, fast-talking elf, who seems so much tougher than Buddy (check out her two-tone hair and facial piercings). She’s got no time for any shit, but she is above all else just a top-notch wrapper.

Patch (Dudley Moore, Santa Claus: The Movie, 1985): a nice guy in the Buddy mould, but simultaneously more of a sadsack and more of an egotistical bellend, whose performative strop almost ruins Christmas. I’m being unduly harsh, of course: Patch is a sweetheart; naive and maybe a bit needy, but full of ideas and just wanting to make everything better. Has a sweet car, too.

Bernard (David Krumholtz, The Santa Clause, 1994): another fast talker who takes no guff, Bernard is suitably business-minded, caring only about completing Christmas satisfactorily, and giving little heed to the mental gymnastics poor old Scott Calvin is having to go through now that he’s murdered Santa in a cold-blooded attempt to seize the throne, Lannister-style. At least, I think that’s what happens. Anyway, Bernard is cool and funny, like many Krumholtz characters.

The “Santas” (Rare Exports, 2010): a sinister and slow-burning mystery surrounds the naked old men who show up during an industrial digging expedition in Lapland; is it Santa? But there’s more than one! The truth is shocking and, frankly, hilarious; a superb little pitch black comedy. The naked old men are grimy and gruesome but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

The Elves (The Christmas Chronicles, 2018): coming across almost Gremlin-esque (especially in the sequel), these CG critters are a fun and fresh take on Christmas elves. They’re part Minions, part Mogwai, part Attack of the Clones’ Yoda; leaping about in a dervish to help deliver Christmas.

Wiser Older Elf (David Graham, Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom, 2008-2013): Graham’s Wise Old Elf is one of the best things about Ben and Holly (a show I’ve regrettably not had cause to talk about for far too long – it’s awful when kids stop watching the best shows, isn’t it? I really miss this and Hey Duggee being on all the time in our house); giving him an older (twin!) brother who has the more “important” Elf job of running Santa’s workshop is suitably hilarious.

Ian and Wolf (Dan Starkey and Nathan McMullen, Doctor Who “Last Christmas”, 2014): they’re supporting characters – barely more than cameos, really – in a one-off Christmas special of Doctor Who; their very existence is all wibbly-wobbly. But they’re delightful fun, especially when they sarcastically chide Clara for not believing in Santa. And while we’re at it, Moffat’s writing of Santa in this episode is exemplary, one of the finest screen Santas.

The Forest Spirits (Klaus, Grant Morrison and Dan Mora, 2015): another excellent and rather post-modern take on Santa and Elves. In this comic, Klaus is betrayed and left for dead, but saved by mystical and mysterious “spirits of the forest” who may or may not be aliens. They grant him strange powers and eternal life, in a way that marries Christmas folklore with superhero mythology. It’s another intriguing idea from Morrison.

The North Polar Bear (The Father Christmas Letters, J.R.R. Tolkien, 1976): what? He’s not an elf! He’s a bear! But Tolkien’s accounts of Father Christmas’ life at the North Pole are rather interesting in that there’s not really a great deal of elfishness about them. Various clans of elves do crop up – especially during the wars with the goblins or if there’s a party, which feels typical of Tolkien Elves – but really for the most part the role of “elf” (as in “Santa’s Little Helper”) is given to the North Polar Bear Karhu. Intensely helpful and good-natured, but also incredibly clumsy and thin-skinned, he’s probably responsible for more chaos than anything else, but he’s sweet and adorable and the friendship between him and Father Christmas is genuine. He’s a truly terrific character, and although he’s not technically an elf, I think we can afford him honorary elf-hood for the purposes of this list.

[recentanimenews]

Endangered Animal Series Zetsumei Kigu-shun. Gets New Life as an Anime

  Since 2018, character brand Zetsumei Kigu-shun. has been introducing the people of the Internet to the world's many endangered species. As of next month, these wibbly little critters will have their very own anime series, to be aired on streaming site Niconico.

