#Oregon Field Guide

[deramin2]

The salmon are returning to the Klamath River after over a century because dams that harmed them were finally removed. When they came out, even the most hopeful Native fishery experts were urging patience because it might be a decade before we start to see gains. But it happened in one year. Because very determined human beings refused to believe it was a lost cause, and viewed themselves as caretakers and not inevitable destroyers.

The consequences are rippling out as the land physically changes, and it's still a fight (especially between white farmers and Native peoples), but there are more landowners waking up to the reality that they can and must live with and support the fish in order to protect their own interests. We can't make an enemy out of the land and the people or ecosystems who are native to it.

This is a great episode of the public television documentary series Oregon Field Guide from April 3, 2025: Salmon return to the Klamath’s Oregon waters, but the river’s headwaters are still blocked. (Article is the transcript, but the video is worth watching.)

"We have to fix it," [Klamath tribal member and fish tech Charlie Wright] said. "We all know the pieces fit together because we all watched it fall apart. So we know it can be successful and healthy again. But...we have to do the work."

why bother caring about the environment when 1. It’s so obviously a lost cause and 2. There’s definitely going to be a nuclear war?

And what are you doing about it Anon? Learn about ecological restoration or get out of my way.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

I haven't been writing as many articles for my website the last few weeks as I've been putting the bulk of my writing time into The Everyday Naturalist manuscript. However, I am still writing my biweekly Rainy Rambles column for the Coast Weekend paper. This is my latest installation thereof, discussing some of my favorite field guides that I use out here in the Columbia-Pacific region (many of them are applicable further afield in the Pacific Northwest, and a couple even more widespread than that!)

[typhlonectes]

Garter snakes make friends, organize their society around females

Finding comes from first-of-its-kind study of thousands of wild snakes.

Garter snakes have something in common with elephants, orcas, and naked mole rats: They form social groups that center around females. The snakes have clear “communities” composed of individuals they prefer hanging out with, and females act as leaders that tie the groups together and guide their members’ movements, according to the most extensive field study of snake sociality ever carried out. “This is an important first step in understanding how a community of snakes is organized in the wild,” says Gordon Burghardt, an ecologist at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, who was not involved in the research. Other experts agree: “This is a big deal,” says integrative biologist Robert Mason of Oregon State University. “It’s a whole new avenue of research that I don’t think people have really given any thought to"...

Read more: https://www.science.org/content/article/garter-snakes-make-friends-organize-their-society-around-females

[ckret2]

Chapter 74 of that fic about human Bill but he's not in this chapter so forget about him: Ford and Dipper go cryptid hunting!

This is pretty much a standalone chapter so if somehow you stumbled on this without seeing the rest of the fic, u can just, read it by itself as a standalone Dipper and Ford adventure. It's funny. Promise.

####

The camera turned on to reveal Dipper, illuminated sunset orange and cast in heavy shadows, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly #175: the Fremont Nightwigglers!" He held up a paper title card in his free hand. "I'm Dipper Pines, and today I'm honored to introduce our special guest star—" he turned the camera around to focus on Ford from behind, "—the one and only Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD times twelve—"

Ford laughed self-consciously. "Dipper, nobody's going to recognize my name outside of a few highly specialized academic fields—"

"—the scientist who developed the Theory of Weirdness—"

"That paper isn't even ready for peer review yet, and I can't take all the credit—"

"—and the coolest dimension-hopping monster-fighting mystery-investigating great uncle in the world!"

Ford paused thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll take that one."

"Tonight, we're on the trail of the Fremont Nightwigglers." The recording cut to CCTV footage from a much higher-budget cryptid-hunting show (which Dipper had recorded by aiming the camera at the TV). The footage showed two marshmallow-like creatures that seemed to consist solely of heads, long legs, and feet—smooth, ghostly white, and featureless except for black eyes. They wore denim jeans that covered their bodies from ankles to waists, and their legs seemed to bend jointlessly, like an octopus's arms or an elephant's trunk. "These weird armless creatures have been seen up and down the west coast states, leaving behind a wave of jeans thefts at clothing stores; but by the time local law enforcement has ruled out any human suspects, the true culprits are always long gone."

The recording cut back to Dipper, who'd taken the lead so he could turn around the camera and aim it at both himself and Ford. "Based on investigative research done by Dr. Pines in the 80s, we believe the Nightwigglers have a migratory route several years long that passes through California, Oregon, Washington, and Canada. More research is needed to find out if they travel as far as Alaska or Mexico. Locals believe each Nightwiggler creates an individual burrow around a communal gathering spot to hide in during the day, and at night they assemble in the communal spot to travel or forage in nearby towns."

Ford threw in, "Based on what the townspeople told me about their habits, they've been in Gravity Falls much longer than usual. It typically takes them a week or two to pass through the area, but this year there have been sightings for more than a month. Perhaps we'll find out why."

"And thanks to a hot tip from an in-the-know local"—the recording cut to a few seconds of footage of Wendy proving she could do a handstand on the split-rail fence around the Mystery Shack—"we know which assembly spot they're currently camping around! Tonight, we're trying to get the first deliberate footage of a Nightwiggler..." Dipper lowered the camera and turned toward Ford, "Hey, what'll we call a group of them? A flock? Herd? Meeting? If we're the first investigators to officially document the species, we get to come up with the name , right?"

Ford considered the question. "What about a wobble of Nightwigglers? Since their legs are so... wobbly."

"Sure, that works."

"Is this really your 175th episode?" Ford asked. "I've missed quite a few."

"Ye—well..." Dipper lowered the camera. It recorded his shoes as he walked. "So far I've got a list of 175 anomalies I want to do an episode on, but I've only recorded and posted thirty-something. I think you've seen them all except the two I've done this summer." He sighed. "I'm... kinda disappointed by it, honestly."

"Why? You should be proud of your work so far! You're the only person in the world who's caught footage of the Hide Behind."

"By accident."

"Because you learned how to identify its call, chased it through half the forest, and were prepared with the right equipment to record it. That wasn't luck, Dipper—that was your hard work."

"I guess," Dipper said grudgingly. "I just... wanted to have a lot more produced by now."

"Wh—You started these last June? That's about one every two weeks. That's a very impressive output."

"I made most of them last summer, I hardly did any over the last school year or this summer."

"You've been focusing on your studies, that's good."

"Yeah, but what about this summer? All I've done so far is borrow some of Robbie's music video footage to make an episode about zombies and record some footage I haven't edited yet about Pacifica's alpaca thief. I didn't even get any footage of the haunted doll crane game before it disappeared. Most of the time I've been just... hiding in Soos's room playing Bloodcraft: Overdeath"—(under his breath Ford muttered "Blood-craft over death?")—"or hanging out with Wendy and her friends, or helping Soos with the Mystery Shack, or just trying to avoid..." He trailed off, suddenly conscious of the camera still aimed at the ground. It had started recording footprints drying in the mud after the recent rain: soft indents like the pads of paws, but with no distinct toes, about the size and length of human feet. Dipper lifted the camera to better record the trail they were walking down.

"Well... there's nothing wrong with taking a break during the summer," Ford said. "Especially considering that your last summer was... quite a bit more exciting than most kids'—"

"That's just it!" Dipper said. "Last summer I did so much! I investigated your disappearance, I filled half of your third journal, I helped stop the apocalypse, I wrote a book with Mabel about solving mysteries and doing fun stuff, I recorded like twenty Guides to the Unknown... Compared to that, this summer I feel like I'm—falling behind."

