#but this! this i was able to identify as a woodpecker myself

[knifegremliin]

! it's woodpecker!!

[path-of-grass-and-leaves]

Creating a Backyard Land Spirit Profile

Working with land spirits can help connect you with your local ecosystem, and for some practitioners is a crucial aspect of bioregional magic. Some folks, like myself, consider themselves to be initiated by one or more land spirits.

When I use the term land spirits, I am referring to a few different things. First are the collective spirits of various plants, animals, and insects present in a specific bioregion. An example of collective, in this context, means that if I'm petitioning help from the spirit of violets, I am working with the spirit of all violets present in that area rather than a singe flower that grows in my yard.

The next is the land guardian, which in my practice is a more powerful spirit with claim over a specific territory, like a forest, river, or neighborhood.

Sometimes these two concepts are separate and sometimes they're interchangeable. It all depends on personal practice, culture, local folklore, etc.

One thing that has been extremely beneficial to my practice has been creating a backyard land spirit profile. This method has been useful for spirit work and "green" magic, but more importantly, it's helped me immerse myself in my local ecosystem and I get to meet a lot of cool animals and plants.

Here is an over-simplfied example of my backyard land profile:

Ecosystem: Central Interior and Appalachian: Mixed woodlands, close to possible floodplains

Soil Type: Clay in garden bed, Loamy near/beneath shrubs, Sandy in sunny areas of the lawn

Flora:

Cultivated- Paradise Apple, Highbush Blueberry, Rose of Sharon, Dog Rose, Black-Eyed Susan, Sundial Lupine

Native - Bloodroot, Wild Strawberry, Common Violet, Wrinkle-Leaf Goldenrod, Blue Wood-Aster, Horseweed, Fireweed, Deer-Tongue Witchgrass, Common Milkweed

Invasive - Round-Leaved Bittersweet, Yellow Toadflax, Creeping Bellflower, Common Mugwort

Naturalized - Dandelion, Broad-Leaf Plantain, Deadly Nightshade

Notes - Various mosses, unidentified mushrooms growing on lawn and lichens found on some trees/shrubs.

Fauna:

Mammals - Raccoon, Opossum, Striped Skunk, Grey Squirrel, Chipmunk, Feral Cats, Deer mouse, House Mouse

Birds - Cardinals, Chickadees, Catbirds, American Robin, Downy Woodpecker, Turkey Vulture, Crow

Reptiles and Amphibians - N/A

Fish - N/A

Invertebrates - Dotted Wolf Spider, Leopard Slug, Tiger Bee Fly, Monarch Caterpillars, Peach Root Weevile, Narrow-Winged Mantis, Fireflies

Ecoregion and Soil Type

The first thing I did was determine what type of ecosystem my yard used to be. In an urban/suburban area this was a bit challenging.

I started by identifying a few wild plants and finding out where they usually grow. Most of them seemed to prefer shady woodlands and rich soil. There were also a couple of pioneer species present in the sunnier and more disturbed areas of the yard.

Next, I took a look at surrounding wild areas. We are close to a mountain and a large river. There are woodlands near and within the city made up of mostly hardwood and conifer trees. I knew from memory that certain areas close to my home are likely floodlands.

After that, I found a bioregion map of my country which showed that my state fell under the category of Central Interior and Appalachian. I searched this region on landscope.org and was able to determine my specific ecoregion (not shared here for privacy reasons).

From there I started making educated guesses. I determined that my backyard was likely a mixed hardwood and conifer woodland sitting very close to what might have been a floodplain.

For my soil type, I took samples from different areas of my yard and used an online guide to determine what kind of soil I had. Most of it was sandy or loamy, but my flower beds seemed to have some clay.

Using all this information, I had a general idea of what kind of plants and wildlife would be present without human intervention. It also helped with deciding which native plants to start growing.

Plants

Throughout the year, I went out to the yard with a wildlife field guide and a couple identification apps and identified every plant and insect I found. I grouped the plants into four categories: native, invasive, naturalized, and cultivated. This isn't shown in the example, but I also grouped them by season and the time of year they appear.

Naturalized refers to plants that have integrated themselves into the environment without inflicting damage to the local ecosystem.

You'll notice that under the cultivated section I included a few native plants. This is because those plants were introduced by me and would not be present without my intervention and I wanted to make that distinction.

The importance of native and naturalized plants is obvious, but what about cultivated and invasive? Keeping a profile of invasive plants helped me keep a record of which noxious weeds I need to remove. From an ecological perspective, their removal is crucial to the survival of my native plants and garden crops. From a spiritual perspective, this can be an offering or act of service to the local land spirits. Some of these plants, like Common Mugwort, are both valuable for workings and fine to harvest in large quantities since they are invasive.

Cultivated plants are also important. Many of these plants, like my Blueberries, Apples, and Rose of Sharon, were here before me. The importance of plants introduced by humans is greater than you'd think. First, they are usually crops and flowering plants and provide food for both humans and the local wildlife. Secondly, I live in an urban area, and my land spirits are likely very closely associated with people.

I researched all of my plants and took note of growth patterns, toxicity, medicinal uses, ediblity, native region/habitat, ecological significance/impact, etc. Then I moved onto folklore and symbolism and started working with the spirits of a few plants, performing divination, leaving offerings, harvesting them and including them in rituals and spellwork. I did this in groups to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

Please note that you should always properly identify plants and be aware of potential toxicity before harvesting, especially if you plan on burning or consuming said plant. Also steer clear of protected or threatened plants and keep harvest to a minimum even for abundant native species.

Wildlife

My next project was writing down every species of animal and insect that I had encountered in my yard. I grouped them into several categories: mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, fish, and invertebrates. In real life my invertebrates section is separated into several subcategories (orb weavers, beetles, etc.).

Next, I used basically the same system I did for plants, researching their native range, preferred habitat, behavior, diet, ecological importance. Then I started looking into folklore.

Finally, I started integrating them into my practice and working with their collective spirits. This involved using animal symbolism in rituals, leaving offerings, and performing a lot of divination.

Remember to never interact with or directly feed wildlife. If I'm making offerings outdoors it is usually fresh water, scattered birdseed, and acts of service like creating habitats and growing plants that a specific species enjoys. If scattering birdseed, do so in the morning to keep too many animals, like raccoons, from entering your yard at night.

Side note: Keep a record of what appears in your yard each year! For example one year we had several chipmunks and one year I saw none. One year we had no fireflies and the next our backyard was covered in them.

Tying It All Together

Once I had my backyard profile completed, I started working with the collective spirits of select species. I have an offering schedule, perform communication, and petition these spirits regularly in spellwork. I use certain plants that I harvest for offerings and use for tinctures, infusions, cooking, and crafts. I use symbols of local animals in crafts and spellwork.

After working with the "smaller" spirits, you can start seeking out specific land guardians by using a combination of divination and research of local history and folklore.

On a mundane level, I am now able to cultivate an appropriate ecosystem for the local wildlife and start projects to support it. Examples of this are pollinator gardens, stick and brush piles for fireflies and small animals, growing seed-rich and fruiting plants for birds and mammals, winter shelters and TNR plans for feral cats, and more.

I also like to take notes on plants and wildlife that I encounter in my general area that don't usually make it into my backyard. For example there have been coyotes, foxes, bobcats, and black bears spotted in my neighborhood.

I want to stress that I live in a semi-urban and relatively populated neighborhood and I have a small yard. The brief example of of my land profile doesn't cover even a fraction of the wildlife I have encountered in my backyard. There is so much life in urban and suburban areas in need of our support.

[fledglingmaster]

I don't like putting a lot of negativity out and I prefer balance...so I'm going to highlight the good that has happened as well lately. (Mostly talk of birds.)

My stress relief is being in nature. After last week I needed to spend time outside. Plus, I need to get back into the habit of walking. Most of the snow has melted for now.

A few days ago I went for a walk. The place I usually go has some main paved trails that take you around but there are also more natural paths in wooded areas. I enjoy walking both.

There's a local witch that likes hiding crystals for people to find and keep every once and a while. It's just a nice thing to do and it's business promo. She puts them in areas that people usually walk, so not super tucked away. Because of this I haven't found any myself, early bird gets the worm as they say. But I did find a tiny pink dyed heart! I believe it's quartz though it could be agate. Such a small thing but I about cried.

Then I saw my first wild bald eagle. I was seeking a pileated woodpecker, they're fairly elusive around here. I spotted one some months back. My mom also spotted one a few days prior around the same area. As I was looking for a woodpecker, maybe a hawk if I was lucky as they like the same area, an eagle flies over my head! I was in shock! I'm nearing 32 and I've never seen one in the wild, let alone have one fly over. I didn't get a photo but I had the experience, it meant a lot considering everything I've recently gone through.

I continued my walk and ran into the herd of 5 deer that I've been missing dearly. (Thank you, I'll see myself out.) I was able to get pretty close. I think I took my best deer photo yet from one that decided to rest in front of me. I felt so honored. As I'm walking back on the paved trail I hear the eagle vocalizing. If you know what bald eagles sound like, it is the weirdest, dolphin-esque, "that is not a bird" sound. In media, for whatever reason, most birds of prey you hear are actually dubbed over with the cry of a red-tailed hawk. I mean their screams are impressive...still I'd rather hear the bird's actual call. Anyway, the sound came from the river. I've been sharpening my location skills, I'm decent at finding where sounds are coming from. I was able to follow along the river and spot the eagle on the other side. As far away as the eagle was, my photos are poor quality. But once again, just seeing the eagle was magical. I haven't taken the pictures off my camera yet, once I do I'll post them on here.

With all of that happening in one day, I'm taking it as a sign that things are going to be okay.

So yesterday, I went back hoping to see the eagle or deer. If not, just being in nature is lovely. I did find the deer again. I swear it's like they have a gps on them as I'm just pulled to where they are. Deer energy is different from any other animal or human. I never knew how much I connected to them until this summer. After I spent some time with them I heard a woodpecker knocking. I followed it hoping for a pileated but expecting a downy as we have many of them. They're very cute. It was neither! It was a red-bellied woodpecker. They were too high up to get a good photo, but I was able to positively identify them. I'm starting to think I should have an official list to check off for birding.

-

Also, I'm so close to being done with work on my teeth. I'm really hoping I can have my smile back by summer. If not, at least I'm closer and I should have my denture this year for sure.

