Violet-tailed sylph and blue fairy wren
Since quite a few people seem to end up here after searching for 'the world's most beautiful birds', here are a couple who live up to their names:


Since quite a few people seem to end up here after searching for 'the world's most beautiful birds', here are a couple who live up to their names:


Beautiful ornithological works by John Gould, from a 1948 picture book.
On a rainy afternoon visit the Micropolitan Museum to find revealed the most amazing things:
Waterfleas and ghost shrimps


Algae


Forams - small marine creatures that build houses from chalk

Radiolaria - protozoa that create miniscule skeletons of glass


Very art deco diatoms

and ectoprots, which look as good as they sound:


Did you know that glowworms glow green and fireflies glow yellow? And both are beetles. Radio 4 has a fascinating little documentary about bioluminenscence and nature’s “lamp of love” – part of a series called Nature’s Magic, which also covers glowing jellyfish, electric rays and flies’ eyes. Listen again here. Thanks to Speechification for pointing the way to the BBC nature department’s impressive archive.

If you've always wanted to know what your name sounds like translated into nightingale language, this site gives you the chance. Via Metafilter.
In Birds as Individuals, which I've written about before here, Len Howard has made a careful study of the songs composed by the birds in her garden. In particular she hails the blackbird as an 'imaginative genius' for its compositions, and makes notations of the tunes:
Bullfinches are also talented composers:
And she even includes a diagram of the wood warbler's song:
It seems you can still buy Birds as Individuals, here.
This starling seems too articulate to be genuine, but apparently starlings can be big talkers: here is a website devoted to starling chat. Theirs sound a bit frightening to me, whispering endearments in a sinister way. Not sure I could live with that. The starlings outside our house just make a lot of electronic squeaks and squawks, possibly from being forced to listen to far too much bleepy music.
On the edge of Romney Marsh is Rye, which might seem like a twee tourist trap but is actually the epicentre of English eccentricity. It was fictionalised as Tilling in the Mapp and Lucia books by EF Benson when he was its mayor, and these days it's piled high with bric a brac - mainly bowler hats and croquet sets and other discarded trappings of Englishness - and populated with odd and garrulous characters. This book was found in a Rye bookshop, whose owner was full of information on inbreeding in the marsh and although she'd never been to nearby Dungeness, was very much looking forward to a trip round the nuclear power station one day soon.
It's an account of how the author befriended the birds around her Sussex cottage, and made a study of their psychology and individual characters. Her accounts of how blue tits and robins would fly up and communicate with her sound a bit mad, until you see the photos:
She describes an electrician coming to the cottage, and seeing the birds coming down to perch on her:
"His whole countenance seemed to alter, his face glowed, his eyes shone and he kept murmuring: 'How wonderful!' Then he said: 'But why shouldn't it be like that? It ought to be like that.'"
So it should. I plan to adjust my working methods to look more like this:
Actually it's a lemurine night monkey. They have 100 different calls and see in black and white. You can read more about their calls here, from the resonant whoop to the sneeze-grunt.
From Voyage autour du monde sur la fregate la Venus of 1840, at the NYPL, which is full of lovely pictures of more familiar creatures:
... are the best. See here for evidence: Old World Webworm, Scarce Vapourer, Rusty Dot Pearl, The Drinker, Pine-Tree Lappet, Small Dusty Wave, Bird Cherry Ermine, Small Argent and Sable, Sharp-Angled Carpet, Drab Looper, Beautiful Golden Y, Canary-shouldered Thorn, Three-humped Prominent, Rosy Footman, Heart & Dart, Neglected Rustic etc...
Above: Rannoch Brindled Beauty
Of all the peculiar creatures in Gaspar Schott's Physica Curiosa (found via Rashomon), I think this might be the strangest.
Interesting piece on experiments on cockroach consciousness, via Spectacularly Obtuse.
"Even a breeze from a door opening can ruin a couple hours of work."
Colourlovers features colour palettes stolen from butterflies. Via.




Whereas Cute Overload has these glasswing butterflies with no colour at all:

This article describes the surprisingly clever and daredevil nature of the raven - they ride on the backs of wild boars, simulate food poisoning to deter rivals, and like to tweak the tails of wolves. And don't bother trying to hide anything from a raven, even if it looks like it's not paying attention: '"They look at everything we do so carefully," Stöwe says. "We're really the ones under observation."'

The sifaka. This lemur can hop, jump, sashay, and, best of all, do an Ancient Egyptian-style sideways dance – see videos of it in action here.

Get the latest fashions for your ferret at The Ferret Store. If he doesn't like denim, they also have parkas and if he doesn't like being a ferret, there's always:


Not a human or a fish but a salamander, the olm lives in caves in Slovenia. This truly uncanny-looking creature is adapted to living in total darkness, with no eyes and pale, unpigmented skin that looks pink - hence the nickname human fish. It may live to be 100 years old and can go without food for six years. No wonder the freaked-out locals in the 17th century took it to be some kind of dragon baby.


The Language of Birds is a section of the British Library sound archive where you can find out that 'There are only two species of bird that use sound to convey to man the unique message: "Follow me and I'll lead you to a bees' nest" ' and listen to them doing it (Windows Media Player required). The cunning black-throated honeyguide flies to the nearest village, makes a sound like a beehive, and lures a villager to come and open up the hive for it. Then they divide the spoils between them. A rare example of man and bird working in total harmony.

You can also listen to Sparkie Williams, the 'most famous British budgerigar', trained by Mrs. Mattie Williams of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, who had a six-year working life as a character actor (two accents: "Geordie" and "refined"). Here he is reciting "Jack and Jill' in a voice which I would guess is the refined version: sounds a bit like a middle-aged woman from Newcastle playing a polite Dalek.