all our flesh was like a veil

Wild wolves in Finland by Niko Pekonen

counting rabbits

Stalker In Prayer (2022) 

November Evening in a Welsh Wood 

by James T. Watts. c.1890

Prehistoric depictions of owls.

Andrew Wyeth, Dryad, 2007, tempera on panel

George Shaw (British, b. 1966, Coventry, England) - Every Brush Stroke is Torn Out of My Body, 2015-2016, Paintings: Humbrol Enamel on Canvas

silly werewolf transformation

Neither animal, nor man.

one of the most galling experiences of being out in public is when you're in a store or on a bus and someone has brought their poorly trained, really nervous dog inside and the dog is doing that thing that dogs do when they're not properly socialized enough where it sprouts smaller and smaller fractal versions of itself that are all also sprouting smaller and smaller fractal versions of themselves. et cetera. and it's really hard to call the owners out on because the kind of person who would bring a fractalizing dog into a public space is also the kind of person who isn't going to respond positively to criticism about it. sometimes i even feel like they're practically daring someone to say something about it. at times like these i just try and stay calm and focus on how it would have felt to be ancient European royalty about to be tossed into a peat bog by my subjects. takes my mind off it.

Crow Study by Andrew Wyeth, 1944.

Dying Mammoth, Zdeněk Burian, c. 1962

The world felt ripped apart during the avalanche. The floor moved, the hillside was the sky, everything was white, and trees snapped like pencils. Instincts were useless. There was no way to fight or flee; the mammoth could only be swept up with the chunks of mountain and forest. A thick, broken branch punctured the mammoth's haunch. A boulder slammed into its ribs. Snow filled the animal's nostrils and ears. It was better that way.

When it was all over, and the world stilled, the mammoth was just a lump among all the other refuse. It could not move; it did not want to, really. Breaths were difficult under the blanket of tossed trees and snow. The ice darkened where the branch stabbed it. The stillness of the valley was eerie, especially after the roar of the avalanche. The only sounds were of the mammoth's labored inhalations. When the wolves found it, those breaths had already stopped.

Force of Nature

By Catriona Secker

Instagram

it beckons below the surface

Source details and larger version.

Almost a herd: my collection of vintage deer is prancing along.

Cannupa Hanska Luger, (No)stalgia, 2020, ceramic, steel, and fiber, 62 × 62 × 32 in (157.5 × 157.5 × 81.3 cm)