#so he is roosting nesting brooding

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

It's kind of obvious but Clint's muse has kind of taken his own hiatus. I have his voice in my head for very few things, so like besties he's just gonna roost on all our threads. Sit of them, keep them warm and cozy until they are ready hatch.

I may still be sporadic with him / once I work out a faerun/bg3/dnd verse for him, I may be bugging some bg3 and dnd muses & ocs. Or writing in that verse.

Also Clint is the most chaotic and mostly in the muse for short silly things, so continue to send little random asks. He may pop in for an answer, but otherwise this Hawkeye is in roost mode ( semi hiatus ).

If you want his chaotic energy via text messages; he does have a WIRE @ amazinghawkeye

[officialleehadan]

Featherdown

Hello darlings! Story time! Today’s story was brought to you by Bradford! Darling, this was so much fun. Thank you so much for your support!

“Humans are complex creatures with a variety of needs. They are not a suitable pet for most dragons, but for the right dragons who have time, patience, and proper resources, these animals can make absolutely incredible pets.”

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“I think we need to have a talk,” Cirrus told Nimbus flatly, and skated his gaze over her fellow dragon, who was looking more than a little shifty. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to roost here?”

Nimbus shifted carefully and wouldn’t meet her eyes. He was young, just old enough to have decided on his gender. More importantly, he was a rescue. An orphan saved from two warring clans and brought into her own after his own clan was caught in the crossfire and wiped out.

It led to some… odd behaviors.

“They’re like me,” he said uncomfortably and shifted again. Unlike her, his wings and breast were all lined in soft, blue-green-purple feathers. He was exceedingly pretty, if you liked feathers. It also assisted his current goal, which appeared to be brooding. “They need someone to look after them.”

Four small, frightened faces peeped through Nimbus’s feathers, tucked safely under his wings. They were clean at least, and by the way their fingers were curled into Nimbus’s feathers, they weren’t displeased with their current situation.

“Nimbus, we’ve talked about this. Did you ask before you took them?” Cirrus asked, tired beyond measure. She loved her little adopted hatchling, but he was weird about pets. He had a dozen different creatures in his lair, all lovingly cared-for. “Humans get very upset when their children go missing.”

“Miss Dragon?”

It was one of the children. A little male who looked to be only a bit older than the rest. He was brave, she thought. One of the others, another male, was tucked protectively under his arm, almost a mirror of Nimbus, who was roosted over them.

“Don’t be afraid,” Cirrus told him, and dropped her snout almost level with the human. She was large, of course, well over a ship-length, and all over blue-brass scales. Nimbus was substantially smaller, and started green at his nose, and faded from green to blue, to deep purple on the tip of his tail. The children didn’t seem to be afraid, but Nimbus was not happy to have her looking at them. “Where are your parents?”

“We don’t have any.”

That was a little female, younger than the oldest male, but older than the younger one. She had a vivid bruise along one cheek, but it was healing before Cirrus’s eyes. Nimbus must have put a healing charm on her, or maybe on the nest beneath them. The other children showed signs of injury as well, but all of them were healing quickly.

“We’re all orphans,” the oldest male said boldly. He had the haunted eyes of a human who had seen far too much for his young age. Cirrus crooned at him soothingly and he straightened up. “The war, it hit our town. No one really- we only made it out because our parents sent us into the woods before… before everything happened.”

War orphans. No wonder Nimbus felt so strongly about them. He was a war orphan as well. Cirrus and her clan had taken him in as a hatchling and brought him up, but he wasn’t of the same type as they were.

“I found them when I was hunting,” Nimbus said defensively, and fluffed his feathers over the children again, enveloping all but the oldest, who leaned against him, apparently comfortable having a dragon so close. “The nights are getting too cold for humans to be out, and they didn’t have any blankets or food.”

Cirrus sighed. If the children had nothing left, she couldn’t very well return them to wherever they came from. They would die with the rest of their town. Nimbus would fight for them, too. All dragons valued children, but Nimbus cared more than most.

“Humans are difficult to raise,” she told him after a while, and he immediately brightened. The young human did too, in an oddly similar way. “We will need to find someone who knows what young humans require for good health. Are you prepared for that? It’s a big responsibility.”

“I have a few friends at the mage school. One of them has hatchlings.”

“Humans call them ‘children’, Nimbus.”

“Right, right. They don’t have eggs. I’ll remember.”

Cirrus was not at all sure this was a good decision, but she also thought that Nimbus would fight her to keep his new humans. The humans, at least the little male, would probably fight too. He looked like a young hero in the making. That would have to be managed as well. Heroes often died young.

“Alright,” she relented with a sigh that ruffled Nimbus’s feathers and the hair of his little human. They brightened almost identically. That, too, would have to be managed. “You’re very young to have humans. This will not be easy.”

“I don’t care,” Nimbus said firmly, more confident than she had ever seen him. Usually he was a quiet youngster, who spent all his time with his pets. This was more maturity than he generally showed. That might not be a bad thing. He wasn’t a fledgling anymore, and their kind always had an interesting time in the world. Looking after a clutch of human youngsters might not be a bad thing. “I have a comfortable, safe lair with enough off-chambers for them to have their own nests if they want them. I’m friends with the town on the other side of the mountains. I can get them clothing and human-safe food.”

“Fine, fine,” Cirrus gave in, and stretched her wings out. “Rouse up your little humans, Nimbus. We need to take them town so a human can tell us what they need.”

“Right,” Nimbus agreed brightly and bent to nuzzle at the children hidden in his feathers. There was muffled, childish giggling from at least one of them, and the oldest male smiled. “Come on, littles. We’re going to go for a fly.”

+++

More Stories!

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[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #3: Cider and Gold

Prompt: scale || Master Post || On AO3

So this ended up veering in a similar direction as yesterday’s fill, but ultimately I thought it made a nice contrast, and there’s always my editing phase in October if I’m not ultimately pleased with it later on.

--

Ehll Tou’s pretty bare warehouse had been transformed over the last year into a proper lair: assorted spaces for her various crafts (the kitchen very carefully built to keep it sealed from anything from her little foundry or alchemical lab), the guestrooms for her friends, storage spaces, and of course, her own personal roost. Building the walls and cupboards and tables and decorating had been such fun, but almost as fun had been trading with the residents of the Firmament: her sewn and sawed and smelted goods for pretty glass chimes to hang in her windows, or a sturdy chair for Hautdilong, or a plush embroidered pillow to add to her nest.

Truly, the best thing about being smaller and not as pointy as other adult dragons was the ability to burrow into a giant pile of pillows and blankets for a well-deserved nap and not worry about anything tearing. Such a lovely invention, the pillow.

(She wondered, sometimes, if Ratatoskr had enjoyed soft things. But neither the First Brood nor their elder children nor her sire nor her sire’s broodmates answered such questions; pillows and rugs and comforters could not withstand the passage of time like metal or stone, and if Sohr Khai had ever had tapestries as pretty as the ones that now adorned her own walls, she would never know.)

But recently, with Arvide and Synnove's help, she had partitioned off the front entrance of her warehouse into something resembling a shop front! Some Ishgardians wished to commission her, offering gil in exchange for the items she made, which was both flattering and bewildering. (Though not unwelcome; gil would make acquiring her supplies much easier, after all.)

[I am proud of my skills and crafts,] she had said, [but I am not yet a master!]

“It's the novelty, I suspect,” Synnove had said, rubbing at the ears of the carbuncle around her neck.

Arvide had nodded his agreement. “Aye, the ability to show off to that they owned something made by a dragon.”

Ehll Tou couldn’t say she didn’t understand. Dragons were as boastful of men, of course, just not of possessions. But she had agreed that if she wished to accept commissions, it would be wise to set aside a small portion of her lair’s space to meet potential clients, so that they did not intrude upon the sanctity of her workshops or nest. (Another similarity between dragons and men, though among dragons one didn’t necessarily bring a stranger to one’s lair at all, or let them within.) Arvide and Synnove had rigged a door-ringer for her that would work just as well for social guests as it would clients with a bronze bell that could be clearly heard even in the forge all the way at the back of the warehouse, and with Hautdilong, she had carefully painted a sign to put next to the door advertising when she was open and accepting work.

Today, when her cheery bell rang, Ehll Tou was in her woodworking shop (its walls and ceiling as tightly made as the kitchen’s, for the damage here could be more ruinous than spoiled food), and she looked up from planing a mahogany plank for a bookshelf ordered by Marcelloix and Audaine. She cocked her head and glanced at the chronometer on the wall, thrumming thoughtfully; no clients were due by to check their orders, and it was late enough she should consider taking down her sign and dimming the lights of her little foyer. Curious, very curious.

She set down her planer and shook the sawdust from her claws, grabbing a feather duster she kept to brush away any woodchips or shavings that stuck between her scales before she tracked them all over the rest of the warehouse. That done, she exited the woodshop and closed the door behind her, and trotted quickly down the length of the building, flapping her wings once to allow her to glide a short distance to finally reach the front. She turned the knob and stepped into the foyer-shop, a brief purr escaping her as she did; good, the new hot water pipes were doing an excellent job keeping this room as warm as the rest!

Another dozen steps to the warehouse’s front doors and she hauled one open, peering out into the evening gloom—and nearly squawked like a gull in surprise.

[Ser Aymeric, hello!] she said, pushing the door open wider. [Come in, come in, be welcome!]

“Good evening, Ehll Tou,” Synnove’s mate said, smiling, as he stepped inside. “How do fare tonight?”

[I am well, thank you,] she said, shutting the door behind him. [You’re allowed to the friends’ door at the back, you know!]

Ser Aymeric laughed softly and removed his gloves. He wasn’t dressed in his armor; today must have been a Parliament day, then. “I am aware, thank you,” he said, “though today I’m here on business rather than pleasure, and I felt it rude to use the excuse of friendship to intrude upon your valuable time.”

He had such nice manners. The moogles could stand to learn a thing or two from him, and then perhaps she would consider bending the rules for them as she was about to do for her friend’s mate now.

[Nonsense,] she snorted. [Give me a moment to the put the sign up, please; I do not have tea at the moment, but I do have a cask of apple cider.]

