#vulture day

[birchleahf]

Today is #Internationalvultureawarenessday! In honor, here is my first ever sketch of one, the Rüppell’s vulture✨

They are considered the highest-flying bird, with the highest confirmed altitude at 11,300m!!!

Sadly they are, along with many large birds of prey, critically endangered.

(Yes I got too excited and I misspelt the latin name😭)

[great-and-small]

[hawnks]

I regret to inform you that targeted content works

[hamable]

I need Brennan to win an award. I need the world to know how exceptional a storyteller he is. How do you plan something like this?

I’m suddenly seeing the rat grinders as a sort of self insert for him. Not character-wise, but as tools for writing a mystery. Usually you start with the solution and work backwards. Brennan had to concoct this solution and prepare for every possible thing that the best DnD players he’s ever known might do to crack his story wide open. He needed an entire party of character foils whose primary goal was to cover their tracks and account for periphery details to outsmart The Bad Kids. An unfathomable amount of work to be able to tell this story at the pace it’s being told.

I found myself remarking earlier in the season how much planning and foreknowledge he had to have to have the variety of dome projections from @caitmayart he does and now I realize that’s just scratching the surface.

[dragonfelling]

Used @elliottnotyet 's Marchirp list :'D

[arthistoryanimalia]

For International #VultureAwarenessDay:

Bernard Willem Wierink (Dutch, 1856-1939)

Gieren (Vultures), 1919

platecut print, 40.2 h × 21.5 cm w

Rijksmuseum RP-P-1924-380

[stickynotebirds]

259. Turkey Vulture

[isvoc]

Happy Valentines Day!

[thefiresofpompeii]

transitioning would have saved amy ‘i count as a boy’ pond. arthur pond — fairytale/mythical enough of a name, plus, it’s meta. if (s)he’d gotten a hysterectomy none of that (series 6) would have happened. being convinced that rory was gay throughout their childhoods would also make more sense in this case

[contac]

[na-bird-of-the-day]

BOTD: California Condor

Photo: Donna Pomeroy

"A holdover from prehistoric times, the great condor is one of our largest and most magnificent birds -- and one of the rarest. Soaring over wilderness crags, feeding on carcasses of large dead animals, reproducing very slowly, it was not well suited to survival in modern-day southern California. Headed toward extinction in the 1980s, the last birds were brought in from the wild in 1987, to be bred in captivity for eventual release into the wild again. The captive breeding program turned out to be surprisingly successful, and flocks of released condors are surviving in several areas of California and in the region of the Grand Canyon."

- Audubon Field Guide

[lazyevaluationranch]

17-03-2024 Vulture.

The turkey vultures spend the winter in Venezuela, fly North along the mainland, and circle in groups above the shoreline. In the air they mostly lock their wings open and glide, not flap. So where the land ends they must circle at the water's edge and wait for the wind to be right to glide across to the islands in a group.

For months there have been no vultures, and then suddenly yesterday the wind opened their way home and the island's whole population is here, all at once. It's like someone found a giant knife switch labeled "Vultures" in a cave and shoved it to "on" with a satisfying "KA-VULTURE" sound.

The house is perched atop a stony ridge. The sun falls on the bare dark glacier-scraped slope behind the house and warms the stone, and from the warm stone a column of warm air rises. The vultures enter this invisible pillar of air and circle around its edges, upwards, upwards, around and above the house on ink-dark wings that glow where the sunlight comes through the edges of the feathers.

Sometimes they leave this air-column and glide over to the next stone ridge, the next invisible column of air, and the next beyond it, the next beyond that. Watching the vultures trace out the locations of the pillars, you get a sense of a whole vast structure of warmth and wind, like some grand invisible temple rising hundreds of meters into the bright brazen sky.

It's always here, I think, the huge columns, the invisible temple the glaciers built, made of air and light. But I can only see its structure when the vultures trace it out for me, like architectural drawings. Glad someone found the KA-VULTURE switch this year.

[feral-babe]

2 older pieces for Vulture Awareness Day

💜🦴💜

Prints are available in my Redbubble shop: White Turkey Vulture // Pay Your Respects

[rabbit-rays]

you came in with your jaw torn, still talking

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Florida Painted Vulture

Description: In the 1770s, William Bartram documented and collected a specimen of, what he described as, a painted vulture in Florida. It had a fleshy neck, bald head, and colorful feathers of purple, red & yellow. Despite the claim the bird was abundant, no one else has ever seen it 

[painted-bees]

Follow up from last night's lil doodle

Magritte initially worried that bringing her along to the hospital was a mistake. After all, Raf seemed to be taking the news of his uncle's sudden passing remarkabley well, and it felt somewhat selfish and stupid for her to be the one crying. But she couldn't help it. She cried most of the ride to the hospital, and again while the doctor explained to Raf the circumstances that lead to his uncle's death.

It had been a stroke that occurred at some point in the middle of the night. EMS was alerted to it when a friend of Uncle Bill had called them on his behalf. Apparently, Bill had dialed the most recent contact on his phone, and what ever he had said to his friend concerned her enough that she then called for an ambulance to his house. In the end, it hadn't been enough to save him. His death came quite suddenly, unexpectedly, and he did not languish.

Magritte can't remember if Raf responded with much other than an expression of relief that his uncle had not suffered--she was having difficulty paying attention to the conversation while attempting to temper her own response to better match Raf's even tone. The ride back home was one of relative silence. She didn't really know what was appropriate to say--her face was a mess of puffy redness and tears, while his face wore a look of introspective sobriety. Words of comfort didn't feel right--nor did it feel appropriate to try and inject brevity. And so, she sat quietly, and so did he.

Upon arriving at the apartment, Raf's first course of action was to...commence his usual "home from work" routine, shoes on the rack, keys on the counter, collect the cups and plates from breakfast off the table and into the sink, grab something to drink from the fridge, drop himself with a tired sigh onto the living room couch, and begin rolling a joint. And, upon taking a seat next to him, Magritte finally thought to ask, "are you holding up alright?" To which his response is basically...exactly

And so he spends the rest of the day dissociating in Margie's arms.