"Falling behind what?"

"I don't know. But—I just—I... feel like..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know."

Ford offered, "Maybe, like you're not living up to your own potential?"

"Yes! That's it," Dipper said. "I'm not trying to grow up too fast, I'm just worried I'll grow up before I've done all the stuff I'm supposed to do now. Like I'm already running out of time."

"Hmm..." Ford let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "Dipper, I'm probably the wrong person to be giving this advice, considering that I'm not exactly... the paragon of moderation when it comes to pursuing professional ambitions. But—remember that you're only thirteen. Right now, you don't need to be worried about graduating valedictorian and starting up an anomaly-hunting show and doing groundbreaking research into previously-unknown strange and wondrous creatures," Ford said. "You just need to focus on graduating valedictorian first. That's all I did with my high school years, and after that I still managed to rack up multiple PhDs before age 30. You've got plenty of time!" He said this with the confidence of a man who didn't realize having his life derailed by a manipulative alien villain was the only reason he didn't burn out hard by 1984. "Outside of that, just... worry about being a kid."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "I keep worrying, though. I keep thinking, what if I'm wasting all my time on stuff that... just... doesn't matter? What if nothing I'm doing is actually important?"

Ford was silent a moment. "That's... a very existential question for your age. How long have you been worrying—"

Dipper hissed, "Grunkle Ford!" He jerked his camera up. "Is that fire?!" There was a faint orange glow in the distance between the trees.

"I think it is!"

Dipper whispered, "That's where I found the Nightwigglers' abanadoned campsite last time!"

"Did you see any signs that they knew how to start fires? Remains of a campfire?"

"I didn't notice anything."

"It could be a Scampfire..."

As quietly as they could, Dipper and Ford edged through the trees, Dipper all the while pointing the camera toward the light, until they found a narrow gap between two trees from which they could peer into the clearing.

There were three or four dozen Nightwigglers milling about in little clusters. Several had lit torches—sturdy sticks with the ends wrapped in fabric—which they carried by sticking the ends of the torches into their jeans' pockets.

"Dipper, look at the tops of their torches," Ford hissed. "Is that shredded denim?"

The camera zoomed in on the nearest torchbearing Nightwiggler. "I think so."

"We already knew they wore clothing—but they can make tools, too? How advanced are they..."

Ford trailed off as the clustered Nightwigglers separated, spreading out evenly into several rings. As the camera recorded, they began emitting a synchronized muffled humming; and then they began dancing, kicking their legs and turning in circles together. "Whoa," Dipper whispered. "Is this some kind of ritual?"

"What's its purpose?" Ford whispered back. "Recreation? Religion? Some sort of cultural event—?"

"Hold on. I think I recognize the song."

Ford and Dipper fell silent, watching in silence as the dance repeated a couple of times.

The Nightwigglers were doing the Hokey Pokey.

"Fascinating." The camera lurched sideways, and then turned toward Ford. Ford had stolen Dipper's journal from out of his vest pocket and was hastily taking notes on a blank page. "I had no idea Nightwiggler culture was so influenced by human culture. An hour ago, we didn't even know Nightwigglers have a culture. When could they have observed and learned the Hokey Pokey? It's not exactly a nighttime dance—do they spy on humans during the day?"

Dipper said, "What if we learned the dance from Nightwigglers?"

Ford stopped writing, looked up, and stared at Dipper, mind blown.

Dipper jerked the camera back toward the Nightwigglers as they filed out of the clearing. "Hey! Where are they going now?"

Dipper and Ford waited until the last Nightwiggler had left; and then they quietly followed.

####

After several minutes of silence except for the sound of footsteps, Ford said, "Are we headed toward Mabel's Fault?"

Dipper groaned. "I got enough of this place last week."

"Agreed." 

"Hey, you know Bill said we should rename it 'Bill's Fault'?"

Ford huffed. "Did he really? I don't believe it."

"Yeah. He tried to play it off like, 'oOOoh, I just want creEDit—'"

"That sounds like him—"

They came to a stop as the camera spied the Nightwigglers standing in the clearing around the fault, then they quickly moved off the path into the brush and crept closer. "What are they doing?" Dipper asked as they inched up to the tree line.

"I don't know—they're packed too tightly together for me to see."

"I've got an idea. Hold this." The camera bounced as Dipper passed it to Ford, who watched as Dipper climbed up one of the pine trees around the clearing. 

"Careful! There aren't a lot of low branches that can hold your weight."

"It's okay, Wendy showed me how to do this." Dipper held out his hand for the camera.

Ford passed it up to him. "What do you see?"

The camera foused on Mabel's Fault. "The Nightwigglers closest to the fault are taking off their jeans, ripping them into two separate legs, and... tossing them in the fault? Have you ever heard of this?"

"Never."

"Like a dozen have done it so far."

"Perhaps that's why they have to steal so many pairs of pants? But why..."

Dipper gasped. Tiny Nightwigglers had begun squirming out of the fault, each wearing a single denim pant leg, crawling around like inchworms with half the pant leg trailing behind them. The bigger Nightwigglers picked up the little ones with their feet and swaddled them in the excess fabric. "They're—I think they're baby Nightwigglers! Coming out of the fault!"

"Amazing! Is this how they reproduce?" Ford asked. "Is that why they travel the west coast—are they following the San Andreas Fault and the volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest?"

"Maybe that's why they've been in town so long," Dipper said. "Mabel's Fault wasn't here the last time they passed through."

"We'll have to find out what other towns they stay in the longest. How far is Fremont from the fault line—?"

"Hey," Dipper said, "A bunch more Nightwigglers took their jeans off. They're tying them in a circle." One of the torchbearer Nightwigglers knelt down and bowed forward, setting the jeans ring on fire; and it was tossed into the fault. The Nightwigglers that weren't carrying infants formed a circle and began Hokey Pokeying toward the fault.

"That definitely looks like a ritual," Ford said, "but why? To celebrate the births...?"

The ground rumbled. Dipper gasped and slipped several feet down the tree before he caught himself. When he refocused the camera, Mabel's Fault was several feet wider, and a fiery glow was rising up from within.

An enormous Nightwiggler, fifteen feet tall, climbed out of the fault. It wore a crown of flaming denim and tattered pants formed by stitching together many pairs of decades-old jeans. The Nightwigglers bowed down.

"Good lord," Ford breathed. "What is that? Did they summon it, or—or was it always down there?"

The giant Nightwiggler watched regally as its subjects danced around it. As they spun around and completed another repetition of the Hokey Pokey—that's what it's all a-BOUT—the giant punctuated the end of the dance with a ground-shaking stomp.

Dipper lost his grip on the tree. He and the camera crashed to the ground with a yelp. 

"Dipper! Are you alright?!"

"Ow... fine, probably just bruised."

The camera caught Ford kneeling to help Dipper sit up, and then Dipper grabbed the camera again as he stood. He pointed it back at the clearing.

Every single Nightwiggler, babies and giant included, was staring at them with wide black eyes.

Ford said, "Uh oh."

The giant let out a bellow like a muffled hunting horn.

The Nightwigglers charged.

Dipper and Ford ran away through the brush, screaming.

