Birding in the Rio Grande right now. Can’t do good sketchbook pages from the road, so here’s some crappy ones with my awful handwriting (and a partial bird list–we saw like sixty species yesterday!–in an actual font.)

Built a proof-of-concept today. I don’t even know what this is–a mini-chinampas-inspired tub concept? Or is this something everybody already knows about and I just can’t get the right search terms to spit it out? Or has everybody tried this already and failed and now we all know better except me?

Well, I had pond liner and a whiskey barrel planter and Azolla caroliniana and I’ve been making grow bags, so let’s see what happens.

Patron Saint Bluebell

Hey, listen. I know the world’s on fire. But listen. I’ll tell you a thing. On the day after the election, when everything was worst and all I could do was go numb or cry hysterically, do you know what gave me the most comfort? It wasn’t the words of Lincoln or Gandhi or Maya Angelou, it wasn’t Psalms or poetry, it wasn’t my grandmother, it wasn’t contemplating the long arc of history. It wasn’t even hugging the dog. It was the Twitter account @ConanSalaryman. This is a joke account. It’s somebody who narrates as if Conan was working in an office. Tweets usually sound like “By Crom!” roared Conan. “You jackals cannot schedule a mere interview without gathering in a pack and cackling?!” or “Conan slammed his sword through his desk. Papers and blood rained through the office. Monday was slain.” I followed it awhile back and have found it funny. (I’m not a huge Robert Howard fan inherently, but whoever is writing these does the schtick well.) But if it had not posted once that day, no one would have noticed at all. Instead, Conan the Salaryman posted something inspirational. And then replied to dozens of people replying to him, for hours, in character, telling them that by Crom! it was only defeat if we did not stand up again, that the greatest act of strength was to keep walking in the face of hopelessness, that the gods have given the smallest of us strength to enact change, that we must all keep going as long as Crom gave us breath, and tyrants frightened Conan not, but we must look to those unable to fend for themselves. (“Though by Crom! We must hammer ourselves into a support network, not an army!”) I have no idea who is behind that account. But it was the most bizarrely comforting thing I saw all day, in a day that had very little comfort in it. There was this weight of story behind it. It helped me. I think it helped a lot of people. If only a tiny bit–well, tiny bits help. I have been thinking a lot lately about Bluebell from Watership Down. There’s absolutely no reason you should remember Bluebell, unless, to take an example completely and totally at random, you read it eleven thousand times until your copy fell apart because you were sort of a weird little proto-furry kid who loved talking animals more than breath and wrote fan fic and there weren’t any other talking animal books and you now have large swaths memorized as a result. Ahem. Bluebell is a minor character. He’s Captain Holly’s friend and jester. When the old warren is destroyed, Captain Holly and Bluebell are the last two standing and they stagger across the fields after the main characters. By the end, Holly is raving, hallucinating, and screaming “O zorn!” meaning “all is destroyed” and about to bring predators down on them. And Bluebell is telling stupid jokes. And they make it the whole way because of Bluebell’s jokes. “Jokes one end, hraka the other,” he says. “I’d roll a joke along the ground and we’d both follow it.” When Holly can’t move, Bluebell tells him jokes that would make Dad jokes look brilliant and Holly is able to move again. When Hazel, the protagonist, tries to shush him, Holly says no, that “we wouldn’t be here without his blue-tit’s chatter.” I tell you, the last few days, thinking of this, I really start to identify with Bluebell. I am not a fighter, not an organizer, certainly not a prophet. Throw something at me and I squawk and cover my head. I write very small stories with wombats and hamsters and a cast of single digits. I am not the sort of comforting soul who sits and listens and offers you tea. (What seems like a thousand years ago, when I had the Great Nervous Breakdown of ‘07, I remember saying something to the effect that I had realized that if I had myself as a friend, I would have been screwed, because I was useless at that kind of thing. And a buddy of mine from my college days, who was often depressed, wrote me to say that no, I wasn’t that kind of person, but when we were together I always made her laugh hysterically and that was worth a lot too. I treasured that comment more than I am entirely comfortable admitting.) But I can roll a joke along the ground until the end of the world if I have to. And increasingly, I think that’s what I’m for in this life. Things are bad and people have died already and I am heartsick and tired and the news is a gibbering horror–but I actually do know why a raven is like a writing desk. So. First Church of Bluebell. Patron Saint. Keep holding the line.

Prayer to St. Bluebell, circa 2016.