  So far, the brand's official YouTube channel has released 13 unvoiced animated shorts, like this one:

    The new series will be bringing anime star power to its lead animals. So far, four cast members have been revealed:

  Natsuki Hanae (Tanjiro in Demon Slayer) as Shirokuma-shun the Polar Bear

  Hiroshi Naka (Garp in One Piece) as Aji-san the Arctic Tern

  Daiki Yamashita (Deku in My Hero Academia) as Zо̄-shun the African Elephant

  Sumire Uesaka (Shalltear Bloodfallen in Overlord) as Panda-shun

  The new anime's first PV introduces Shirokuma-shun as voiced by Hanae:

    The "shun" of the title (and many of the names) is Japanese slang for being so wrung-out and exhausted, you can't even speak. Series creator Yuuki Odaka comments, "The most 'shun' creatures on the planet right now are likely endangered species. They're a little pitiful, but also energetic and sweet. It would be great if you use Kigu-shun. to learn as much as possible about these endangered animals."

  Zetsumei Kigu-shun. begins its run on NicoNico in December.

  Source: MoCa-News

    By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[purple-dragon-642]

Fearsome Critters are a spectacular type of cryptid invented by drunk lumberjacks and I love them so so much!

A personal favorite is the Funeral Mountain Terrashot (https://cryptidz.fandom.com/wiki/Funeral_Mountain_Terrashot).

These peaceful coffins with faces and wibbly noodle legs live happy lives grazing and growing their herd in the meadows of Funeral Mountain until they are compelled by ancient instinct to migrate. Then, they begin a graceful trek in perfect single file down into Death Valley.

The ultimate destination of this migration remains unknown because the Funeral Mountain Terrashot is extremely sensitive to heat, and every single one explodes on the journey. 

Ain’t nature somethin?

ok i love mothman as much as the rest of you guys but you guys need to expand your horizons

y’all are sleeping on some of the best cryptids

[superbearfun]

Note to Readers– This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.  If you missed the beginning, you can catch up HERE for the beginning and previous chapters. Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

Pieces of glass flew everywhere as the window at first shattered and then seemed to explode from the force of a heavy, grey granite rock hurled from outside, startling everyone and causing all the bunnies to scurry in fright beneath the table to shelter from flying bits of glass.

Thump-a! . . . Bump-a! . . . Thump-a! . . . .

The rock hurtled, careened and bounced across the cabin’s wooden floor, finally coming to rest against the far wall.

Wearing boots and not wanting any of the others’ bare feet to be cut on broken shards of glass, I motioned Little Red Bear and everyone away. Carefully stepping around the larger glass splinters, smaller pieces crunched and crackled beneath my feet as I made my way across the room.

Reaching the rock, I carefully picked it up to find a message, painted in bold red letters on the flat bottom.

I held it up for Little Red Bear to see.

“LOOK OUTSIDE”

Little Red Bear quickly tossed me a broom from the corner.  I hurried to sweep up the shattered window glass pieces from seemingly everywhere, anxious to see who or what was to be found outside.

Had the weasels ganged up and overwhelmed Albuquerque while guarding the rabbits? Holding him hostage?  Worse?  Had the coyotes run wild and taken potential story characters? What had been done that they wanted us to see?  Thoughts raced thru my mind while hurriedly sweeping glass.

Before I could finish, another rock came sailing in thru the now open window space, striking the far wall and falling down in a loud “CLUMP” on the floor.  I walked over to find another message awaiting . . .

“WHAT’S TAKING SO LONG?”

I worked even faster to clear the remaining few pieces of glass from the floor and tops of tables.  

Emptying the last dust pan filled with broken glass into the trash can, I joined Little Red Bear, already slumped and frowning, at the broken window.

A short distance from the cabin, the smallest ostrich, the one whose protest sign Little Red Bear had ripped apart earlier in the day, stood with his tongue sticking out atop an upturned wooden rain barrel, forcefully waving a freshly painted new sign while wagging his head in an unhinged, wibbly-wobbly, deranged back and forth manner, taunting Little Red Bear.

RED BEAR IS SO UGLY HIS MOTHER

HAD TO BORROW A BABY

TO TAKE TO CHURCH ON SUNDAYS!

Then, aware that we had each seen the new sign, the ostrich flipped around, shaking his backside and tail feathers at us while displaying the reverse side of the sign.