####

Dipper pointed the camera at his face. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks and arms were covered in small branch scrapes. "Still works," he reported to Ford.

"Great," Ford said. "That thing's hardy."

The camera jerked as Dipper tried to set it on a tree stump.

"Well, we got away with our lives," he said. "But... not without some losses."

He got the camera settled and backed up. He was wearing his vest zipped up around his hips like a skirt. Ford's trench coat was conspicuously buttoned up, and his legs were bare between his coat and boots. They both looked sheepish.

Ford said, "We've acquired some invaluable anthropological data, though."

"I'm calling this investigation a triumph," Dipper said.

Ford offered a hand. "High six!"

In the background, a skinny-legged Nightwiggler wearing Dipper's shorts darted through the trees.

####

(It's about time Dipper get a little personal attention. Hope you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[sparkbirdmusic]

sparkbird sparkbird i love your music a lot and i've been wanting to try getting into birding. any tips on where to start???

OOH OOH yes yes yes

SPARKBIRD'S BIRDING TIPS

go to wetlands!! I think wetlands are pretty much always the best place to start birding. (forests and lakes can be a bummer, which surprised me when I started birding. to be clear, I've had great birding experiences in all kinds of places. but often in forests the birds are too high to see, and far too many lakes are just huge birdless expanses of water)

the more you know, the more you notice—so many species of birds are right under your nose (or over your head) in the places you go or pass by every day (home, school, work, the walmart parking lot, the random field behind the goodwill, etc.)

download the Merlin Bird ID app. you can have it listen and identify what birds it's hearing (occasionally it gets things wrong but it tends to be quite accurate, and it'll likely help you start identifying birds by ear)

if you can get your hands on binoculars, that's a HUGE help. if not, I would look up local bird walks, because they tend to have extra pairs to use for the event! depending on your accessibility needs, you may look for phrases like "stationary event" or "bird sit". look for chapters of the feminist bird club! (I co-founded the chapter in portland, oregon)

download the eBird app and go to the Explore tab. see what species have been reported around you, and what hotspots you might go to. you can look at people's checklists to see what times they went places, what route they went, etc. you can learn a lot by scouring people's checklists!

get a field guide. if you're in north america, sibley is the go-to guide (sibley birds east or sibley birds west, depending on where you are)

check out sibley's birding basics book (I learned a lot from this when I was first starting)

above all, just go look at birds and try to figure stuff out! when I first started, I felt like I didn't have permission to be a beginning birder. it felt like something you could only do if you already knew everything. I am here to tell you that you DO have permission

tell me how it goes!!!

[nateconnolly]

WHAT DO ALL OF THESE BOOKS HAVE IN COMMON?

ANSWER UNDER THE CUT

All of them have been banned, or access to them has been restricted, in a prison in America within the last ten years.

In many states, prisons have broad and vague guidelines for book restrictions -- N.J. Admin. Code § 10A:18-4.9 grants prisons the right to ban a book if it "Lacks, as a whole, serious literary, artistic, political or scientific value". In Arizona, "inmates are not permitted to send, receive, or present... Publications that depict nudity," and explicitly states that classical art is not an exception (DO 914: 8.2.1 and 8.2.1.1).

I volunteer at a nonprofit that sends free books to prisoners. From personal experience, I know there are sweeping book restrictions such as "no dictionaries," "no coloring books," or "no manga". While these books are not always strictly banned, inmates are frequently underpaid, or forced to labor without pay. That means many inmates cannot afford to purchase books, and rely on nonprofits for access.

Book bans in public libraries and schools are unconscionable, but they are usually not effective at restricting access. A high school student can usually still see an image of Michelangelo's David even if they cannot learn about it in class. In prison, a book ban on nudity can permanently prevent inmates from accessing great works of art, the shared heritage of humankind.

DONATE TO THE INSIDE BOOKS PROGRAM IF YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY. THEY SEND FREE BOOKS TO PEOPLE IN PRISONS.

Sources:

Found on Marshall Project

1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die (banned in California according to Marshall Project

Basic Fundamentals of Modern Tattoo (Illinois)

No role playing games. A Practical Guide to Dragons. Abolish Prison Slavery. “A Multi Denominational Wicca Bible. (Montana)

101 Things to Do With Mac and Cheese (New Jersey)

“But, Didn’t You Kill Malcolm?” and “A Field Guide to Lucid Dreaming” (North Carolina)

“100 Years of Chevrolet” “1000 Dot to Dot Animals” (Oregon)

“San Francisco Bay Newspaper” “Making Everyday Electronics Work” (Rhode Island)

“Marvel Encyclopedia” (South Carolina)

“A Brief History of Manga” (Texas)

“1001 Photographs You Must See in Your Lifetime” (Virginia)

“A Question of Freedom” Reginald Dwayne Betts (Wisconsin)

The Tennessean

A prison in Tennessee restricts access to The Quran, The Torah, The Bhagavad Gita, and books about Norse mythology. (The ban did not apply to the Bible.)

Personal Experience

I am not willing to dox myself, so I cannot name the nonprofit where I volunteer. However, I swear that I have seen book bans on manga, how-to-draw guides, coloring books, electronics books, dictionaries, and composition notebooks.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the redside shiner!

The redside shiner, scientific name Richardsonius balteatus, is a common minnow fish in the Western North America! Also called the Bonneville redside shiner, red-sided bream, Richardson's minnow, and silver shiner. Found in schools based around species, this fish has two currently named subspecies, those being R. b. hydrophylox and R. b. bealeatus, although recent data implies that this may not be the case, showing there may be three subspecies instead. However there isn't enough current knowledge to say for certain. These fish can be found across the Western North America, in Southern British Columbia, Alberta, and then across Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and Western Montana and Wyoming. Primarily found in the Columbia and Colorado river systems, in slow or still moving waters. These fish are native in Washington, Oregon, and Utah, but are invasive species harming salmonid populations in other locations. Common in lakes, mid-small sized rivers, ponds, ditches, and creeks, preferably found over gravel, sand, and vegetation. In the colder nights and winters, this fish is known to temporarily migrate to deeper waters, where they are more protected from the freeze. 

These fish are small, only three inches in length as juveniles, and only up to 5-7inches (18cm) as adults. As fry these fish start a silver color, very similar to spawning salmon and trout, but as they age they can turn silver, brown, olive, and of course, in the breeding seasons red and gold. The fry feed on zooplankton, algae, crustaceans, and, the trait of which makes them a concern in nonnative areas, trout and salmon fry. These fish at all ages are opportunistic, eating anything they can, including their own fish eggs. Adults tend to eat: insects, aquatic or terrestrial, mollusks, plankton, small fish, and eggs. Due to their small size they're predated on by larger fish in their environments, along with loons, and minks.

During spawning season, which runs from May to July, males will turn a brassy color, and gain a red stripe running behind the eye and along the lateral line, signifying that they are of breeding age. Spawning occurs in the afternoon and evening when adults move to spawning streams (or lake fish will move to inlet streams), where females and males will pick one another to thrash side by side, variously releasing eggs and sperm. These eggs then are abandoned to stick to the bottom of the stream on rocks and vegetation. Eggs will then hatch in 14-15 days after fertilization, forming schools with the other various redside shiners hatching. This is the time in which some subspecies prey upon trout fry, and others simply compete with trout for food. These fish will then sexually mature around 2-3 years of age, and will live for around 5 in total.