[chordata-on-alterhumanity]

The Chordata Guide to Otherlinking

Hello! This is a guide written from my own experiences, and a tiny bit of consulting with other ‘linkers. If you can think of ways to improve this, let me know, and I’ll update the original post. This is Version 1.1.

What is otherlinking? What is a linktype?

Otherlinking is the active choice of identifying as something. This sounds very vague, so let’s have an example: Imagining yourself as a lion makes you more confident, so you like doing that frequently. Identifying as a lion becomes a part of your identity.

For many of us, otherlinking includes consciously taking on traits of out linktype (imitating/“fake it ‘til you make it” OR strengthening already existing traits by focusing on them through a linktype). This is a form of mindfulness training. For example: I would like to be as calm and collected as insert-fictional-character. In stressful situations, I think “How would they react?” and try to act that way by imagining myself as them. If this revolves around already existing traits, a linktype can help amplify those traits.

Let's get some vocabulary out of the way first, for everyone who comes across this and isn’t familiar with otherlinking.

● Linktype / Otherlink / 'link- A voluntary identity a person takes on. I.e. I identify as a woodpecker because I want to. This identity can be of a real existing or extinct animal or plant, a mythological being, a fictional being or person, an object, a concept, et cetera.

● Otherlinker - A person with a linktype.

● Otherlinking - The act of having a linktype.

● Copinglink / C'link - A subcategory of linktype. A copinglink is a linktype created for coping with trauma, stress, et cetera.

● Copinglinker - A person with a copinglink.

● Copinglinking - The act of having a copinglink.

Requirements

You might ask yourself: "I want a linktype. What're the requirements to get one?" Well, you already got all the requirements down. To take on a linktype, you need to want one. Whether you feel compelled to take one on, or you feel it could help you in some way, or you decide you want to try this just for the heck of it, it's all valid. You want, you can.

How?

This is the trickier part, and it varies from person to person. I will give a basic rundown. Adjust this for your personal needs where you see fit.

1. Find your being/thing/concept.

2. Examine your reasons for why you want to call this yourself.

3.a. Your reasons for wanting the linktype might already be enough to make the identity feel right.

3.b. If you don't feel yourself clicking with the potential 'link, and struggle with identifying as it, analyze it to find the traits that don't resonate with you. You can change parts of the 'link, or view it through a different lens to make it feel closer to home. I.e. For fictional characters, it can help to disengage from fandom interpretation, or canon characterization, and instead put your own spin on them.

4. Once you've established a connection, you can reinforce it if you want to. A linktype can feel very faint at the start, so here are some examples for what you can do to make it feel more 'You':

● Wear clothing you can associate with the 'link.

● Inform yourself about new hobbies that you can associate with your linktype. I.e. If your linktype is an archer and you've never tried archery before, see if you can find an archery range open to newbies nearby.

● If you are a visual artist, create drawings of your linktype in a way that relates to your irl person. I.e. Draw the linktype in your clothes, or in irl places you've been in person.

● If you're a writer, write something including your linktype in a way that relates to you. I.e. Include them in a story inspired by real life events that have happened to you.

● Make the linktype your social media profile picture.

● Let people know they can use the linktype's name as a nickname for you.

● Change your social media alias/username to be related to the linktype’s name.

● Talk to people who will treat you as your linktype (and not just view it as roleplaying).

Don't be ashamed of expressing yourself in fear of other people’s opinions. Unless you're dependent on them (for money, safety, or other physical and mental health needs), it doesn't matter what they think.

Caution

If at any point in your journey you notice that a linktype makes you feel worse about yourself than you do without the linktype (i.e. feeding into anger, self-hatred), stop it. These dangers can already crop up during the ‘link creation process. Here are ways to go about this, and possible causes:

● Stop engaging with it. This sounds very 'It'll go away if I ignore it long enough', but that's exactly it. A linktype should fade when you don't engage with it anymore. Don't approach this by thinking "I'm not allowed to think about this anymore", but instead, every time when your linktype comes up, acknowledge it, and replace that thought with something else. If you struggle with this, examine what 'triggers' you to think of your linktype. Mindfulness is a powerful thing that often goes underestimated.

● Replace it with a different linktype that doesn't bring these problems.

● If your linktype started off without these issues, try to find out what caused it to change to become negative. Maybe there are other factors in your life that're putting stress on you and it shows through your linktype.

● Maybe you’ve outgrown your linktype. People can change over time, and your linktype could be preventing you from taking the next steps for personal growth, and this can negatively influence your well-being. Try letting go of the linktype. It might turn out the be a freeing experience.

● Talk to a therapist (, or, if you can’t access therapy, an understanding friend). Yes, tell them specifically about the linktype and the problems you have with it. A second person can shine a light on aspects you didn’t notice.

Good to know

A linktype can become an integral part to yourself, and at some point you might find it hard to separate it from yourself. Is this still a linktype? Is it a kintype (otherkin)? That is for you to know and decide. The lines can be blurry, and at the end of the day you are the only person who can decide what labels you want to use and what community has the most in common with you (if you even want to label yourself and interact with ppl w similar experiences). Unless it is harming you (or others), a linktype turned integral is nothing bad. Our environments shape us as people constantly, and a linktype over time can contribute similarly.

🐟

That’s it! If you have questions or need help, feel free to contact me through Asks or DMs. If I’m unavailable, search around a bit to find other otherlinkers who might be able to help you. ♡

[mothmannnnn]

Hello sexy beautiful awesome cool swag mutuals, Gar asked me to finish a fic they wrote and we wanted to share :p Read at your own risk <3

-

If luck—a notion he’d only allowed himself to entertain after meeting James Kirk—really did exist, then it was only logical to assume its opposite existed as well. Bad luck. 

Spock couldn’t think up the logistics of the situation he and Kirk had found themselves in: why he was injured on a too-cold planet, how they had lost their communicators, how they had run into the sort of intelligent life they weren’t supposed to interact with—why they now sat, shoulders pressed together, inside a hollow alien tree. In his current, less than stellar state, he wondered if it was statistically possible to have this much bad luck.

They were able to elude their assailants through Kirk’s resourcefulness. He had eyed the hiding place while they were running from their assailants, an area near the roots they had just been able to squeeze past and fit inside. Spock vaguely wondered if the tree had rotten out, or if a creature similar to the earth woodpecker inhabited the planet and had once called the space they now sat in its home. He wondered why the wood on this planet was a pale shade of blue, the trees even more massive than the redwoods, and how this miraculous life could happen somewhere so cold. He wondered about the probability of his survival. Spock ghosted his fingers over his bloodstained abdomen. 

“Spock . . . Spock.” Kirk had his hand on his shoulder and was looking into his eyes, and Spock had to rip himself from his own mind. “You’re shaking,” He said. Spock was suddenly aware of the almost violent tremor of his own body, of the biting cold on his ears and hands and everywhere except where Kirk had his leg pressed up against his. 

“I’m very cold, Captain, and I believe—” he had to stop himself, he had to stop shaking, he had to gain back some control. He took a breath—too deep—and pain blossomed in his side, time tripping over itself. It was so cold out. “I believe I may be bleeding internally, from the injuries I sustained.” he said. 

Kirk was leaning over him then, eyes wide as they searched over him, one hand on Spock’s shoulder and the other hovering hesitantly over the blood stains on his uniform. “How bad is it? is there anything I can do? Are you—“ Spock grabbed Kirk’s wrist before he could flood him with more questions, before he could touch him and defile his hands with his blood. He didn’t like to see Kirk like this, anxious, and he especially didn’t like that he was the cause. 

“I can do something about it but . . . I must focus all my energy on healing myself.” Spock said, finally meeting Kirks eyes. He nodded, his mask of cool command back on. 

“The healing trance?” Kirk confirmed. 

“Yes but I—” There was too much going on, the cold, the bleeding, the hiding (James Kirk’s thigh pressed against his, hand in his, his worry) “I can’t regulate my body temperature while in the trance, I need some external method of—” Kirk pulled his hand away from Spock’s grip and went for the hem of his own shirt. He’d had it half way up his chest before Spock was able to catch Jim’s shirt and pull it back down. “No captain, you can’t-” Spock started, taken completely off guard but beginning to catch on to what Kirk had been thinking. 

“The extra clothing will keep you warm Spock, please just let me—“

“Your body heat is sufficient, Captain,” Spock insisted. Although he knew it was not logical, as Kirk’s body was better equipped to withstand the cold and therefore he would be able to spare the cotton shirt, Spock felt hesitant prioritizing his captain’s comfort below his own. 

Kirk looked thoughtful for a minute, his brows furrowing and his hands absentmindedly rubbing his jawline. 

Spock was getting delirious—he knew it was due to the increasing loss of blood in his body. He must begin the healing trance as promptly as possible, but a strange, illogical thought wormed itself into his mind. What will Jim do while I am gone? 

If they were to be revealed by their assailants, it would be highly unlikely that Jim could fend for himself, and it would be too dangerous to pull himself out of the healing trance. 

Before Spock could think of a solution, he felt warm hands around his waist, a strong chest against his, and the point of Jim Kirk’s chin on the crook of his neck. 

“Captain, you’ll get blood on your uniform.” 

“Tough luck,” was Jim Kirk’s eloquent reply. “We’ll have to be in close proximity for my body heat to do anything for you.” 

“Well, I . . .” Spock’s words trailed off, and he was, for perhaps only the second time in his life, at a loss for words. 

He found something akin to courage in his deliriousness, pulling away so that he might look Kirk in his eyes. “I do not like showcasing my . . . differences, as compared to you, Captain.” He motioned to the greenness of his blood, slowly darkening and expanding across his abdomen. 

“Spock, that is perhaps the most illogical thing you’ve ever said.” Astonishingly, he heard amusement in Jim’s voice, despite their current situation. When he looked over, eyes barely able to open, he saw that his captain’s lips were pulled into a ghost of a smile. His eyebrows, however, were still furrowed with concern. “What does it matter if your ears are pointed or your blood is green? Why would it ever matter to me?” There were unspoken words within that statement, even Spock was able to identify that. But he was not quite able to extract the meaning. Why would it ever matter to me? 