AND HE SMELLS BAD!

“Sticks and stones, Red,” I reminded, trying to comfort and gently moving him back away from the window and sign message. “Sticks and stones.”

“My Mother never borrowed nobody’s baby — or cub — to take to church,” Little Red Bear grumbled in protest. “That little ostrich is just makin’ up stuff. To be hurtful. That’s not nice.”

“No, it’s not nice, Red. Don’t let it get to you. Just remember – ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”

“I suppose,” Little Red Bear replied, rather dejectedly, “but right now I’d like to take a few sticks and stones to that guy’s bones.”

“You know that wouldn’t solve anything and just serve to make matters worse. Just let it go and be the bigger man.  Err, bear. Be the bigger bear. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe the next sign will be about you, and then you can be the bigger man.”

“Well, Red,” I replied, patting and ruffling the hair on his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow. Hold on to that thought if it cheers you up. We never know what the morning will bring around here right now, so we’ll see. Maybe they’ll do that for you.”

We both laughed.

“But in the meantime,” I continued, “we have a window to patch and guests to make comfortable for the night. It’s time to get bunnies in blankets.”

“Bunnies in Blankets! Oh, that sounds good.  Let me get this here window covered and I’ll get some started and made up real quick for us!”

“No, no, Red.  Not those Bunnies in Blankets.  Henrietta’s baby bunnies — I need to round up some comforters and blankets for them to go to bed and keep them warm tonight. It’s getting late. Do you always think about food?”

“Well, not always.”

“But maybe?”

“Well — maybe.”

We both laughed again.  Little Red Bear patched the broken window with some large sections of cardboard for the night, while I prepared bedding areas for Henrietta and her family of bunnies.

“Why did they have to bring my Mother into it?” Little Red Bear called over from the window. “She’d come straighten ‘em all out in a hurry if she knew about what they’d said.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” I agreed, still laughing. “She would reset their clocks all right.  There would be nothing left but a pile of feathers by the time your mother finished with them all if she knew what they’d been saying about her cute little baby bear.”

“Watch the ‘baby’ stuff,” Little Red Bear corrected, laughing himself at the thought of his mother dealing with the ostriches. “There would be feathers flying for sure! Don’t those ostriches know not to ever anger a mother bear?”

“Good thing for them she’s not around then,” I added while spreading the blankets and comforters on the floor for the bunnies.  Henrietta gently tucked each one in with a bunny kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe,” Little Red Bear answered. One could tell that he was still entertaining thoughts of flying ostrich feathers in his mind though, by the half grin on his face.  Then he unexpectedly burst into a fit of hearty and loud laughter.

“Wouldn’t those ostriches be sad to find out that after all of their efforts to make us mad and hurt our feelings, we were still inside here laughing and not crying into our pillows?” Little Red Bear managed to get out, between laughs.

Henrietta’s baby bunnies, snuggled in their blankets, were all giggling too, because laughter is contagious, after all. Henrietta shushed them, of course, while chuckling to herself.

“Yeah well, that’s what it’s all about, right?” I responded. “Not letting them get to us or ruin our day? It’s up to each of us whether we choose to be happy or give over control of our thoughts and happiness to others.  And with you laughing so loud right there beside the broken window, I’m guessing the ostriches might know.”

The prospect of the ostriches being aware that they had not affected him seemed to delight Little Red Bear still more, and he laughed even louder.

In a little while, with the window patched and bunnies nuzzled and settled in, Little Red Bear and I headed upstairs, deciding to call it a night after what had been another long and trying day.

We all awoke the next morning to find the sun peeking up over the treetops. Soon it was shining brightly, warming us on Honey Hill and burning off the night’s fog in Hoppers Holler below; with clear, cheerful blue skies overhead.  A beautiful Sunday morning.

Heralding spring, dandelions were popping up thru what open ground was left unoccupied by the encampment surrounding the cabin. Pink and white dogwood trees were in bloom, scattered thru the woods over the hillsides. The delightful sounds of birds singing, chirping, whistling and warbling filled the air.