Once the sign had been brought inside, the doors locked, and the foyer lights dimmed, Ehll Tou led the way to the kitchen, briefly pausing to allow him to hang his coat up, and poured them both mugs of fresh cider once they were settled. There were still some cherry scones from her last baking experiment, too, that had survived Hautdilong’s taste-testing, and she plated those to offer, too.

Ser Aymeric murmured his thanks, and made similar appreciative noises as her friend had at the first bite of scone, so Ehll Tou mentally noted that recipe should be properly recorded in her “make more often” cookbook. As the elezen sipped at his cider, she crouched on the other side of the kitchen table so they were roughly at eye level.

[How may I be of assistance?] she said.

He swallowed his bite of scone—oh, they needed to bully the moogles into taking etiquette lessons from this man right now—and smiled at her. “Synnove’s nameday is coming up quite soon,” he said, “and I’d like to seek your assistance in making a gift for her.”

Ehll Tou perked up, a churr of excitement burbling in the back of her throat. She had been asked to make nameday presents for clients before, but never for a friend! [Did you have something in mind already?]

He reached into his pocket, and placed two items on the tabletop with a soft clink: two pieces of golden metal, shaped similarly to a dragon’s scales, only a little smaller than his hand. “These are two pieces of the lining on my armored surcoat,” Ser Aymeric said. “The armorers had performed some repairs, and removed these as they weren’t as sound as they should be any longer. I thought they might be repurposed into something and asked to keep them.”

She cocked her head from side to side, reaching out to delicately pick up one of the scales and hold it between her claws. She hummed thoughtfully as she examined it, twisting her hand from side to side, watching how it caught the light. It wasn’t of a material she immediately knew—she would need Arvide’s opinion, or perhaps Stephanivien’s—but it was quite pretty, and if it had once been armor-quality, it would be sturdy.

[There are a number of things that come to mind,] she said slowly, mind whirring. [Let me get my sketchbook and graphite, and let’s see what we can come up with together.]

Ser Aymeric’s smile was warm and pleased, and Ehll Tou promised to herself that she would make this one of the best nameday presents she would ever make.

(But she would make one for Synnove, too, that came from just herself. And give the Highlander a piece of her mind for not telling that her nameday was approaching!)

[envysparkler]

I posted 256 times in 2021

234 posts created (91%)

22 posts reblogged (9%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 444 tags in 2021

#envy answers - 231 posts

#whumptober2021 - 68 posts

#compliment - 32 posts

#ask game - 27 posts

#my snippets - 23 posts

#my fic - 18 posts

#faqs - 18 posts

#greenie - 11 posts

#headcanon - 9 posts

#fic finder - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#kinda difficult to run a gang when batman is hovering over your shoulder and telling you you're grounded

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I was juuuust reading Batcellanea chp138 - was in the middle of the part where Bruce's internal monologue was telling him he should keep Jason and he can take care of Jason, when it hits me : the voice in Bruce's head reminds me of Venom and lmao what if its like Venom but instead of killing people it just maliciously whispers at Bruce to keep adopting kids.

Thats it. That's the comment that I got on tumblr at 12.30am for. Cheers.

Oh my god. Yes. Some villain infects Batman with a parasite to turn him against the rest of Gotham but all it does is make him adopt kids.

Venom: Bruce. Broose. Come on. You know you want to. Bruuuuce. Bruce: he has parents. Venom: we can take care of that.

Venom: BRUCE Bruce: NO Venom: BRUCE Bruce: NO Venom: BRUCE I WANT-- Bruce: he is older than me I said no

Venom, cackling: our little brood goes bigger and brighter, all the little birds roosting in the nest, safe and warm and toasty-- Bruce: you're making it sound like you want to eat them

52 notes • Posted 2021-11-05 11:40:05 GMT

#4

Jason eyeing the league members popping in on his cases just to see he’s still alive: “I am never going to be able to do anything illegal again”

It is very difficult to be a crime lord when the Justice League keeps showing up to coddle you.

This reminds me of one of my ideas of Batman deciding to dismantle the Red Hood's operations by just showing up and acting like a disappointed parent.

54 notes • Posted 2021-09-18 13:52:09 GMT

#3

In response to the Jason being Bruce's biological son: I think there could be some cool and interesting new twists in this. But I still would cling to the Red Hood path. Because the whole idea of Red Hood is just so great. Coming back from the dead and waking up in his grave. Thrown into the Lazarus pit und realizing that his murderer never faced adequate justice is simply genius. Red Hood is an interesting character.

Red Hood is a fascinating character, but giving Jason a chance to live is also good, and seeing who he would've grown up into without the Lazarus Pit. And I can hear Ise shrieking distantly about killing her precious baby Jay.

77 notes • Posted 2021-07-03 19:02:10 GMT

#2

idk but when jay is put in the lazarus pit, it heals his injuries but what it doesn't do is make him tall and muscular. so like he's still the tiny, skinny 15/16 year old he was because of the years of malnourishment. so he goes to gotham at like 17-19 years old, a formidable warrior, but TINY, smaller than dick himself and does the whole drug-lord business + it makes it easier for bruce + dick to work out who he is of course. this probably doesnt make any sense- anyway i love your work!! 💖

Oh my god, I am dying, this is a hilarious idea and I love it to pieces. The fearsome Red Hood being this snarky twerp. Tim is taller than him which is the real reason Jason is determined to end him.

Bruce, seeing a criminal in a red hoodie take on guys twice as big as him: why does this feel familiar?

117 notes • Posted 2021-11-09 13:19:46 GMT

#1

ik you said it’s buried in your idea pile but i am very excited about the possibility of seeing a red hood vs the justice league face off !!!

For context, this is the table of contents of my idea doc.

Definitely not getting around to it any time soon, but here's a snippet:

“You’re Batman’s son?” Superman sounded especially pissed, and Wonder Woman’s eyes were narrowed slits. “Since when?”

“Forgotten the adoption party already, Uncle Clark?” Jason spat back, hurt and rage churning inside of him. It led to an easy rejoinder—a reminder that Jason had died in Ethiopia, and all of him didn’t come back, the best parts of him didn’t come back, that Bruce was clinging to a delusion and Jason wasn’t really his son, not anymore—

But Superman was frowning, eyes distant like he was looking through Jason—his eyes focused again, and he inhaled sharply.

Before Nightwing could move, Jason was upright and out of the chair, cold air blasting onto his helmet-less face.

“Jason,” Superman said in a voice of broken glass. Jason blinked—his restraints were gone and he was being squeezed to death by a sobbing alien.

“What—Uncle Clark?” Jason shot a bewildered look at Nightwing as Clark released him—what was happening—but didn’t manage to get out any more words before he was being swept into a another hug, courtesy of an Amazonian. “Ribs—Auntie—still human—”

“My brave bird,” Diana whispered, voice cracking, “You came back to us.”

134 notes • Posted 2021-09-13 11:27:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #28: Bow

(Vaguely references up to roughly 5.5 events)

Avengret wasn’t trying to hide.

Reports were coming from Temple Knights, the Vath Adventurer Guild, the chocobo hunters, and from the Convictory, about small, frantic raids by men and dragons. They took advantage of the trouble raised by the Telopheroi and swept east from Dravania and into Coerthas, their path brutal and bloody.

“I’m not sure what her goal is,” Estinien said, looking over the reports for a pattern. “But it seems to me like she’s driving her makeshift brood toward Ishgard itself.”

“Why ever would she do that?” Heustienne asked. “The city’s defenses will easily repel her, even should she turn all her followers into dragons.”

“I’m not so sure,” X’rhun said slowly. He frowned. “I’ve been in Ishgard recently; efforts are spent toward rebuilding the city, and less thought is given to the defenses since the peace treaty with the Dravanians. There are still knights at the ready, of course, but many are currently deployed on Alliance business. Not to mention the depletion of your fellow dragoons in those final days of the war. The city would be surprised by a sudden attack when they are looking for reconciliation.”

“And that’d be all it’d take to tear it all down,” Alberic said. “A Dravanian attack on the Steps of Faith, even halted by the city’s wards and knight defenders, would rally the people--and not in a favorable way.”

“Leaving conditions ripe for what she may truly be planning,” Aeryn said. “Not unlike Ilberd’s false flag operation on Baelsar’s Wall, all she would have to do is stoke the fears and angers of both men and dragons, using their dying prayers and the release of aether, alongside of the crystals they’ve stolen and gathered. The location would be perfect as well--and what the city could not defend against is a primal.”

“Even with the cure for tempering, the damage would done, in so many ways,” Heustienne agreed.

“If we could even catch all the new adherents in the warrens of the Brume and middle city levels,” Alberic said. “The Inquisitors would have a field day, a reason to keep existing for another few moons.”

“Basically, chaos,” Estinien grumbled. “If she can’t destroy us outright, do enough to wreck the peace and rebuilding and sow trouble during an already troubled time.”

“But she still doesn’t know how to summon a primal, does she?” Heustienne pointed out. “Not without Aeryn’s knowledge.”

“Not unless she’s been approached by one of Fandaniel’s black robed brothers or sisters,” Aeryn said, making a face. “There are still plenty of Ascians unaccounted for, and even Gaius’ efforts to thin them out would have only inconvenienced the red masks.”

“If they’re even interested in such things anymore, with their leaders dead,” X’rhun said. “Fandaniel certainly has his own agenda now.”

Aeryn shrugged. “Who knows? Until they make themselves known, we operate under the assumption Avengret wants my knowledge of primals as part of her vengeance scheme.”

“Which is why I dislike this plan,” Alberic said. “We’re putting you at a high risk in any and every way.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aeryn said calmly. “I have a backup plan.”

Alberic only frowned, but she wouldn’t look at him directly. She hadn’t really, since her encounter with Avengret.

“We have what we need,” Estinien said. “And we have a good idea of where she is now, before she gets to the city. We should have done with it.”

The others nodded and gathered their things, leaving the inn room in Falcon’s Nest and heading for their waiting mounts at the town’s gates. The clouds were rolling in, obscuring the distant bluffs. Beyond them lay the ruined halls of Dusk Vigil, rumored to be Avengret’s latest roost.

