Paswome Scribbles: Dwarf Chameleon

Okay your probably thinking, 'Dwarf Chameleon',  obviously this thing is a shortie.  And guess what? You are right.  In fact, the Dwarf Chameleon 'Brookesia Minima' is one of the top ten smallest animals in the whole world! Their minuscule sizes have even been known to measure only half of an inch.  This chameleon has a flat head, triangular plates above its eyes, and its entire body is covered with scales, just like any other chameleon.
Blobfish OUT.

And the Winner is...

BLOBFISH!!! Recently, the British Science Festival in Newcastle announced blobfish to to be the ugliest creatures on the face of the earth.  Isn't it wonderful? Now just look at this beautiful description of the blobfish that Ms. Victoria Gill from BBC news gave:
'The grumpy-looking, gelatinous blobfish has won a public vote to become the official mascot of the Ugly Animal Preservation Society.'
Not only is the Blobfish famous, but it is now the official mascot of the Ugly Animal Preservation Society!  Many thanks to the UAPS from my fellow Blobfish friends.  In the big vote, the Blobfish topped some other extremely unsightly animals such as the proboscis monkey, the pig-nosed turtle (that's a pretty tough title to beat) and the amphibian well known as the scrotum frog.  To be more precise, the Blobfish won by over 10,00 votes.  Just think about it, 10,000 votes!  Hopefully, such an announcement will draw more attention to the Preservation and safety of unsightly animals.
As the Blobfish won the Ugly Animal Vote, it has also become the Ugly Animals Society mascot.  Now, I know for a fact that the Ugly Animals Preservation Society is not a very well known group of people, surprisingly, this is the first time I've ever even heard of them! I know, the Blobfish, the mighty Blobfish, hasn't known that the UAPS existed for the past 12 years! I have been living underneath a rock.  But I would like to advise YOU, the reader, to take a look at the UAPS (Ugly Animal Preservation Society) by checking out their website- http://uglyanimalsoc.com/

Also, I know that I have not been posting very frequently lately (this is for you, Glasswing Butterfly)- I, the Blobfish, pledge my allegiance to the Amazing Animals Society, that I will hereby from now on post at least once a week and keep up with the Pawsome Scribbles.  Are you happy now, Glasswing Butterfly?
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-24040130
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQRV5d8duwg
http://uglyanimalsoc.com/

Blobfish out

Still waiting for your promise to come true- Glasswing Butterfly

SNAKE!!!!!!

Point blank, I'm terrified of snakes. Living in Singapore, it's a more valid fear to have, as they are everywhere, and I am terrified of finding one in an awkward location, like under my bed.
Which might explain why, today, after seeing one calmly sitting on a post I had dropped my bag and ran straight for the house. Easy explanation? No. You ignore my naturalist instinct, which right then was in a fierce fight with the 'run for your life' one. So you might be a little more surprised when I came sprinting back towards the snake with a camera around my neck. This snake was playing it cool, flicking its head back and forth, almost like it was bobbing to a song blasting through its headphones. Its slender green body curled around the stone post, and it was watched in eager and horrified fascination by a helper and a toddler, as well as my brother the Cheetah (who has yet to publish his long-suffering guest post). My brother was just waiting for someone to come and kill it. Me? I, despite my terrification (that should be a word) of snakes, I didn't want it to die. It had a kind of horrible beauty to it as it swayed in the wind.

To be fair, I have no idea what snake this is.

 I moved around for a better angle and it chose that moment to go away. Of course. No snake would like me. The security guard and I listened for tell-tale rustlings in the leaves and trees but there was nothing other than the wind- or was it?

The Glasswing Butterfly

Post #50

It's hard to believe, but this is our fiftieth post. Our half-century. Wow.
I'll admit it, before there was another fiftieth post about a snake spotting of mine. I've un-published it. Pretend it didn't exist. It was a mistake. Don't worry, anonymous people in cyberspace, you'll still get that post, just as 51st. Understood? You'd better have.
But our fiftieth post we want to do something special. A celebration! So we've decided to do.... a Pawsome Scribbles. You'll be introduced to my fantastic drawing skills (yeah, right) and the Emu's patented technique of circles and sticks.
So, here it is:

A Miscellaneous Post

How big is a blue whale?
Bigger than a pen? Bigger than a (normal-sized) book? Bigger than your computer screen?
Pro tip: the answer is yes. But you already knew that.
In fact, here's a great link that shows you just how big a blue whale really is.
That's really it. I just wanted to share that site.
And this one.
And this one too.
And these.
In fact, here's another one.
Be careful of this one. It bites.