There were many birds singing, in fact. The trees were chock full of them, all having come to see for themselves what all the uproar was about in the neighborhood. The encampment of wildlife had grown larger and even more spread out over the hillside as late-comers had continued to arrive all thru the night. Apparently, word of the ostrich protest and goings-on was still spreading over the mountains and thru the hollers.

This morning’s light revealed the construction of a rather large treehouse in the grove of trees on the hill slope out back. Raccoons can be just as busy as beavers when they set their minds to a task. Uncomfortable in their hastily constructed lean-to shelters with so many of Farmer Turner’s contentious hounds encamped nearby, Cooter’s raccoon platoon had constructed an imposing treehouse structure overnight, complete with a swing for the young-uns.

Speaking of the beavers, they completed and already rented out their second and third lodges, with new work begun on a fourth and fifth, with “For Rent” signs of course. Construction is booming it appears.

After spotting what the raccoons had accomplished overnight with their magnificent treehouse, the beavers, considering themselves to be highly skilled carpenters and builders not to be outdone, decided to try their paws at treehouse construction, as well.

Of course, the beavers needed to also construct a nice ladder in order to reach it, not having the natural ability to climb trees as do the raccoons.  A good number of trees would remain upright in the woods if beavers could climb, and not have to chew and fell trees in order to secure out-of-reach twigs and branches for food.  But they don’t, so they do, so to speak.

Little Red Bear and I both agreed the beavers’ treehouse resembled more of a traditional beaver lodge with a second story added than a true treehouse, but if you have a winning design why change it, I suppose.  And we certainly cannot argue with their success, having already rented the new unit out before work was even completed.

Securing the ostrich’s permission to cross the picket line, a family of enterprising chipmunks set up a Farmer’s Market on our front porch and yard. With the help of some beaver carpenters they had quickly assembled stands displaying and selling a large selection of various acorns, nuts, seeds, grains, berries, fruits, vegetables, mushrooms, earthworms, bugs, corn, juice, milk and eggs. A veritable little “Nature’s Wildlife Grocery Store” for the campers.

Critters have been filing in steadily to replenish supplies and to do their grocery shopping. Chipmunks are renowned for their food-storing habits and to their credit recognized a ready market for their warehouse of stores and supplies, but I didn’t ask them where they obtained the fresh produce, milk and eggs. Sometimes it is just better not to know. But with all of Farmer Turner’s hounds camping out back, I have a sneaking suspicion where at least some items may have come from.

Dealing with enough issues right now though as it is, and we were running out of food to distribute to everyone anyway. The chipmunks and their market were a welcome sight, to be honest. I will cover whatever is missing from the neighboring farmers after all this blows over. Though, it may get costly if this Ostrich Crisis goes on much longer.

I suppose the ostriches realized too, that it was best for all of us if the assembled friendly and so far, merely curious crowd of onlookers remained that way, and did not turn into an out-of-control hungry mob, so allowed the chipmunks to cross the picket line and set up shop.

Newspaper circulations and revenues are up substantially for both the owls and squirrels. And word has come to me that the weasels are still managing to clip unsuspecting visitors now and then for “camping fees” on the outskirts of the area.

It seems everyone is making money off the ongoing Ozarks Ostrich Crisis except those truly involved in the affair – Little Red Bear and the ostriches. And me – the meat in the sandwich caught in the middle as work has come to a screeching halt on new stories. Isn’t that always the way, though?

But thinking about it, somewhere in there may lie the grounds and basis for a future settlement to resolve all of this, perhaps. On the other hand, it doesn’t seem the ostriches have cared much about anything other than disruption of our writing work so far.

It is amazing how far down the wrong bumpy road one poorly chosen little word or comment can send us sometimes. Case in point – Little Red Bear’s ‘flightless’ comments to the ostriches.

Have said it before and will undoubtedly say it again – words are like toothpaste. Once squeezed out, toothpaste is all but impossible to get back inside the tube again. And thoughts and words are the same way – good or bad – and seem to take on a life of their own once let out.

