Hello! My name is Morgan and I am a 21-year-old biology student who loves art. I'm very fond of dolphins, birds, and prehistoric things. Feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions. I hope you enjoy your stay! :)
On our last day in San Diego before heading up the coast to Anaheim and LA with did ‘Breakfast with Shamu’ and were lucky enough to have ‘the family’ in the pool. Before the interaction started Kalia, Nakai and Makani were playing and Makani was sliding up onto the slideouts and pool edges. I just sat down and turned around to see this adorable face staring back at me so I snapped a photo quickly through the glass. Orca, Makani - SeaWorld San Diego
Please do not re-post or remove the credit on this photo, thanks!
Here is planet Earth in one photo. Those eyes show the kinship of all living things. There is, literally, a line of unbroken ancestry, a physical chain of being that connects you, and me, and everyone who sees this photo to that bird and that fish, just as it connects them to each other by a common ancestor millions of years in the past.
They should be brothers, but they are at war. Just as we are at war with them, and with the whole Earth, and with the gods we see in her, and with each other, and with ourselves.
I’ve always wanted to paint pterosuars but knowing very little about them I bought the book Pterosaurs by M. P. Witton and following his skeletal reconstruction and life restorations, I decided to try my hand with the tapejarid “Huaxiapterus” benxiensis.
I was also greatly inspired by Julio-Lacerda’s works that are absolutely stunning (you can see them here: paleoart)
This was the last afternoon the brothers would spend together. Their adult plumage was almost completely grown in: just a few gray-green plumes hung from frames becoming sleek and iridescent with vibrant blues that almost shone in the sunlight.
The following day, the older one snapped at the younger. He whistled a territorial song—a tune that dipped low, then rose to end in three trill and angry notes—spread his arms and shook his great blue tail, fanning his feathers, trying to look as big and threatening as he could.
The younger one was confused, not ready to be chased away. He cocked his head and chirped, then dodged his older brother’s kicks. He moved a few paces away, and the brother glared at him, sang “lu-ohn-a-ree-ee-ee” again. The younger one paced, keeping a few body-lengths between them, but edged too near, and his older brother was jumping again, lashing out with long, skinny, barb-tipped legs, mouth wide, feathers puffed. They croaked and chittered and rolled through the undergrowth, as if being tossed by the wind, one brother trying to climb on his sibling, the other spinning to stay out from under him.
After this second attack, the younger one ran away—his brother scolding a few more territorial announcements behind him—and stopped only when he could no longer hear his brother. He inspected a scratch he’d received in the fight. Blood beaded between plumes. After nursing it, he looked around. The forest seemed larger than before.