———-

The same malevolent sense of watching and waiting she had felt at the old tower outside Fawn’s Hollow had settled over the broken Vigil, leaving it darker and colder than even the first time Aeryn had dared to venture into it. Evidence of Ishgardian attempts to retake the old fortification were scattered along the shoreline, broken and charred, the helms of knights left on pikes as a warning.

“How welcoming,” Alberic mumbled. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied.

“We won’t be far behind you,” X’rhun promised.

She nodded, giving him a smile. “Let’s see how far I get,” Aeryn said, looking up. The clouds and incoming fog made it difficult to see Heustienne’s signal as she and Estinien snuck into their positions.

Aeryn slipped forward, away from her mentors and friends. She employed tricks learned from the rogues of Limsa and the shinobi of Doma, easing her way up the familiar path to the gate.

Two quick blow darts saw to the guards up front, the men slumping one after another to the dream dust on the tips. She trussed them up and left them just inside the gate, shoved in an old weapons locker where they wouldn’t freeze nor be discovered quickly.

She didn’t want to be caught too swiftly, after all, and better yet if she could make her way through and deal with Avengret by herself.

Unlikely, Aeryn knew, but she could hope.

The outer training grounds were empty, but noise and light came from the barracks. Men and dragons both worked to clean up and make the space livable, though a few moments observation saw most of the dragons used like particularly dangerous pack animals, some identified with names of men themselves. Aeryn grit her teeth and kept to the outer walls, the icy wind buffeting her as she sought a way toward the inner keep.

She barely made it inside before the wind truly started howling, bringing with it a freezing wet that threatened to become an ice storm.

The great hall where soldiers and clergy would have once come together to feast or listen to sermons, or both, was dark and seemingly empty. There was a presence, though, that Aeryn felt, a pressure and a heat just out of sight.

She tried to relax and walked confidently, rapier in hand, no longer skulking like a thief. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and gooseflesh popped along her arms. This had all been far too easy.

A deep, rumbling chuckle came from the darkness. “My daughter comes home,” Avengret’s voice echoed off the stones, making it difficult to pinpoint. The deep shadows hid her completely, naught giving away her red hide. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“I’m no daughter of yours,” Aeryn said, watching warily. “You coerced and manipulated my father and others like him.”

“We both know that’s not true,” the dragon purred. “He came to me willingly, wishing to end the war by punishing those thieves and murderers in your pathetic little capital. And in due time, he would have brought you and your brother to me, to continue the great work.”

“He wouldn’t,” Aeryn said, distantly remembering a man’s laughing voice calling her “Hummingbird” as he lifted her into his embrace. “He kept us away from the war.”

“Hmph. His pretty little mate, certainly; an indulgence I allowed. As in the end, it brought me you, child of my blood.”

“And that was the plan all along? To have children ready to answer your Song?”

“A means to an end, as it ever has been through the centuries,” the deep voice said in a near sing-song. “You were not meant to be quite so different, so special--But you have certainly exceeded expectations, Warrior of Light.”

Burning orange eyes opened in a corner on the far end of the hall as Aeryn turned. She took a deep breath. “I’m often told that,” she said. “Usually before someone forces me to cut them down. But we don’t have to do that here.”

Avengret chuckled, the sound nearly vibrating Aeryn’s teeth and bones. “Don’t we?” the dragon asked, slow and drawn out.

“You can stop this; the war is over, Avengret. The other dragons have made peace--even your siblings.”

“Traitors!” Avengret shriek-roared, frosty dust falling from the shaken rafters as she reared up. “If they wish to forget a thousand years of suffering, of blood and horror at mens’ hands, forget her, then I shall destroy them as utterly as I will Ishgard!”

“You can’t,” Aeryn said. She had little time; Avengret’s heretics were sure to respond to her outburst. “The city will repel you and your brood, and all you’ve built will be for naught. Nidhogg couldn’t do it with the might of the Horde, and you’ve not even a fraction of that.”

“I won’t need it!” The dragon rasped. “Not once you summon him forth for me.”

“I swiving hate being right,” Aeryn muttered. She took a deep breath. “I’m not summoning anything. I fight primals, Avengret. And besides,” she hastily added before the dragon could interrupt. “We now know how to cure the tempered; you won’t even have the satisfaction of making the Ishgardians into his thralls. This plan is pointless.”

Avengret made a sound. As it grew louder, Aeryn realized the dragon was laughing. “Think so?” Avengret asked, in that way of those in on a joke their listener was not. “Speaking of pointless plans…”

The side doors burst open, letting in the rising winds and icy rain, as well as several heretics and several more aevis and wyverns. They threw Heustienne and Estinien to the ground, both dragoons looking rough, though the heretics had definitely gotten the worst of it, the weather and their sheer numbers over the pair their only favor--but it had been enough, if barely.

Another door opened behind her and X’rhun and Alberic were herded in, also looking battle-scuffed and bloodied. Aeryn sighed.

“Foolish whelps,” Avengret said, stepping from the shadows, her red scales gleaming in the lights her followers brought in, ringing the room. “I’ve worked in secret for centuries, only showing my claws when necessary. I wanted you here, and so you came. And now you, child, will give me what I want--or they shall suffer, greatly, before they die.”

Aeryn looked at her friends, taking a deep breath. She turned to face the dragon. “No.”

Avengret’s lips drew back from her maw in a snarl. “You would defy me and condemn them?”

“You make your own choice,” Aeryn said, keeping her voice even though she didn’t feel it. “But I won’t tell you how to summon Nidhogg. I’ve killed him twice too many times already.”

Avengret shriek-roared again, wings unfurled, more frosted dust falling and the lesser dragons around the room raising their voices in response.

A part of Aeryn responded to that roar, a heat surging in her, blood singing. A glance at Heustienne and Estinien showed they felt it too; the response of their inner dragons to a cousin’s cry. Heustienne shuddered and grimaced, and Estinien seemed to try to speak to her before he was cuffed.

X’rhun and Alberic were behind Aeryn; she didn’t know what effect, if any, this was having on the former Azure Dragoon.

“Insolent child!” Avengret boomed. “You will obey!”

Her Song struck Aeryn like a wave before she could reply, hammering her at all sides, the crushing weight of it making her knees buckle.

Bow down before me, Avengret’s Song demanded. You will fall! Kneel! Give in!

How many other times had Aeryn heard similar from her enemies?

Gaius. Thordan. Varis. The Ascians. Diabolos. The High Seraph. Omega.

Obeisance or destruction. Neither choice acceptable.

One of Aeryn’s knees hit the stones, the physical strain at holding off the psychic assault wearing on her. She thought she heard concerned calls of her name, thin and distant, through the pounding reality of Avengret’s voice, wooing and threatening her into submission.

It was slow and agonizing, but she managed to get her hand in her pocket.

It was hard to speak, her mouth wanting to shape dragonspeak to join the Chorus. But instead she twisted it, into the approximation of another, older  language, heard numerous times from other enemies.

“Herein are committed the chronicles of the traveler, shepherd to the stars in the dark,” she managed, knowing she was garbling the already bastardized ancient speech, but what mattered most was her intent.

Azem’s crystal flared, bathing the hall in brilliant gold, surprising the heretics and Avengret, her Song halting as she cried out from the sudden pain of eye-searing light.

“Thought you’d never call,” Ioh’juhn quipped, offering her a hand up.

Aeryn grinned, taking it. “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out,” she replied, looking around.

Erick was standing with his shield in a defensive position, Meya on one side with staff in hand, Dark Autumn on the other, drawing her massive bow. To Aeryn’s right, Yesuntei and Lennier flanked Ioh, thaumaturgy crackling and astrolabe spinning respectively. It took her a moment to realize Ioh wore his daggers, while behind them…

“Glad that worked,” Thancred said, gunblade over his shoulder as he assessed the room. “Still can’t believe you’re relying on an Ascian spell.”

“An ancient spell,” Aeryn corrected, hefting her rapier again. “And much easier to rework when only traveling distance, not across time and space.”

“Kill them!” Avengret roared as her followers recovered. “Bring me their heads!”

“Flirt later, fight now,” Erick admonished. “We’ve got the ones on this side, if you can handle that half of the room.”

“I think we have it in hand,” Thancred replied, swinging his blade as the first wyvern rushed in to snap at the mages.

Lennier and Meya brought their shields up in time to protect everyone from the worst of Avengret’s fire breath, the heat still blisteringly intense through the spells. As the flames subsided, Aeryn looked around for the others.

Estinien was shouting, bodily throwing a man into a group of others. Heustienne was at his back, using her own reach best she could to stave off attack. Both dragoons had been disarmed on capture.

As had X’rhun and Alberic, but they were doing better on that front. The duelist’s spells had little control without his foci, so the collateral was high, but he wasn’t discriminating in where his wild magic landed amid the scores of enemies. Alberic was at his back on the defensive.

“There’s no bloody end to them!” Lennier growled, twisting fate and throwing cards. He wasn’t wrong; Avengret had far more reinforcements than they had thought.

Aeryn looked around, trying to locate the confiscated weapons; a heretic was handing them to an aevis who was trying to take off. She threw wind spells to baffle its wings, followed by stone to bring it back down, the lances and rapier scattering on the ground. “Rhun! Estinien!” She shouted, trying to get their attention.

Avengret roared again, galloping through the midst of the battle, flames crackling and claws swiping. Aeryn heard a shout as someone was clocked by the dragon’s tail, another buffeted by her massive wings. The dragon took a breath, and this time the casters’ shields wouldn’t be swift enough.

“Eyes!” X’rhun yelled as he rolled to grab his sword-staff, stabbing it into the ground and gesturing, the familiar sigils of a Vermilion Scourge forming as he was rushed by a pack of heretics.

Another blinding flare filled the room, dragons and heretics shrieking as they were caught in the spell, Avengret howling her rage and breathing out her flames as it faded.

There was a crack like thunder. Aeryn opened her eyes and caught Estinien’s surprised gaze, his hands still empty, but both of them recognizing the aetheric glow of his spear rising into the air.

Only someone who had an attunement to Nidhogg’s aether could use it to its full extent.