Life in a Roundabout

I was feeling quite disgruntled. The Blobfish had abandoned our expedition to the distant lands of Sixth Avenue's foresty-thingamajig, home to maybe a couple Common Birdwings (squee!) and perhaps pangolins (double squee!!!) because- and I kid not- she was sweaty. Honestly! The Blobfish, ready to risk her life (or at least a limb or two (ok, fine, maybe just a couple bruises)), was driven to stay at home because she was SWEATY. I mean, it was only as hot as the typical Singaporean day... maybe a couple degrees above that.... but that was when butterflies came out, wasn't it?.... and it was better than rain....
So I stormed out of the house as only a true butterfly can and marched to the roundabout. I was only meaning to make a point of my displeasure, check for kingfishers on the other side of the fence, dragonflies in the roundabout, and then come marching back and say ha-ha! to the Blobfish's face. First stop, the roundabout. Basically, once you entered my condo, there's a roundabout with roads leading off to the various apartments. The roundabout itself is a circle (no, doh!) ringed with the eternal pink flowers and some green stuff. But one day, exploring with N, I found an overgrown entrance into the hidden inner circle that had been lost to the ravages of time until now... The inner circle was dark, mysterious, and filled with assassins. You had to perform secret rituals to enter.
It was a circle. With a path around it. And birds-of-paradise flowers in the middle. But, you are almost guaranteed to see a dragonfly there every time you visit and thus it is a pre-fixed stop on all of my expeditions. But this time, as I stormed my way through the bushes there were no dragonflies seductively settling on a plant and flittering away as soon as I got within clicking distance. Instead, there was just the rhythmic sound of a bird tweeting. I sighed irritably... and then a spark of movement caught my eye. I looked up, and there, tweeting away, was a bird I would later identify as a Dark-Necked Tailorbird but for now just recognized as a bird I'd seen before, but never in Astrid Meadows. My heart started to beat faster, I deftly switched the camera on and lifted it to my eyes. Yup, that was it. Suddenly, looking around, the trees were full of them, the more flashy males and the dull females, all chirping the same repetitive song that in my eyes now seemed like that of the angels. The Blobfish was forgotten. School was forgotten. All that was left in the world was the tailorbirds (maybe I should have asked them to stitch me a coat while I was at it!) drifting along on a cotton-candy cloud. I watched them with delight as they hopped from one branch to the next.

Dark-Necked Tailorbird tweeting its beloved heart out...

Suddenly, I noticed a yellow-vented bulbul flutter off too, and I smiled at it in its commonness. Oh, little bulbul. You are surrounded by the company of the Great Tailorbirds. Do you not realize the honor that is being done to you? Then a  pigeon came over and I frowned at it darkly. Oh, terrible pigeon. Go away! A mynah joined the party and I didn't give it a second glance. Then an olive-backed sunbird came down and I decided that maybe it deserved a photo as the tailorbirds for the moment were all hidden but still very much audible. My cup was runneth-ing over with a lot of happiness so the whole world was to be loved. Except mynahs. And pigeons. And then the waiter came and filled my cup over with a whole 'nother jug of that drink, happiness. I was getting quite drunk with it by now. Because there, pecking away at a tree, was a woodpecker. I squinted at it. Was it a Common Flameback? No, it was just black and white... Oh my God, it was a new one! I had only ever seen it before in India, and had seen it the other day in my field guide.

It was a Sunda Pygmy Woodpecker, btw. A PYGMY WOODPECKER!!!! The world just gets stranger and stranger.

I got my camera out and watched it eagerly. It was only after a little while that I realized that maybe the Blobfish would want to see these birds. Yeah, she didn't want to get too SWEATY... but... I didn't have time to finish the thought because I was already sprinting out of the roundabout to my house.

The Glasswing Butterfly
P.S. Comment if you have a place I should find Life in... next!