“I know it is not logical, but I have always envied the redness in your veins, Jim.” If Kirk had noticed the slip in formalities, he did not reveal it. “Red is the color of vitality, of passion. It is something I will never possess beyond a medicinal diagnoses. But green . . . green is the color of cowardice. Of envy.” 

“You’re not speaking any sense, Mr. Spock.”

“There are many things I do not have the courage to tell you, Jim.” 

If the silence that followed was indicative of disgust, Spock might have felt shame. But Kirk only lifted one gentle hand to Spock’s cheek, and wiped a tear that he had not known had fallen. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Spock,” Kirk reassured, prompting him to fall into his healing trance. He could not hold out for much longer. “We’ll get through this, I promise, and . . . when you’re awake, maybe you’ll feel a little more courageous.” 

Through their connection, both physical and emotional, Spock could feel the tug of emotions in Kirk’s chest. Stress, worry, regret and surprisingly—the last thing he felt before slipping off to unconsciousness—affection beyond platonic admiration. 

He slept. 

-

As promised, Jim was there when he awoke on the Enterprise again. He was still a little bruised, and his lip was split, but other than that, Spock could not discern any permanent physical harm.

“You’re awake,” 

Humans had an interesting habit of announcing something that was not in need of announcement. 

“I am,” Spock nodded, noticing that he had been relocated to a corner cot in the medical bay. “How long was I in the healing trance?”

Before Kirk could reply, a voice interrupted from the doorway. A booming, slightly southern accent that Spock recognized immediately, despite the state of his foggy memory. “A week,” Doctor McCoy said. “And what a hell of a week!”

“Hello, Doctor,” Spock greeted the newcomer. 

McCoy went on as if he had not heard him, muttering, “I thought Jim might go mad and strangle me! Waiting in here like some wartime widow, what a hassle!”

He went on like this, spewing good-natured insults until he exited the room, holding Spock’s file (which he presumed was what McCoy had originally came in the room for). 

Kirk looked at Spock, the tips of his ears red. This blush, which creeped up his neck, was what prompted Spock to remember the last conversation they had. 

The color of vigor. Of passion. The courage that Spock had lacked, until, in a lapse of judgment, he had admitted his best-kept secret: his feelings for James Kirk. 

“I’m glad you’re awake, Mr. Spock—even if Bones isn’t,” the tone of his voice was light, nothing remarkably fond, but his hand reached down and gently held Spock’s. 

The action was innocent enough, Spock knew. He had seen many humans hold each other’s hands for comfort, for solace. But to himself, a Vulcan, the intimate action made his own ears glow green.

“It’s okay if you don’t have the courage right now, Spock,” Jim continued. He smiled, and Spock found himself wanting to do the same. “You were very brave on that planet.” 

In a rare show of physical affection, Spock lifted Kirk’s hands to his lips, and kissed the soft palm. 

Understanding the meaning of this action, Kirk in turn lifted Spock’s hand to his own mouth, pressing a warm kiss on the back of his hand. 

“When you’re ready, Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled, “I think we should take a long shore leave—somewhere warmer, preferably.” 

Spock squeezed the hands still holding his, hoping that this seemingly modest reaction could begin to express all the feelings he had for Jim Kirk. That perhaps Jim might feel, through his own human senses, Spock’s unfailing devotion to him. 

“Yes, Captain,” he said. “I would like that very much.” 

[dansnaturepictures]

Additions to my lists of favourite birds and butterflies and creation of B lists of them

This morning I had a long overdue sort of my lists of my favourite birds, butterflies as well as mammals and dragonflies and damselflies to a lesser extent. As some of you may know I have a long list of favourite birds and butterflies especially as I always find it hard to just pick one favourite and over the years of my hobby many species have been so precious to me. Since 2015 when I last added to my list of favourite birds I tried to be strict with adding any.

However over those years and especially in the last few weeks I have felt there were a few species I had began to really love deeper and wondered whether it might be time to start calling them a favourite bird of mine. The same really happened with butterflies. 

I first considered during my long think this morning do I want to carry on with these lists or just disband my list of favourites and let it flow a bit more. But I came to the conclusion that calling something a favourite of mine is still the most simple way to express the ultimate form of how good I feel about it, and at the heart of my hobby as much as anything is the fact that I really like keeping lists. 

In every walk of life really I have many favourites of things. Things like my favourite football player or my favourite food for example are things I might not want a strict list of, my favourite football player tends to change a bit and is probably always gonna play for my (one and only) team. My favourite food I don’t really care enough to enter it onto a spreadsheet. But with the species of animals within my main hobby I obviously do care so much and its quite geeky but I like to have it all organised and ordered so I still need my lists of favourites I thought. I may not do it as much in future who knows but for now I am committed to it.

So I listed birds and butterflies I have had those feelings for and put them through a little competition where I scored them on particular criteria. From this I added three birds to my list of favourite brids to make that 27, two to my list of favourite butterflies to make it 11, one dragonfly to make it 6 favourite dragonfly and damselfly species I have and I kept mammals at 8 favourites as I felt there were no more to add currently. These are high numbers but when you think I have seen 259 birds and 44 butterflies in my life the percentage of them that are my favourites is still considerably low. So I am happy adding a few more for now, as long as my list of favourite birds doesn’t get towards 50 ish or butterflies 25 I should be all right but I really don’t think there will be any or many more additions for years to come now.

But building on the idea of lists for those unsuccessful candidates in my activity this morning I have created a “B list” of favourite birds and butterflies for me. The birds containing 9, Short-eared Owl, Barn Owl, Yellowhammer (As shown at Martin Down in 2015 in the 8th picture in this photoset), Great White Egret, Spoonbill, Spotted Redshank, Little Tern (As shown at Lymington in the 7th picture in this photoset), Manx Shearwater and Chough. For butterflies its 5, Clouded Yellow, Small Copper (as photographed in the 10th and final in this photoset at Lakeside Country Park in 2015), Green Hairstreak, Marsh Fritillary and Marbled White (as shown at Lakeside in the 9th picture in this photoset). So this is gonna be a more casual list of birds and butterflies I do love a lot but not quite enough to be among my favourites.

This I hope will further facilitate me being able to identify my favourite species in a group of birds, for example no wader or tern appears on my list of favourite birds so Spotted Redshank and Little Tern will have that title. I am hoping this will also make it easier for me to make additions to my list of favourite birds and butterflies, because I could simply if I found myself feeling more for a species add it to my B list and see how it compares to those species to see if it could go one step further to be a favourite of mine. These species may also have the chance to grow on me even more and be promoted to my list of favourite birds or butterflies, there’s nothing to stop me even demoting the birds I have added this time around if I felt I made a mistake down the line or whilst I didn’t feel the need to do it this morning take off certain existing favourite birds of mine. 

Short-eared Owl is a good example to show what my B list is for, after an extraordinary 2017 sighting of them at Farlington Marshes where they had come back into my life a year before I had those first “should it be a favourite bird” feelings. But I’ve not seen one since which cost it a bit today in my choosing but if I go and see it loads of times in the future now I might find I have connected to it enough to promote it. Going below my B list I have had a cracking two years or so for Water Rails for example so might I want to add that maybe, however they’re still a bird you’ll often get a quick or in a quite obscured view of so whilst its always amazing to see one its harder to connect to it or for it to be a favourite or secondary favourite in a sense. 

With it all getting a bit more fluid I have decided when I do my next extended bio update on Twitter not to have my favourite birds and butterflies listed. I will still obviously shout about them being my favourites on Twitter and blogs here when I’ve photographed them maybe like I do with Buzzard in my post of what I did today shortly but I’m more gonna keep my lists to myself rather. So without further ado, here are the additions to my lists of favourites.

Birds: My favourite bird list is largely made up of (from what I have seen) whole families of birds. The auks, the woodpeckers, and families with more than one on my favourites too like warbler and duck. One of those really big families I adore as you can maybe tell is the birds of prey. So three raptors stood out to me this morning and Golden Eagle (shown in the 1st picture in this photoset my first ever at Strathdearn, Scotland last year), Peregrine Falcon (shown at Winchester Cathedral last month) and Red Kite (shown at Llanddeusant, Brecon Beacons where I saw loads feed in 2013) and are my new favourite birds.

Golden Eagle was one of my dream birds which I finally saw last year which was perhaps the biggest highlight of my extraordinary time in Scotland, Black Guillemot, Lesser Spotted Woodpecker and Tawny Owl were original members of birds I had dreamt of seeing which sailed onto my list of favourite birds but Golden Eagle was later added to the dream birds and the whole of the last year or so I have been wondering if to add the Golden Eagle, whilst I might not see it often, to my favourites and I have gone for it today.

I would be lying if I said the connection of the Peregrine Falcons nesting for a third year running on Winchester Cathedral which I work near to didn’t have anything to do with its addition. Yesterday I loved seeing two of them again and being able to see these birds on my lunch break has allowed me to really celebrate them, learn about them and like I had when I added Dartford Warbler to my list of favourite birds my heart has just swelled for this bird.

Red Kite has been knocking around just below my list of favourite birds for some years. It was time to stop denying that I find them so beautiful, rugged and charming. They are the bird of Wales where I have had so many experiences with my original set of favourite birds the auks and Gannet, Kittiwake, Fulmar so I think this helps too.

Butterflies: One of my new favourite butterflies is also a relative of an existing favourite as the White Admiral shown at Pamber Forest in 2015 the fourth picture in this photoset joins one of my early favourites Red Admiral. This is a butterfly I have really developed a connection with and flair for since seeing my first in 2013 at Bentley Wood. 

The other addition looks similar to it and is one I’ve only seen on one occasion at Knepp last year, the Purple Emperor as shown there in the fifth picture in this photoset I took on July 1st last year. For this species it became a massive goal for me to see one for years similar to that of my dream birds and I think it exceeded all my expectations when I did last summer and since I have just grown to really love it. 2018 was probably a pivotal year for my hobby so like with the Golden Eagle and that Scotland trip this was the main star of the Knepp safari and a massive part of my best ever year for butterflies and summer so that amazing year allowed these species to be in this position for me. 

Dragonfly: As a species I have come to recognise, photograph like in the sixth in this photoset at Bentley Wood in 2017 and appreciate how beautiful they are in recent years Southern Hawker was an addition to my list of favourite dragonflies and damselflies I wanted to make for ages and did now. 