Only an Azure Dragoon, who had once carried an Eye.

Avengret looked up and shrieked as Alberic dove amid his own dragonsfire.

[sansxseraphim-archive]

Anpiel’s brooding was interrupted by Azrael - as it often was. Come to deliver another lecture, no doubt. But the seraph wasn’t having it. He whirled on the hawk when he approached, his sudden movement sending the rest of the roosting birds to scatter. 

“What now??? What have you got to tell me now?”

The hawk remained silent this time. Watching Anpiel with that stare that he always did.

“There is NOTHING NEW that you can tell me! I’m young! I’m foolish! I’m stupid! I hear it all the TIME from you! You think that makes me think that you care? You think that makes me GRATEFUL to you? It DOESN’T.”

Anpiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually... gotten this angry. He was so tired of not being taken seriously. Of being seen as lesser. As someone needing constant correction and instruction. He didn’t. He DIDN’T. 

“You say these things as if I NEED you to remind me of them. I don’t! You and the REST of them with your... STUPID WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE. Like it’s in any way FAIR that you all get this EXPERIENCE that I’m only just NOW getting. BUT that’s MY FAULT??”

His words were only partially making sense. But they were just. Stemming from anger now. Anger and fear that he realized was bubbling up in the back of his throat. 

“I will NEVER be seen as the being that I AM as long as YOU keep riding my feathers as if I’ve only BARELY crawled from the nest. Your CARE is not CARE at all! Your CARE is infantizing me and using me as a SURROGATE CHILD.”

Anpiel abandoned his Host then, his meta form blaring with heat and light that rivaled that of what the defunct lighthouse might have given off had it been in full function. 

“I am NOT yours nor ANY ONE’S CHILD.” 

Azrael had little to no reaction to all of this. It was hard to tell emotions on that hawkish face. But his silence was only that much more frustrating. It wasn’t until Anpiel had a moment of rage that forced him to pull out his sword and swing it violently against the railing that Azrael retreated. No words and no apparent opinion on Anpiel’s outburst.

But the seraph ran out of steam around then, his sword leaving a bright red scar on the metal where it had hit before Anpiel made it vanish once again. And he sat there up in that roost. Alone. Wings up to hide his face as he fought tears that he’d been unable to shed since the encounter with Pride. 

His emotions were a violent hurricane and he was just one ship lost in the waves.

[thesilverdragoon]

The First Night

“Too far, walk too far...so tired. Uughhhhh...” Puffy swung limply from side to side as he hung off the front of Vesevont’s chest, sticking out of his unbuttoned coat.

“Too far? You’re not even the one walking there!” The knight scowled as he gazed upwards towards the canopy of autumn-colored trees.

“Too faaaaaarrrr...”

Going from Limsa Lominsa all the way to Dravania indeed was a long trip. But so long as he could still make it, he would continue to do so. Besides, all the exercise was good for him anyway.

If anything, it all made him miss flying just that much more, which had already been quite a lot.

“Where go? Saw...saw a tower. In head. Yes, we go? What is?” “Anyx Trine. It’s a big tower on the northwestern edge of the woods here, where dragons live.” “DRAGONS?!” Puffy ‘stood up’ now, before retreating into the coat again fearfully. “Scary. Scaaaryy.”

Ves rolled his eyes, “They’re not.” “No?” “...Well… I mean,” He couldn’t help but think back to the entire conversation he had had with Evie. SEVERAL of the conversations as a matter of fact.

Were dragons really so different? “...No...they’re not...once you get to know them, for the most part. There’ll always be some bad ones though. Just like people,” He explained, keeping his gaze focused ahead of them. “It’s just like that.”

“Oh. Well...ok. No eat though.” “No...no eat.”

They walked on for a while longer, until the sun began to set. Once they made it over the hill, the massive tower of dragons stood before them, reaching high into the sky. A distant roar came from it, answered by several others.

Puffy shivered but Ves seemed to be calm. The worm could feel that much. Maybe it was ok. “...Don’t come out yet. I’ll tell you when.” “Ok. Ok. Ok ok ok ok ok ok.”

A wyvern flew overhead gazing downwards as the knight approached. It didn’t stop. It knew that smell, as did they all.

Some of the whelps peered around corners or from behind their mothers tails. Others roosting high above on ledges and alcoves too looked on at their guest. The inside of the tower was always noisy with hums and low growls and snorts. To many, it was unnerving. A den of flying, sometimes element-breathing beasts, both with wings and without.

To Ves however, it was a home away from home.

“The little knight of Ishgard returns.” One of the brood mothers said in greeting, though, it was more a simple acknowledgment than anything else. “We thought perhaps you had finally decided to run. Why have you returned?” “He’s come looking for the hatchling that has outgrown his nest, no doubt.” Another wyvern hissed from the dark, higher above. Some others chimed in with their agreement.

Ves glanced at them for a moment, before responding, “I am, yes.” “And so he is,” The brood mother’s lips curled back into a snarl, though no sound other than her voice came through. “He is on the upper level, as indignant as ever, though grounded. He’s been absolutely insufferable since, despite his pride being crushed as his bones have.” The news didn’t make Ves feel any better. At least Sihl was still alive though. He nodded and proceeded towards the stairs, traveling the long way up to the next floor.

Puffy peeked through a hole in the metallic prosthetic, watching the flickering lights from the torches mounted on the wall as they passed by them. But he said nothing.

Upon entering the second level, Ves could already hear the complaining.

“STOP POKING ME- IT’S NOT HELPING-” “Whelp, I have done this for centuries, LONG before you were even a mere THOUGHT in your sire’s pebble sized brain.”

Ves almost breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing it really. Though, he could feel Puffy coiling up even tighter than normally.

He moved through the tower until he was out on the balcony.

“It appears you have a visitor.” “A WHAT?” Sihl swung his head and looked behind himself, before letting out a startled squawk and pushing himself up frantically, like a dog that just got called to have its dinner.

He slid to a stop in front of the knight, glaring down at him. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??”

Ves squinted. “Recovering. Like you it seems.” Sihl’s wings held this very droopy appearance as they dragged behind him. They were shaped a little funny, but that was due to all the bone being displaced. Some of it had been mended, though, he had much more progress to make. “I was NOT. None of them know when to leave me alone. I can fly right out of here myself if I so CHOOSE.” The other dragon looked on, not amused in the slightest. Rather than stay, she hissed and approached the ledge, jumping off and taking to the sky.

The knight raised a brow. “Are you sure?” “DO I LOOK UNSURE TO YOU?” Sihl screeched angrily, stamping one of his claws into the stone.

“Alright… alright, stop yelling. Anyway, I had come to see how you were getting along. I hadn’t heard anything about how you were after that whole… battle,”

“Well, after it was OVER and you were busy DYING over there, you all LEFT ME THERE ALONE and your STUPID FRIEND CARRI-..I mean I FLEW MYSELF ALL THE WAY BACK-” “Lev carried you?” “Y- what? NO!!-” “Where is he?” “How should I know?!”

Sihl wasn’t any help, as usual. Ves didn’t know why he expected otherwise. But it still was good to see him alive, and not pounded into absolute dust.

Before the wyvern could let off anymore steam, he stopped and sniffed the air. “What is that,” He asked, or more accurately, hissed.

“What’s what?” “I smell it on you. That same fog from before. And no I don’t mean your natural stench.” Ves tilted his head. “I don’t know wh-” “I DON’T STINK YOU STINK!!!” Puffy lurched forward out of Ves’ mechanical arm and screamed back.

Sihl let out a hideous shriek and threw himself backwards out of fright, before his frills fanned forward and rattled dangerously. “WHAT IS THAT- THAT’S THE DRAGON- THE WORM- FROM BEFORE-” “NO- SIHL WAIT-” Already the wyvern’s breath was beginning to cloud out of his mouth. Puffy let out a high pitched shriek of sorts and hid again as Ves held his arms up to get Sihl to stop.

“You FOOL- I’m going to DESTROY IT. Now THROW IT OUT HERE!”

“NO- no I can explain it-” “NO YOU STUPID-” “PUFFY-” “I’LL KILL YOU-” The screaming went on.

_________________________

“So let me TRY to understand this. This THING, this pathetic little WORM is now STUCK to your carcass and there’s nothing you can DO about ANY OF IT?” Ves sighed as he tossed a small stone near the edge of the fire he had built on the balcony. “Yes. The same one that attacked the airship. Apparently he was just very confused and scared.” “Scared, alone. So lonely...so cold...sorry.” Puffy gurgled. “This is absolutely idiotic. Absolutely completely idiotic. I am not surprised this happened to you. This is literally all your fault. You idiot.” Sihl let his head rest on the ground, his entire body curled around the fire with the knight sitting against him, much like they always had done before.

“Whatever, say what you will. I’m trying to move past it. This is the way it is now and there’s no going back.” “Oh listen to YOU. You would have been AGREEING with me before. In fact, you WERE.” “That was THEN-” Ves could feel his face growing red, more out of embarrassment than anything else. “It’s- it’s different n-” “Oh IS IT, little knight?” Sihl asked mockingly. “How does your saying go? You can’t teach the elderly new things?” Puffy rattled angrily inside of the prosthetic, making the metal in turn rattle as well.

“And what are you going to do about it? Insignificant worm. You can’t even come out and face me. A DRAGON. Because you know you can’t. You can stay inside your tin can where you belong.” “Mean, mean mean mean. I will BITE you.” “No- Puffy- and you, stop it. I know I-...I know how it was before...But...” Ves swallowed, staring at the flickering flames before them for a brief moment. “...I can’t go back to that. I...I can’t.” He’d lose everything again. For good.

And then where would he be? Washed up and all alone somewhere…

It sounded awful.

Puffy stirred at such thoughts, only adding to it with his own experience, thus amplifying the entire emotion.

It...didn’t feel good at all.

“Well, perhaps you need to hang around ones who all think the same as you. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.�� Sihl rolled his eyes as he blew a cloud of smoke out his nose.

“I would say that you KNOW that’s not a good idea. But, then again, I don’t think you really know.” “Whatever.”