That's the redside shiner, everybody! Thank you for being lenient well I've been on fish hiatus briefly as I got a feel for my school term. However, fish of the day should return for at least a few days a week, but I will be attempting to get these out all five days, so keep an eye out! Have a wonderful day!

Sources:

McPhail, J. D. (2007). Redside Shiner. Pearson Ecological. https://pearsonecological.com/fish-l2-single/redside-shiner/

Utah Natural Heritage Program. Species database - Utah Natural Heritage Program Field Guide. (2019). https://fieldguide.wildlife.utah.gov/?species=richardsonius+balteatus

Nico, L., & Fuller, P. (2004, August 6). Redside Shiner (Richardsonius Balteatus) - species profile. USGS Nonindigenous Aquatic Species Database. https://nas.er.usgs.gov/queries/factsheet.aspx?SpeciesID=644

[na-bird-of-the-day]

BOTD: Eurasian Collared Dove

Photo: Luiz Lapa

"During the 20th century, this pale dove expanded its range spectacularly from the Middle East all the way across Europe. Introduced accidentally into the Bahamas in 1974, it soon spread to the Florida mainland. Its expansion westward and northward from there since the 1980s has been remarkable, and the species is now common to abundant across much of North America, as far northwest as Oregon and Washington. Oddly, the expansion has not yet penetrated the northeastern states, aside from a few records of strays."

- Audubon Field Guide

[backseatbabyy]

Phoebe Mallard - PJO OC

~ General ~

Full Name: Phoebe Grace Mallard

Nickname(s): Duckie (by her siblings and close friends), Phoebs,

Birthdate: August 3rd, 1994

Species: Demigod

Residence: Ashtown, Oregon | Camp Half-Blood

~ Physical Appearance ~

Hair Colour: Strawberry Blonde

Eye Colour: Mossy green

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 5’2

Misc: Heavily freckled, bitten down nails, lots of gold earrings, a nose stud, small scratches and scars on her limbs from gardening and exploring the forest

~ Family ~

Father: Dr. Arthur Mallard

Phoebe and her father were always very close. A botanist, Arthur homeschooled his daughter and she came with him on his research trips. He doted on his only daughter and raised her with a love of nature and the outdoors. He always had a suspicion that her mother was something otherworldly, especially when Phoebe started showing signs of some kind of magic. Arthur died when Phoebe was 11. They were attacked by a hellhound while studying the flora of New York state.

Mother: Demeter

Phoebe has always had a rather complicated relationship with her mother. She only saw her mother once. When she was 11, Demeter saved her from the hellhound that killed her father and led her satyr guide to Phoebe.

~ Camp Life ~

Cabin: 4

Counsellor: No

Years at Camp: 5

Quest(s): The Prophecy of Eight (Seven), TBD

Ambrosia (what she tastes): Her dad’s chocolate cake

Nectar (what she tastes): fresh, juicy peaches

Skills: Proficiency with various weapons, hand-to-hand combat, expert dagger-wielding skills

Abilities: Chlorokinesis, self-healing via plants, teleportation through plants

Weaponry: a pair of light, thin daggers with grooves down the center that can hold poison

~ Background ~

Hometown: Ashtown, Oregon

Despite being born in Oregon, Phoebe spent most of her childhood travelling from place to place with her father. As he was a single father and had no family to leave her with, Phoebe came with him on his various research trips and cross-country teaching assignments. Phoebe was homeschooled and spent most of her days exploring the forests, meadows and deserts of the United States.

~ Personality & Traits ~

Personality: Phoebe is a very kind and good-hearted person. She has a tendency for sentimentality and is definitely the kind of person who literally stops and smells the roses. Phoebe is quite forgiving and always tries to see the best in people. She’s trusting and a very optimistic and cheerful individual. Emotionally, she’s very empathetic and can pick up on people’s emotions easily. She often mediates arguments around camp. Phoebe is an introvert and enjoys spending time alone as much as she enjoys time with others. Despite her soft-hearted nature, Phoebe can be incredibly stubborn when she wants to be. When her mind is made up, almost nothing can make her back down. She’s naturally not a very confrontational person and prefers to avoid conflict, but won’t back down if someone tries to start something with her. Phoebe has a hard time making and sticking to boundaries.

Strengths: Caring, comforting, smart, optimistic and persistent

Weaknesses: overly forgiving and trusting, unable to set boundaries, small spaces

Fatal Flaw: Inability to accept change

Likes: The outdoors, training, exploring the forest, her siblings, friendship bracelets, making plant jokes

Dislikes: Small/enclosed spaces, overly strong smells, bugs that eat her plants

Hobbies: Gardening, hiking, making friendship bracelets, birdwatching

Favourite Place: The strawberry fields or the forest, although she’s not technically supposed to go there outside of capture the flag.

~ Relationships ~

Best Friend(s):

Piper McLean

Lila Thompson

Friends:

Jason Grace

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Frank Zhang

Hazel Lesvesque

Clarisse De La Rue

Nico Di Angelo

Boyfriend: Leo Valdez

Enemies:

Octavian

~Misc & Notes ~

Phoebe’s room on the Argo II has ivy growing on the walls and plants all over.

She’s always wearing hiking boots.

Phoebe gets called “Duckie” by her siblings because of her last name.

Phoebe pretty much knows everyone at camp and is friends with almost everyone.

She unironically loves birdwatching and can recognize a lot of them by sight.

She only drinks herbal tea.

Her handwriting is really messy and sort of a mixed up combination of cursive and printing. She writes her y’s and g’s in a really weird curly way.

When she is stressed, plants grow from her hair and skin.

She’s a vegetarian.

Although she can heal by using the life force of plants, she dislikes doing it as it kills the plants whose life force was drained to heal her. She usually refuses to let it happen.

She has a lot of knowledge of poisonous plants and it’s basically a rule to not touch, or Gods forbid, eat anything in her room because it’s probably got some nasty effects.

Her abilities are stronger during the spring and summer and less powerful in winter.

{had this one in drafts for like a month…. still cooking up some new ocs so share so here’s phoebe! also i just guesstimated on the year it takes place so idk if that’s right or not lol}

[arinzeture]

JACK DANIELS HOLSCLAW (1918-1998)

Tuskegee Airman Jack Daniels Holsclaw was born in Spokane, Washington, on March 21, 1918. His father, Charles, was a clerk in a downtown store, and his mother, Nell, was a manager at Pacific Telephone and Telegraph. Holsclaw attended North Central High School in Spokane, where he excelled both academically and athletically. When he was 15, he became the first black person in Spokane to earn the Eagle Scout badge.

Holsclaw entered Whitworth College in 1935 but transferred to Washington State College (now Washington State University) in 1936 to play baseball. Beginning in his junior year, he played center field and helped the Cougars finish as co-champions of the Northern Division, Pacific Coast Conference. He was the second African American earn a varsity letter in baseball at the college.

In 1939, Holsclaw transferred to a chiropractic program at Western States College in Portland, Oregon, where he met his wife, Bernice Williams. They had one son, Glen. Holsclaw completed the chiropractic program in 1942 and passed the Oregon state board examination.