BioBlitz

So, here's how it goes.  The Glasswing Butterfly and I have started organizing a Bioblitz in Singapore.  For those of you who don't know what a BioBlitz is, Google it.  Just kidding! A bioBlitz is a set place and time for people to gather and go looking for animals.  We have our place so far, but not the time- we'll post the time when everything is all planned out.  But first, we want to find out how many of you would like to come.  So I have created this survey that I'd really like you readers to fill out.  This document is only for people who are living in Singapore. No, not Zimbabwe, not the White House, just good old fashioned Singapore.  Here's the form:

Blobfish out.

Dumbo Octopus

Now you're probably thinking, 'Dumbo Octopus? This thing's an idiot!' So first of all, the reason they call this octopus 'Dumbo', is because he swims with his ears! Isn't he cute. Disgusting. But the thing I like about this creature is that it swallows its food whole. The 20 cm Dumbo Octopus eats worms, crustaceans, and bivalves of the sea.  It lives about 7000 meters under the surface of the ocean. Pretty deep.

The Wildlife of the Taj Mahal: An Avesophile

When the Taj Mahal is described, usually they use words like 'a teardrop on the face of time' or 'a monument of extreme beauty' or 'a memorial to everlasting love' and rot like that. One descriptor usually not used, but that I will now add to the list, is 'a venue for screeching parakeets'.
That's right, the Taj Mahal is parakeet heaven, along with Shah Jahan's paradise, along with quite a few other birds, including red-vented bulbuls, probably red-cheeked bulbuls, eternal mynas, rats-on-wings (crows in this case), infestations of pigeons, and quite a few egrets flying past as well as Black Kites. You can guess that I was reprimanded for paying more attention to wildlife than one of the most famous monuments in the world. Which isn't really the case, but that's an argument for another day. For the moment, let's just say that I was admiring the contrast of a man-made wonder and the brilliant green of a nature-made wonder. I love history, and I love natural history. What combination could be better?
We also visited Agra Fort (a long history of over.... well, over quite a lot of years graces this place, mostly involving some king, emperor, or person coming and saying oh! someone's built something here! let's destroy it and build something bigger and better!) in whose dark rooms filled with beautiful but barely visible paintings and wonderfully carved alcoves that had become the home of bats. We never saw them. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that I'm making that up, more to do with the pungent smell that preceded a room containing them and hovered about your nostrils after you left, coughing. I spotted two parakeets that had probably made this beautiful place their nesting ground, too. Ah well.
Then we went to Fatehpur Sikri, a city that Akbar had built for himself, lived in for ten years, and then promptly abandoned to the ravages of time. These rulers! The ravages of time had left it very well preserved, actually, and along with marveling at the beautifully carved pillar at the center of the Diwan-i-Khas (3D model following) I also marveled at the beauty of my first Plain Tiger (no, NOT like the orange-and-black striped one. This one's a butterfly.) And at the slovenliness of pigs. (Luckily, not inside the complex) And at the delicateness of the Astrologer's Seat. And the remarkable grazing habits of goats. (Again, not inside the complex... pheuf!) And at the.... well, you get the idea. History, natural history. History, natural history. I've often thought the two to be unable to reside together, and perhaps that is the case with more prolonged interaction. Tree roots, while providing wonderful resting places for birds, can also be the most wonderful destroyers of buildings. I was reading somewhere where, upon opening a door in a temple, they found bat's poop piled up to the height of seven feet! Yet, when the the two coincide, I find it wonderfully beautiful and remarkable. What do you think?

The Wildlife of Stanford University

I've been kind of busy this summer and forgot to write posts for the blog. Apologies to the Emu and the Glasswing Butterfly, I left most of the work to you guys. I'm sorry for depriving you all of my trials and tribulations this summer, and my oh-so amazing stories but I've been doing otherwise. Now I don't want to drone on and on about my vacation but I do want to share a little something about my visit to the Stanford campus. I stayed there for quite a while and I was utterly amazed by the wildlife. Now it was nothing compared to what the Glasswing Butterfly was able to see this year but I still loved it. I saw at least three hummingbirds a week, one mouse a day, and thirty robins a weekend. After living in Singapore when the bird you see most often is a mynah  (as many people like to say "rats with wings"), Stanford's birds were like heaven.
I also saw butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies. I was never able to identify any but I know the one thing I always thought was "I wish I had a camera." There was one butterfly I did have a camera for though. When I can I'll post the photo.