The clear night sky was alight with thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of shimmering stars. The air was calm and still, relatively speaking, and the sense of dread that plagued the knight for many weeks before, had gone.

He was here. Now.

That part felt good, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“...I’m glad you’re all right.”

Sihl snorted in response and said nothing. Until he decided he should. “...I suppose I am as well. To a certain degree.” It was better than nothing.

“I wish we could go flying, like we do, right now.”

“Hmph. I don’t feel like it.”

“I know.”

The flames popped and licked away at the wood hungrily.

Puffy continued to watch the entire exchange, feeling left out. But it dared not give any input. Who knew what that dragon would do. Vesevont seemed to be ok with it, mean and nasty as it was. Just like...the knight…

They both were mean and nasty weren’t they?? Would he ever even change?

Such a depressing thought made the worm retreat entirely for the time being.

Ves didn’t really notice.

“You know, there’s one thing I’ve been thinking about, beyond all this chaos and what have you. Why DID you take me away that night? Remember? Out on the road? You never want to speak of it but… I mean, I wouldn’t like to know. Even if it was something as mundane as wanting to eat me later as a snack or something.” Sihl remained motionless, not looking at anything particular, nor raising his head.

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ves pushed for an answer.

Again the wyvern remained unresponsive. But he wasn’t asleep.

The tip of his tail finally curled slightly.

“If you tell a single soul I will end you.” He said in a low growl.

“I won’t. I promise.” It was a promise Ves could easily make. The only thing he was concerned about was Puffy not being able to keep his mouth shut.

Somehow the answer was enough for Sihl, however, and he picked his head up finally to gaze upwards towards the heavens.

“I, like many of the whelps, have always heard the stories of time before. Before the war started. How… well, my kind and your kind lived together. I always thought it was rather… fascinating.”

Ves listened, very aware that Sihl was trying to save face with his choice of words. But he didn’t call him out on it.

“Anyway, the elders were always boasting about how they were golden times or something like that. How some of them had partners and whatnot and were performing heroic deeds of legend and so on-” “So, you want that?” The wyvern rumbled dangerously. “Well. Yes. I did want that. Glory to my name? Who doesn’t. No one has better scales than I.”

Ves rolled his eyes.

“...I did want that...at first...” Sihl trailed off, looking away and out towards the forest. “I tried it with a few other knights but they didn’t know how to hang on when I flew. You though, you seem to have some common sense. Anyway… I don’t know. With you it felt different. Like...” He made a strange sound then. One Ves didn’t recognize.

“Like what?”

Sihl huffed, frustrated. “Like… I don’t know. Like we had flown together before. Not just like I was carrying you. Heavy as you are. You eat too much.” “Like we’d flown together?” “YES. I don’t know how else to say it and if you say it to anyone else I will KILL YOU.” “I won’t… Twelve...I already said I wouldn’t.” Ves let his shoulders drop into a more relaxed position as he let his weight fall onto Sihl’s side, tilting his head upwards again. “...You know, I could say the same.” “What? No, you’re just making that up.” “No really. I mean, once I got passed being absolutely petrified. The whole flying thing felt natural. Like I’d done it before. Like it was the greatest thing in the world even.”

Sihl glanced at him suspiciously. “Really?” “Mhm.” Ves nodded. “I can’t really explain it either. I just feel like I belong up there sometimes is all.” He sighed, shutting his eyes gently. “Falling into a dive, the wind rushing past your face, rising above the storms and the clouds to the sun, with the stars… where no one is. No one at all… It feels,” His hands came up, curling into gentle fists. “Free.”

The wyvern did not answer him, laying his head back down instead to think on it.

“...Well...not ‘no one’.” He muttered.

Ves opened his eyes and looked at him, before smiling faintly. “...Yes, not with ‘no one’.”

“Your companion-knight is around here somewhere. We’ll find him tomorrow.” Sihl interrupted, eager to change the topic. “No doubt he’s already smelled you coming from a way’s off.”

Thinking about Lev still made Ves’ stomach turn. What would he say to him? He had to figure it out soon. Tomorrow wasn’t a long ways away.

Not at all…

“Get some sleep.” Sihl said with an air of finality.

“...I will,” Without the nightmares this time.

Carefully he laid on his side, gazing at the mesmerizing flames. He half expected Puffy to come out and say something but now, but he hadn’t. And he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

He wasn’t about to ask.

[tori10rambles]

The Aftermath

So… long time no see. I’d say sorry, but I’m a slow writer on the best of days, and Zapdos-Muse abandoned me for a bit there.

In apology, have a story. This one, which is the aftermath of Red Human, Blue Human, Tiny Human, R Human, as suggested by anonymous reviewer Virginia on ao3. I’m in the middle of writng another one which is halfway done and should be finished by next week, God willing

Oh, and as far as this universe is concerned, Blanche is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns.

As always, you can find the preferred version on ao3.

Summary (from ao3):

Tiny Human beamed at Zapdos. “Zapdos, this is Blanche.” He pointed towards Blue Human. “And this is Candela.” Tiny Human gestured towards Red Human. “Blanche, Candela, this is Zapdos. No, I don’t know why it let me think it was a Fearow, or why it answered to Fearow, but it’s my best friend, my first and oldest Pokémon.”

Or: what happens after Zapdos fights off Team Rocket. the sequel to Red Human, Blue Human, Tiny Human, R Human

Zapdos was quite proud of itself as the R Humans (1) recalled their Pokémon and ran away. It made sure the R Humans were well out of its sight before gently gliding down to Tiny Human and his friends.

Now that the R Humans were gone, Red Human(2) and Blue Human(3) were watching it carefully. Zapdos approved of their apprehension. It was a legendary after all.

And of course, Tiny Human didn’t care, and ran to it, baby pokémon still wrapped in his arms.

Huh, it was a Cleffa.

Hopefully, Tiny Human wouldn’t decide to keep it. If he did, Mr. Iggles would probably get its paws on her and turn her into his protégé.

Like they needed more terrifying pokémon pretending to be cute and weak.

Zapdos ignored the thought in favor of running its beak through Tiny Human’s hair.

“Thanks Fearow!” Tiny Human rubbed its beak in gratitude, Cleffa cradled in Tiny Human’s other arm. “I really wasn’t looking forward to letting Team Rocket get away.”

Zapdos decided that Tiny Human was allowed to call it Fearow for as long as he continued rubbing its beak.

“However! That doesn’t mean it’s okay to try and electrocute them! I realize they made you angry, but that’s no excuse for trying to kill them!” Tiny Human scolded.

Zapdos took the scolding with minimal grace. That is to say, it reared back and stared at Tiny Human flatly.

Like he had any room to talk! Tiny Human was scary when he got angry. Not that he scared Zapdos. Nope. It was just obvious when other humans ran away whimpering in fear when Tiny Human began to get mad.

Plus, Tiny Human should know by now that anyone attempting to harm him was going to face its wrath!

“Uh, Spark. I don’t think you should have said that,” Red Human said as she backed away.

“Quiet Candela. I’m not done yet,” Tiny Human snapped without turning to look at his friend. “You aren’t the most accurate when you’re angry! What if you had hit us? Or worse, Cleffa?”

Cleffa, who had thus far been silent, waved at the Legendary with a smile. Obviously, it had more faith in Zapdos than Tiny Human did at the moment.

Although… Zapdos supposed Tiny Human had a point. It did have a tunnel vision problem, which probably helped Tiny Human’s childhood assumption that it was a Fearow.

Zapdos lowered its head and gently ran its beak over Cleffa’s head in apology. It received a hug in return, so Zapdos knew it was forgiven.

Tiny Human sighed, “I realize that you’re protective, and you meant well, but do something like this and I will make you go on a Poképuff free diet for two months, understood?”

Zapdos nodded wildly. Anything but the Poképuffs!

“Good.” Then, Tiny Human rubbed its beak comfortingly. “I know I was upset, but you did do a good job, so I suppose I can get you a Poképuff or two when we get back to the lab.”

Zapdos cawed a cheer. Yes! Poképuffs! Maybe the ones with Oran Berries? Ooh, or the ones with Sitrus Berries!

Blue Human coughed, turning everyone’s attention towards them and Red Human, who were somewhere between shocked and manic. “Spark… what’s going on?”

“Yeah! I mean, how did you capture Zapdos! And how did you manage to mistake it for a Fearow!” Red Human was not quiet yelling, but her natural volume was loud, and her tone signified that she would not be denied answers.

Blue Human’s stare told Zapdos that they too would like answers.

Tiny Human sighed, “Okay, I realize I have a lot to explain, but can we get back to the labs first? Cleffa needs a checkup.”

Zapdos glared at the other two humans. Whatever questions they had could be answered after the hatchling was checked on.

Red Human and Blue Human agreed, and so the three humans and two pokémon made their way back to the Shiny Building(4).

Tiny Human attempted to recall Zapdos, but it escaped the moment after it had been recalled. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was around to gawk. It would return when it reached the Shiny Building.

Once Zapdos was recalled and the Cleffa was handed off to one of its Followers who promised to bring it to a Chansey Human (5), Tiny Human brought Red Human and Blue Human to his roosting chamber.

Red Human and Blue Human became more antsy as time passed and their questions remained unanswered, to Zapdos’ amusement. It was killing them that they couldn’t get their questions answered yet.

Tiny Human locked the door to his nesting chamber (6) and released Zapdos, who was immediately bombarded by various members of Tiny Human’s brood (7).

Tesla and Volt each grabbed hold of one of its wings and dragged Zapdos to the large nest (8) in the center of Tiny Human’s nesting chamber. Once Zapdos was nestled in the center, it opened one wing. Tesla and Volt scampered underneath Zapdos’ wing, leaving a large spot between them. Pikaboo curled up next to Volt, and Mr. Iggles took one look at the frazzled Tiny Human and his friends before dragging Tiny Human to the nest, where he collapsed in the space between Tesla and Volt. Once Mr. Iggles made itself home in Tiny Human’s lap, Zapdos closed its wing, cocooning Tiny Human and his brood.

“Just take a seat guys, this might take a while.” Tiny Human said as he curled further into his pokémon.

