The sky is the color of cold stones as I cautiously make my way down the trunk of dying oak. The few remaining leaves of the tree rustle as a light autumn morning breeze passes through them. One of them is blown free, making a soft snapping sound as it breaks away from its anchored brothers and begins to fall to the ground below. It twists and turns as it goes and I watch it in momentary curiosity. I have seen this often before. It is still mostly green, only slightly browning at the edges. It makes a show of falling, as though it knows it has an audience. It spins and dances, carried across an unseen stage by the breeze. The breeze fades and dies and the leaf follows shooting down quickly towards the earth like a predatory birding diving …show more content…
I pause briefly between sprints to listen for sounds of predators, or simply to hear what the birds are singing about today. I twitch my nose and catch the scent of pecans, acorns, and other forms of nut within the area. They are my usual food source and are very scarce now that it is so close to winter. I must act quickly or some rival animal will snatch them away. I take off as fast as light in the direction of a particularly strong scent. My heart pounds in my chest so fast that it's almost not beating at all. I can smell and hear my rivals as they race towards the scent as well. I am quite certain there will be a fight on arrival. I prepare myself to win this race and the fight that may follow. Yet, when I cross the span of the front yard of an old abandoned house I am attacked. I cry out in fear and try to break free as sharp fangs sink into the delicate flesh of my bushy tail. I scratch my paws over the ground, ripping out small bits of dying grass and pebbles. I hear a guttural rumbling and glance back in horror as my eyes meet those of my captor. My captor is a pampered gray house cat with the blue of the summer sky and the mischief of a devil in its piercing gaze. It is well groomed with long fur and a purple band around its neck with a little bell on it. I am paralyzed by the cat's gaze, unable to do anything more than stare back at it as my heart beats overtime. The
The Eastern chipmunk is a small rodent of the Sciuridae family. This chipmunk is closely related to the red and grey fox, the flying squirrel, and the woodchuck. Its Taxonomic name is Tamias Striatus. The word Tamias, Means collector or keeper and Striatus refers to its bold stripes and coloring.
1. What were the most critical choices faced by James Milmo early in the founding of Lynx? Do you agree with his decisions?
After taking a physics class in the eleventh grade, I realized that the leaves fell because of Earth’s gravitational acceleration. Due to the mass of the leaves and its relative proximity to the Earth’s surface, Newton’s law of gravitation explained why the Earth pulled the leaf towards the ground. The slow and graceful descent of the leaves was caused by the friction from the air and its density due to the surrounding temperature.
“Hey! We’re running now. Start moving.” I opened my weary eyes. In front of me was the dark face of the same woman who I talked to at dusk. Heeding her words, I rose and started moving to the exit of the barn, quietly evading the slumbering guard outside. I realized that she stayed behind for me and the rest were gone already. After we went over the fence, we started to run as fast as a tiger until we were out of breath and our limbs were sore. The weather was clear as day and the sun was right above me. Then, I heard the familiar sound of
Lush red and orange leaves touched by morning dew fill the limbs of an old Oak tree, rustling as the wind slowly made her way by, teasing the edges of the leaves and tempting them to come with her. The weaker ones went, not realizing their fate, twirling in her presence, following as far as they could manage in the air, encased in feelings of happiness and freedom. Soon, however, the wind died down; causing the leaves to drop and crumble onto the ground. They couldn't express their feelings of remorse so they crumbled in on themselves, shutting out the wind. She came back at times, and some fell for it, the ones that hadn't learned their lesson, they followed her again. Each that did, were ripped to pieces. The tree, in the end, had been robbed.
Terror made me strong as I jumped up with all the strength in my body sending Hawkfrost, Thistleclaw, and Snowtuft flying. Hawkfrost landed on his paws. "I trained you too well," he growled, his gaze locking on my throat. I backed up as he jumped, but his claws pierced my tail, pining me to the ground. Snowtuft and Thistleclaw attacked me from opposite side, their claws slicing my ears. I slipped away from them and crashed into Hawkfrost. His claws stabbed my shoulders, forcing me down. I gasped as I saw his teeth flash by my throat. Then I saw a black pelt jump over the gorse, and heard paws thump beside me. "Get off her!" Hollyleaf snarled as she rammed Hawkfrost off me. I managed to scramble to my paws and turn on Thistleclaw and Snowtuft.