Having been spoken and let loose, words are out running around on their own for all to hear, and then we must deal with the consequences because they cannot be unsaid. There are no ‘Cancel, Clear, Delete’ options on speech. We can be sorry and apologize for the poorly chosen ones right off, but the words are still out there floating around in the air, and hiding in folks’ memories looking to cause trouble at a later time.

Think twice, speak once. Or better yet sometimes, not at all.  My advice everlasting.

And in Little Red Bear’s case, the consequences of an off-hand comment came immediately in the form of picketing ostriches and an abrupt stoppage of work on his stories. Of course, how could any of us have predicted the ostriches’ reaction to being questioned about their useless wings? Ostriches are indeed “flightless”, after all. No secrets there. Little Red Bear was merely seeking information, even if not in the most delicate way, perhaps. Maybe the world is simply getting a little too sensitive, seeming to almost seek out things to be offended by at times.

Regardless, due to poorly-chosen words or over-sensitivity, the ostrich crisis lives on. New onlookers and campers are still arriving every hour, a steady stream of woodland shoppers keeps the chipmunks’ new market hopping, and the picket lines encircle and wind around the cabin.

Getting back to the ostriches, having observed that the encampment of observers had encircled my home, the ostriches decided that their picket line should also. Just so no one missed out on seeing their protests, I suppose. Instead of merely parading with their picket signs back and forth across the front as they had been the first days, they had by Saturday worn a path around the whole cabin, having taken advantage of the packs of coyotes and weasels to lengthen the picket line.

Today’s new development was discovering that a second circle of picketing ostriches, coyotes, and weasels had been added to the non-stop picketing parade around the cabin, marching in counter-clockwise fashion to the clockwise direction of the first, a circle within a circle rotating in opposite directions. Dizzying to watch.

With so many signs marching in different directions, it seemed that no matter where Little Red Bear went inside the cabin, he inevitably found himself at a window when a “LITTLE RED BEAR IS FAT, UGLY, AND SMELLS BAD!” sign paraded past.

Little Red Bear’s restraint to this point, although measured at times, has been admirable. I wonder myself, for the ostriches’ sake – how far do they really want to torment and agitate – a “bear”?

Thinking it might be time to draw the window shades and blinds before things get more out of control. As gentle and good as he is, even Little Red Bear’s tolerance level has limits, as do we all.

With tomorrow being Monday and the start of a new work week, if all goes well a sizable number of the spectators may be packing up and leaving to return to various woodland duties and jobs for the week, perhaps easing the uproar and potentially enabling some meaningful dialogue on the issues with the ostriches tomorrow.

The beaver lodges and the raccoon’s treehouse present an interesting legal quandary. They each constructed them using their own materials, but they are on our property without our permission.  I wonder if the beavers and raccoons would allow me to sub-let the new properties when this is all over? Getting ahead of myself there, probably. This all needs to be resolved first. Peacefully if possible, but with coyotes and weasels involved that’s never a sure thing.

At least, thru the efforts of the enterprising chipmunks and wildlife grocery though, everyone is getting fed now. And that’s always a good thing.

Except, the coyotes and weasels, who have displayed no interest whatsoever in the chipmunk’s market.

That is a worry. Weasels and coyotes are always a worry.  Hungry – doubly so.

But right now, I have to deal with a little piggy who appears as though he’s made one too many trips to the market.  I thought the chipmunks had only set up produce and dairy departments. Apparently there is a section in the back I may have overlooked.

Some critters seem to be enjoying the ostrich protest and events a tad more than others, it would appear. This fellow looks drunk as a skunk.  I had better go outside and get hold of this party animal before Albuquerque the Sheriff pulls him over under suspicion of SWINE – Shopping While Intoxicated Nearly Embalmed.

Gotta go.

To be continued . . . .

Thanks as always for following along and visiting with us! If not doing so already, Follow the Blog now to be informed of every new post and update.

As a special ‘thank you’ for everyone, Little Red Bear has included the Pinterest Recipe for Bunnies in Blankets that he mentioned earlier in the story, a nifty little appetizer featuring Caramelized Baby Carrots in Crescent Roll Wraps, just for fun.  You didn’t really think that we would be harming baby bunnies, did you? Find this recipe and much more on my Pinterest Boards.