While there, he enrolled in a government sponsored Civilian Pilot Training Program at Multnomah College and earned his pilot’s license. On October 5, 1942, he enlisted in the army as a private and entered flight school, training at Tuskegee Army Airfield, Alabama. After completing his training, he received his wings and was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant on July 28, 1943. Lieutenant Holsclaw received advanced training at Selfridge Field near Detroit, Michigan before his squadron was shipped to Italy in December 1943.

Lieutenant Holsclaw flew in the 100th Fighter Squadron, 332d Fighter Group, an all-black pursuit squadron. Holsclaw named his favorite P-51 “Bernice Baby” in honor of his wife. The 332d Fighter Group had distinctive red tails giving them the nickname “Red Tails.” The 332d Fighter Group escorted bombers on their runs over enemy territory, shielding them from German fighters. To the bomber crews that were protected by them they were the “Red Tail Angels.”

On July 18, 1944, in an aerial battle over Italy, Holsclaw shot down two German fighters. For this action he received the Distinguished Flying Cross. By December 1944, Holsclaw had completed 68 combat missions, nearing the limit of 70, when he became Assistant Operations Officer, an important administrative position that included aerial mission planning. In January 1945, Holsclaw was promoted to captain.

Captain Holsclaw returned to the United States in June 1945 to serve as assistant base operations officer at Godman Field, Fort Knox, Kentucky. He served as an Air Force ROTC instructor at Tuskegee Institute and then Tennessee State College.

From 1954 to 1957, Holsclaw was assigned to Japan, and from May 1962 to the end of 1964, he served as chief of the training division, Sixth Air Force Reserve Region at Hamilton Air Force Base, California. He directed the preparation of two textbooks to guide incoming air force personnel. Holsclaw retired from the Air Force on December 31, 1964 as a Lieutenant Colonel.

From 1965 to 1973 Holsclaw served as a manager in the Marin County Housing Authority, California. In 1973, he and Bernice returned to Washington where Holsclaw joined the staff at the People’s National Bank in Bellevue. He remained there until his second retirement in 1983. He and Bernice took up residence in Arizona, where Jack Holsclaw died on April 7, 1998, at the age of 80.

In August 2019, the Jonas Babcock Chapter, NSDAR, dedicated a historical marker in the memory of Lt. Col. Holsclaw at the site of his childhood home in Spokane.

[wynndigogh]

Bring me a dream...

You stand brushing your teeth in an outdated bathroom. 

The light over the vanity appears to be from the sixties and considering the way the bulb flashes and surges every few seconds with a zz-ut-zhut sound, it may be that old as well.

The light it gives off is yellow and dull; however, you aren’t very sure you’d like a bright view of that bathroom anyway.  The tub, sink, and toilet have more rings than the Olympics logo and the faucets are pockmarked with rust.

The tiny mosaic flooring tiles are missing in random spots and the bold floral designed wallpaper, which you are sure at one time contained bright yellows, oranges and greens, is now a faded façade that is barely clinging to the walls.

You roll your eyes and spit the last of the toothpaste foam from your mouth, “Not exactly the Hilton, but a bed is a bed.”

With a sigh you exit the small washroom, opting to leave on the flickering yellow light and close the door just enough to for it to act as a nightlight.  You are single, traveling alone, and unfamiliar dark rooms are intimidating. The sliver of light from the bathroom brings you some small amount of comfort, no matter the poor quality.

You walk stiffly through the small motel room.  After two straight days of driving, with little rest, your body feels like stone.  In your overly caffeinated, yet insanely exhausted, state you are trying to remember exactly why you thought driving from Georgia to your job interview in Oregon would be a good idea.

Ah, yes, Skinwalker Ranch. 

You started watching the spooky series on the History channel months ago and have become obsessed with the thought of other-worldly portals that connect our world to places unknown.  In a misguided a-ha moment you decided to drive, instead of fly, so that you could pass through Gusher, Utah just to be close to the supposed interdimensional portals. 

You know getting on the actual ranch will be a no-go, but you want to be in the town, as close as possible to the actual ranch, just to see if anyone has tales of their own to share of extraordinary happenings in the area.

So, that is how you ended up in this rundown motel pretty much in the middle of nowhere. 

With a sigh, you pull back the old comforter on the bed, noting the dingy sheets with a shutter.  You hesitate for just a moment, contemplating if you should put leggings under your oversized tee shirt, but your tired body encourages you to tough it out.  Reluctantly, you crawl into the bed. 

Since your last coffee was only an hour ago, a desperate attempt to make it to Gusher before your heavy eyelids forced you to stop, you are a little too wired to just drift off to sleep.  So, you pull out the latest creature-feature romance novel that you’ve been reading and turn to your ear-marked page.  You will read until the caffeine-kick wears off.

The small room is quiet except for the faint zz-ut-zhut from the blinking bathroom light. 

In fact, the whole motel is as quiet as a graveyard.  You doubt any of the other rooms have occupants in them.  The parking lot was empty, and the front desk clerk seemed genuinely surprised to be checking someone into the establishment.

You twist to your left side, trying to get the aged lamp beside your bed to illuminate your book’s page.  You need to see the details clearly; the story is just getting spicy. 

The story’s heroine has been fighting a growing attraction to her Centaur field-guide, whom she hired to lead her through a dangerous forest.  A recent Trogg attack has the suppressed protagonist clinging to the Centaur’s broad equine back as he races her to safety.  The author is detailing the baritone sound of his huffs of exertion, the heated moisture coating his muscles, and how the heroine is enjoying the bouncing rhythmic friction of the chaotic ride just a little too much.

You subconsciously swallow and rub your stacked legs together out of need.  You feel a slight ache in your nether region followed by the tell-tale sign of slick starting to gather at your entrance.  You shift your position, and the bedsprings protest with a squeak and a hiss.

You flip the page in your book, and you are halfway through the first sentence at the top of the page when the thought finally registers in your tired mind, did the bed just hiss?

You lower your paperback book to scan the bed and the dimly lit room.  The fossil-age lamp beside your bed and the sliver of yellow bathroom light illuminates the area around the bed decently enough but they do little to chase away the deep shadows in the far corners of the room. 

Oh, how you hate the dark.  Ever since you were a child, you always felt like the darkness itself was watching.  Watching and waiting. 

The longer you look at the shadows of the room, the more your skin wants to crawl with goosebumps.  You know it’s silly and that it is probably just your anxiety of being alone in an unknown space, but that same feeling of being watched surfaces in the back of your mind.

However, after a moment of observation, nothing seems amiss.  With a shiver and a shake, you turn your attention back to your book.

By the middle of the page, the heroine is reaching her peak bouncing up and down on the Centaur’s back.  You are fully invested in her ride, fantasizing about riding astride the strong creature yourself.  As your mind wanders, your body reacts to the imagery.  Your nipples harden under your nightshirt and your internal temperature peaks causing you to sweat.  You throw off your covers and start to fan yourself with your book, when you hear a muted in-take of breath, like a soft gasp.

In shock and fear, you bolt into a sitting position, “Who’s there?”, you call out in panic.

Your eyes and ears strain for clues.  The only movement and sound coming from the flickering bathroom light. 

Seconds tick by, counted off by the zz-ut-zhut of the old light bulb. 

The stillness growing into an uneasy stalemate.

You shift nervously on the bed.  Preparing, waiting.  Yet, nothing happens. 