So these are some additions I have made for now and who knows where my lists will head in future. But what I love about nature is you never know what species you will have a phenomenal experience with next so just because something is not a favourite of mine it does’t mean it can’t make my heart skip.

[smgmenvs3000w22]

Blog Post 2: My Ideal Role in Nature Interpretation

My ideal role as an environmental interpreter would be as an expedition leader. I have been on many “expeditions” myself, including backcountry camping trips, hiking, wildlife spotting, scuba diving, snorkeling, canoeing, and so on, and I find this is a great way to immerse myself in nature and learn in a tactile way. I think this would be an excellent way to teach others. I often find myself doing a version of this when I go on hikes with my friends who have grown up and live in the city. I teach them how to identify some common trees based on leaves and bark, or I’ll tell them how to tell the difference between the most common woodpecker species we see in Ontario. It’s mutually beneficial as it’s fun for me to share what I know with friends who show a genuine interest, and they get to learn something new.

I would love to lead backcountry camping expeditions around Ontario, specifically in the Georgian Bay or Muskoka areas, where there is plenty of wildlife and beautiful landscapes. These expeditions could be for beginner/intermediate campers who enjoy canoeing long distances and getting out into the wilderness for extended periods of time. I would teach outdoor survival skills, facts about the flora and fauna, and educate campers on how to enjoy nature peacefully and respectfully.

There is a long list of skills I would need for this kind of job, but I think communication, organization, and directional skills would be at the top of the list. Communication would be important to be able to teach the campers how to survive with minimal supplies, as well as to direct them on where they are going and what to do in case of an emergency. Organization is very important in order to plan these excursions. All the necessary supplies for cooking, shelter, leisure, etc. would need to be accounted for. Meal planning is especially challenging for these trips in terms of making sure there is enough for the duration of the trip, as well as bringing food items that will stay fresh after many days with no power. Finally, directional skills are very important for navigating, as leading a group of people into uncharted territory is a terrible idea if you don’t know where you are going and don’t know how to find your way back should you get lost!

A shot of my friends admiring the view on our way into the Algonquin Park backcountry (August, 2018).

Alternatively, as a scuba diver, I would love the opportunity to share this experience with others. I have already posted a fair bit about my love for scuba diving, but as a divemaster or dive guide, I would be able to do something I love every day while educating others and helping them to find the same passion. I would ideally like to be a divemaster somewhere in the Caribbean or in Australia on the Great Barrier Reef. This is a special kind of environmental interpretation because a) you are unable to speak underwater and b) it involves a bit more responsibility for the safety of your clients. Many of the dive guides I have learnt from spend time describing what you may see below the surface before the dive and then have post-dive discussions. This involves a lot of verbal descriptions of things you recall seeing underwater, so a divemaster must be skilled in detailed descriptions and memory as well as communication. During the dive, divemasters often point to interesting things and must use gestures to describe what they are showing you, so having skills in charades is also an asset! Another important skill to have for this job is the ability to respond quickly and calmly in an emergency, such as if a diver panics and tries to ascend too quickly.

A hawksbill sea turtle and a Queen angelfish on a dive in Belize.

Both of these jobs in environmental interpretation and expedition leading involve first-hand experience. I would argue the best way for anyone to learn is to dive right in (pun intended) and immerse themselves in nature. Exploring the outdoors is a very tactile way of learning, but it also involves visual and auditory learning (when identifying plant species or identifying bird calls, for example) for those who prefer these methods. There is only so much you can learn from reading, watching videos, or listening to podcasts. These methods of learning about nature, however, are still incredibly important, especially for those who are unable to go on trips or simply want to learn in between their day-to-day tasks. I also feel that there is much more for me to learn about nature, and the more first-hand experiences I can have, the more opportunities I have to learn.

[butterflate]

Arbitrary but Fixed

It seems better to start an ambitious project with the first of the month, or the Solstice, or a birthday, right? Though by the time I post this, it will be tomorrow. July 2 doesn’t have the same ring to it, ambition-wise.

Maybe time started 14 billion years ago with the Big Bang. Maybe it will stretch out as long as long. Maybe matter will evaporate and space will stretch out as far as far. Maybe when I die it will still be near the beginning of time, and, relatively speaking, near the end of matter, and maybe any starting date I choose will vanish from the weight of insignificance. Most likely.

But still, I like to pick a Good Time to start. Like they say in math, it will be (more or less) arbitrary but fixed. It will be today.

Today I will start blogging again. I blogged back when I had only one house, and a husband, and what seemed like an arbitrary and certainly not fixed number of sheep, cats, children, and sycophants. Then I stopped. Blogging.

Now I have another house but haven’t given up on the first one. There are goats instead of sheep and dogs instead of cats and lots and lots of bird feeders with hourly rackets of wings and alarm calls and weekly projects to coax the woodpecker babies out of the house again.

Living with my arbitrary but fixed mind(s) is like living with a magpie. It (they) bothers everyone around it and picks up shiny objects to hoard or fight over or to eat. I probably will forget a category or two, but mainly what it goes for is sustainability/resilience, history/politics, elementary school teaching, art practice, fiddling, and philosophy/religion/psychology. This leaves out big fat areas of life. No sports, no movie stars, and very little ... well, I was going to say fashion, but that’s not true. Or cooking, that’s not true either. Anyway, trying to balance my sentence with charming lists will lead me astray and so suffice it to say that the above list is good, for now. One thing I didn’t do last time I blogged, but will try to be better at, is to include tags. Surely I’ll be able to identify the subject of the day, no matter how many side tracks I wander down.

Today the subject, arbitrary but fixed, is fiddle practice.

So, the thing is, that I am a kinesthetic learner, mostly. I can’t think without drawing a picture, or going over to the place where the thing manifests, or, I hope, writing–inviting both right and left hands to fiddle around on the keyboard to shape the thing into something I can understand.

My dad was tone deaf, and my mom was in a polyphonic choir for her seven years of being a refugee in Bavaria after World War II. When I was eight, she gave me a wooden recorder, a kind of whistle used in the Middle Ages and still used today to teach music with. I loved that thing! I played and played, teaching myself with the Trapp Family Singer’s instruction book.

When I was twelve, around puberty, something shifted in my brain and I realized that all those sharps and flats? You were supposed to play them! I’d ignored them as useless fluff. If you know anything about music, you know that basically, unless you are in the key of C, you CANNOT ignore the sharps or flats that go with the key signature. The music limps.

It took me four years to develop my ear enough to notice. My mother, who had said nothing, was a saint.

Since then, I’ve sampled a squillion instruments, from the flute to the piano to the banjo, working through the first lesson book and then ... dropping it, though I do often cycle back to things again. Most notably the piano and recorder.

Now, after having fiddled at the fiddle for many years, I’ve started to take lessons. It’s not just that being self taught leads to repetitive motion injuries, but that I am well aware that I still sound pretty dumb at it. A real live teacher is helping me with how to hold my body, and is getting irritated at things I do that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t have a natural talent, and probably actually have an anti-talent?

Well, daily practice, of course. But that’s only going to get me so far. I don’t have enough lifespan to rely on being listenable with just that. So, recently I decided to take it a bit further, in addition to taking lessons.

Firstly, I got the app TE Tuner for my phone. It tells me whether I’m playing sharp or flat (and it’s always one of those!). I spend a few minutes daily trying to get the intonations of the notes right. Progress is slow but not zero.

Secondly, I’m trying to move from what I know, which is how to play from written music, to what I struggle with, which is playing from memory. Who knows, some day I might add playing by ear to this scheme, but for now, I’m focusing on memory.

This probably sounds unbearably primitive to you musicians, but for me it is super difficult. I think the main barrier right now is that fiddle tunes have eight bars in each section, and I can’t count up to eight while playing. I drop half-bars, or add them. I’ve tried a few ideas like moving my body in a pattern adding up to eight to keep myself in rhythm, but all the systems I try seem like they are more trouble than actually spending the time to memorize the particular tune. I’m still working on figuring this one out. Anyway, it would be an improvement if I could tell whether I’d dropped or added a phrase while playing from memory.

The final thing I’m working on now is bowing. Fiddling is a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy. The left hand determines the intonation, and the right, bowing hand the rest of it. Volume. Timbre. Rhythm. Lightness or gravitas.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

[checkmarch79-blog]

Those Useless Trees — The Valley Oak

A couple of days ago my friend Mike and I decided to go for a hike in Malibu Creek State Park. Having celebrated a friend’s birthday the previous night into the following morning, a good moderately strenuous ramble seemed like just the thing. We were both awed by the park’s stunning vistas as well as its many magnificent valley oak trees, the largest oak species in North America and a species found only in California.

Inside the Malibu Creek State Park

The 3,324-hectare park, although opened to the public in 1976, of course, has a much older history. The first humans to arrive in the area where likely the Chumash, who established the village of Talepop (or Ta’lopop) within what’s now the park. About 3,500 years ago — thousands of years after the Chumash settled the area — the Tongva arrived from the east and the Malibu Creek, which drains the Santa Monica Mountains, became a sort of border between the two nations. Downstream the river flows into the Pacific Ocean at an estuary the Chumash referred to as “U-mali-wu,” meaning “it makes a loud noise there.” The Spanish, who arrived in the 16th century, recorded the name as Malibu.

Languedoc?

Although neither Mike nor I had ever been to the park before, we’d both seen it in many films and television series. The striking Goat Buttes, in particular, have served as a popular setting in Hollywood fictions. Before reading a sign informing us that the outcroppings were in the series, M*A*S*H, I was reminded by the chaparral-covered prominences of a childhood summer spent in Languedoc. After learning that the semi-arid oak landscape had been used to evoke green, temperate Korea for eleven seasons of the long-running Korean War comedy, I was struck by how unlike the scenery reminded me of any I’d seen in Korea, which I visited last summer. Of course, come to think of it, the cast of that show’s hairstyles seemed suspiciously ’70s for a war which took place from 1950-1953.

Coast live oaks on a hill

The valley in which we stood was carpeted with brittle, yellow grasses and scruffy oak trees. Most of the oaks in the oak savanna were coast live oak (Quercus agrifolia), also known as California live oak, those familiar oaks which during the rainy season fleetingly give the landscape of rolling hills on which they often grow the appearance of the Shire. Elsewhere in the park, there are stately sycamores and the southernmost grove of redwoods. There are, naturally, many varieties of native fungi and fauna as well, and during our visit, we observed a small herd of mule deer, various lizards, a covey of quail, a couple of rabbits, a California tarantula, a gracefully gliding heron, a red-tailed hawk, a flock of pigeons, and several other birds which I didn’t recognize.