Red Human and Blue Human took up spots at the edge of the nest, close enough that they could hear and be comfortable, but not within touching distance of the cuddle pile.

“Okay. So you have a Zapdos. You have had a Zapdos since you were five, and mistook him for a Fearow. How does that work!?” Red Human began.

Zapdos clacked its beak in warning. Zapdos did not hold with gender. That was a weird thing other beings did.

Tiny Human pat its beak. “Calm down, she doesn’t know.” He turned to Red Human. “Zapdos doesn’t hold with gender. It pecked at the last idiots who insisted on it. That’s why I use it/its with it.”

Blue Human nodded. “Is this a Legendary thing, you think?”

Tiny Human shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve only ever met Zapdos. Anyway, when I first met Zapdos, I was five and had never seen a Fearow before. All I knew was that Fearow had spiky feathers, a long beak, and angry eyes. Zapdos matched the description when I first met it, so I assumed.”

“You’re telling me that you, the son of a pokémon breeder, had never seen a Fearow before?” Blue Human asked.

“Dad didn’t bring his work home with him! And he specialized in Eevees and Electric-types!” Tiny Human pouted. Somehow, with all the years that had gone by, Tiny Human still looked young and adorable when he pouted. It wasn’t fair! Tiny Human could trick anyone with that pout!

“Okay, okay, so you were kind of sheltered as a kid, for all that you had the energy of an overcharged Pichu. How did you manage to get Zapdos to not fry you?” Red Human asked, hands on her knees and leaning closer.

Zapdos was pretty sure she just wanted to know why Tiny Human wasn’t dead. And that she thought Tiny Human would give her an idea of how to approach Moltres once she found it.

It snickered at the thought. What worked for one of them wasn’t guaranteed to work for all of them.

“Well, honestly, I don’t know? I just knew that Zapdos wasn’t gonna hurt me. I was just looking for a Pokémon to be my friend, see, but by the time I’d seen Zapdos, it was dark and I was late for dinner and I was just, really miserable?” Tiny Human shrugged, his eyes glossing over as he remembered the incident.

Zapdos took the time to brush Tiny Human’s hair, as it had when they had first met.

“Thanks buddy.” Tiny Human told it with a smile. “Then Zapdos gave me a lift home, and when it didn’t leave immediately I figured maybe it liked me? And I had an empty Great Ball in my pocket.”

“So what, you just threw it at Zapdos?” Red Human asked.

Zapdos let out an angry squawk. The audacity…!

Tiny Human wasn’t much better. “Arceus, no! What kind of person would that make me! I was five and young, not stupid!”

Blue Human held up their hands in consideration. “Alright, so you didn’t do that. How did you catch Zapdos, then?”

“I asked,” Tiny Human said simply.

“…Are you serious?” Red Human demanded. “That worked?”

“Yes…” Tiny Human said slowly, as if he couldn’t imagine otherwise.

The room was left in silence for a moment.

“Okay, so you have a Zapdos. Professor Willow apparently knows. Has he met Zapdos, though?” Blue Human asked.

“Oh yeah! They met when I was… seven? Something like that. We got it measured that day, and I met Mr. Iggles. Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t officially introduced you guys to Zapdos!” Tiny Human crawled out from underneath Zapdos’ wing, dusting off his pants.

Tiny Human beamed at Zapdos. “Zapdos, this is Blanche.” He pointed towards Blue Human. “And this is Candela.” Tiny Human gestured towards Red Human. “Blanche, Candela, this is Zapdos. No, I don’t know why it let me think it was a Fearow, or why it answered to Fearow, but he’s my best friend, my first and oldest Pokémon.”

Zapdos cawed and rustled its feathers a bit.

“Nice to meet you!” Red Human said.

Blue Human simply nodded.

Zapdos nodded back. It liked the two humans Tiny Human had befriended. They weren’t as bad as the Small Humans (9) from Tiny Human’s childhood, and weren’t fussing over it or Tiny Human. As far as first impressions went, they were doing better than the Stupid Humans (10). If they continued to impress it, maybe it would hint at where Articuno and Moltres rested…

“Oh, hey! I promised you Poképuffs, didn’t I?”

Ooh! Poképuffs!

Zapdos abandoned its train of thought to follow Tiny Human as he searched the tiny cooking area in his nesting chamber for the desserts Zapdos was promised.

Food first. Humans later. And if they did not respect it, then Zapdos reserved the right to label them Stupid Humans, and deal with them accordingly, Tiny Human’s friends or not.

Zapdos to Human terminology:

(1) Team Rocket

(2) Candela

(3) Blanche

(4) Professor Willow’s lab

(5) Nurse Joy

(6) bedroom

(7) Spark’s personal Pokémon

(8) bed; Spark’s is actually a large round bed sunk into the floor and lined with pillows, like an actual nest

(9) children, equivalent to 4-9 humans years old

(10) trainers who attempted to catch Zapdos

An abrupt end because Zapdos is not the most attentive, and I am bad at endings. There also a mention of Spark’s other Pokémon besides Zapdos and Mr. Iggles. This is deliberate. No, I’m not mentioning what Pokémon they are, but I figure you can guess. There will one day be an installment about how Spark got his team of Pokémon, but this is not that day.

Comments/feedback, as always, is highly appreciated, though not mandatory. And as always, I am accepting suggestions for series installments, though I may not actually write it.

[knowledgebeyondbooks]

Angel drabble 1

The one who called himself ‘Virgil’ was an oddity among angels. In definition by itself, an angel was a sentient, a simple thought and conscious that was plucked out of pure magic and manifested into a physical form which was then passed off to a god, but tampering with the very existence of the wild, unknown force that threaded throughout the cosmos always lead to ‘quirks’, as they were called.

Plucking a single thought out of the theoretical hive-mind was in itself difficult. Letting it to grow and develop into a way one wished it was even harder. Letting these minute hints of sentience develop into their own forms was more efficient when done in batches, or clutches as most decided to refer them as. But even nests of mortal bird eggs needed a brooding mother, their more defined sentience and physical presence helping the developing beings to have some sort of pattern to go off of. At first the gods themselves held roost, but it was quickly realized that it simply took far too much time and most who hatched out of their developing state tended to be too wild to be tamed and used as favorable servants. Thus the task was handed down to other angels, the trusted seraphs of their respected deity, where their loyalty and disposition was desired in the overall batch of wet-wings.

In the case of Virgil, his clutch was supervised by another oddity among angels. They referred to themselves as ‘Pythagoras’, a seraph who shouldn’t have been one to begin with. In the angel society, there were, at its simplest, two groups: combatives, and non-combatives. Combative angels were was the label read- angels who were built to fight, to defend and to guard. They were the largest, shrewd and effective, but they had a far longer ‘gestation’ period. Non-combative angels, in turn, were smaller, easier to produce en masse, and were furthermore, tended to be viewed as not as bright outside of their designated posts. They were to do their job, and never were they to ascend very high in the ranks, unlike the combative ones who could rise to the very top as a seraph.

But then again, an oddity that was Pythagoras existed. A non-combative that had become a combative and ascended to the rank of seraph in a relatively very short period of time after the death of their god. The power fluctuation that had resulted in the destruction of the God of Justice had effected the entire Courts, and many of those under its domain had been effected- most leading to their corruption and eventual reemergence back into the very nature of magic in itself, to perhaps be reformed at another time. Pythagoras was one of the few who remained, changed, but not for the worst. They instead took up the mantle of leading the Courts until either their god was reborn or a new deity of the Courts was established.

Because of this strange oddity, there was inquiry about the seraph themselves roosting over a batch, to see how this change between roles would affect the group. The worst case was that the entire clutch was a dud and the tiny specks of thought would be returned to be collected and attempted at growth at a later date, the best case would be that the entire batch would be a perfect blend between the two classes, to create a loyal serving angel that was powerful and could effectively switch between working and protecting whenever they were needed.

The little project was conducted, and Pythagoras, along with the curious spectators from the Sphere of Knowledge, observed to see what case would come true.

The batch took far, far longer than any prior. Most never even began to develop at all, content in remaining as specks of sentience. The few that did develop further did not go very far, most stopping after a short while and never continuing again. Only one managed to make it to the hatching period.

At hatching, most angels tended to be a bit unrefined, too eager in making some form of themselves and breaking out to explore than to focus on the finer details. Many, especially the combative ones, favored size over definition, expanding themselves to be as large as they could expend themselves. The details were easily fixed after hatching, training the newer angels to use their connection to magic to reform and define themselves better now that they had better ideas of what they wanted to look like. Even the non-combatives tended to lack in refined forms, but they tended to favor a more manageable size and they had some idea of details.

This one survivor of the batch that Pythagoras hosted over was almost a complete opposite to a combative, and even to a non-combative to an extent. They were positively tiny, one of the smallest, if not the smallest angel to hatch at a barely three feet in height. What this one lacked in height made up in form, as every downy fluff on their body was solid, every feather on their armed wings smooth and correct. It was as if they spent so long fixating on the fluff that made up Pythagoras’ own wings that they simply forgot to make themselves a little bit bigger.

Color came to the tiny, very white angel later during their training, or at least in part, Speckles of grey crossed over their entire feature as if someone splattered them with paint. The angels from the Sphere of Knowledge were perplexed at the fact that the angel simply did not pick up colors like any of the others did, or even figure out an identity for themselves or picked out a symbol to represent themselves with on their mask that all angels first learned how to create through refocusing their connection to magic in this physical form. The small one’s blank mask was slightly too big for their face, and constantly kept sliding off, much to their dismay. They didn’t like seeing themselves in reflective surfaces, it turned out during training, after taking one look at their face in a mirror and immediately ducked to hide on the other end of the room.

The hypothesis was that the tiny angel lacked the comradery of his batch like so many others, ones who shared similar traits and kinship with familiarity of them developing alongside each other like siblings. Being the only one of his clutch, this small one had no one other than perhaps Pythagoras, whom they clung to whenever the elder came to observe. The soft grey speckles were instantly paired to the same color that adorned Pythagoras’ own feathers, the tiny angel taking a liking to the color. No one was quite sure why they were speckles, and the young wet-wing simply refused to talk at all.