Slowly, your racing heart begins to ease.  The muscles around your eyes begin to relax as your body adjusts to burning through the last of your caffeine-high just now. 

As your eyelids grow a bit heavy, a yawn surfaces.  Your face contorts in the yawn, your eyelids shielding most of your vision.  That’s when you see it, a flash of light deep in one of the room’s shadows. 

No, that isn’t right.  It wasn’t a light, there were two.  You saw two flashes of light, almost like the blink of dual fireflies, in the corner across from you.

You quickly stifle the yawn, blinking back the reflexive tears from your eyes, and stare hard at the space.  Only, the lights don’t reappear. 

Was it your imagination?  Is your fatigued brain experiencing hallucinations? 

You focus hard on the corner, and you see something…at least, you think you do.

Is that…a shadow? 

For a moment it’s there and then, with the next blink of your eyes, it’s gone again.  Was something there?

You strain to see.  Your eyes sting with dryness and feel gritty, even as tears from your yawn leak from the corners.  You squeeze your eyes shut repeatedly, trying to lubricate them.  Surely, you’ll be able to blink away the fog that seems to be forming on your pupils, obscuring your vision.  However, no matter how many times you try, your eyes refuse to focus.  You use the heel of your free hand to rub one orbital, in a pitiful attempt to literally wipe away the opaque quality of your vision.

Deep in the corner, the shadow flickers into existence and two glowing orbs reappear.  The orbs aren’t the luminous bottoms of bugs, they are two glowing eyes staring straight at you.

For just a moment, shorter than a gasp, your heart stops.  Pausing in stillness, preparing for the surge. 

Then, with the quickness of a lightning strike, the adrenaline jolts through your system.  Your heartrate spiking, sending blood to your muscles, preparing you for fight and flight.

You instinctually shriek and fling the book in your hand at the tall form in the darkness while simultaneously rolling off the far side of the bed with a resounding thud.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”

The voice that you hear from your hiding spot beside the bed is masculine.  It has an elegant cadence with an accent you can’t place.  It sounds otherworldly, almost ethereal, and yet hollow, like it’s muffled.  The sound of a male voice inside the room with you triggers the third fear response, freeze. 

You are utterly frozen in place on the grimy carpet, your mind racing.  Who is it?  How did he get in?  What does he want?  The sound of soft footsteps interrupts the chaos storming through your mind.  The footfalls are coming closer. 

Over the lip of the mattress, you see a dark hooded figure leisurely making his way around the bed.  You just stare with wide eyes as he comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, stares down at you, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. 

Is it panic or shock that has your back glued to the floor, your body unable to move, or is it awe?  

The man, no – that isn’t right, it can’t be right. 

The being standing over you has swirling, glowing eyes.  You watch as the color of those luminous orbs shift and twirl in tones of blue, white, violet, and gold.  They are oddly mesmerizing and unnerving at the same time.  Just as your mind starts to get those in their depths, he breaks eye contact, and you watch those shimmering rings of light trace a line down your body, lingering with interest on the peaks of your nightshirt and the exposed swatch of your lacy underwear.

After a long pause at your lacy covered apex, those shining eyes blaze white and lift to make eye contact with you, “My lady, I do believe you are in need of my assistance”.  His eloquent, ethereal voice placing emphasis on the word ‘need’. 

The bedside lamp casts enough light to reveal his face beneath the hood. His eyes aren’t just floating orbs, they are pupils set in a pair of elongated eyes, framed high and tight by steep cheek bones.  His skin, a deep velvety blue with sparkling specks that catch and reflect the light, resembling a starry night sky.  You can only see a small portion of skin around his eyes, and you understand why his voice sounds muffled, he’s wearing a mask over the lower half of his face.

You hear screaming.  It takes you a moment to realize the sound is coming from yourself.  Your voice sounds so far away, like you are having an out-of-body type of experience.

The creature…being…man, whatever he is, raises his finger to his masked mouth and issues a command, “Shhhhhhhh”.  

A glimmering tendril of some type of floating substance, ribbons out from his hand, wafting over you, and stealing your panic.  Like a drug, your body starts to feel heavy and your voice stalls in your throat.

“Allow me to help you”, his foreign accent drawls out from behind his mask.  The shapes of his swirling eyes pinching thin, in what could be a cheeky grin, as he reaches down and takes your delicate hand in his indigo colored one, pulling you to your feet, your body just obeying.

Standing toe to toe it is apparent that this being is tall, at least 6’4” because your petite frame is only reaching the top of his chest. 

You are staring up into those hypnotic eyes when you feel him grip your chin.  His fingers are tipped with dark claws, and he is careful not to stab them into the tender flesh of your face.

“Are you hurt?”, he questions behind his barrier, “Maybe I should check, eh?”

His long eyes turning cheshire-shaped from another impish grin.  You are feeling too dazed to protest when his free hand glides over your shoulders, down one of your sides, and pauses on your hip, gripping into the amp flesh.

“Who-what are you”, your words come out slow and groggy.

“Hmmmm, I am called many things by your kind, faerie, demon, Sonnaya Tuchka, Ole Lukøje, Pesochnyy chelovek, we call ourselves Zeez; however, my favorite is your tongue, what you called me when you were youngling.”

The creature pauses staring at you; your transfixed dreamy stare telling him that you were not processing his words as quickly as he is speaking.  He watches patiently as the information clicks into place in your mind, your eyes widening ever so slightly with the realization that you two have met before.

“You, my desert flower, called me The Sandman.  But, if you wish, you may call me by given name Der.”

Der’s face loses its brash flirtatiousness and takes on a more somber look, his eyes phasing more blue, as he releases your chin to run his outside of forefinger down the side of your cheek.  The action doesn’t feel intrusive or offensive, it feels more familiar…sad.

Your gaze swipes lazily across his face as your mind tries to fight through the haze clouding it.  You take in the colors and reflecting light of his skin, those enthralling eyes, and then your sight slides down to his covering.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

You watch the tall being’s shoulders shake with a huffing laugh, “Always the curious one.  You asked me the same thing when you were much smaller.” 

He lifted a claw tapping the hard mask, the sound telling you it is made of some type of hardened leather or shell of some kind, “This is the burden of my kind, if we wish to remain culturally acceptable and welcomed in our world.”

Your forehead draws together in confusion. 

Der’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he continues, “My kind’s verbalizations can be very persuasive without a filter to cushion its affects.  The other species of my world grew tired of losing partners to my kind’s talented tongues.”, he finishes with a wink.

Ah, his words are as beguiling and seductive as his eyes and the mask acts as his muzzle.  Interesting.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were nose deep in a creature-feature smut book just prior to his arrival, or the fact that you haven’t been laid in longer than you’d like to admit, but your mind betrays you.  An intrusive thought pops up out of nowhere, and your inner voice wonders just how tantalizing a sexual experience with this Zeez would be.

You feel Der’s glowing eyes on your face and, almost as if he reads your mind, the swirling vortexes of his pupils surge from a golden hue to bright white.  You watch the glowing whirlpools circle into ever deeper depths, pulling you under with their currents.

One moment you are standing in a dingey motel room with this otherworldly creature, the next you are sinking in a sea of sand.  The particles rush up your body as you sink further into the abyss.  Your nightshirt is lifted from your body and pulled away by the grit’s undertow. 