Let me be this day,  As the Chicken who Crosses The Road Grant me the strength,  to be as sturdy as the door, that knocks, knocks.  Let me ever be who is there.  Bless me with grace of a thousand rhymes, and spin them to a hundred thousand groans, That they may be groans to me, and not the world. Let it be me who falls,  That I may tumble.  Let me see this day Their smiles.  Let the only long face this day be Of a horse who has curiously entered a bar.  Lead me to see what Is on the other side.

Amen. 

Bravo!

reblog this post with a cool animal species lets make a wholesome thread

ok ill give a headstart:

i really like leopard seals 

axolotls are p rad

I LOVE THOSE

potoos look like muppets and i ove tem

here’s a quokka it’s like someone decided to splice together a wallaby and a teddy bear they literally always look like a benevolent cartoon

i don’t think you can get more wholesome than that adorable lil seed-eating smiley face. they’re not even like dolphins, cute on the outside and evil on the inside. they’re herbivores about the size of a cat. there is nothing wrong with them. 

The Springhaas, or “irl pikachu” as it is sometimes known, is basically a rat shaped like a bunny abruptly caught in the middle of trying to evolve into a kangaroo. This is why they tend to look startled.

This is a dik dik. They are tiny antelopes from southern and eastern Africa–seriously so smol. With teeny hooves and teeny horns and big soulful eyes. And the name is fun to say. It comes from the alarm call that the females make. They live together in monogamous pairs. 

Long Eared Jerboa

The adorable mash-up of a hamster, bunny, and kangaroo. Whiskers with no end, ears that put a fennec to shame, and adorability beyond measure!

bringing this back on your dashes

This is the paradise tree snake of southeast Asia:

Pretty, right?

But that’s not even the best part…

These guys can actually flatten out their bodies and…

FUCKING GLIDE FROM TREE TO TREE HOLY FUCK IS THAT AWESOME OR WHAT

Ratufa indica. Look at this awesome purpley squirrel.

Okay, this Tumblr game looks fun for once.

Image by Richard Bartz, under CC BY-SA 2.5.

The lammergeier (Gypaetus barbatus), a bone-eating, goat-dropping dragon bird that wears makeup.

Fruit bats.

No special reason, I just like fruit bats and think they deserve more love.

Originally posted by deannajackson

Capybaras cause they’re basically really friendly rats the size of a large dog. 

Originally posted by becausebirds

Originally posted by bonniekristian

Also they apparently get along with just about everyone and everything. They’re just friendly giant rats that are adorable and they deserve more love.

The honduran white bat is tiny and fluffy.

Platypus!

One of only two mammals that lay eggs, has a venomous spur, can detect electricity, and so fuckin’ weird people thought they were a hoax at first.

Botos - pink river dolphins - are amazing.

When the Amazon rises, they swin amongst the trees and eat fruit.

Also, in local legends, they transform into pretty young men who seduce girls.

the vaquita!!! they’re the smallest and most endangered porpoises on the planet

this is a picture of a calf but they usually grow to 140.6 cm (4.6 ft)

leopard geckos absolutely have to be on this list!! i love them, they are my children 

This guy is a hoatzin, also known as a stinkbird. Because it stinks. Like really really bad. ‘Cause it solely subsides on plant matter, which it ferments in its giant crop that, combined with its short wings, make it too awkward to fly properly. It’s a stinky, useless bird that is actually doing pretty okay despite being clumsy and having a specialized diet ‘cause it smells so bad that most things don’t want to eat it. Supposedly it tastes as nasty as it smells.

Also, the babies have little claws on their wings that help them grip on branches and stuff. They fall off when they get older, but still. LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT THEM. LITTLE DINOSAURS.

I love hoatzins. I love these smelly horrible babies.

What a good post! Here’s Elaphodus cephalophus, aka, a Tufted Deer! Like other, boring-er deer, but with FANGS and a cool hairdo!

I offer you, the highland cow!

They’re a scottish breed of cattle that come in quite the range of colors, have long wavy coats and long horns.

Also their calves look like literal stuffed animals.

Highland coos! So cute.

This here is a coquí (co-KEE) - it is a teensy eensy tree frog whose name comes from the incredibly loud (considering their size) sound they make. They chill out in Puerto Rico and at night they sound like a chorus of fairy car alarms going off.

New Chapters Up

I am tired, friends, and completely out of…everything. But let me give you what I have. I’ve posted three new chapters of Summer in Orcus, because we need comfort right now, rather than later. It’s not much, but it’s a few thousand words you can spend among friends, and hopefully give your heart a brief respite. Summer in Orcus