Well this WIIW image really stymied people first time round.
Following my clues we had a second round of guesses,
I have to give Jennifer part marks, it is colourful, there is a wing in the image. But alas it is not a parrot, and there is no rock in sight.
Anne and Kathy guessed an eye. I can so see that! If I didn’t know what it was I would be with you and guessing eye too.
Dawn was more restrained this time, which kind of takes some of the fun out of it all :-)
Alas she was still wrong it isn’t a plant (although there is some plant in the whole piccie).
Which brings us to… drum-roll please…
Carolyn V’s guess of “butterfly”
Well done Carolyn you’ve nailed it!
This fellow is a Cairns Birdwing Butterfly (Ornithoptera euphorion)
It is my piccie, but it was an easy capture. I snapped it in the Butterfly House here in Melbourne. He is an Oz native, but not from this neck of the woods. The Cairns Birdwing is from the rainforests in Australia’s tropical north, 2900 km (1800 miles) away from here. At 15 cm (6 inches) across they are the largest butterfly in Oz .
Showing posts with label Butterfly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Butterfly. Show all posts
Friday, June 1, 2012
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sunday Rambles.
I am going to talk about the trip Deb and I had yesterday.
We drove up into the ranges overlooking Warburton.
For a little while I wandered around taking piccies like this flower filled field.
My isn’t that an alliterative sentence :-)
The flowers were nothing special, just happy looking dandelions.Dandelions are incidentally an introduced weed in Oz.
Sipping the nectar from the flowers were these handsome but tiny butterflies (or moths). Their antennae say “butterfly” but the way they hold their wings says “moth”.
I don’t know what they are but I think they are quite attractive.
I didn’t take many photos because we settled in the shade. Deb read her kindle book (she is reading the Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest at the moment) and I worked on my WIP.
Speaking of my WIP, here is the next instalment of Valentina’s story. Many of you have begun to suspect there is something ‘not quite right’ about Penelope.
Valentina has begun to wonder too…
Valentina Meshcova
Berlin 1948
Guns are a soldier's tool of trade. Even a glorified medic running an orphanage was issued with a gun in Berlin.
Mine usually stayed in an old safe in the orphanage office. But the next time I saw Penelope I brought it with me, an awkward heavy lump in my bag. Her blithe suggestion that maybe she reminded me of someone had set wheels turning in my mind.
Wheels that should have been ticking weeks before. The story they had ground out was not one that I liked.
We met at the canteen again. As usual we talked about nothing much, what we had done in the day, how Natasha was doing at school.
Trivialities, maybe that was what I liked about her, pleasant company with no complications.
No complications except one, who was she?
What was she?
With her beauty and her apparently privileged lifestyle I had assumed she was a 'Campaign Wife'.
I had accepted she was shy about her life given that situation. But that was not enough any longer I needed to be sure now, needed to protect myself.
When she left the canteen I followed. It was one of those cold grey afternoons that are so typical of Berlin where the day merges into night without a firm boundary. She pulled the collar of her coat up against the wind as she strolled along the street.
I was no spy. I had little idea of how to go about following somebody.
I stayed close enough to keep in sight of her and far enough that I hoped I had some chance she might not see me.
At first she sauntered along as if she had not a care in the world. Her path seemed strange, aimless as if she was walking with no destination in mind.
I did not realise quite how but at some point she realised she was being followed. Her pace picked up, now she was not wandering aimlessly. I had to move quickly to keep up.
It was almost at the same time as I realised she had led me into the west of the city, that I guessed I was being followed too.
A man in shabby grey overalls was sticking to me as I was to her.
We snaked through semi ruined city streets, around one bomb site after another. Close packed buildings and narrow alleys. A train of followed and followers.
Being followed threw me. Was it some associate of Penelope's. Did she have associates? If she did wasn’t that as bad as it could be?
Or was I behaving so strangely I had attracted the attention of my terror the NKVD?
I shouldn’t have been in the British zone out of uniform at all. A British patrol would be in its rights to arrest me. I looked back, a second man had joined the first. What should I do? Give up? Keep following? Catch up and confront her?
An agony of indecision gripped me. Nothing in my experience helped me decide what to do.
Indecision turned to anger, she had lied to me. She was not what she seemed, the reason mystified me but she was playing games with me. Dangerous games.
Without warning, Penelope broke into a run. An awkward run in dress shoes and good clothes, but a run.
Without thinking I sprinted after her. She clattered around a corner into a narrow lane way overhung with bomb damaged buildings.
The clatter of hob-nailed boots broke the air behind me, it seemed I was pursued as well.