The Blobfish

TOP SECRET!! DO NOT READ!!!

Ooooh.... secret.
It's not.
But the subject is.
That is, secretive.
I'm losing track of myself.
Are you?
Because snow leopards don't lose track of themselves, you know.
Oops. There I go again. Giving away secrets. Well, here's another one, considering that I'm on a roll already. Snow leopards are SUPER endangered (Emu, can you do a top 10 on them?). First of all, they live in the snow-laden Himalayas, hiding amongst rocky crags to the point that it's near impossible to find them. Unfortunately, it's not near impossible for them to find the tasty yaks the Himalayas are also laden with. That usually isn't a problem, except the yaks have owners, and the owners name them cute names like Biffles and Shaggy and when Biffles and Shaggy are eaten and with them their money they can get angry. Very angry. (OK, the name thing is a lie.) So they grab their gun or sword on Nunchuk and they go and kill the snow leopard, which is sad. That's a problem. And then there are the people who believe that eating snow leopards cures cancer and wearing them is very pretty and that visitors LOVE seeing dead animals on their walls. Supply has to meet demand, so poachers pick up a gun and go off and go bang, bang, bang. Bang.
Bang.
And then there are stray dogs, spreading infectious diseases.... and mining.... and... do you really want to get any more depressed?
But here's a ray of hope: one of the aforesaid owners of Biffles and Shaggy decided that leopards are friends, not food, and set up some camera traps over a dead Biffles or Shaggy that had been killed by a leopard. And look at what he captured.....
http://newswatch.nationalgeographic.com/2013/06/17/rare-footage-of-snow-leopards-caught-by-mountain-yak-herder/

The Blobfish - Psychrolutes Marcidus

Hello readers, I'm back with more facts about our animal pseudonyms. Next up, the Blobfish!

1. The density of a blobfish’s flesh is slightly less than water’s, allowing it to float underwater without needing to use energy to swim.
2. If it’s taken out of the water, it dries out completely.
3. The blobfish doesn’t hunt, it waits for food particles to float by, then sucks them in.
4. It is inedible and has no predators, but are endangered by overfishing of other deep sea creatures.
5. It has almost no muscles in its body.
6. THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT BLOBFISH ON THE INTERNET
7. OR ANYWHERE ELSE???
8. ?!??
9. !!!
10. !?
11. 

Do you want to see facts about your favourite animal or plant in a future post? Leave a message in the comments!

sources

• http://www.wisegeek.org/what-is-a-blobfish.htm
• i looked in other places and could only find repeats sorry guys

Perspective #1: Baby Things

The baby things.
They were lying in the grass under the coconut tree in the garden, in  feotal positions, pretty much the eptiome of cuteness for anyone. Their heads were covered with a dusting of hair, and the tail was curved around them. They were basically what people define as cute, especially on the internet. My mother took one look at them and said dismis
sively, "Rats."
"No!" squealed Person A. "They're squirrels! Just look at them..."
"They are quite cute," I admitted grudgingly. I'm not so much of a 'aawww so cute' person. It's quite easy to tell from some of my earlier posts, like the rather controversial one condemning pandas, or the other about cute animals though even I'm not sure whether that one's for cute or against it.
"So adorable!" cried Person B.
"Let's call pest control," my mother said.

Cute or not? Either way, they're definitely small...

Immediately a cry of "NO!!!!!!" rose up from the ranks. My mother took one look at us, her lips curling up on the edges, and stalked inside to her phone. I stalked inside to the computer. Maybe Google could answer some identity questions. I still don't know what they are- I'm thinking mouse. Or rat, though rats are grey.

When pest control came, they unceromoniously dumped them in a bag (at least one out of three were dead), probably destined for the nearest rubbish dump, paying no heed to Person A's calls of "No!" followed by some what I think was Kannada gibberish that seemed to be a desperate plea to their base instincts, why did they want to kill babies, they're squirrels I tell you, etc. etc. And I started thinking. These were probably rats, or mice. If we had found a fully grown one, no one would have hesitated to call the appropriate authorities with their spraying guns and repellents of doom. A certain half-eaten mango we had found in our kitchen springs to mind... Our neighbours had regaled us with how, confronted with a rat, they had all huddled together in fear as it ran across the hall. When they first got married, a ratty visitor to their apartment had caused my dad to leap with amazing skill onto the bed and remain there, hopping up and down, while my mother showed the guest out with appropriate courtesy i.e. a broom whacking the floor. For mice the reaction would have been a little more subdued but no less brutal. But us, confronted with a baby version of one of those things? We immediately started fawning over it, with no thought to what it may become. The plastic bag containing the babies on the rubbish dump would probably grow into a home for ruthless scavenging rats or mice. It only goes to show that you can't judge by looks alone when it comes to baby things.