Some of the oaks obviously unlike the others. They were taller, their silhouettes patchier, their branches droopier than the dome-like coast live oaks, the canopies of which spread out like gauzy green umbrellas over the gently rolling hills. As a child growing up in Missouri’s Little Dixie, I roamed the forests and knew my red cedars from my red maples, my black walnuts from my bladdernuts, my corkwoods from my dogwoods, my pawpaws from my possumhaws. I don’t remember learning most of their names and characteristics, though, and because of that, I hoped — however unrealistically — that I’d over time somehow simply absorb a similar knowledge Southern California’s trees. Having now lived in Southern California longer than anywhere else, I have unfortunately found that I have to make an effort to learn them.

I observed the oaks that were not coast live oaks. Whereas the leaves of the coast live oak are small, shiny, prickly, and look a bit like those of a holly shrub, the leaves of these oaks were lobed and looked almost leathery, faintly fuzzy. The leaves were clustered rather than spread across the branches’ tips. The bark was sort of silvery brown and almost uniformly wrinkled whereas the trunks and branches of the coast live oaks appear contorted and gnarled. It was clear that these were not coast live oaks — but I was no closer to identifying them than I had been when Mike had asked me what they were and so I turned to PlantSnap, an app which has, since downloading, successfully identified about 30% of the plants I’ve used it to recognize. It also identifies fungi — but with a track record like that, I wouldn’t use it for foraging unless I was completely OK with a painful death. This time the app proved successful, however, notifying me that the tree was most likely a Quercus agrifolia, or valley oak (it was) or, perhaps, a staghorn fern or loquat (it was obviously not). Valley oaks are also known as robles, as in Paso Robles.

I was struck by the appearance of the valley oaks acorns, which were considerably longer than those I was accustomed to. They provide food for, among other animals, acorn woodpeckers, California ground squirrels, California scrub jays, and yellow-billed magpies. Historically, they were also an important food source for the Chumash, who never developed agriculture as they were able to live comfortably off of what they foraged and hunted.

Mule deer eating valley oak leaves

The woody parts of the valley oak support California gall wasp, red cone gall wasp, and Chionodes petalumensis. As we approached a beckoning oak woodland, we stopped to watch a large family of mule deer, one of whose members spent a great deal of time standing on his hind legs and helping himself to the leaves of a large tree.

The roots of the valley oak have intimate symbiotic associations with many of the region’s mycorrhizal fungi which are essential to their survival — and one of the main reasons Southern California should favor the planting of native trees over imports like the pepper trees, goldenrains, jacarandas, bottle brushes, &c which, although drought tolerant, are simply incapable of slotting into an ecosystem which evolved over millions of years without them.

The valley oak is endemic to California, where its range stretches along the valleys and foothills of San Diego County in the south to Sikiyou County in the north. They live to be up to 600 years, which means that the oldest trees were alive during the fall of Constantinople, the invention of the printing press, the domination of Central Asia by Tamerlane’s Timurid Empire, and closer to home, the rise of the Inca and Aztec empires.

Until it fell on 1 May 1977, the tallest valley oak was the so-called “Hooker Oak,” which stood until then in Chico. Because its trunk had a massive diameter of 8.8 meters, its age was at the time estimated to be over 1,000 years old. However, once dead it was determined that the tree owed its girth to the fact that it was in fact two specimens, both of roughly 325 years of age, which had long ago grown together into one. It appeared in many films where it proved a natural in its many roles as a tree.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), co-starring the Hooker Oak

The current tallest valley oak is the so-called “Henley Oak,” a specimen which towers 47 meters above the floor of the Round Valley in Covelo. It is named after Thomas J. Henley, a one-time Superintendent of Indian Affairs notable for opening the region to European-American settlers in defiance of a federal order which had promised the land to Native Americans, resulting in a great deal of regrettable bloodshed between indigenous Californians and immigrants. The tree is believed to be more than 500 years old, meaning it sprouted from an acorn and was possibly producing its own well before the first Spanish galleon, San Salvador, sailed along the coast.

The Henley Oak (source unknown)

Mike and I turned back after reaching Rock Pool, and again we crossed the valley featured in M*A*S*H. This time, surprisingly, I did find myself somewhat reminded of Korea — or at least of Korean (and Chinese) landscape painting. By this time, the sun had set and the gold hour was transitioning to blue. The oak woodland seemed to be climbing up the base of the improbably steep sandstone hillsides. Tipping the scales of perception, perhaps, was the presence of a Korean family attempting to take photos of a toddler with the scenery as a backdrop. 

Korean landscape painting? Oak woodland at the base of low mountains

I sometimes have a physical sensation of being pulled into the woods and the longer I looked at the trees, the stronger the pull seemed to grow. I had to fight the urge to enter the forest because the park had officially closed the moment the sun sank behind the horizon and currently, there is no overnight camping because in June, 35-year-old Tristan Beaudette was shot to death in the tent he was sharing with his two young daughters. Since then, rumors and other reports of gunfire in the park have emerged both following the murder and stretching back to 2016 and there’s an ongoing investigation.

Vacant campsite under a canopy of oak trees)

Hopefully, the murderous gunman will be caught and peace and campers will again return to the park. It looks like a really wonderful place to pitch a tent for a weekend, perhaps do a bit of forest bathing, or even just contemplate the scenery. As we continued toward the exit, the crescent moon (which had hung in the sky throughout our day) was now shining brightly and bats were flitting about in search of a meal. We hurried our pace and left the park without incident.

Eric Brightwell is an adventurer, writer, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener who is always seeking paid writing, speaking, traveling, and art opportunities. He is not interested in generating advertorials, cranking out clickbait, or laboring away in a listicle mill “for exposure.”

Brightwell has written for Angels Walk LA, Amoeblog, Boom: A Journal of California, diaCRITICS, Hidden Los Angeles, and KCET Departures. His art has been featured by the American Institute of Architects, the Architecture & Design Museum, the Craft & Folk Art Museum, Form Follows Function, Los Angeles County Store, the book Sidewalking, Skid Row Housing Trust, and 1650 Gallery. Brightwell has been featured as subject in The Los Angeles Times, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Magazine, LAist, CurbedLA, Eastsider LA, Boing Boing, Los Angeles, I’m Yours, and on Notebook on Cities and Culture. He has been a guest speaker on KCRW‘s Which Way, LA? and at Emerson College. Art prints of Brightwell’s maps are available from 1650 Gallery. He is currently writing a book about Los Angeles and you can follow him on Ameba, Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram, Mubi, Twitter, and Weibo.

Click here to offer financial support and thank you!

Source: https://ericbrightwell.com/2018/09/18/those-useless-trees-the-valley-oak/

[sandyferal]

Carmine and Mark chapter 2

I’m writing this partially for school, so I’m going to keep posting these chapters.

Here’s the first part of you wanna read it: http://sandyferal.tumblr.com/post/157065307074/carmine-and-mark

    As Carmine opened the door to his house he heard giggling coming from the the living room. When he walked in he saw his sister Amanda sitting on the couch with a laptop on her lap next to a boy who Carmine hadn’t seen before.     “Oh dios mío! Am I interrupting something?” Carmine said with an overly shocked tone.     His sister looked up at him in annoyance.     “I thought mom said you were working.” She said.     “I was,” Carmine said placeing his backpack on the coffee table. “But since I’m in-between clients I don’t spend all day with them.”     Amanda scowled. The boy next to her waved at Carmine.     “Uh, hey man.” He said awkwardly.     “Don’t acknowledge him Brent,” Amanda said. “He’s just going to start asking uncomfortable questions to embarrass both of us.”     “Hey I haven’t done anything yet!” Carmine raised his hands in a mock defensive position, then lowered them. “Speaking of questions, I have a question. Does mom know you brought your boyfriend into the house?”     Brent blushed and shot a sideways glance at Amanda, who wasn’t looking at Carmine, and instead focused on the computer in her lap. She spoke up after a second.     “Remember when you brought that one boyfriend to dinner unexpectedly?”     “Ye-”     “Then he implied you were fat multiple times,”     “Yeah-”     “And he said he usually didn’t date Hispanic girls and implied he was settling for you, so I had to punch his teeth in?”     “Fair point.” Carmine finally agreed. He sat down on a chair across from the two.     “Besides,” Amanda said. “Mom isn’t here.”     “I saw. Her car wasn’t in the drive.” Carmine replied. “Plus seeing as she leaves at this time EVERY Saturday I could figure it out on my own.”     “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Brent said, beginning to stand up     “Don’t,” Amanda put her hand on his chest. “I know what I’m doing, I won’t get in trouble.”     “Have you done this before?” Asked Brent sitting down again.     Carmine laughed. When Brent shot a glance at him Carmine shook his head.     “Our parents barely know half the stuff she does.” Carmine said. “Sure they caught her a couple times, back when she was sloppy. Nowadays they barely have a clue. Y'know her internet history on that laptop​ is basically non-existent.”     “Can you stop telling everyone that?” Amanda sounded annoyed again. “You’re about as subtle and secretive as a train hitting someone in the face.”     “Hey, if you’re dating him he might as well know.” Carmine said.     “When did I say I was dating him?” Amanda asked.     “Come on, you never bring any friends into the house unless you’re dating them.”     For a moment Amanda looked like she was about to argue, then shrugged.     “I guess that’s true. Oh wait a minute.” She snapped her fingers. “There’s, there was something mom said you needed to do. I think it was a paper or something.”     “Oh!” Carmine jumped out of his seat. He grabbed his backpack and headed towards the stairs. “I forgot about that! Thanks for reminding me.”     Carmine took his sister’s silence to mean that he WASN’T welcome and entered his room.

