#orava

[ed13d1]

carry me home

Huculka • Władysław Jarocki

[livesunique]

Orava Castle, Oravský Podzámok, Slovakia,

Miro Sabo Photography

[hehkuvamyyhapero]

[wgm-beautiful-world]

Orava Castle - SLOVAKIA

[niinuskainen]

Sunny Friday! 🐿🌞

📸 November 22nd, 2024

[ruttotohtori]

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Varpusten määrä on vähentynyt 70 prosenttia 40 vuoden aikana. Varpunen on edelleen melko runsas laji Suomessa. Sen kanta on kuitenkin vähentynyt niin paljon niin nopeasti, että se luokitellaan erittäin uhanalaiseksi. Jos samanlainen kehitys jatkuu, varpunen on pahoissa ongelmissa.

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Metsäjäniksen karvanvaihtoa ohjaa valon määrä. Kun syksyn pimeät tulevat, harmaa kesäturkki vaihtuu valkoiseksi, paksuksi talviturkiksi. Jos lunta ei ole maassa, metsäjänis on kuin huutomerkki metsissä saalistaville petoeläimille. Talvet voivat jatkossakin olla runsaslumisia, mutta luminen kausi on entistä lyhyempi. Lumettomat loppusyksyt ja alkukeväät ovat metsäjänikselle kohtalokkaita.

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Muutamassa kymmenessä vuodessa eteläisen Suomen metsäjäniskannat ovat vähentyneet 70 prosenttia. Maan pohjoisosissa muutos on paljon pienempi.

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Voi olla vaikea uskoa, että oravienkin kannat ovat pienentyneet voimakkaasti. Tupsuhäntiä näkee edelleen pihalla juoksemassa pitkin kuusen runkoa, mutta metsissä oravilla menee huonosti. Kantoja on mitattu 35 vuotta ja tuona aikana Suomen oravista on kadonnut melkein kaksi kolmasosaa. Tällä hetkellä orava luokitellaan toki yhä elinvoimaiseksi.

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Oravien elinympäristöt vähenevät koko ajan. Se on niiden suurin uhka. Metsät pirstoutuvat ja vanhoja kuusia kaadetaan. Talousmetsän nuoreen, tiheäoksaiseen kuuseen orava saa tehtyä suojaisan pesän, mutta käpyjä on vähemmän saatavilla. Oravaa saalistavat kanahaukka, hiirihaukka ja suurimmat pöllöt, nisäkkäistä näätä, kettu ja kärppä. Kotipiirin eläimistä kissa ja koira voivat napata oravan. Asutuilla alueilla oravan suurin uhka on kuitenkin liikenne. Noin puolet kaupunkialueiden oravista kuolee autojen renkaiden alle.

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Kettujen määrä metsissämme on vähentynyt 35 vuodessa noin puoleen entisestä.

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Metsäjäniksien ja kanalintujen vähentymisen myötä on huvennut myös kettujen määrä. Muunkin ravinnon saanti vaikuttaa ainakin lyhyellä aikavälillä kettujen määrään. Myyrät ovat yksi tärkeimpiä kettujen ravinnonlähteitä. Niiden kannanvaihtelut vaikuttavat myös kettujen määrään, vaikka kettu onkin kaikkiruokainen.

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Kettu onkin siirtynyt ruuan perässä kaupunkeihin, joissa sille on illallispöytä katettuna. On rusakoita, citykaneja, rottia ja ihmisten jätettä, jossa riittää syötävää.

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Kettuja metsästetään laajasti. Syksyisin kettuja on eniten, noin 150 000 yksilöä. Vuosittain metsästetään noin 65 000 kettua.

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Kettuja kurittaa myös kapi, syyhypunkki, joka aiheuttaa ketulle karvanlähtöä. Pahimmillaan kapi johtaa siihen, että eläin kuihtuu kuoliaaksi.

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[lovevanillaprincess]

[easternblocrelics]

Orava, Czechoslovakia

[guanomole]

Just a baby🥺♥️

[2t2r]

Quelques scènes du Nosferatu de 1922 colorisées [vidéo]

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/nosferatu-de-1922-colorisees/

Quelques scènes du Nosferatu de 1922 colorisées [vidéo]

[vuldak-juneau]

At the sound of Órava’s soothing voice, Juneau let her eyes slip shut, the coming down of her final wall of defenses. It was strange to open up entirely to someone, to forfeit all aspects of control, those futile and those still useful. There was little other than the slightly shift of Órava’s body and the gentle murmuring of her voice to warn Juneau that The Mercy was ready, and the decision was acted upon. 

It felt more like an odd pressure than a puncture between Juneau’s ribcage, so unlike the violence enacted upon her night after night. It did not chafe or bruise, it did not pull back at her and constrain her ability to breathe as the a’dam or any other decide used by the Kossith against her–it was a sudden easing of built up pressure, the dislodging of some thorn so deep in the tissue of the heart of her that she had forgotten it was there, forgotten what it felt like to live without the pain of it there. 