The Glasswing Butterfly

The Glasswing Butterfly - Greta Oto

After a long break of almost two months, I return with 10 (give or take a couple) facts every week about an animal or plant of your choice. I'm going to start with the pseudonyms of this blog's admins. First up, the Glasswing Butterfly!

1. Its name in Spanish is espejitos, meaning “little mirrors”. 
2. It can carry up to 40 times its own weight.
3. The glasswing butterfly lays its eggs on the poisonous nightshade plant, which makes both it and its caterpillars toxic to predators.
4. The alkaloid poisons in a glasswing butterfly are turned into pheromones and used in courtship by male butterflies.
5. Its translucent wings are made by lack of scales rather than translucent scales.
6. As well as feeding on nectar, glasswing butterflies feed on insect-eating birds’ droppings to get amino acids.
7. Its wings allow it to hide from predators, rather than scaring them off like other butterflies do.
8. There are many types of glasswing butterfly, including ones with translucent pink wings.
9. Even though butterflies do not typically migrate, glasswing butterflies do.

Do you want to see facts about your favourite animal or plant in a future post? Leave a message in the comments!

sources

• http://www.secretcritters.com/glasswinged-butterfly/
• http://www.arkinspace.com/2011/07/incredible-glasswing-butterfly.html
• http://aufait.hubpages.com/hub/Glasswing-Butterfly-Including-the-Pink-Glasswing-Butterfly
• http://amazinglist.net/2013/03/translucent-butterflies/

The Emu

A Tale of Tiger Pee

I tried to silence my heart but I couldn’t. It refused to slow down its beating, echoing in my ears like a twenty-one gun salute. I wasn’t trying to listen to my heart for a magical choice that could change my life. Though quite a good option in soppy stories, that wasn’t my aim, because I was trying to listen to the forest for a creature that could disappear. The Royal Bengal Tiger.

The undergrowth was far too thick. Why, oh why, did we have to come during the monsoon, when all the plants just grew thick and fast and beautiful, also very conveniently covering any creature that wanted to hide in it?

It was doing this on purpose to annoy us, I was convinced.

“Listen!” whispered Phillip. “Alarm calls!” My heart started its gun salute again as I strained my ears. Peew… peew… peew… Those were the chitol (Indian Spotted Deer). They made those sounds only, and only when they smelled a tiger, or a leopard.

“Look, Phillip!” whispered someone else, a touch too loudly, I thought. “Tiger pugmarks.” I leaned over the side of the jeep. There were, indeed, huge footprints, much akin to that of a dog’s enlarged tremendously. I took my camera out and the click of the shutter seemed to resound through the jungle, probably scaring off any big cat in a 10-mile radius.

The mark of the elusive tiger...

“Basmati rice,” I heard Phillip say. To say that remark puzzled me is an understatement, but you don’t realize that then such outwordly things like that had no effect on me. Then, my attentions were solely on the undergrowth and the grass, hoping against all hope that a secret, an orange, large secret, striped with black, would be revealed.

 “Tiger pee,” came another perplexing remark. But with the next one, the murky depths of these strange words were all revealed, but the strangeness did not decrease to any extent whatsoever. “Tiger pee smells like cooking basmati rice.”

 Curiosity got the better of me and keeping a wary eye on the surrounding forest, I drew in a huge sniff. And indeed, along with the smell of the fresh grass and the trees and the unavoidable whiff of some creature’s poop, came an undeniable scent of basmati rice. But this just wasn’t any basmati rice. This was basmati rice’s smell exaggerated to an extreme. You almost wanted to gag.

“It’s close by,” whispered Phillip, excitement growing in his voice. “It’s here, somewhere.”