If I were a leaf and fall started I would watch the other leaves of
The first simile captures the moment when, during the fall, the tree sheds its leaves that whirl at its foot lifeless, as creatures taking their last breath. The
I thought I heard a branch snap, but I told myself it was a moose -when I think about it now I realize how much of a idiot I was- I guess you can say I'm not use to the woods you see I'm a New Yorker, and kinda not good at telling what animals belong where... Then I got snapped out of my thoughts by a growling behind me. I turned around my heart beating out of my chest. There stood a black dog, but it looked unreal. It didn't have those caring eyes of a dog or mysterious eyes of a wolf. I knew this was not good. I took out my dagger as the dog was circling me it charged. I did a front flip over the dog slicing the dog on its back. This making it growl, and attack again. I climbed the tree using it for force to help me kill this thing. It jumped and as it did and jumped down turning in the air killing the dog with the dagger landing with one knee of the ground. The other as if I was sitting and my dagger facing the tree I just jumped
The birds were singing a melancholic tune. But off by the distance, a Red Maple was working. Photosynthesizing in the sun was a young Red Maple. As the it is photosynthesizing, it is contributing to the carbon cycle. The carbon cycle is essential to the Red Maple’s life to which it is the source of its food and life. Then came a strong gust of wind that made its leaves surfing in the air. As the gust of wind passes, a bag is caught on its branch. As if the wind was a messenger, the tree knew what was coming.
I run to survive, to continue my existence from those who want to bring me into the maw of Death. I have run across the earth, through the cold mountains of China and across the warm shores of the Mediterranean. I have strained my paws and my fur has become matted with the dirt and mud I slosh through in order to survive. The Hunter pursues me, his dogs flanked beside him.
The essence of rain became more prominent as the trees began to clash and crash against each other like drumsticks in the hands of a giant. All of a sudden, a turbulent roar drowned out all the boisterous cries of animals, followed closely by a dazzling fork of lightening. Soon enough, water was cascading from the heavens in a torrent of rain, teaming up with the howl of wind that weaved through the clattering oaks. Monkeys darted in and out of the treetops, trying to find the best place to take shelter. The raindrops fell heavily, hitting the trees with such force that many leaves had also began to flake
The pounding of footsteps rang through the clearing. I could hear my heart thumping. The footsteps grew louder and louder. Harsh shouts erupted from behind me. They were coming. So, I ran. Time slowed as I darted in and out of the dark trees. I eyed the woods around me. Surely, there had to be a someone there, but I could see no one. All seemed calm, aside from hunting cry of a bird. Dimly, I sensed a presence behind me. I spun to meet my hunter a second too late. And all at once, I realized with a shock, I was hit.
It was a warm spring afternoon, birds chirping on the dark, ebony branches of the cherry plum trees in the local park. Near the end of the park stood an antique- looking hair saloon, but appearances could be deceiving, for that old- looking shop had all the new and latest technological installed one could dream of, fresh out of the market. Famous for “Midas touch” of the beautician working there for transforming the plain looking to mouth dropping beauties. It was the “The Dyeing Question” saloon; usually it would be packed with customers, seeking special treatment for their hairs, but today it was- nearly empty. Expect for a woman sitting on a couch, not a single soul could be seen; it seemed as if the people had vanished into thin air. But where did they go? It was all because of the lone customer sitting. Her hair were
The Hunters and Gathers enjoyed a better standard of living than that of the Neolithic village dwellers. The Hunting and Gathering bands had a longer life expectancy due to a greater diversity of food intake, they also survived due to a class society in which the smaller group had easier mobility and faced fewer disease, and lastly the hunting and gathering bands clearly had a better lifestyle.