Órava might have offered this mercy to hundreds, thousands, or countless before bestowing it upon Juneau. Even so, it would likely be heard to tell if Juneau curled in against the Elvhen’s body in her final moments eager to garner whatever comfort she could in a life that had otherwise felt like closed doors, turned backs, and closed fists. In the sober shadow of death, Juneau felt more grateful than ever at the love that had been extended to her in the last year: Casimir’s guidance, the brother she found in Jamie, the haven of Adrian’s listening presence. She thought of Zagreus who really had little to gain from the novice thief, but had tried to help her anyway and of Robin who had offered to expand her horizons just for the fun of it. She thought Alessia and how they had met, coming almost to blows over an acorn but had cultivated such a deep understanding of one another in so few meetings. She thought about Elokian and how faulty first impressions could be; no one fought harder for her when she needed it most, even after she had snapped at him. She thought of Zeliha who never gave up on the goodness in Juneau’s heart, and of Alucard who seemed to become increasingly in touch with his own. She thought of Goose and Etienne, and their quiet acceptance of her when she believed she deserved it least and of Aurea who kept an open door that Juneau insisted she would never use. Her thoughts drifted to Agnes, a quiet steady presence who didn’t belittle Juneau for her childish scribbles. She thought of Thora who had encouraged her to be brave and hoped that if she could know what Juneau chose in this moment, she would approve, even if Juneau’s capabilities were merely to pass the problem on to more capable hands. She thought of Prospero, who had wanted nothing but to offer her a pillar of support no matter how many times she slapped his hand away. She thought of Dior, who looked at her like some strange creature, but always looked–and did not turn away from her. 

She thought of Julian and his dogged loyalty, of how she wished for so long that he would have picked someone who deserved him that she never grew into that person. Juneau all but begged the wheel to bring her back in another lifetime where she would be better suited to give him everything he deserved. 

And she thought of Alder, who she knew she would never see again, whether her soul had remained corrupted in this lifetime, or she befell a similar future in the next or the next or the next. It was Alder who had taught her that unfurling her first was not the same as admitting defeat, and caring was not a weakness or a lack of intelligence. Alder had reminded her of the strength that existed within love, and that if one was isolated entirely, then one was not alive–whether it was the first death of their bodies or the others. He had reminded Juneau how lucky she was to be alive in the time the Wheel chose to bore her into the world, and that the people who left her behind were not the ones she was born to meet. 

What an auspicious and disastrous last year she had lived, of hard won battles and relearning how to love. And then, she thought of nothing at all. 

“I am here,” she whispered, as if to promise she always had been. The dagger was already in her grasp, drawn without sound, so unassuming that it seemed less an instrument of death and more a part of her. The runes glinted softly in the dying light, absent any hunger or eagerness, they were just there, waiting. Memory. Desire. Surrender.

Órava pressed a kiss to Anfisa's temple, tender as an Iskaran snowfall. “Let go,” she murmured as the blade slipped beneath the girl’s ribs, with the gentleness of a lullaby. There was no violence in it, the dagger simply slid into the place Juneau had already hollowed out. Her body jerked only slightly in Órava’s arms - not from pain, not from fear, but like an exhale made flesh.

Órava held her close, humming a tune no one living would recognize. A lullaby from a mother who’d never borne children, and yet had cradled so many. Anfisa's tears had not yet dried when her body would still, her final dead breaths leaving her like a sigh at the end of a long day. Her weight folded inward, and Órava bore it without complaint, her hands firm and sure. She rocked her gently, even as the cold settled into the vuldak's slight frame.

"You will not be forgotten, Anfisa" she said softly. “Your name sings in my ears.” There was no miracle. No flash of divine light. Just the stillness of two bodies held together in love - one letting go, the other bearing witness.

[tulkaa-auttaa]

Hemo vibes

[wgm-beautiful-world]

ORAVA CASTLE - ORAVSKÝ PODZÁMOK, SLOVAKIA

[niinuskainen]

Eurasian Red Squirrel (Orava)

Long time that I've been able to photograph squirrel this close. 🥰🥰🥰 All but last photo are cropped from a larger photograph, but the quality is much better, because the squirrel was closer to me on the ground and it was in bright daylight. I love the third closeup shot the most, since the squirrel looks like its smiling 💜🐿

[ruttotohtori]

Minä: *ostan oraville uuden ruokintalaitteen, maalaan sen rakkaudella hienoksi kolmessa päivässä ja täytän maapähkinöillä*

Orava: hmmmm, mä taidan silti kuitenkin mielummin roikkua pää alaspäin tästä tangosta ja nyhertää auringonkukansiememiä tän pienisilmäsen, tintin nokalle mitoitetun metalliverkon välistä

[lovevanillaprincess]