…

    Mark sat in his tank watching a small screen on the other side of the glass. He had already seen this movie 19 times but his DVD collection was limited. It was the second part of an romance/comedy/action movie that was about… well, it would take too long to explain.     It was unusual for him to watch movies with romance subplots but, even though he didn’t realize it, he was getting lonely. It was easy to believe Mark was single. He’d never dated anyone. And whenever he watched these romance movies he could never relate to the any confident male characters. He more identified with that side character that people liked, but the marketers never paid attention to.     As usual with Mark’s late night movie watching, the later it was, the sillier the movies. “Maybe that movie wasn’t as cliche as I remember” he said to himself. “Maybe these characters are well written” he might think later on, “Maybe this could happen in real life,” he would think at two thirty in the morning.     He would sometimes ignore the movie all together, and start daydreaming. But that never went far. Nice romantic things may be able to happen to other people, but not him. Never him     Soon he felt his eyes closing. He told himself to move, but  found out he really didn’t want to.     “Maybe if I sleep just a little bit,” He thought. “maybe it won’t be so bad.”

…

    When Carmine saw Allice, she was even more stressed than before. She kept dropping things while she talked, and was barely looking at him.     “He had one of his episodes yesterday and he threw up in his tank!” Her pace quickened. “We had to take him out of the tank and we’re still replacing all the water. Since you’re one of the first people to get a positive reaction from him we thought that you should take care of him today.”     This time Allice led Carmine to a different room. It was smaller and had multiple tanks that were interconnected by tubes. Mark’s tank was closed off, and there was a curtain between him and the other tanks.     “He’s right there.” Allice said. “Just try to make him feel better, and make sure he eats again.”     “They dragged you back quickly.” Mark said when he saw Carmine approaching him. “Usually they don’t make people come back for a while.”     “No one dragged me here.” Carmine said, smiling at Mark. “Mi amigo was in trouble so I got asked to come back. I accepted because I wanted to come back cariño.”     “I barely know you, you’re getting paid to spend time with me! I wouldn’t call myself your ‘amigo’, or… whatever cariño means.” Mark said.     “Hey,” Carmine said in a mock offended tone. “Are you suggesting that I can be bought? That I don’t care? I’m shocked!”     “Kinda yeah.” Mark said, almost looking for a second like he was going to smile.     “I actually was starting to like you!” Carmine said, keeping the same joking tone. “But if you’re going to make such accusations I might have to re-evaluate my opinion of you.”     “OK, you can stop that now.”     “Stop what?” Carmine asked.     “The whole ‘I’m so offended’ thing that you’re doing, even though you’re obviously not offended.” Mark said.     Carmine smiled. Then he sat on the ground next to the tank and took out a small book.     “To be honest I’m genuinely interested in what’s going on with you and how to… uh, help.” With this, Carmine wrote something down in the book, then turned to Mark. “So I wanna know what happened last night.”     “Nothing ‘happened’ last night.” Mark said, avoiding Carmine’s eyes. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”     Carmine raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Allice told me something happened.”     That got an eye roll out of Mark.     “Allice over-reacts to everything. I just had a nightmare that’s all.”     “And you threw up.”     “Yeah.”     Carmine looked around until his eyes landed on a bucket of fish. He scooted over to the bucket and picked it up.     “Speaking of which, you hungry?” Carmine asked.     “Hhhmmmm…” Although Mark’s eyes darted to the fish, he took a minute before he responded.     “I… I guess.”     With a grunt, Carmine stood up. After standing on his toes for a bit, then eventually just grabbing a chair and standing on that, he poured the fish in through the top of the tank.     Mark sank his teeth into the fish, just like before he seemed hungry. But this time he seemed to restrain himself a bit, glancing at Carmine every once in a while.     “So you had a female horse in your room last night?” Asked Carmine.     Mark stopped eating for a couple seconds. The look he shot at Carmine was utterly confused.     “I didn’t say anything about a horse.” Mark said slowly.     “It’s-it’s a joke” Carmine’s response got nothing but a blank stare from Mark. So he continued, trying to explain.     “You see, a mare actually is actually the word for female horse, so it’s a night-mare. A female horse at night.” Carmine chuckled to himself. He smiled. “Yeah, nobody gets that one. I guess I could’ve phrased it better.”     It looked like Mark wanted to smile but was trying to hide it. He spoke with a slight laugh in his voice.     “That was the worst attempt at humor I’ve ever heard.” Mark said.     “Thank you.” Carmine gave a little bow.     “I mean it, that wasn’t even phrased like a joke. Like it wasn’t even a bad joke it wasn’t a joke at all.”     “Yeah, I have no idea why I said that.” Carmine said.     “Me either, that was really stupid.” This time Mark let himself smile a little bit. “Keep your day job, I don’t think you were made for comedy.”     “This IS my day job.” Carmine said with a laugh. “I was hoping I could keep it.”     It took a minute for Carmine to find his notebook again. Before continuing the conversation he made a few notes on one of the pages. Smiling to himself, he inspected what he had written, then closed it. He shot a concerned look at Mark.     “So about that nightmare?” Carmine started, only to be cut off by Mark.     “I told you it’s nothing. I get nightmares all the time.”     “That doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” As he spoke, Carmine leaned against Mark’s tank. “You know I had a nightmare once where woodpeckers pecked out little holes in my skin and laid eggs in them. Dios Mío I was so scared of woodpeckers for like, a year after that.”     “What the heck, that’s freaky.” Mark said, his face scrunching up at the thought. Then he looked at Carmine eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you were seriously afraid of woodpeckers?”     “Yes. But only because of that nightmare. Have you ever thought about eggs in your skin?” Asked Carmine. “Like there’s little holes in your skin and when you look in them you can see the eggs and you think about your skin growing around the eggs so they’ll have to burst back out of-”     “Please stop talking about that.” Mark said, cringing. “That’s like, really really freaky.”     “What was your nightmare about?” The way Carmine switched topics so quickly was suspicious, but Mark was too tired to care at the moment.     “Well it was about… fishing.” Mark said, sounding embarrassed.     “Fishing?” Carmine asked.     Mark continued, beginning to describe the dream in vivid, but kind of confusingly unfocused, detail.     “Well I was out of the water, and I was watching two people kissing. I didn’t want to watch them anymore so I went into a nearby kiddy pool. You know the ones at the carnival where people pretend to fish for ducks? Oh wait I forget to mention we were at a carnival. Anyway, I went the pool, and suddenly the pool was deeper. Now it was the ocean I think, and a fishing net came down and caught me. They were deciding how to eat me and I kept saying ‘yes, kill me eat me’ but I didn’t want to die. Then I woke up.”     Carmine had been writing this down, but paused.     “That’s it?” He asked Mark.     “It was longer,” Mark admitted. “With a lot more being chased. You were there at one point.”     “Really?” Carmine sounded interested. “What was I doing?”     “I don’t remember.” Mark said, looking away. His face was turning a darker shade of blue, and his lure glowed brighter.     Carmine looked at Mark sceptically, but didn’t probe further. After adding a couple more details into his journal, he frowned.     “Wait a second…” He muttered to himself. “Allice wrote something about fishing.”     “Can we not talk about that?” Mark said. His breathing was heavier, and his voice was shaking.     Carmine looked up at Mark, looking startled and concerned. He snapped his book shut. 

   “Are you ok?” He asked.

    “I-I don’t know?” Mark sounded confused. “I’m n-not sure. I feel like I’m gonna cry but I’m fine.”

…

[tripstations]

‘We want to keep our forest’: why Guyana’s wilderness needs visitors | Travel

I’m sitting atop a pink granite boulder with Rovin, my information. Beneath us is a billowing inexperienced expanse of jungle damaged solely by the sinuous line of a river and a low vary of hills, one in every of which we’re seated on. There isn’t a signal of humanity: no smoke pillars, no clearings, no masts or buildings, not even a jet path throughout the sky. As an alternative, there’s a formation of six red-and-green macaws, cackling as they go, and within the close by fig tree the flitterings of tiny, jewel-like birds in splendid emerald and sapphire livery.

“This space,” says Rovin, pointing forward at an enormous jungle contained in a pure bowl a number of miles throughout, “is unexplored. It belongs to our group, however nobody has been there.” He pauses whereas a pair of black lizards skitter previous. “We’ve had oil firms, loggers and gold miners come right here, however we’ve mentioned no to all of them.”

Once I first thought-about visiting central Guyana, I discovered myself doing a cost-benefit evaluation. On one aspect was the sobering quantity of carbon dioxide produced by the return long-haul flight and three brief inside flights – about 2.eight tonnes in line with myclimate.org (see Carbon Calculation under). Alternatively – with a really massive query mark subsequent to it – have been the potential benefits to communities visited in one of many least explored elements of South America, a rustic that noticed fewer than 300,00Zero travellers final yr.

I had thought this is able to be a troublesome equation to steadiness. With the planet within the grip of a local weather disaster, can there be any justification for such a journey?

Rovin (rear, proper) scanning for wildlife at sundown.

Rovin begins doing the maths for me. “We have now about 350 sq. kilometres of jungle and have utilized to take over one other 350 of what’s now state land. We get about 200 guests a yr and we wish 400, no extra. We don’t need to be wealthy, however we need to hold our forest. We do want cash for medicines, schooling and provides.”

Take away the vacationers and the necessity for an revenue would quickly drive these communities into the arms of loggers, ranchers, goldminers and oilmen.

Rovin is head wildlife information at Rewa Ecolodge, run by members of the Makushi tribe, one in every of 9 Amerindian teams in Guyana. The nation is concerning the dimension of Nice Britain however with solely a tiny fraction of the inhabitants; some 780,00Zero individuals, most residing on the coast. The huge inside is essentially rainforest the place tiny communities are sometimes linked solely by river. Such is the excessive rainfall, the mouth of the Essequibo, the nation’s largest river, is as broad because the Channel at Dover.

After admiring the view, and birds, Rovin and I head down the slim, rocky path. At one level I cease in disbelief: some fool has dropped a big triangle of iridescent blue plastic. I despair of people. The primary piece of litter in days. I bend down. It’s a morpho butterfly.

Rewa Ecolodge. {Photograph}: PR

“You realize what,” I say to Rovin, “your jungle is filled with treasures which can be higher than gold or oil.”

He grins and factors out a green-tailed jacamar, a bee-eater-like fowl, perched in a complicated dapple of leaf and shade. The Guyanan jungle bristles and prickles round us: I discover tiny actions within the leaf litter and see ticks scuttling in direction of my boots, drawn by physique warmth. Later I take away one from my abdomen. Search for and every tree is festooned with ferns, creepers and orchids. Look down inside a fern and there, within the captured rainwater, swim tadpoles and frogs alongside all of the insect larvae and eggs. No surprise this place gobbles up CO2. Calculations by a global staff together with Professor Oliver Phillips of Leeds College put the determine at round 200 tonnes per sq km per yr (see rainfor.org).