Down you slide through the bottleneck of the sandy spiral, landing carefully on a bed of dark mist.  The hooded Zeez astride above you, smiling like a cat who ate the canary, behind his thick face mask, at the sight of your topless form on display for him.

“I have waited a long time for you to ask this of me”, Der purrs in his ethereal accent.  His indigo hand reaches up and detaches the muzzle from his lower face, revealing the remainder of his deep velvet skin and a wide fanged smile framed by a delectable set of dark blue lips.

Feeling self-conscience and exposed under his blazing glare, and his smile that is barely hiding some vicious looking teeth, your arms crisscross over your breasts in a protective manner.

“I-I thought you couldn’t remove the muzzle.”

Der opens his mouth, and a tongue of sand licks the tip of one fang, "Ah, but we are not in my world, my little desert flower, we are in your inner world.  Welcome to your dreamland.”

Without his face mask filtering his essence, the full force of the Zeez’s influence slides over you making you feel heady and drunk with euphoria.  The effect steals the air right out of your lungs, causing beads of sweat to pebble across your skin, your muscles to twitch for release, and your back to arch from the cool dark mist.  With just two short sentences, his words alone have you teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

An unguarded moan slips past your lips causing him to chuckle.  The sound of his chuckle, much like that of sand flowing through a wooden cylinder ‘rain-stick’, is its own form of a soothing aphrodisiac.

He leans close and whispers into your ear, as your eyes flutter in ecstasy, “Hold on, my flower, I’ve waited too long for this opportunity to pluck you.”

The inner walls of your pussy twitch in rhythm to his vocal cadence.  To keep from crying out you bite hard into your bottom lip, breaking and bruising the delicate skin.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”, he growls at you in his thick accent. 

You squirm as the slick between your legs becomes so abundant that it is pushing forward, up around your clit, “You-you, sa-said that about my-my book”, you stutter as your mind’s focus splits between talking and the throbbing of the delicate nub in your apex.

Der literally purrs.  His body vibrating above yours, tickling your exposed skin, he’s so close to your ear you can feel his lips brushing the shell with each word, “I was never talking about the book, Love.”

His purring, his lips caressing your ear, along with his declaration pushes you over the edge.  Your inner walls clinch in release.  Your hands forget their mission to guard your modesty and reach out fisting his hood cowl as your body shivers in release.

Der sighs in slight disappointment.  “Next time I will need to keep the mask on until we are further along, you are delightfully sensitive.”, he chides with a salacious grin.

Your release subsides and he slides your hands from his cowl.  As you lay cool in the swirl black mist of your own dreamland, the Zeez releases the clips of his hood cloak, shedding the heavy covering and exposing a torso that you were not expecting. 

Instead of a swath of blue, speckled skin, you are shocked to see short sleek indigo fur coating his neck, the backs of his muscled arms, across his stout shoulders, and down his strong back.  The inner portions of his torso, his chiseled chest, and washboard stomach, sport that starry skin that matches his face.  A face that, now you can see, has a pair of long pointed ears on each side of its head.

Farther behind him a new astonishment swishes through the air, catching you off guard and causing you to jerk in surprise.  A long thin tail with a furry tuft at the end whips back and forth in anticipation.

You are in a state of shock and awe, staring mesmerized at the unique being above you.

“What are you?”, is what slips out of your mouth without going through your internal filter.

That same raspy chuckle of his, slides over your skin like a caress, “I am a Zeez.”

Seeing the lack of recognition, or satisfaction, on your face from his answer, he pauses a moment to rethink his approach.

“I guess your kind would most closely associate my species with your mythical Sphinxes or Manicores. We are timeless creatures with no natural end.  We originate from a cold dark desert in my world”, you watch his eyes dim a deeper hue of blue than you have noticed previously, “but that area is no longer ours.  We now live among tribes and clans of many.”

His long tail gives a sharp whip, creating a snapping sound and breaking his reverie.  Der’s eyes shift back into their golden, white tones as he stares down at you.  His fanged grin grows wide, and his purr returns tenfold.

Suddenly, you feel like a cornered mouse.  Plump and ripe for the devouring.

“You smell delicious”, he rasps out above his vibrations.

TO BE CONTINUED if you want(because it is time for me to catch some Zeez 😘)….

@thelaundrybitch @leoandraphssoulmate @kokosworld95

Author Note: There are three points to know about this story.

1. You may be surprised to learn that Der (and his species) are a MINOR character in my main book series that I'm trying to finish. I wanted a way to expand and explain more about Zeez and this story was born.

2. The book that Der's human is reading in this story will be a vehicle that I will use to introduce other MINOR characters/species from my books as well. So, yes, you will get the read the Centaur's story too, which will feature many of my own creature creations.

3. There is SOOOO much more to Der and his human's story. I am happy to tell it if anyone is interested. The amount of detail and I have created for all the characters still amazing me. (I have no life LOL).

Eh, let's throw a 4th point in here. Der's species was born from an a scene in an actual dream I had. It may not come across as well here in this story, but in further expansions of the story, it explains that humans can only see Zeez when they are tired or sleepy.

Hence the phrase...."catching Z's".

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Hey, Portland-area folks! I'm taking registrations for my first public group nature tour of the year at Powell Butte Nature Park! This is a great opportunity to explore natural history with me (and at a lower rate than for private bookings). It's open to anyone who wants to register; just get your ticket at the EventBrite link above ahead of time.

Come explore four distinct habitats--grasslands, mixed conifer forest, wetlands, and orchards! We'll see a variety of animals, plants, and fungi along the way, and learn how each has adapted to its part of the park.

This is an excellent opportunity to learn about local nature. As your guide, I will share my knowledge about the local flora, fauna, and fungi, as well as the ecosystems they are a part of. Bring your curiosity and your questions, and allow yourself to get to know this amazing natural place more deeply.

About your guide: I am a certified Oregon Master Naturalist and Wilderness First Responder. In addition to leading guided nature tours throughout the Pacific Northwest, I also teach a wide variety of natural history classes for all nature-curious folks, and I am the author of The Everyday Naturalist: How to Identify Animals, Plants, and Fungi Wherever You Go (Ten Speed Press, June 2025). You can find out more about my work at RebeccaLexa.com.

[typhlonectes]

Garter snakes make friends, organize their society around females

Finding comes from first-of-its-kind study of thousands of wild snakes

Garter snakes have something in common with elephants, orcas, and naked mole rats: They form social groups that center around females. The snakes have clear “communities” composed of individuals they prefer hanging out with, and females act as leaders that tie the groups together and guide their members’ movements, according to the most extensive field study of snake sociality ever carried out. “This is an important first step in understanding how a community of snakes is organized in the wild,” says Gordon Burghardt, an ecologist at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, who was not involved in the research. Other experts agree: “This is a big deal,” says integrative biologist Robert Mason of Oregon State University. “It’s a whole new avenue of research that I don’t think people have really given any thought to.” Ecologists had long assumed snakes are antisocial loners that hang out together only for core functions such as mating and hibernation. However, in 2020, Morgan Skinner, a behavioral ecologist at Wilfrid Laurier University, and collaborators showed in laboratory experiments that captive garter snakes have “friends”—specific snakes whose company they prefer over others. Still, studies of wild snakes were lacking “because they’re so secretive and difficult to find,” Skinner says...

