Nut Weevil (Curculio sp., Curculionidae)
Pu’er, Yunnan, China
Click the image to see more Chinese beetles on my Flickr site…..
Source: Flickr / itchydogimages
Question with 3 notes
birdonaleash said: greenbean Popsicle, mochi ice cream, mint choco froyo, vanilla!!
greenbean popsicle: something i’m jealous of
tbh i’m pretty jealous of my friends still living in colorado cause i miss living there a lot more than i thought i would.
mochi ice cream: what i look for in a friend
i guess just somebody with similiar interests that i can joke around with and just hang out and chill with. i’m pretty easy going, if you’re nice to me, i’ll be your buddy.
mint choco froyo: 3 things i’m proud of
hmm, maybe my knowledge of nature stuff and my (limited) art skills? and my patience, it takes a lot to irritate me.
vanilla: how i found your blog
i don’t actually remember, i’ve been following you for so long! i do remember the first time we talked was when i was in the outer banks, though!
Post with 3 notes
i’m googling pictures of keas and laughing so hard cause i found a pic of like six keas surrounding a hiking backpack and it looks like they brutally murdered a hiker and are about to through their shit
INFJ: It’s not your fault, you don’t deserve to feel this way
INFP: You’ve got so much potential, just keep your head up!
ENFP: Everything’s going to be alright man!
ENFJ: What’s wrong? Tell me everything. I’m here for you.
INTJ: Are those… Tears? Jesus Christ
INTP: Okay… Okay… How can we fix this?
ENTP: Come on, there’s got to be something that’ll cheer you up
ENTJ: You don’t have to be sad, we’ll get ice cream or something.
ISFP: Don’t worry about it, don’t worry about anything
ESFP: I heard there’s a really good karaoke bar in town…
ISTP: What happened this time?
ESTP: Alright… So you’re sad, why is that?
ISTJ: What the fuck are feelings
ESTJ: What the fucking shit fuck are feelings and why do you feel them?
ISFJ: I’m really sorry, is there anything I can do to make it better?
ESFJ: I’m here to help you feel better. Let’s get started.
n161_w1150 (by BioDivLibrary)
Source: Flickr / biodivlibrary
We are told by economic moralists that to mourn the pigeon is mere nostalgia; that if the pigeoners had not done away with him, the farmers would ultimately have been obliged, in self-defense, to do so. Perhaps this is true, but perhaps it is also true that we did away with an idea, as well as a bird. It is one of the ironies of science that it discovers, ex post facto, a philosophical significance in what it has previously tossed into the dust-bin. The pigeon was no mere bird, he was a biological storm. He was the lightning that played between two biotic poles of intolerable intensity: the fat of the land and his own zest for living. Yearly the feathered tempest roared up, down, and across the continent, sucking up the laden fruits of forest and prairie, burning them in a travelling blast of life. Like any other chain-reaction, the pigeon could survive no diminution of his own furious intensity. Once the pigeoners had subtracted from his numbers, and once the settlers had chopped gaps in the continuity of his fuel, his flame guttered out with hardly a sputter or even a wisp of smoke.
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