Life, Death, and Taxonomy
“…and today we’re talking about insistent incisors. But more on that later.”
A black rat finds a brick stack that blocks his way back to a food sack that helps his rat pack get a good snack.
There’s no flaw in a steady gnaw in the brick’s flaw with a rat jaw and a sharp claw.
To the rat’s glee, he is set free through a hole he made as a devotee to a chewy Life, Death, and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re talking about the worst thing about wasp prison. But more on that later.”
Slender, shiny, and carrying the emotional energy of a horror movie villain, the Dementor Wasp floats through the insect world like a tiny eight-legged HR nightmare. This is not a creature that rushes, panics, or gets its hands dirty—this is a creature that plans. With surgical precision and the patience of a chess grandmaster, it turns chaos into compliance and free will into a suggestion, like the Dementor Wasp here in Life, Death, and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re talking about an animal so cool, they named an X-man after it.”
It takes a tenacious heart to survive in the Yukon and other high latitude places. Food is a reward for the brave and the bold when temperatures drop below zero. The wolverine is a small creature with a big appetite and an even bigger attitude. But it’s not the size of the wolverine in the fight but the size of the fight in the wolverine that matters in Life Death and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re talking about a screaming sensation. But more on that later.”
In the open meadows, the humble goat grazes and stares into the middle distance, contemplating its place in the universe and the meaning of life. Its calls shift subtly, shaped by its social circle, adapting as needed to fit in or stand apart. It’s vacant expression and square pupils belie a hidden linguist But sometimes you have to talk the lingo to blend in like the goat here in Life, Death, and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re asking hoo is this bug? But more on that later.”
In nature, mimicry allows some creatures to ride the coat tails of others. You get the aura–the vibe of a dangerous, poisonous, or disgusting critter without having to put in the hard work of developing those traits. But the Giant Owl Butterfly takes it to another level–in some cases looking like a photorealistic copy of a frightening predator. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery in Life, Death, and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re talking about a familiar feathered friend. But more on that now.”
In the quiet just before dawn, when everything feels briefly held in place, one animal steps in and breaks it like a neighbor who thinks that revving his mufflerless engine at 5 am is what the kids on fleek think is cool. The famous rooster isn’t a gentle symbol of morning so much as a blunt announcement that the day has arrived, whether anyone is ready or not. What makes it work is that he’s built to handle his own noise—his biology shields him from the worst of his call, letting him shout into the darkness without paying the price for it. But sometimes you need the ultimate hack if you’re the herald who howls without hazard, ensuring your racket reigns supreme like the Rooster here in Life, Death, and Taxonomy.
“And today we’re talking about a tiny creature that looks like a penguin but isn’t. More on that later.”
A bird with a funny name sits upon a dock post of a frigid Atlantic wharf, waiting for friends to arrive for the busy mating season. With a beak the color of sunset, these seabirds squawk greetings to pals arriving from the solitary hunting season. But some new faces on Maine shores have strange customs…but sometimes it’s best to join in to fit in–in life death and taxonomy.
“….and today we’re talking about a tiny, little farmer. But more on that later.”
(Messor Ibericus)
“…and today we’re talking about little bird blue, but more on that later.”
As seasons change, so do many animals. New coats, sloughed skin, fresh molts–even humans don’t wear white after labor day. For most, it’s a gradual process that can be a challenge, but makes way for growth. For some, it can be dangerous, as the cumbersome metamorphosis leaves animals sluggish and vulnerable. But for the little blue penguin, the necessary process of molting can be downright catastrophic in Life, Death and Taxonomy.
“…and today we’re talking about a high fly star that’s not Taylor or D’andre… But more on that later.
High above the Alps, where even eagles take snack breaks, there’s a bird that laughs in the face of gravity, sleep schedules, and layovers. It’s a feathered jet stream, a sky-soaring insomniac that treats “touching grass” like a bad habit. So tighten your seatbelt and stow your tray tables, because some things just never come down—like the alpine swift here in Life, Death, and Taxonomy.