Penelope darted under an arch between two heavy timber doors as I rounded the corner. Half elated by the chase, half terrified of the men behind me and not thinking at all I dashed after her through the doorway.
Into an empty garage or workshop. Penelope leapt through a door at the other side, without glancing back she slammed it behind her. I bounded across the space and heaved at the handle. Bolted. I spun to face the men following me.
A gun, I had a gun. I fumbled in my bag for my pistol, with a hollow boom the double doors banged closed.
I was shut in the dark.
We drove up into the ranges overlooking Warburton.
For a little while I wandered around taking piccies like this flower filled field.
My isn’t that an alliterative sentence :-)
The flowers were nothing special, just happy looking dandelions.Dandelions are incidentally an introduced weed in Oz.
Sipping the nectar from the flowers were these handsome but tiny butterflies (or moths). Their antennae say “butterfly” but the way they hold their wings says “moth”.
I don’t know what they are but I think they are quite attractive.
I didn’t take many photos because we settled in the shade. Deb read her kindle book (she is reading the Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest at the moment) and I worked on my WIP.
Speaking of my WIP, here is the next instalment of Valentina’s story. Many of you have begun to suspect there is something ‘not quite right’ about Penelope.
Valentina has begun to wonder too…
Valentina Meshcova
Berlin 1948
Guns are a soldier's tool of trade. Even a glorified medic running an orphanage was issued with a gun in Berlin.
Mine usually stayed in an old safe in the orphanage office. But the next time I saw Penelope I brought it with me, an awkward heavy lump in my bag. Her blithe suggestion that maybe she reminded me of someone had set wheels turning in my mind.
Wheels that should have been ticking weeks before. The story they had ground out was not one that I liked.
We met at the canteen again. As usual we talked about nothing much, what we had done in the day, how Natasha was doing at school.
Trivialities, maybe that was what I liked about her, pleasant company with no complications.
No complications except one, who was she?
What was she?
With her beauty and her apparently privileged lifestyle I had assumed she was a 'Campaign Wife'.
I had accepted she was shy about her life given that situation. But that was not enough any longer I needed to be sure now, needed to protect myself.
When she left the canteen I followed. It was one of those cold grey afternoons that are so typical of Berlin where the day merges into night without a firm boundary. She pulled the collar of her coat up against the wind as she strolled along the street.
I was no spy. I had little idea of how to go about following somebody.
I stayed close enough to keep in sight of her and far enough that I hoped I had some chance she might not see me.
At first she sauntered along as if she had not a care in the world. Her path seemed strange, aimless as if she was walking with no destination in mind.
I did not realise quite how but at some point she realised she was being followed. Her pace picked up, now she was not wandering aimlessly. I had to move quickly to keep up.
It was almost at the same time as I realised she had led me into the west of the city, that I guessed I was being followed too.
A man in shabby grey overalls was sticking to me as I was to her.
We snaked through semi ruined city streets, around one bomb site after another. Close packed buildings and narrow alleys. A train of followed and followers.
Being followed threw me. Was it some associate of Penelope's. Did she have associates? If she did wasn’t that as bad as it could be?
Or was I behaving so strangely I had attracted the attention of my terror the NKVD?
I shouldn’t have been in the British zone out of uniform at all. A British patrol would be in its rights to arrest me. I looked back, a second man had joined the first. What should I do? Give up? Keep following? Catch up and confront her?
An agony of indecision gripped me. Nothing in my experience helped me decide what to do.
Indecision turned to anger, she had lied to me. She was not what she seemed, the reason mystified me but she was playing games with me. Dangerous games.
Without warning, Penelope broke into a run. An awkward run in dress shoes and good clothes, but a run.
Without thinking I sprinted after her. She clattered around a corner into a narrow lane way overhung with bomb damaged buildings.
The clatter of hob-nailed boots broke the air behind me, it seemed I was pursued as well.
Penelope darted under an arch between two heavy timber doors as I rounded the corner. Half elated by the chase, half terrified of the men behind me and not thinking at all I dashed after her through the doorway.
Into an empty garage or workshop. Penelope leapt through a door at the other side, without glancing back she slammed it behind her. I bounded across the space and heaved at the handle. Bolted. I spun to face the men following me.
A gun, I had a gun. I fumbled in my bag for my pistol, with a hollow boom the double doors banged closed.
I was shut in the dark.
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Cuteness Factor
Well I promised a post on “The Cuteness Factor” so here you go.
As I said in my last post (before getting distracted) Mon, my sister-in-law and her family came down from Queensland to visit us last weekend.