My heart sped up despite all efforts on my part. My full attention as lavished on the trees and the ground. Come on… come on… come on… I tried to imagine how the tiger would appear. Would it come striding out of the undergrowth like it owned the world? Or would we catch a glimpse of its face in a bush? Would it cross the road majestically? Would it…

My stock of would its ran out and reprimanding myself at my lapse of attention I looked again at the unyielding bush. What if I’d missed it as I meditated on its appearance, missing the appearance, as it were, by thinking about it too much? You could have cut the air with a knife. The ‘peew, peew, peew’ of the deer continued on and on, like suspense music. Added to it were the hoots of langurs, repeated over and over with growing intensity. A tree rustled. What was that? My frantically searching eyes turned sticks into legs, grass into faces.

Suddenly, along with the deer and the langurs, came another sound. It was a hoot, but not really a hoot, a growl, almost, but a hootish growl, if that makes any sense. It probably doesn’t make any sense.

“That’s the tiger!” Phillip’s careful whisper rose a little. “It roared!” I was a little mystified. Tigers don’t roar like that. In movies, in books, in comics, everywhere, tigers have earsplitting roars that echo everywhere. Not that thing that we just heard. Phillip rapped on the driver’s cabin, a signal to move. The engine started again, and the sound resounded through the forest. Slowly the deer’s calls ceased with the langurs.

“It’s not here any more,” Phillip said loudly over the sound of the jeep splashing through puddles. “The roar was far away. The deer caught the scent of it, that’s why.”

Slowly my heart slowed down, overwhelmed with disappointment. We had missed the tiger. But, as I thought with a shiver of the sheer excitement of waiting and listening and watching and smelling basmati rice, I had gained an experience.

Have you ever seen a big cat? Or gotten close? Tell us about it in the comments, or, if you have a tale to tell, mail it to amazinganimalssociety@gmail.com!

The Glasswing Butterfly

Pawsome Scribbles: Thanks Natalie!

Another prominent thumbing to the Blobfish for disregarding preparation of Pawsome Scribbles, but a big high-five to Natalie for producing the first ever guest Pawsome Scribbles! Which follows...

According to her, this was something she did hastily, according to me, this is completely PAWSOME!!! (ha ha ha ha? Oh, forget it.) Though there is the fact that I have no idea what bird this is, unless it's a new type- the Natalie Bird, perhaps? Natalius birdinus... So, thanks Natalie, and to all invisible people in cyberspace out there, your contributions are welcomed too!
(Also, guest posts if you're not the drawing type.)

I Can't Think of a Good Title but Read It Anyway!

Sighs rolled out of the gate as the jeep’s wheels did.

“We just missed it! I mean, we could smell it. Smell it! We knew it was there…” exclaimed someone.

“Oh, why did we turn left instead of right? I knew we shouldn’t have left that area.” I lamented.

“Just missed it! The tiger!” reiterated another person.

Slowly our grumbles ceased but an audible sigh could be heard from time to time. The jeep had stopped just out of the gate, as one of Phillip’s friends had called him over for a chat. Had they seen it? I directed a stream of silent jealousy, veiled as animosity, at them. Just missed it… Why, oh why, was my luck so terrible?

 “Again, huh?” I said, leaning forward to chat with Sam, the assistant. She had missed a tiger before, too, having heard the alarm calls of the deer and actually finding a dead deer before being called out of the park as it was closing time.

“Yeah, again. And we were pretty close, too!” she said. Disappointment tinged both our voices. I turned back to look at the forest we had just left. What if, by some miracle, right at the forest’s end, it came striding out? I laughed at myself. I hoped too much. What if… there was no point in playing the ‘what if’ game now. It would only increase my disappointment.

There wasn’t much of a chance in seeing a big cat tomorrow, in the last safari, either. Phillip’s streak of seeing a big cat every time in Kabini would be broken, and luck would have its way. Oh, cruel Fate! Why did you tease me so? But this was no time to break into poetry- I had better concentrate on clicking some birds so I had at least something to show for this drive. We had just been concentrating on tigers and leopards and hadn’t stopped for any birds, or anything else, for that matter. Not that we had seen anything else. No mongoose, or gaur, or sambar (a type of deer). Just endless herds of chitol (Indian Spotted Deer) and birds.

Suddenly Phillip came sprinting back from his friends. “Start the jeep! Quick!” he cried, and ran to the forest official’s office/hut for something. The driver reversed back into the park, and turned around, just as Phillip came sprinting back. The car was moving when he jumped in. “Might be a false alarm, but we have to try. Hold on tight, switch on your cameras, and take off your hats. We need to go at full speed!” My heart leapt. Tiger? Leopard?