Read more: https://www.science.org/content/article/garter-snakes-make-friends-organize-their-society-around-females

[anumberofhobbies]

Exploring the magical world of garden railways | Oregon Field Guide Feb 6, 2025  #oregonfieldguide #RoseCityGardenRailway #MiniatureTrains Each year, the Rose City Garden Railway Society hosts an annual summer tour across the greater Portland metro area. They open their backyard railroads to share their passion for miniature backyard trains. Chapters: 0:00  Introduction to garden railroads: Hobbyist preparation & setup 1:40  The Rose City Garden Railway Society: Origins & history 3:02  Telling stories with garden railroads: The magic behind the models 4:50  Attention to detail: How railroad hobbyists achieve precision 5:40  The community spirit: How model railroad enthusiasts supported Alexis Barberis 7:00  The future of garden railroads: What’s next for the hobby? 8:27  CreditsFor more stories like this visit OPB online at https://opb.org --- Oregon Public Broadcasting aims to elevate and amplify the community, connect Oregon and its neighbors, and illuminate a wider world through stories. OPB Every Day. OPB Everywhere.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Oregon Public Broadcasting:

At a small dam on Sun Creek made out of corrugated vinyl sheeting, National Park Service fish biologist Dave Hering shuts off water leading into a metal box the size of a small elevator.

Michael Scheu, one of Hering’s team members, climbs inside. Surrounding his feet are twelve bull trout. They got trapped here trying to head upstream. Scheu collects half of them in a black bucket, handing it off to another team member above.

Bull trout are the only remaining native fish species in Crater Lake National Park. They used to be found all over the Klamath Basin, Hering says, including nearby Fort Creek.

“Fort Creek is a place where a bull trout was sampled in the 19th century and actually held in the Smithsonian,” says Hering. “And for decades, including the whole first 15 years of my career here, we didn’t have bull trout there anymore.”

Competition from a closely related cousin, the brook trout, introduced for fishing in the early 1900s, was the primary factor leading to bull trout being listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act in 1998.

Native to the eastern U.S., brook trout evolved with slightly different traits that allow them to outcompete the bull trout in its natural habitat. They mature at a younger age, thereby producing more eggs over a longer period of time than bull trout, among other advantages.

In 1989, scientists found a disturbingly small number of bull trout high up Sun Creek, inside the national park. Mark Buktenica is the now-retired fish biologist for the park service who began the effort to save the species.

“The National Park Service mandate from Congress is pretty clear,” Buktenica said on a 1999 episode of Oregon Field Guide. “We’re supposed to preserve and protect these ecosystems in their natural condition. Well, the natural condition for Sun Creek is to have resident bull trout.”

Back then, Buktenica and his team built two dams on Sun Creek to prevent non-native fish from getting further upstream. Then, they used a specialized poison to kill any brook trout upstream of the dams.

Hering took over Buktenica’s work when he retired in 2017. He says he’s gotten more and more invested since their population has grown in number.

“A lot of people — anglers and fish enthusiasts — describe it as sort of an ugly fish or one that isn’t as nice to look at as some others. But I think they’re beautiful,” Hering says.

Hering was there when, in 2017, scientists reconnected Sun Creek to the Wood River for the first time in over 150 years. The tributary had been isolated on private land and used for irrigation, cutting bull trout off from other parts of the Klamath Basin.

[thelibraryghost]

Creeps and Crawlies

there's a theme here...

Deep sea life BBC. "Alien like colossal squid - Museum of Life - BBC Two." YouTube. April 16, 2010. Real Science. "The Insane Biology of: The Cuttlefish." YouTube. November 11, 2023. Real Science. "The Insane Biology of: The Octopus." YouTube. November 14, 2020. Real Science. "Why Animals Get Creepier the Deeper You Go." YouTube. June 10, 2023. Real Science. "Why Do Deep Sea Creatures Evolve Into Giants?" YouTube. July 16, 2022. Ze Frank. "True Facts About The Angler Fish." YouTube. December 27, 2012. Ze Frank. "True Facts About The CuttleFish." YouTube. October 30, 2013. Ze Frank. "True Facts About The Octopus." YouTube. April 1, 2014. Fungi National Geographic. "Glow-in-the-Dark Mushrooms: Nature’s Night Lights | National Geographic." YouTube. February 18, 2015. National Geographic. "What's in a Lichen? How Scientists Got It Wrong for 150 Years | Short Film Showcase." YouTube. January 25, 2018. National Geographic. "You Didn’t Know Mushrooms Could Do All This | National Geographic." YouTube. July 13, 2016. PBS. "How Trees Talk to Other Trees with the Help of Fungi | The Green Planet | PBS." YouTube. July 26, 2022. PBS Eons. "When Giant Fungi Ruled." YouTube. December 18, 2017. Ze Frank. "True Facts: Fungi That Control The Insects They Eat." YouTube. April 28, 2023. Ze Frank. "True Facts: Stinkhorns." YouTube. November 20, 2019. Slime molds BBC. "Mould Time-lapse - The Great British Year: Episode 4 Preview - BBC One." YouTube. October 18, 2013. BBC Earth Science. "Can Slime Mould Solve Mazes? | Earth Science." YouTube. December 5, 2018. Oregon Public Broadcasting. "Slime molds are gorgeous (you just never knew it!) | Oregon Field Guide." YouTube. January 3, 2022. Real Science. "The Insane Biology of: Slime Mold." YouTube. May 13, 2023. Ze Frank. "True Facts: The Self-Sacrificing Amoeba." YouTube. August 4, 2022. Ze Frank. "True Facts: The Smartest Slime." YouTube. January 31, 2023. Spiders National Geographic. "Deadly Cousin: The Redback Spider | National Geographic." YouTube. December 2, 2011. National Geographic. "How Spiders Use Electricity to Fly | Decoder." YouTube. April 25, 2019. Nature on PBS. "Social Spiders Spin Massive Nest." YouTube. April 14, 2015. Real Science. "Why Spider Silk is Stronger Than Steel." YouTube. January 15, 2022. Smithsonian Channel. "Incredible: This Underwater Spider Has an Actual Scuba Tank." YouTube. January 13, 2017. Smithsonian Channel. "This Terrifying Spider Hunts Fish Underwater." YouTube. May 26, 2017. Ze Frank. "True Facts: Mating Dance of The Peacock Spider (feat. Quinta Brunson)." YouTube. February 20, 2020. Ze Frank. "True Facts: Tarantulas." YouTube. November 19, 2022. Ze Frank. "True Facts: The Bolas Spider." YouTube. March 15, 2019. Ze Frank. "True Facts: The Ogre Faced Spider." YouTube. September 26, 2019. Worms ABC Science. "Blood-sucking leeches changed Cole’s life." YouTube. May 29, 2023. BBC. "The Amazing World Of Earthworms In The UK - Springwatch - BBC Two." YouTube. June 6, 2012. National Geographic. "Ice Worms | National Geographic." YouTube. September 17, 2007. National Geographic. "This Creepy Worm Pulls Its Prey Deep Under the Ocean Floor | National Geographic." YouTube. January 31, 2017. National Geographic. "Weird Worms Live Near Pacific Ocean’s Deepest High-Temp Vent | National Geographic." YouTube. June 11, 2015. Ze Frank. "True Facts: Bobbit Worm and Polychaete Pals." YouTube. August 17, 2018.