With such lack of success in training, it was decided that Pythagoras would attempt to teach the small one singly, rather than be bombarded with new faces all the time. It was almost instantly after they brought the tiny angel to their office that they scuttled over to the bookshelf, fluffed antennae-like ears twitching as they seemed to listen to something that no one else could hear.

“My name is Virgil,” they told Pythagoras suddenly a few days later, clutching a book in their clawed wings that had the same name etched onto the cover, their voice holding so much finality that even if they wanted to argue, the elder wouldn’t be able to.

“Of you are,” Pythagoras replied softly, reaching out to ruffle the tiny angel’s head as the fluff there turned the same unusual color of the tome. “It is nice to meet you, Virgil.”

Virgil, it turned out, could hear something that came from the books that no one else could hear. He spoke at length to the many tomes in Pythagoras’ office, often silent and nodding before whispering to the leather covers. He learned far more from the book than any of the training he had gone through, picking pronouns for himself, adorning a symbol on his mask that Pythagoras did not recognize, and no one in the Sphere of Knowledge knew either, and even focusing on resizing himself, although even he only reached up to about five foot in height at his tallest. He preferred being small, hiding on the shelves, the fluff of his body sucking in all the dust and dirt that had collected in the cracks and gaps over time. But talking to others outside of Pythagoras was, in itself, still a faraway concept for the small angel, referring not to speak at all, and even with Pythagoras he oftentimes stopped whatever he was saying, antennae twitching as he focused his entire attention on whatever nearest book was saying to him and start talking to that instead.

It was with hesitance that Pythagoras assigned the small angel to the Sphere of Knowledge itself. There wasn’t exactly a ruling deity over it, instead everyone but no one possessed it. In theory a god would assign someone to it in case they needed to find some sort of information and they were available to do so. In current age it was used for angels who simply did not quite meet the expectations of their deity: too independent, rebellious, emotional, weak, or simply no longer required. The reason why most of them never corrupted for the transfer itself was because there Sphere was massive. It did not just include written knowledge, but skills for objects no longer made, languages, crafts, recipes, raising extinct plants, and creating their own knowledge for knowledge sake. There was no point in having information if one didn’t know how to use it, and it was a stew pot of constant information.

What did corrupt angels was the mere fact there was so much information. Many became so entrenched in their work that the knowledge consumed them. Which was why all those in the Sphere of Knowledge were required to sleep, while it was so unnecessary for everyone else.

Integrating Virgil was easier than expected. Just leading him to the library and he was off climbing all over the shelves, whispering excitedly to all the new book friends. What was difficult was getting him to sleep now that he had so many new tomes to talk to other than Pythagoras’ stash in the office. The others of the Sphere tried to help, but if Virgil was uncomfortable around others, he certainly did not like them trying to pick him up and carry him out of the library.

The task was usually left for Pythagoras, who was called in at the maximum weeks he could be awake for, gently carrying the tiny angel away while said angel told the elder excitedly all the gossip the books had.

“He doesn’t even read them,” the one angel told another with a bemused shake of their head. “Somehow he just… knows.”

Most knew not to bother the strange, tiny angel who somehow could hear books speak, unless they wanted information and couldn’t find the right source. Some persuasion was in order, but Virgil would eventually lead them to the right books, although his peering over the top of the shelves while watching them read was always a bit disconcerting.

Still, Virgil was a strange angel, but strange angels were always welcome in the Sphere of Knowledge.

[josephkitchen0]

Keeping Guinea Fowl To Control Insect Pests (Or Just For Fun)

Ask people why they are keeping guinea fowl, and you may be surprised at the answers you get. While most people keep guineas for their voracious appetites for ticks, locusts, Japanese beetles, and other insect pests, that’s not the only reason guineas appeal to rural folks.

Reasons for Keeping Guinea Fowl

An orchard owner once told me she kept a flock of guineas to ward off rattlers so her young grandson could safely play under the fruit trees. Another person told me he keeps a sizable flock of guineas to protect his chickens from marauding foxes. Guinea fowl are famous for sending up a loud alarm whenever they perceive an intruder, whether it be a person or a predator.

Got Ticks? Get Guineas!

Learn how to raise guineas in this FREE Special Report, Keeping Guinea Fowl: Everything You Need to Know, from How to Raise Guineas to Facts about the Guinea Bird and Where to Buy Guinea Fowl. YES! I want this Free Report »

  Many people raise guineas for their eggs or meat, or both. Guinea eggs are about the same size as bantam eggs, with tough protective shells and rich, yellow yolks. Guinea meat is pleasantly gamey and is often compared to pheasant.

Some people keep guineas purely for their entertainment value. While these birds can fly really well — they spend a lot of their time in trees and on rooftops — they prefer to travel by walking. Their officious scurrying gait never fails to put a smile on my face.

Things To Consider

Before you decide to start a flock of guinea fowl, here are a few things you might want to consider.

1. Are they legal in your area? Even if your property is zoned for chickens, guineas may not be allowed. Guinea fowl are far noisier than chickens, and if you let them roam on insect patrol they will range quite far, maybe off your property.

2. Will your neighbors approve? The insistent “Come back! Come back! Come back!” cry of a guinea hen doesn’t appeal to everyone. And neighbors may not appreciate having your guineas forage in their yard or garden.

3. Can you protect them from predators? While guineas prefer to roost in trees, they’ll last longer if encouraged to sleep under cover. Guineas can be enticed to roost inside a coop by scattering a little grain indoors at nightfall.

4. Are you prepared to brood keets? Although starting a flock from guinea chicks, called keets, has many advantages over acquiring maturing or mature birds, they require the same special care as chicken chicks raised in a brooder.

Getting Started

When deciding how to raise guineas, consider starting your flock from keets which has the advantage that the birds will become familiar with their home place as they grow. I’ve heard countless stories from people who purchased growing or mature guinea fowl, only to have them fly off (never to return) at the first opportunity.

Another advantage to raising guineas from keets is that they will become familiar with you and other members of your household. Although guineas are naturally feral, they can be nicely tamed by someone willing to spend lots of time with them.

An excellent way to brood keets is with a batch of chicken chicks of the same age. In the brooder, chicks help teach the keets to be calm. And when they’re old enough to live outdoors, the chickens help train the guineas to roost indoors at night. The same benefits may be attained by letting a broody hen hatch and raise the keets.

One downside to starting a flock with keets is that that you’ll have to wait several months before they’re old enough to turn loose on bug patrol. Another potential downside is that they are difficult to sex, so you will have to be content to start with straight-run, or as-hatched, keets. However, that works out just fine, since approximately half will be males and half females, and guinea fowl tend to mate in pairs.

Getting To Know Guineas

When keeping guinea fowl, you’ll discover the birds have few health problems. They are relatively disease free and are immune to most ailments that plague chickens and turkeys. In all the decades I have kept guineas, I have never had one fall ill. However, one does occasionally injure a leg, usually by jumping down from the height of a roof or tall tree. And you don’t ever want to catch or carry a guinea by its fragile legs.

Guinea hens start laying when they’re about a year old, and they lay for only a few months during spring and summer. They typically find a good hiding place that is shared by several hens, so by the time you locate a nest it’s likely to contain a dozen eggs or more. If you remove all the eggs, the hens will find a new hiding place for their nest. If you want to gather the eggs to eat or hatch, instead of removing them all, leave three or four in the nest. Marking the guinea hen eggs with a China marker, or substituting chicken or bantam eggs, will let you readily identify fresh guinea hen eggs that are subsequently laid in that nest.

Nest sharing isn’t the guinea fowls’ only cooperative effort. I often watch our guineas hunt cooperatively by lining up abreast to move across a field, scaring up countless insects. And one time our flock circled a fox that wandered down our lane. Whenever the fox lunged at one bird, others attacked his unprotected back. Eventually the fox tucked his tail down and slunk away. Bravo guineas!

Keeping Guinea Fowl To Control Insect Pests (Or Just For Fun) was originally posted by All About Chickens

[ntrending]

Wild turkeys are in trouble

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/wild-turkeys-are-in-trouble/

Wild turkeys are in trouble

Wild turkeys are in a bit of a bind.

The birds were nearly wiped out by hunters and habitat destruction by the early 1900s, but made a comeback thanks to conservation efforts in the 20th century. Yet for the past 15 years or so, turkey populations have again started to fall across much of the United States.

These turkeys are the same species as the birds that might grace your Thanksgiving table, although they’re much tougher. Wild turkeys can sprint as fast as a galloping horse and fly even faster. But it seems that they might need a little human help once more.

“The population was on such a rise, it had such momentum for a long period of time that as managers we didn’t see it coming,” says Mary Jo Casalena, the Pennsylvania Game Commission’s wild turkey biologist. “We didn’t see that we were peaking on the rollercoaster, and now we’re starting to come down.”

Now, biologists are investigating how habitat loss, climate change, and other woes are driving this newest decline, and how to replenish the wild turkey’s numbers.

The first comeback

The 19th and early-20th centuries were a rough time for wild turkeys. No game laws existed to prevent overhunting. “There was nothing against taking out an entire flock,” Casalena says. Meanwhile, vast swaths of the landscape were cleared to make way for agriculture, and to provide timber and wood to feed iron furnaces.

By the turn of the century, the population plummeted to less than 1 million birds nationwide. In many states, wild turkeys vanished entirely. Only a few remnant populations remained in remote areas, like central Pennsylvania’s Ridge and Valley Province. “Once you get up on those forested ridges it’s pretty darn rocky and rugged,” Casalena says. “Those were the last stronghold of the wild turkeys, simply because those ridges were too rugged for us to timber and obviously too rugged for us to farm.”

Around the 1940s, the turkeys’ luck started to turn. Wildlife agencies began to set hunting seasons and bag limits to protect the birds. The forests that had been chopped down began to grow back, and many farms abandoned during the Great Depression reverted to shrubland, making ideal territory for turkeys.

“We used to think that turkeys were birds of the big woods,” says Michael Schiavone, head of the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation’s Game Management Section. But actually, turkeys do best with a mix of mature trees to roost in at night, overgrown fields, and young forests. “The stuff that you probably don’t want to walk through is what turkeys want to nest in,” he says. “That tangle of greenbrier and other young saplings is really good nesting and brood-rearing cover.”