Absorption of CO2 by Rewa rainforest estimated at 200 tonnes per sq. kilometres per yr (see the rainfor.org). 350 sq km x 200 = 70,00Zero tonnes

CO2 emissions on return London flight, (utilizing myclimate carbon calculator): return from London Gatwick to Georgetown through Barbados (financial system seat in a big jet) is 2.5 tonnes; Georgetown to Kaieteur (small turboprop plane) is 0.108 tonnes; Kaieteur to Apoteri (estimate) = is 0.05 tonnes; Lethem to Georgetown = is 0.132 tonnes. Whole: 2.79 tonnes per passenger

200 annual guests to Rewa x 2.79 (primarily based on a London flight) = 558 tonnes of CO2

Rovin brings me to the riverbank, the place we board his motorised canoe. I inform him about solar-powered outboards. He had not heard of them. Cease the calculation! What if a vacationer brings a helpful thought? How does that match into any equation? And don’t think about the lodge wouldn’t take up new concepts: it’s already ditched diesel mills and gone completely photo voltaic.

Kevin Rushby takes within the unbelievable view from Kaieteur Falls.

We transfer out into the river and spot one thing swimming. At first I feel it have to be a jaguar within the water, such is the ability and agility, however it’s an enormous river otter, nearly two metres lengthy.

“After we opened the lodge in 2005,” Rovin says, “we stopped the hunters coming in. Now we see an increasing number of of every little thing: otters, macaws, jaguars.” There have been different advantages: males engaged on Brazilian ranches and in Guyanan gold mines have come house. The group is happier and more healthy, usually happy with what had been a troublesome choice.

The Guyanan jungles are a part of the Guiana Defend, an enormous area of north-east South America, a biodiversity hotspot that’s separate from the Amazon and accommodates greater than 1,00Zero fowl species and 269 identified amphibians (extra are always being discovered). Examine that with round 700 birds and 85 amphibians in all of Europe, which is nearly 4 occasions bigger. Many of those Guiana Defend species are endemic. A couple of days earlier I’d trekked by way of jungle close to Kaieteur Falls (the largest single-drop falls on this planet) to see the spectacular Guianan cock-of-the-rock, a fowl extra orange than Donald Trump but tweeting with extra knowledge.

Crimson-and-green macaws flying over Rewa.

Again on the river, we take a aspect channel then switch to a close-by oxbow lake and a paddled boat. The solar is dropping low over the bushes as Rovin offers a deep stomach growl that instantly will get a vigorous response with wild splashing noises from the reedbeds. “Black caimans,” he grins, then factors one out. Subsequent to it, one thing large rolls and I glimpse an extended, scaly again. “Arapaima,” Rovin whispers, the biggest scaled freshwater fish, reaching as much as three metres in size. Rovin is a part of a staff from Rewa group lodge who’ve pioneered the artwork of catch-and-release for these giants. In 2015 it resulted in a world document specimen of 189kg. One other arapaima rolls and an osprey flies over. There are harpy eagles right here too, however we’re not destined to be fortunate in that division.

After returning to the clear and easy riverside lodge, we eat hen and plantains for dinner. A pink-toe tarantula is faraway from one cabin. That evening I carry the lid on the skin bathroom and a frog bounces up, hitting me within the chest. A rustle within the bushes above alerts me to a kinkajou, one thing like a raccoon, however in a genus of its personal. Daybreak brings a symphony of birdsong: the liquid warblings of oropendolas underscored by the percussive rap of red-naped woodpecker and tuneless toucan screeches. A red-rumped agouti, trying like a guinea pig on steroids, scuttles away from the huts pursued by a crested caracara, a sort of forest falcon with a Peaky Blinders haircut.

A savannah hawk flies down a jungle glade within the Kanuki mountains.

Within the boat as soon as once more we transfer upstream, then stroll right into a forest of big mora bushes, a favorite hardwood for loggers who, little doubt, would like to get their fingers on them. As we stroll, my thoughts drifts again to my carbon calculations. If every customer generates 2.79 tonnes of CO2, I muse, and there are 200 of them, that makes 558 tonnes (assuming all of them got here from so far as London). However look how a lot CO2 the Rewa group forests may be absorbing yearly (350 sq km x 200): over 70,00Zero tonnes.

My ballpark mathematical reveries are disturbed by Rovin. Within the gloom of the forest flooring, he’s shining a torch right into a small gap massive sufficient to insert a tennis ball. He’s teasing one thing, twitching the tip of a stick on the entrance. There’s sudden motion and a creature pounces, an enormous spider, bristling with annoyance. “Not a giant one,” says Rovin. “Don’t go too shut; they will fireplace poisoned hairs at you.” This nine-inch monster is the Goliath bird-eater spider, the biggest tarantula on the planet (they will attain 12 inches throughout). Whether or not it does genuinely eat birds is the topic of debate, however Rovin has little doubt. “They ambush forest flooring birds just like the antpitta.” Pity the antpitta. A pint-sized squirt that meets its finish below the arachnid equal of Mako Vunipola. If loggers got here right here, nonetheless, it might be these spectacular spiders who have been crushed.

A black caiman snoozing in an ox bow lake beside the Rewa River.

My time in Rewa is over and I take the boat 55 miles upriver earlier than transferring to a different group lodge: Surama. Right here they’ve the Iwokrama forest and the same inhabitants dimension to Rewa, round 300 sq km. They, too, want comparatively small numbers of tourists to make sure their jungle stays untouched. 4 different Amerindian communities have launched into this kind of tourism, however whereas the scope for extra is large, subsequent yr ExxonMobil will begin pumping oil from offshore rigs, doubtlessly remodeling the Guyanan financial system.

I stroll alone to the sting of the jungle and watch a hummingbird work over the bushes. I’m wishing my journey was longer, as long-haul journeys must be. Guyana has a repute for being costly, however there’s scope to journey cheaply for those who can sleep in a hammock. Buses and boats will take you all the way in which throughout nation to the Brazil border – I like to recommend Waikin ranch for those who’d wish to see big anteaters and nice horned owls.

I drift up a path into the forest and watch a pair of macaws squabble on a excessive department till a feather drifts down. I chase after it and locate a scarlet tail feather so long as my forearm. The jungle, it appears, is casting its treasures at my toes.

• The journey was supplied by Wilderness Explorers, which is providing a 10-day Guyana package deal solely for Guardian readers for £2,000pp (a reduction of 15%); the journey consists of Georgetown, Rewa, Surama and Kaieteur Falls however excludes worldwide flights (have to be booked by 31 December, quote reserving code GuardianGuyana). Flights from Gatwick to Georgetown through Barbados with Virgin/LIATfrom £650. Additional data at guyanatourism.com

This text accommodates affiliate hyperlinks, which suggests we might earn a small fee if a reader clicks by way of and makes a purchase order. All our journalism is unbiased and is by no means influenced by any advertiser or industrial initiative. By clicking on an affiliate hyperlink, you settle for that third-party cookies can be set. Extra info.

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[thethursdaythree-blog]

March 30, 2017 • For the Birds

There's a good chance I'll run into something. If I don't run into something, I'll probably trip and fall. I've been lucky so far.

It all started two Saturdays ago when I woke up before the sun, rolled out of bed, grabbed my rain jacket, laced up my Bean Boots, and drove to the parking lot of the Wild Bird Center in Chapel Hill. I pulled in – legitimately surprised that people actually did this – turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

"Hi, I'm Brent," I offered. "I'm here for the bird walk. I've never done this before. Am I in the right place?"

One-by-one, the others gathered in that parking lot greeted me – each of us standing in a steady mist.

"I'm Tom." "Tommy." "Verne."

"It's nice to meet you." I was in the right place.

From there, the nine of us set off for Mason Farm Biological Reserve – a 367-acre plot of forests and fields home to birds and trees and bugs and all kinds of wildlife. We spent nearly four hours that morning walking a total of three miles – stopping every few minutes to listen and wait and watch. We'd take a few steps. Pause. Look around. Take a few more steps. Someone would hear something and point, and everyone else would simultaneously raise the binoculars to our faces and focus (in a super cool way) to try to spot the birds.

It was cold and rainy… and exhilarating. I know. It sounds ridiculous. And as I've shared with "friends" that I went on a bird walk, the responses have been hilarious:

"Are you fifty?" "Where's your stamp collection, Grandpa?" "There's no way that's cool."

But I'm hooked. I've signed up for two more bird walks already. (Let me know if you want to come.) I've upgraded my binoculars, too, and purchased a field guide that stays in my man satchel.

And I'm constantly walking around now with my eyes upward, moving from tree to tree, trying to catch a glimpse of a bird I've never seen before. That's why there's a good chance I'll run into something.

That day, we saw over forty species of birds. Thrashers and woodpeckers and pine warblers. I left my phone at home. (Unintentionally, but still.) And I was caught up in my new friends' excitement about seeing something rare. I was in awe of their ability to identify a bird from afar based simply on its song or how it was flying. Mostly, I was glad to be doing something that didn't involve staring at a screen.

As I've geeked out over the last week-and-a-half, I've experienced the joy of being able to name things around me that, until recently, had been hidden in plain sight. This amateur birder can now pick out a mockingbird call, tell the difference between a crow and a grackle, and never knew how many cardinals there were in his neighborhood (which is annoying for this Cubs fan). I've started to notice how rare it is to walk outside and not hear a bird singing. It's literally a whole new world.

So this week's Thursday Three is for the birds.

"The Tweetest Thing" – a 22-second sketch by Jennifer Moxley

+ Bird Man

I read this piece from Longreads about two weeks before I signed up for my first bird walk. Eva Holland tells the story of Noah Strycker who got into birding as a teenager. In 2015, he traveled the globe to set a world record, identifying over 6,000 species of birds in 365 days. The article is good for that story alone, but the author also describes how for so many, bird watching "satisfies a 'bone-deep, soul-deep need to classify and organize the world around us.'"