I started to remove my hat when the jeep started moving. Fast. Gripping onto the seat in front of me, I sat on the hat and looked around. The excitement was obvious on everyone’s face. Hair was flung back in the wind that raced past us, so deliciously cool. I opened my mouth wide, ready to scream but didn’t for fear of scaring it, whatever it was, away. My heart beat fast and I looked around at everything, at everyone. What was it? What would it be? Tiger? Leopard? Please, God, please… The wind continued moving, moving, moving, buffeting us back and forth as the jeep raced at full speed over every pothole and puddle.

Suddenly the jeep shuddered to a halt, and we were thrown back. A group of jeeps like ours and buses were all gathered around an area, blatantly disregarding the rule of being 30 meters apart when looking at wildlife. “I can see it!” said Phillip excitedly. “It’s on a tree, leopard!”

My heart rate rose. “Where? Where?” I asked, my eyes as usually blinded when important things were happening. Someone pointed. I looked. I stared.

There, on a forked tree without leaves that was probably destroyed by lightning lounged a leopard. It was magnificent. Feet hanging over the edge and tail hanging down, eyes closed, silky gold fur iridescent, it was just sheer beauty. I got my camera out and zoomed in. Everything was silent but for the birds and the clicking of cameras. It yawned, canines bared, and a flurry of clicking arose. I just kept looking at it, then at the camera, awed by it. My finger didn’t move off the shutter button. This was amazing. It needed to be recorded. This was a leopard, right there, about 30-50 meters away, huge, resplendent in its glory. This was it. This was a big cat. This was the big cat. I thought of what it made of all these people looking at it with strange blank devices and strange concentrated expressions, and chuckled to myself. But it didn’t really seem to be bothered. Perhaps it was used to it, or just too tired or sleepy. Slowly it turned its head towards us and quickly I clicked, clicked, clicked. I had never seen anything like it before. Nothing at all.

Even as the jeep rumbled away from the leopard, still resting on the tree, I couldn’t take my eyes off it, or stop thinking of it. It was just amazing.

If you've got a tale of an animal you saw, or an amazing behavior you experienced, tell us about it in the comments, or mail it to amazinganimalssociety@gmail.com!

The Glasswing Butterfly

THE GLASSWING BUTTERFLY IS A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!

First of all, a prominent thumbing to the Blobfish. With her usual lack of planning, he hasn't bothered to prepare anything before she left on vacation. So, don't expect any Pawsome Scribbles for quite a couple of weeks. Unless I move my butt and draw something, which is highly unlikely and will most probably not even be worth looking at. And onto my second piece of news:
I'M A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!
Happy happy happy happy happy happy dance!
Remember that very slightly hyperactive piece I wrote about the Common Birdwing earlier? I emailed someone at the Nature Society Singapore's Butterfly Interest Group about it and he asked me to write about it for the NSS newsletter... so I did. The Common Birdwing is a new location record in the area: Oh my god! Almost a month later, and as many emails, it's finally in the newsletter! Squee! Here's the link for all those that want to appreciate how awesome I am...
http://nss.org.sg/newsletter/1046d612-aNN%20Jul-Aug%202013.pdf
Also, I recently visited the Nagarhole Tiger Reserve so you do not have my permission to be bored at the prominently big-cat themed posts that will follow in a couple days.

The Glasswing Butterfly, Published Author (:D)

The Horticultural Gardens: Lepidoptera Philes

The Horticultural Gardens, to my knowledge, are usually not washing rooms. But it seems like people in Calcutta hadn’t got the message. The entrance to the gardens was covered in saris laid out to dry and in the distance, I think I saw people wringing out clothes. Trying to ignore the fact that this garden, despite being a public facility, was being treated like a private one, I walked on, eyes peeled for: you guessed it, butterflies. Despite flowers lining the paths and everything being very green not even the tiniest Lesser Grass Blue was in sight. Just need to get a little inside, I reassured myself, not very convincingly.