Turkeys slowly began to return to the increasingly wild lands. Starting in the 1950s, conservationists helped the birds along by capturing turkeys from areas where the population was starting to recover and relocating them to unoccupied territory.

“After restoration was done, turkey populations really exploded through the 1990s,” Schiavone says. “The wild turkey restoration is really one of the success stories in wildlife conservation.”

The wild turkey population peaked around 2001 at around 6.7 million birds in North America. But in the years since, it has dropped by about 15 percent. The eastern wild turkey—the most abundant subspecies, which reigns east of the Mississippi River—appears to be declining across parts of the Northeast, Southeast, and Midwest.

In New York, hunters in the western part of the state were the first to notice the difference. “They were saying, there’s just not as many turkeys around as there used to be,” Schiavone says.

Under the right circumstances, turkeys can lay plenty of eggs and see many of their progeny survive to adulthood. But wildlife biologists in Pennsylvania are often counting only two young turkeys per hen making it to the fall, Casalena says. “They’re barely replacing themselves.”

Under fire

Some dip in the birds’ numbers isn’t surprising, Schiavone says. During their heyday, the turkey population likely boomed beyond what the landscape could support long-term. But the birds face a number of new threats that have wildlife biologists worried.

The landscape is changing, and the birds are struggling to find the right kinds of shelter and food. Many of the young forests where turkeys like to nest and raise broods are now maturing into open woodlands. For young birds and their mothers, that means less cover from predators and the elements. When Department of Environmental Conservation researchers tracked radio-tagged hens, they found they were most likely to die during the warm months. “What’s driving population changes, we think, is that high mortality during that summer nesting and brood-rearing season,” Schiavone says.

Another problem for turkeys is that the woods don’t look like they once did. In the wintertime, turkeys are used to relying on hard nuts like acorns and beechnuts. But the trees that produce this vital food source are becoming less common, partly because of ailments like beech bark disease and grazing from pests such as invasive gypsy moths and rampant white-tailed deer.

Turkeys are also bedeviled by predators like bobcats, coyotes, fishers, and raccoons, which have become more abundant and widespread in recent years, Casalena says. An epidemic of rabies that tamped down predator populations in the 1990s has also eased.

Climate change is also causing turkeys trouble. “We’ve already seen the effects that it’s had on our wild turkey populations,” Casalena says. As severe storms become more frequent during springtime, hens and their offspring are more likely to perish.

Foul weather can destroy a nest or wipe out vulnerable young turkeys. Torrential downpours also make a nesting hen more obvious to predators. “When a hen gets absolutely soaked from the rain, then she becomes more smelly and it’s easier for a predator to find her,” Casalena says. Young turkeys, or poults, also become an easy snack. “If you’re a cold, wet poult, you’re going to be miserable, and you’re going to be making a lot of noise.”

Scientists recently discovered another potential stressor: Lymphoproliferative disease virus. The tumor-causing condition is found in around 55 percent of wild turkeys in New York State. However, many infected adults seem to display no symptoms. “It seems like healthy birds can carry the virus and be fine,” Schiavone says. This indicates that the disease may not be having much of an impact on the population.

It’s less clear if the virus is a problem for younger turkeys. That’s because when a poult does succumb to illness, researchers are unlikely to know about it. “It’s kind of hard to find a dead poult on the landscape, because something’s probably going to eat it,” Casalena says.

A new era

Wildlife agencies are determined to give the wild turkey a second revival. They’re restoring turkey habitat by clearing spaces for young forests to grow anew and helping private landowners to make their territory more hospitable to turkeys.

Turkeys aren’t the only birds to be suffering from the lack of young forests, Casalena says. Other game birds like ruffed grouse and songbirds like the golden-winged warbler are declining as well. Refurbishing the turkeys’ homelands would help these other species.

This time around, overhunting is not to blame for the wild turkey’s dwindling numbers. But hunting can still put pressure on a vulnerable population, so researchers have also been investigating how best to adapt the spring and fall seasons. “We had to figure out what the new normal is in New York and have a season that reflected that,” Schiavone says. In 2015, the state restricted its fall season to two weeks and introduced a one-bird bag limit.

Schiavone and his colleagues surveyed hunters to find out what they hoped to get out of the season, and found that they share wildlife biologists’ worries. “Hunters value seeing and hearing birds more than anything els. Their major concern is turkey abundance,” Schiavone says. “Secondarily, they want a chance to go afield and be in the woods, and the third thing they want is to actually kill a bird.”

Still, making sure that hunting seasons are sustainable has been a challenge, Casalena says. “When the turkey population was rising so rapidly, it really didn’t matter what our seasons were,” she says. “Now we’re realizing that we have to be a lot stricter.”

This could mean pushing back the start date for spring hunting. Only males, or gobblers, can be taken during this season, but hunters sometimes shoot females accidentally. Waiting a little longer gives females more time to settle down and incubate their eggs, leaving them less likely to flee the nest or come to a hunter’s call. In Pennsylvania, the spring season doesn’t open until midway through the period when hens are likely to be incubating their eggs, Casalena says.

Even with human assistance, it’s unlikely that wild turkeys will ever return to their peak numbers. “I don’t know that we’re going to get back to those 2001 population levels, but I definitely think we can improve,” Schiavone says.

Casalena hopes to see the wild turkey population stabilize and increase again over the next 20 years. “Luckily we’re not talking an endangered species,” she says. “We have plenty of time.”

Written By Kate Baggaley

[josephkitchen0]

Keeping Guinea Fowl To Control Insect Pests (Or Just For Fun)

Ask people why they are keeping guinea fowl, and you may be surprised at the answers you get. While most people keep guineas for their voracious appetites for ticks, locusts, Japanese beetles, and other insect pests, that’s not the only reason guineas appeal to rural folks.

Reasons for Keeping Guinea Fowl

An orchard owner once told me she kept a flock of guineas to ward off rattlers so her young grandson could safely play under the fruit trees. Another person told me he keeps a sizable flock of guineas to protect his chickens from marauding foxes. Guinea fowl are famous for sending up a loud alarm whenever they perceive an intruder, whether it be a person or a predator.

Got Ticks? Get Guineas!

Learn how to raise guineas in this FREE Special Report, Keeping Guinea Fowl: Everything You Need to Know, from How to Raise Guineas to Facts about the Guinea Bird and Where to Buy Guinea Fowl. YES! I want this Free Report »

  Many people raise guineas for their eggs or meat, or both. Guinea eggs are about the same size as bantam eggs, with tough protective shells and rich, yellow yolks. Guinea meat is pleasantly gamey and is often compared to pheasant.

Some people keep guineas purely for their entertainment value. While these birds can fly really well — they spend a lot of their time in trees and on rooftops — they prefer to travel by walking. Their officious scurrying gait never fails to put a smile on my face.

Things To Consider

Before you decide to start a flock of guinea fowl, here are a few things you might want to consider.

1. Are they legal in your area? Even if your property is zoned for chickens, guineas may not be allowed. Guinea fowl are far noisier than chickens, and if you let them roam on insect patrol they will range quite far, maybe off your property.

2. Will your neighbors approve? The insistent “Come back! Come back! Come back!” cry of a guinea hen doesn’t appeal to everyone. And neighbors may not appreciate having your guineas forage in their yard or garden.

3. Can you protect them from predators? While guineas prefer to roost in trees, they’ll last longer if encouraged to sleep under cover. Guineas can be enticed to roost inside a coop by scattering a little grain indoors at nightfall.

4. Are you prepared to brood keets? Although starting a flock from guinea chicks, called keets, has many advantages over acquiring maturing or mature birds, they require the same special care as chicken chicks raised in a brooder.

Getting Started

When deciding how to raise guineas, consider starting your flock from keets which has the advantage that the birds will become familiar with their home place as they grow. I’ve heard countless stories from people who purchased growing or mature guinea fowl, only to have them fly off (never to return) at the first opportunity.

Another advantage to raising guineas from keets is that they will become familiar with you and other members of your household. Although guineas are naturally feral, they can be nicely tamed by someone willing to spend lots of time with them.

An excellent way to brood keets is with a batch of chicken chicks of the same age. In the brooder, chicks help teach the keets to be calm. And when they’re old enough to live outdoors, the chickens help train the guineas to roost indoors at night. The same benefits may be attained by letting a broody hen hatch and raise the keets.

One downside to starting a flock with keets is that that you’ll have to wait several months before they’re old enough to turn loose on bug patrol. Another potential downside is that they are difficult to sex, so you will have to be content to start with straight-run, or as-hatched, keets. However, that works out just fine, since approximately half will be males and half females, and guinea fowl tend to mate in pairs.

Getting To Know Guineas

When keeping guinea fowl, you’ll discover the birds have few health problems. They are relatively disease free and are immune to most ailments that plague chickens and turkeys. In all the decades I have kept guineas, I have never had one fall ill. However, one does occasionally injure a leg, usually by jumping down from the height of a roof or tall tree. And you don’t ever want to catch or carry a guinea by its fragile legs.

Guinea hens start laying when they’re about a year old, and they lay for only a few months during spring and summer. They typically find a good hiding place that is shared by several hens, so by the time you locate a nest it’s likely to contain a dozen eggs or more. If you remove all the eggs, the hens will find a new hiding place for their nest. If you want to gather the eggs to eat or hatch, instead of removing them all, leave three or four in the nest. Marking the guinea hen eggs with a China marker, or substituting chicken or bantam eggs, will let you readily identify fresh guinea hen eggs that are subsequently laid in that nest.

Nest sharing isn’t the guinea fowls’ only cooperative effort. I often watch our guineas hunt cooperatively by lining up abreast to move across a field, scaring up countless insects. And one time our flock circled a fox that wandered down our lane. Whenever the fox lunged at one bird, others attacked his unprotected back. Eventually the fox tucked his tail down and slunk away. Bravo guineas!

Keeping Guinea Fowl To Control Insect Pests (Or Just For Fun) was originally posted by All About Chickens