The term umwelt comes from the German word meaning, roughly, "environment" or "surroundings." But in this context it refers to a given species' way of perceiving the world around it: dogs organize their world by smell, bees by ultraviolet light, and so on. Carol Kaesuk Yoon, a biologist, proposed in her 2009 book, Naming Nature, that we humans, in turn, navigate through and organize our world via a system of ordering and classification of other natural beings, and that this system is remarkably consistent across history, languages, cultures, ecosystems, and societies. Our umwelt is "our shared human vision of life."

To categorize our world is to know our world. And – for better or worse – it's part of what it means to be human. We eat, sleep, breathe, and put things into categories.

Click here to enjoy this article from Longreads.

+ Invisibilia: Outside In

Last year's season finale of the _Invisibilia_ podcast featured an episode called "Outside In." The episode detailed stories of transformation by people who took on something and hoped it stuck – sort of a "fake it 'til you make it" approach. For instance, one of the stories describes how an ordinary guy fakes being a celebrity and is mobbed by "fans" who have no idea who he is.

But the story that caught my ear came near the end of the episode. The hosts interview Jim Verhagen who runs the blog, _Readings from the Northside_. Jim set out to spend more time in nature with the hope of experiencing transformation. So he went to the Jersey Shore to watch the birds. But that's where it gets a little weird. Jim would take pictures of the birds (normal) and then start making up stories about them (what?). He gave them names and personalities – Mac Daddy, Mr. Handbersome, Jack, Tufters – and then wrote about them and their "drama" on his blog. From the transcript:

This is not your average isn't Mother Earth amazing - photography blog. No, what Jim does is essentially create the TMZ or Perez Hilton version of a nature blog because alongside shockingly clear and intimate shots of Mac Daddy and the other animals on the beach, Jim is writing these really kind of gossipy reports.

The blog explodes. And the way Jim is transformed is surprising and real.

See, when you see it in animals, when you see the kind of constant anxiety as we'd describe it that they have to live with, you realize that it's natural, that that's - that that state of constantly being kind of alert and a little concerned and watching your back…

Is my wife going to wind up falling out love with me? Am I going to lose this big customer? Constantly putting out fires. That's actually the natural state for a lot of animals. And so in a way it is for us.

Observing these creatures and making up these ridiculous stories helped Jim find a semblance of peace with his own stuff. It helped him find some comfort in his own skin. Click here to listen to the episode. Click here to read the transcript. Click here to visit Jim's blog.

+ Such Singing in the Wild Branches

For your soul's comfort, Mary Oliver's poem, "Such Singing in the Wild Branches," rounds out this week's Thursday Three. May it leave you listening – wondering – "is it spring? Is it morning?"

It was spring and finally I heard him among the first leaves— then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade with his red-brown feathers all trim and neat for the new year. First, I stood still

and thought of nothing. Then I began to listen. Then I was filled with gladness— and that's when it happened,

when I seemed to float, to be, myself, a wing or a tree— and I began to understand what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass stopped for a pure white moment while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising, and in fact it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing— it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers, and also the trees around them, as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing. And, of course, yes, so it seemed, so was I. Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for more than a few moments. It's one of those magical places wise people like to talk about. One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there, you're there forever. Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song may already be drifting away.

As always, thanks for reading and subscribing to the Thursday Three. I'm grateful you make this email a part of your weekly rhythm. If you dig it, I'd love if you'd tell your friends. Perhaps you'll consider forwarding it to your friends or using the share and tweet buttons below. And I'm always open to feedback, suggestions, or friendly correspondence. Just hit reply and write something. You know where to find me. Until next Thursday, find some birds.

Peace,

Brent

[chordata-on-alterhumanity]

a couple of questions, because im really new to this stuff:

1. im questioning if im an otherlinker/copinglinker, but im not sure yet- is it just saying "i wanna be this person/character/thing, okay, now time to convince myself of it/play into the role"?

2. whats the spectrum? when otherlinking to something, is it a range of "i kind of feel like this thing somewhat" to "i completely identify as this, but still aware im me"? same thing with uh- does it range from animals, fictional characters, objects, ect?

3. specifically with animals/beasts ect, do you also act like them in the form of walking, moving, appearance, ect, or is that only therians?

4. are you able to change what youre linked to often, or is it consistent, with only one thing at a time? or- are you able to have a constant selection you never really "break ties" with, if that makes sense? like a row of shirts you can choose from each day to wear. can you create links that fast? would i be able to make a list of links i can change with frequently whenever id like?

5. is there anything i need to specifically avoid asking/talking about regarding all of this because it might be unknowingly rude or offensive to those in the same community, or others?

if any of this doesnt make sense, i apologize- im new to tumblr, too

Heey, thanks for the questions!!

1. Basically, yeah! Otherlinking is about choosing an identity and reinforcing it, yeah! Though, the lines between it and other forms of identity, like otherkin, aren't always clear. "Quoiluntary identity" is a term used for identites that aren't pinpointed as voluntary or involuntary. For example, this week I started linking a character while at work, and it initially wasn't an active choice. It was random, like, I did something and then noticed a similarity between me and the character and that made me feel good, so I paid a little more attention to the similarities. It's not involuntary because if I stopped thinking about it the sense of identity would fade, even if the similarities between me and the char would stay (… until I grow and change as a person to no longer strike a resemblance lol. And being kin doesn't have to be about resembling your kintype in the first place! Being a linker doesn't have to be either. Your linktype could be how you imagine yourself internally, or only in certain situations, or or or… I'll get back to my point 'u' " ). Yet it's not fully voluntary either because the start of it was a random realization. Personally, I just call it all linktypes and don't bother thinking too much. But that's just my own choice!

2. That's the spectrum, yeah! The intensity can go all the way from just a little to full on. There's people who, after linking for a while, feel that the linktype has become so integral to them that it's become involuntary, aka a kintype by definition (Whether that's still called linktype or changed to kintype is up to the individual's choice). And it can be animals, characters, objects, concepts, colours, etc etc, yup. There's no limit to linking unless you harm yourself or others. So linking real people is an iffy subject (I think making a linktype based on a real person is a healthy way to go about the desire to link another living breathing being but pretending to be that person for real isn't a good idea).

3. Me, as a green woodpecker linker who feels the immense desire to cling to vertical surfaces like a woodpecker clings to a tree, tries to mimic their call, and more, yea. Yeah. But it can vary of course! It's the same for therians, actually. I've heard of at least one therian who was kin with wolves in more of a symbolic way than physicality, like, what they stood for in our human perception, the attributes we ascribe to them as a species.

4. I think this is different from person to person, so I'll again talk from personal experience. I have way too many active links at the moment. My brain can get indecisive about which one to "wear" lately. (My job involving a lot of multitasking and training my brain into being scattered doesn't help this imo.) You describe it pretty well by comparing it to a row of shirts. That's what it's like for me; I pick the one that most comfortably fits me or helps me the most. Some links can be created fast, others need time. I already mentioned a fast one in 1., but I also have a linktype that I built up for weeks before I felt any sense of identity in it. How easily a person can change into/out of/between linktypes may depend on the circumstances of the day. I'm sure there can internal or external circumstances preventing a change.

5. Hmm. The only thing I can think of is that we're not particularly fond of when people treat linkers like "otherkin lite", as if our identities are less valuable because they're chosen. If you understand that a chosen identity can be as meaningful as an inherent one, I think that's a given. The community at large also doesn't like being grouped in with "kin for fun"/"kff" people. I'm not 100 % sure I understand the concept of kff correctly, but I think it's people who claim they're kin but don't even identify as the thing. It's just a trend they're running with. It's perfectly fine to link something just for fun, so that's why the whole thing is a bit of a head scratcher for me. I think the disdain might be more because many kff trashtalk alterhumans (otherkin, otherlink, etc) than anything else. If anyone reading this can explain the kff thing better or can think of more things to avoid around otherlinkers, please reply to this post. That all said, don't hold back in asking questions because of the chance they might be rude! Rude questions can result in very interesting conversation.

I hope this helps! ^.^ Sorry in case there's typos and grammar mistakes. It's late and I'm tired but idk when there'd be the next time I have the time to collect my thoughts in order to reply.

[chordata-on-alterhumanity]

From one winged dream self-image to the next

For a long long time of my life I had dreams in which my body is that of the digimon Beelzemon, specifically the winged version but without any guns. It was that way ever since I watched Digimon Tamers as a kid and, you know, Beelzemon looks sooo cool to me and I latched onto his appearance. I had dreams in which I'm a beelzemon for at least 10 years. Usually I didn't have those dreams for months and then randomly one happened, without me engaging with digimon whatsoever. When I was a beelzemon, the dream was almost never digimon-themed, so it makes sense that I didn't need an irl digimon-related trigger to cause them. I think it was just the physicality of Beelzemon's body type and extra limbs (wings) that was somehow tied to my subconscious self-image.

You can already see that I'm talking about this in past-tense. Why?

Over the last months this dream self-image has shifted away from Beelzemon, first into a less beelzemon-y but still similar-to-beelzemon form (same body type, wings, lizard-y tail, black colour scheme), but then took a deep dive into becoming. Into. Into bird person. Green woodpecker person. Those birds. I'm obsessed.

Okay I want to explain.

I started linking green woodpeckers last year. It was a really random choice and I can't fully remember how it went. I think I was reminded of how back in the day when I first looked into the concept of otherkin, I tried to find out if I'm a therian because I've always felt very animalistic but no animal ever clicked. Figures that all my animalistic urges are just plain human and civilized western society is incredibly weird about us acting as removed from animals as possible. Anyway, I think I then thought "The experience of feeling inside the shoes of a real animal would be so interesting. … Oh. I can try pushing myself into that feeling. I can link an animal." and then went to bird and then green woodpecker. I think all of this happened within a few seconds. It's been a downhill (uphill) tumble from there because, while I did focus on the identity then and there to help it stick, it really didn't take much reinforcement.

I'm really happy about this identity for many reasons, most of all that it's another thing that makes me appreciate and love nature so much. I can get so excited, giddy, about forests and birds and I'm not a naturally excited person. And the dreams are just a nice side effect that make me wake up with a good feeling. And, this development is so interesting to me. Was I able to link green woodpeckers so deeply because I subconsciously already identified as a winged creature? I never had a big affinity for birds before this; not bigger than for any other sort of animal group. Was it plain coincidence that the two self-images overlapped? I dunno. It's just interesting to me to retrospectively mull over how my dream appearance has changed