 “Come, let’s look at the bonsais!” called my aunt. I followed her like a good little niece. The bonsais weren’t overgrown, which showed evidence of maintenance, or of buying a new one every time it grew too high, and here I saw a couple of lepidoteras darting back and forth. None of which, of course, paid me the courtesy of settling. So impolite! Were they not aware that the Glasswing Butterfly, completely unknown blogger and lepidopteraphile, was passing by?

Emerging out of the little circuit lined with bonsais, my opinion of the garden still wasn’t very high. Sure, there were a lot of flowers. Sure, at least there was a garden. But in my mind, NO GARDEN IS COMPLETE WITHOUT A HEALTHY DOSE OF BUTTERFLIES! Keep that in mind, folks, unless I pay a visit to your garden and blog about it. And also, I just wasn’t getting why there weren’t any butterflies. Not much human interference… check. The place was deserted it, a far cry from Singapore’s botanic gardens. Flowers… check. Maintenance (as in lack thereof, since high maintenance will almost certainly kill caterpillars and cocoons)… huge check. Everything was overgrown. Apart from a few branches tied up, there was no evidence of gardeners at all. It was like we had stepped into the Secret Garden, minus the little robin and all the other birds. Here, all you could here was crows caw-caw-cawing.

Then a miracle happened. A butterfly settled. (Cue heavenly music and trumpets.) I rushed over and snapped. It was new to me, most probably a type of Glassy Tiger, and I was just so overcome with relief that a) butterflies actually settled and b) I could identify one. I turned back to my mother and aunt with a big smile, for the moment forgetting the fact that I was probably in the worst Horticultural Garden in the world.

            

The Other Side of the Fence, Part 1: Lepidoptera Philes

It was twilight, the hour of mystery, the time not here nor there. I was coming home, as one does, not really wanting to spend the night hungry and cold outside when I saw the other side of the fence.

What did you say? Hadn’t I seen it before?

Course I’d seen it before! As in “seen” it, a quick glance and then done. I hadn’t really noticed it. But now I did. The trees loomed above me in the darkness. Wait- what had moved? Some bird-of-paradise flowers lurked cheerfully at the edge, a bit like the Lotus Eaters. As in, luring you in, granting you pleasure, and then devouring you whole. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. What secrets hid in here? Rare butterflies? New birds? Something flew across my line of vision. What had that been? Perhaps something altogether never discovered before. I shivered pleasantly. Oh, mystery abounded there. It was already fixed in my mind that should I only go there, surprises would be rife. Doubt had been marched off to the dungeons with a life sentence and a thousand armed guards.

I went home already planning my next ‘expedition’.

I ignored the strange looks we were getting from construction workers as the Blobfish and I peered at a seedpod on the road. It was quite large and peppered with tiny seeds. I was contemplating how these seeds would be dispersed. The Blobfish only seemed to see the potential here for a maraca. I walked off, quite determinedly not looking at the Blobfish’s quite frankly childish efforts to make a rattle. The Blobfish ran up to me. “Oh, all right.”

Suddenly I stopped. We were here. The other side of the fence. Why was there no dramatic music playing?

The Blobfish, of course, paid no attention to the drama of the occasion and had run off after a Chocolate Pansy. A Chocolate Pansy! Really! Only one of the most common butterflies in existence. I walked on more sedately, occasionally pointing out some more common butterflies to the Blobfish. My camera hung limp around my neck. There was nothing interesting- yet.

Suddenly a cry alerted my senses. The Blobfish pointed to a tree next to me. She was on the other side of it. ‘Lizard,’ she mouthed.

The lizard in itself had noticed the Blobfish’s presence and had swiftly scurried around the side of the tree, away from this intruder to its peaceful sunbathing. Unfortunately for it, it scurried right to another intruder: me. I tried to remain as still as possible while my finger quickly depressed the shutter button but soon enough it noticed me and scurried back over- to the Blobfish. Almost like a game of catch, it went round and round the tree, surrounded by strange people that seemed determined on not letting him sunbathe. Finally, with a visible gasp of annoyance, the lizard scurried up the tree, into the crown of leaves, out of our sight. I looked at the Blobfish and shrugged. There would be other creatures. 

The Glasswing Butterfly

FOLLOW THE BLOG FOR THE NEXT PART OF THE ‘EPIC’ SERIAL DRAMA:

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE, part 2

WHAT WILL THE GLASSWING BUTTERFLY AND THE BLOBFISH FACE NEXT?