Animal Conversations - Is it Spring Yet?

​​“Well you really can’t complain,” Mr. Whiskers said sagely as he backed further into his hollow log. “This is what we have our fur for.”
A slightly miffed peep from the entry to his den caught his attention and Mr. Whiskers opened one eye to glance at Mrs. Skye.
“And our feathers,” he said apologetically.
Mrs. Skye fluffed out her feathers and settled back down into the dry patch in the entry of his den. Mr. Whiskers stared out at the unseasonably late snow and sighed as he curled back up and tucked his nose under his bushy tail. No, there was no reason to complain. But it was supposed to be spring. 

Desolation:  noun a state of complete emptiness or destruction
Be the genera fantasy or science fiction, desolation is a popular theme and idea in writing. Some stories start in a desolate place, some stories end there.
What is your favorite desolate place in fiction? 

​Humans are Weird IRL 2 - Raptors!

Under an ominous and cloudy sky the small heard of botanists work industriously at their task. This water soaked hillside is infested with dandelions and the invaders must be eliminated as much as possible. There is a grim undertone to the task. In the tightly packed, root bound soil it is near impossible to get the entire tap root out and most of the ones that they pull will sprout again soon enough. This will be a long battle. The mist drifts ominously through the dense conifer forest that surrounds them, hiding anything that might be approaching. Also it is raining and cold.
No one notices when one botanist breaks from the herd and wanders off into the dense forest. They do notice when a Speilbergian velociraptor shriek echoes through the woods. Gone is a collective half century of natural history. Sheer nerd panic rips through the herd and they stager to their knees, trowels raised to defend or throw. It doesn’t matter that every dromaeosaurid is well and thoroughly extinct. It doesn’t matter that these cold northern forests are far too cold to support such large reptiles.
No, the nightmare of their childhood has screamed its battle call from the depths of the forest and they are prepared to fight! No getting dragged off to be raptor food for them.
The missing botanist stumbles out of the forest giggling with far less dignity than a man of nearly three decades should possess and the rest of the crew proceeds to skewer him with murderous looks and the sheer absurdity of the panic that fuels their still pounding hearts sets in.
“You nearly got a dozen trowels thrown at you,” another points out. “I would have had to report the stupidest injury ever to the supervisor!”
“Worth it,” the unrepentant ‘raptor’ replies, bending back to his task.
Torn between shame and amusement the others follow suit. 

Last year's cones contrast beautifully with the burnt out husks of trees. This can offer wonderful photographic opportunities, if not much in the way of writing inspiration. Maybe it will inspire someone else? 

One wonders why things get their names. This perfectly respectable flower that looks like the peel of an aging banana is named the Chocolate Lilly (Fritillaria biflora). It neither looks nor smells like chocolate. 
What do you think it should be named? 

Some pinecones have prickles that poke you when you pick them up. So you should be careful when make forest centerpieces. 

Hey! Human with the camera! Is it spring yet? Give a pocket gopher a break here!

Human observer: "They are just as cute as their name would suggest!" 

Composite: noun   A substance made of two or more materials
 
In science fiction composite are the materials of the future. Nothing says ‘advanced alien species’ like the human scientist saying in awed confusion – “It is some sort of composite of completely unknown materials.” 

Humans are Weird – IRL


“Hey!” I shout across the road at the tight cluster of my coworkers, brilliant and reflective in their hi-vis vests.
Three university graduates kneel on the roadside, uniforms crisp and heads bent seriously over very important work. They are communing with nature at the same time that they summon the combined power of the space and information ages. Thus do they gather scientific data points that will flow together with thousands of others in a river of information that may well alter the course of nations. Very Important Work. I can tell the watching tourists are duly impressed by how they stand in hushed attention. My coworkers look up at my shout, crisply professional, instantly alert to any critical information I might add to the situation.
“You all look like Technicolor prairie dogs!” I shout loud enough for the tourists to hear.
Instantly, and as one, they straighten their backs and stick out their front teeth. Their hands come up like little paws in front of their yellow and orange chests and their heads swivel to catch sight of imaginary predators, faces tense with comical alertness. The tourists howl with laughter and I drive away my work done. Very Important Work indeed. 

There are beautiful patterns all through nature. When writing a setting it is a good idea to find a location as near as possible to the one you are writing and just immersing yourself in it. What does the air smell like? What patterns does the detritus form on the ground? How does the light play over the surfaces? 
Pay attention.