intriguing thesis, but i think herons cause more existential horror
Herons are the hippopotamus of birds
i agree. hippopotamus cause existential horror and aren’t usually considered beautiful or graceful in the same way horses and swans are. it’s the combination of perceived grace and grim reality that makes a horse
My all time favorite animal.
The red-bearded vulture.
The bearded vulture, or lammergeier, lives on a steady diet of bones (more specifically the marrow) and dyes its own feathers blood red.
Bearded vultures come in various shades, from pure white to orange-red. Soils stained with iron oxide give the birds their fiery appearance. Lammergeiers apply the dirt with their claws and then preen for about an hour to ensure a bright orange/red glow. They are also attracted to other red things, like leaves and red wood. Captive birds also partake in this behavior, which suggests the activity is instinctual, not learned.
The soil doesn’t have any practical purposes; it certainly doesn’t make for good camouflage (though the birds have no natural predators anyway). Scientists have noticed that the birds’ age and size are directly correlated to the intensity of color. It is theorized that the hue is a status symbol. More soiled feathers indicates that the lammergeier had the time and resources to find an adequate place to bathe; the brightest-colored vultures should have the most territory and knowledge of their surroundings. Interestingly, these baths are done in secret, so most of the information gathered has been through spying on captive birds.
Bearded Vultures are most commonly monogamous, and breed once a year. Sometimes, especially in certain areas of Spain and France, bachelor lammergeiers will join a pre-existing couple to create a polyandrous trio. Females accept secondary mates because it increases the chances of producing offspring and doubles her protection. The birds usually don’t lay more than three eggs, so they can use all the help they can get.
These giant birds can grow up to 4 feet tall. They have a wingspan between 7 and 9 feet and usually weigh around 10 to 15 pounds.
In other words, this bird is awesome and I love it forever.
This is it. This is the moment I have found my patronus. I love these vain fluff faces forever.
HE IS SMOOCHING THE DEATHMUPPET!!! I’m so jealous!
a dinosaur
A skeksis.
“Dinosaurs with feathers aren’t scaaaaary.”
Listen if this thing was after me with the intent to have me for dinner I’d be running faster then The Flash on speed.
Researchers have argued that pointy eggs are common to cliff-nesting
birds because they roll in a circle and are less likely to tumble off an
edge. Or that asymmetric eggs pack together more easily and would allow
females with large clutches to incubate their broods efficiently. Or
that spherical eggs are stronger and less prone to breaking, or use the
least amount of shell for a given volume, which would be useful for
birds that can’t get enough calcium in their diet.
“There are a
lot of hypotheses, but no conclusive explanation or theory,” says
Stoddard, who’s an evolutionary biologist based at Princeton University.
“It was a good puzzle.”
To solve it, Stoddard teamed up with L. Mahadevan,
a biophysicist at Harvard University who has studied “how leaves
ripple, how tendrils coil, and how the brain folds, among other things.”
He realized that all eggs could be described according to two simple
characteristics—how asymmetric they are, and how elliptical they are.
Measure these traits, and you can plot every bird egg on a simple graph.
They did that for the eggs of 1,400 bird species, whose measurements
Stoddard extracted from almost 50,000 photos. It was the resulting graph
that revealed the left-field nature of chicken eggs.
everyone knows dragons aren’t real. any scientist will tell you that tales of giant flying beasts wreaking havoc from the sky is a total made up myth for little babies and also it’s not true.
but today, I’m going to let you in on a little secret:
scientists can be liars sometimes.
welcome to an all-new episode of Weird Biology and today, you are going to learn about a fucking dragon.
FIRE AND BLOOD! FIRE AND BLOOD! FIRE AND BLOOD!
even though it looks like a creature straight out of medieval myth, the Bearded Vulture is (allegedly) a bird! also called the Lämmergeier or Ossifrage (both metal as shit but difficult to pronounce), the Bearded Vulture can be found in mountain ranges across Europe and Asia.
but before we get much further, I need to give you a proper sense of scale. Bearded Vultures
have wingspans of up to nine feet, weigh up to 17 pounds and can be almost four feet tall.
this fucking thing is at eye-level to a third grader.
like 8-year-olds don’t have enough problems already. jesus.
and not only are they fucking huge, they’re they’re also smart. like, crows are smart, right? imagine a four foot tall crow with knives for feet, the face of a velociraptor and a sheer delight in anarchy. that’s the Bearded Vulture.