Be sure to check in next week as events continue to unfold in the “Ozarks Ostrich Crisis”, a continuing weekly serialized free story available only here on the Writing Blog.  See ya then!

Kindness costs nothing.  Be kind whenever possible, while keeping in mind that it is always possible.   Be the reason someone smiles today!   — Jim  (and Red!)

“Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith.” – St. Francis of Assisi

“Anger helps straighten out a problem like a fan helps straighten out a pile of papers.” – Susan Marcotte

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  Chapter Six of The Ozarks Ostrich Crisis: “To Market, To Market” Note to Readers-- This is Chapter Six of a continuing Weekly Serial Story freely shared only here for followers of my Writing Blog.  

[kariachi]

Okay, so, had two dreams last night

First one had Ben going and checking out some program designed to help people learn about Osmosians, which sounds great in theory- helping people understand this species that is, in the dream, damn near extinct (the dream made it seem like this was due to poaching) and hopefully get them some help in not going entirely extinct- except he and I were both very confused as it didn’t actually have a lot of, information about Osmosians?

Like, the section on Osmosian views on gender or Osmosian genders  or whatever that section was supposed to be? Seemed to consist mostly of ‘if you want to date an Ossy, this is what you do’.

The ‘Osmosian History’ section just followed the story of one specific Ossy (the only one seen in the dream but others are implied to be around, it takes place in a very large area) (also was @petrichorparacosm’s Tori, for some reason, which makes no sense because literally all I know of them is the name and that they’re related to Kevin, but, dreams)

Dream seemed to lean into Ossys as semi-social, strongly-dragon-leaning peeps who develop firm connections to their territories (Tori was still mourning the territory she had to abandon for her own safety, and while a timeframe wasn’t established it was implied to be a long damn time, and she’d only spent half her time there in the first place)

The whole ‘learning about Ossys (theoretically)’ plot was dropped rather quickly as an emergency hit (good job Ben, always when you show up)

There was this massive fucking, cat-termite-grub thing? And when I say massive I mean massive like ‘definitely outweighs canon Ramoth’ massive. And I don’t know if she can sapient or not, the way she was referred to and spoken to was kinda wibbly edging toward sapient?

Anyway everything got interrupted because she’d just had her latest batch of babies and they’d come out all white?

I’m still not sure what the problem there was? Or at least what caused the problem? Like, I think the Ossys ate her babies, but the way everything was it seems like they were specifically born for the Ossys to eat? But someone had managed to do so before they were born and this was Bad? Which still makes no sense, fucking dreams.

Somebody did something that made the babies come out white and this is a bad things for reasons that are not adequately described

Whichever way, the cat-termite-grub babies were born white and this was a Problem and they needed to find out who caused it and stop them

And that’s pretty much it. I woke up during Operation: Solve the problem, which for some reason involved a lot of paragliding.

And the much shorter dream two

The team come across information about this planetary body with nothing really interesting on it except for this one piece of outdated tech that isn’t even outdated enough to be interesting to anybody but Ultimate Tech Nerd Kevin Levin, who of course wants to go check it out because he’s a loser cleverly disguised as a badass

Problem being that nobody knows exactly where it is because the people who cataloged the planetary body just said it was there, not where exactly it was

Solution- everybody sits there gaping while Kevin takes the like, three tidbits of information people have been able to find over the years and does a load of complex math with it in his head to figure out where exactly this thing is within like thirty seconds

He is very amused by everyone’s reaction

They go to the place, exact spot, nothign fucking there

Kevin is a goddamn wreck. He did the math, The Thing should be here

It is not there

What does turn out to be there is some seriously fucking dangerous critters that nearly kill the team before they manage to escape

Turns out that the tech was never there in the first place- the people who cataloged the place discovered the critters and rather than discourage visitors with ‘there’s these really fucking dangerous critters here, don’t visit’, they instead decided to just be vague and make the only interesting thing there something so boring it made the place less interesting

Kevin led the team directly into the nest they’d been trying to hide

He is very happy with the outcome, mostly because it means his math was right (down literally to the centimeter) they were just lied to about what was at the location he mathed for