Well on Sunday we took them out to one of our favourite haunts, the upper Yarra Valley. The river was beautiful in the summer sun.On Monday we took the little girls (and their parents) to the zoo.
I always have mixed feelings about zoos: I find the plight of wild animals caged quite disheartening; but the children love to see the animals and, I must admit, so do I.
Also, I tell myself that modern zoos play a significant part in conservation of endangered species. This has certainly been the case with some small Australian species brought back from the brink with captive breeding programs, followed by wild release into national parks.
Melbourne Zoo has been undergoing renovation and upgrading for some time. One of the newer features has been the placing of various sculptures, that can only be described as kitsch, around the zoo.
One side benefit of these items is that small children seem to be quite as fascinated by these object d’art as by the real animals.
Meet the nieces: Mon’s “big girl” Kiele uses an elephant sculpture’s trunk as a window.See, I told you, cuteness factor in buckets.
This is Kennedy, Mon’s precocious not quite one year old.
As you can see, she is riding a “crocodile”.
Because the girls are so young we didn’t see the whole zoo.
But these were some of their favourites.
The giraffes.The butterfly house.
Here Kennedy stares intently through the rails at one of the butterflies.
Australian fur seals.In recent decades these seals have been absolutely protected under Australian law.
The seals in the zoo here were all rescued either injured or as orphaned youngsters. According to the keeper this female was found as a pup on a dairy farm in the southwest of the state. She was miles from the sea and starving. Raised in captivity she was released but she wouldn’t leave the area she was released in and kept approaching people begging to be “rescued” again. In the end when it was obvious she was not going to make it on her own she was returned to the zoo.
And last but not least Fairy Penguins. Also known as Little or Blue penguins these guys are very common around Australia’s southern coasts.
As I posted once before during daylight hours they fish out at sea, then at night they come ashore to burrows where they raise their chicks. I have seen these guys in the wild, but only resting in their burrows.
There is quite a tourist industry built around them at a place called Phillip Island people watch them come ashore after dark.
Then when the girls had enough it was time to head for home.
Kennedy peers back from her dad’s arms, by the time I took this photo she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.Tired but cute!
As I said in my last post (before getting distracted) Mon, my sister-in-law and her family came down from Queensland to visit us last weekend.
Well on Sunday we took them out to one of our favourite haunts, the upper Yarra Valley. The river was beautiful in the summer sun.On Monday we took the little girls (and their parents) to the zoo.
I always have mixed feelings about zoos: I find the plight of wild animals caged quite disheartening; but the children love to see the animals and, I must admit, so do I.
Also, I tell myself that modern zoos play a significant part in conservation of endangered species. This has certainly been the case with some small Australian species brought back from the brink with captive breeding programs, followed by wild release into national parks.
Melbourne Zoo has been undergoing renovation and upgrading for some time. One of the newer features has been the placing of various sculptures, that can only be described as kitsch, around the zoo.
One side benefit of these items is that small children seem to be quite as fascinated by these object d’art as by the real animals.
Meet the nieces: Mon’s “big girl” Kiele uses an elephant sculpture’s trunk as a window.See, I told you, cuteness factor in buckets.
This is Kennedy, Mon’s precocious not quite one year old.
As you can see, she is riding a “crocodile”.
Because the girls are so young we didn’t see the whole zoo.
But these were some of their favourites.
The giraffes.The butterfly house.
Here Kennedy stares intently through the rails at one of the butterflies.
Australian fur seals.In recent decades these seals have been absolutely protected under Australian law.
The seals in the zoo here were all rescued either injured or as orphaned youngsters. According to the keeper this female was found as a pup on a dairy farm in the southwest of the state. She was miles from the sea and starving. Raised in captivity she was released but she wouldn’t leave the area she was released in and kept approaching people begging to be “rescued” again. In the end when it was obvious she was not going to make it on her own she was returned to the zoo.
And last but not least Fairy Penguins. Also known as Little or Blue penguins these guys are very common around Australia’s southern coasts.
As I posted once before during daylight hours they fish out at sea, then at night they come ashore to burrows where they raise their chicks. I have seen these guys in the wild, but only resting in their burrows.
There is quite a tourist industry built around them at a place called Phillip Island people watch them come ashore after dark.
Then when the girls had enough it was time to head for home.
Kennedy peers back from her dad’s arms, by the time I took this photo she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.Tired but cute!
Labels:
Australia,
Butterfly,
Cute,
Fairy Penguins,
Family,
Giraffe,
Melbourne Zoo,
Photography
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