Bearded Vultures have complex social structures and advanced personal relations, but their intelligence shines best in the way they hunt.
yes, hunt. most vultures on the planet will only deign to eat things that have already died on their own, but the Bearded Vulture will sometimes… cut out the middleman. so to speak.
and then they eat him.
unlike other birds of prey, Bearded Vultures don’t rely on their claws to get a meal. instead, they have adopted a much more efficient and game-breaking method.
imagine you’re hiking alone through the mountains when suddenly HOLY SHIT a feathery dragon swoops out of nowhere and knocks you right the fuck off a cliff to your tragic and untimely death. it sounds like something from a Game of Thrones episode, but this regularly happens to tortoises, goats, and and in one really strange instance a monitor lizard.
nobody ever said nature was nice.
after the prey has met its doom via physics engine abuse, the Bearded Vulture swoops down for a meal and is promptly sued by George R. R. Martin for copyright violation.
(ha ha! this was a joke! a funny joke! PLEASE DO NOT SUE ME, MR. MARTIN!)
seriously though, one of the most interesting and alarming aspects of the Bearded Vulture (out of many, so many) is their diet. once they have either found or “helped make” a carcass, they get down to business: they eat the bones, and only the bones.
that’s probably the most metal fact I’ve ever listed about a bird and I have listed a LOT of bird facts.
it’s right there in the name, “Ossifrage”, which means “bone-breaker”. (and that’s the SECOND most metal fact I’ve ever listed about a bird, by the way.)
Bearded Vultures are the only bird whose diet is almost exclusively bones. like, we’re talking 85%-90% here. it’s a very high number.
they swallow smaller bones whole, and crack the larger ones open by abusing physics again and flinging them off cliffs. it’s worth all that effort for the sweet sweet bone marrow hidden inside.
probably means they never have to worry about calcium deficiencies, either.
but most importantly, it means that Bearded Vultures have little to no direct competition! this cool bone-eating trick means that they’re the only predators in the area even interested in the stupid things. every other scavenger only wants the soft parts, meager fools that they are.
the only thing that a Bearded Vulture really needs to worry about is other Bearded Vultures. (and humans, but more on that later.) to ward other vultures off, they rub red dirt into their feathers and perform elaborate threat displays. the deeper and more visceral the red, the higher-status the vulture.
you can experience this effect yourself! simply dunk yourself in stage blood and then board your nearest public transportation device. the best seat is instantly yours! provided that nobody else is bloodier than you.
but all of this ridiculous dragon bullshit comes with a price.
in the middle ages, humans in europe were convinced that Bearded Vultures would: a) eat their sheep, and b) carry off and eat small children. (they were right about the sheep thing, to be fair.)
but because of these beliefs, frightened parents hunted down and slaughtered Bearded Vultures wherever they found them. and it turns out even an avian dragon is no match for projectile weapons.
the Bearded Vulture population in the Alps was completely wiped out by the 18th century.
nothing motivates multiple generations of a human population like “THIS THING WILL EAT MY CHILDREN”.
but there is good news! Bearded Vultures are much more appreciated these days, and they have been successfully reintroduced to the Alps. they’re still going strong in the Himalayas, and also Ethiopia.
let’s hope these real-world dragons stick around and terrorize future generations of humans with their blood red feathers and horrific table manners.
FIRE AND BLOOD! FIRE AND BLOOD! FIRE AND BLOOD!
–
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Okay, it’s official. I’ve found my favourite historical anecdote of all time.
So in ancient Rome they had this tradition where they had to consult the gods and check they had divine approval before they went into battle. They did this by bringing forth a flock of sacred chickens and throwing grain at them. Their behaviour would then determine whether or not the gods were on your side. If the hens didn’t eat or wouldn’t leave their cage, it was a Bad Omen and you had to postpone battle and ask again the next day. If the chickens ate happily it was a Good Omen and you could go and chop up some Gauls or Carthaginians or whoever you happened to be fighting.
Now, there are lots of little stories about these chickens, but I just found one I hadn’t seen before. In 137 BC, the consul C. Hostilius Mancinus tried to take auspices before battle, but:
the chickens once released from their cage fled into a nearby wood and even though they were sought with the greatest diligence, they could not be recovered.
Can you fucking believe that. Can you actually believe that happened. The Romans have a reputation for being so stern and sensible and stoic and that happened. Like… everyone’s ready for battle, so you turn to your assistant and say “BRING FORTH THE CHICKENS” and you throw down the grain and open up their cage and the chickens just. run. they fucking run. those tiny velociraptor bastards abscond screaming into the woods like there’s no tomorrow. Blinking in disbelief, you send soldiers into the woods to recover them but those feathered bandits are gone. Vanished. The gods have deserted you. You’re beating bushes and following the sounds of triumphant clucks. The soldiers are frantic. The chickens are gone.
He lost the battle. It was a Bad Omen.
That sounds like the ultimate Bad Omen like at that point you go home and start drawing up an armistice bc the gods told you to go fuck yourself with chickens
That’s… pretty much what happened. The chicken omen, along with a few other Bad Omens, resulted in:
infelici pugna, turpi foedere, deditione funesta
“a lost battle, a shameful peace treaty, and a calamitous handover.”
so yeah, he lost the battle and had to go home and sign an embarrassing peace treaty that the Romans complained about years later, and when they talk about him they curse him for his praecipitem audaciam – “reckless audacity” – and vesana perseverantia “insane obstinacy” because NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU’D LISTENED TO THE CHICKENS AND POSTPONED BATTLE LIKE THEY TOLD YOU.
Don’t forget naval commander Claudius Pulcher, whose sacred chickens refused to eat anything before the battle of Drepana. He tossed the chickens overboard, saying if they won’t eat, then let them drink, and went into battle where he promptly lost almost all of his ships and crew. I forget if he died or returned to Rome in disgrace, but it was a freaking disaster and the sacred chickens called it.
I’m not sure which phrase in this post is my favorite, “bring forth the chickens” or “this would have never happened if you listened to the chickens.”
What about Pulcher’s line: “Bibant, quoniam esse nolunt!” – They can drink if they won’t eat! – after which the sacred chooks went swimming.
I bet the spreading news of what he’d done ruined the morale of his entire fleet and went a long way towards why he lost the battle. Men who think their commander has offended the gods aren’t going to fight well on his behalf, in case the gods spread their offended wrath around. (If I remember my “Myths of Ancient Greece and Rome” correctly, the Olympian lot tended to do that a lot.)
AFAIK when Pulcher* returned to Rome in disgrace the Senate immediately tried him for impiety (a Senatorial message to the gods that they didn’t approve of him either) then banished him to exile where he died soon after.
Moral: don’t be horrid to the holy hens.
(*For the second time in this post, spell-checker wanted me to spell his name as “Pucker”. Appropriate, I suppose. Go figure.)
[Video of venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough standing amid vegetation. On a near-horizontal branch above his head is a brown and yellow greater bird of paradise, about the size of a crow, with big floaty yellow plumage puffing out along its back.]
Bird: Pwuk. Pwuk. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: This, surely – Bird (hopping along the branch): WUKWUKWUkwukwukwukoooh. Oooh. Oooh.
[Cut. Same shot.]
Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: This, surely, is one – Bird: Kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark kark. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: This, surely –
[Cut. Same shot but the bird is on the other side now and venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough has his hand on the branch.]
Bird (hopping up and down on venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough’s fingers): Eh-eh. Eh-eh. Eh-urrrr. Eh-urrrr. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: Close up – Bird (hopping away from him): Tiktiktiktik. Tiktiktiktik. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – the plumes – Bird (hopping around): Huek. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – are truly – Bird: Huek. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – exquisite. Bird: Huek. Eh-eh. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: The gauzy – Bird (hopping and spinning on the spot): HukWUKWUKWukwukoooh. Oooh. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: …
[Cut. Same shot but the bird is back on the original side of the branch.]
Bird: Aark. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: Of course, by the eighteenth century – Bird: Ehhh. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – naturalists realized that birds of paradise – Bird (hops across to the other side of the branch) Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – did have – Bird (hopping back again): Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – legs. Even so – Bird: WUKWUKWUKWukwukwukooh.
[Cut. Same shot.] Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough (apparently trying to tickle the bird’s tummy): – by about the eighteenth century – Bird (hops away and spins round) Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – and so – Bird: AAAAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK AAAK aaak. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough (wearily): … Very well.
[Cut. Same shot.]
Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – but Karl Linnaeus, the great – Bird (vibrating rapidly on the spot and then flapping its wings): PWAAAAAAAK. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – classifier of the natural world – Bird: AAAAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAAUUUH AAUUH. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – when he came to allocate a scientific name – Bird: … Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – to this bird – Bird: … Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – called it – Bird: Wooo-ooo. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – wooo-ooo – Bird (surveys the surroundings with a dignified turn of the head) Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: ‘paradisia apoda’: the bird of paradise – Bird: Hoooo. Venerable TV naturalist David Attenborough: – without legs. Bird: Eh-eh.
