View allAll Photos Tagged Biting
This was taken during a time Medi was human for a moment.
It was different, and I will admit exhausting with the human achievements for Soul Wars.
I will also say it wasn't all bad, because it was good to bite him as a human and use my other huds on him.
I can also thank him for getting me a lot of stuff in my tanks and stamina stuff for legends.
Also, forgive his meshy clothing. His clothing is like that sometimes in this outfit.
When a woman bites her bottom lip and caresses your thigh with her hand...
Salsa performance by Latin Mystique.
22nd Fiesta Festival, Harbourside, Darling Harbour, Sydney, Australia (Saturday 12 October 2013 @ 1:51pm)
Texture courtesy of Skeletal Mess
Heteromyia prattii (Coquillett, 1902), I believe. Found at Pleasant Valley Conservancy SNA in southern Wisconsin. Dane County, Wisconsin, USA.
Single exposure, uncropped, handheld, in situ. Canon MT-24EX flash unit, Ian McConnachie diffuser.
Eight little fox kits were born in a "den" underneath an old, broken-down log cabin that had a lot of debris, like roof shingles, door knobs, big pieces of wood (some with awful-looking nails sticking out), and who knows what all, strewn around. The fox kits sometimes got interested in these materials and experimented with biting and pulling them around. Great fun! (But probably not terribly healthy)
Cooke City, Montana
Girl biting on a pencil.
Copyright (c) 2011 by Walt Stoneburner, All Rights Reserved. This photo may not be used without permission first.
Taken in Feb 2011, this photo is of Ciara biting her nails, not sure whether shes contemplating or simply getting annoyed at me taking lots of photos of her.
For better or worse, phones are replacing tablets and desktop monitors. In the "Dog days" of Christmas (extra days when routines are disrupted and little happens) I have combined ideas.
Stamp sets became for a time collectors items and more recently a way of celebrating local flora and fauna. No more. Denmark has ceased delivering hard copy mail. The rest of us will follow in time. I have revived the celebration of my local fauna for myself with a dead art: stamps. The second theme is based on Rutherford's quip - "There are two Sciences: Physics and Stamp-collecting." This is stamp-collecting. Sets of things for enjoyment, not for pins on boards, not for description, and not so much for naming. Selections made for what I see as a pleasing array. I can identify to genus and occasionally species but these are stamps, uncluttered for the moment by Latin tags. I am using them as my Phone Lockscreen wallpapers, recalling where and when the images were taken, most within 50 meters of the house.
Many years ago, a dog bit me. Well, lots of dogs have bitten me--wee buggers can't stand me--but this particular dog was more memorable than the rest. I was walking down Hastings Street, and didn't it come darting out of a bus shelter, and fasten itself to my ankle. Fortunately, my boot prevented its teeth from puncturing my skin. I escaped with an enormous bruise and a ruined Doc Marten. (Serves me right for wearing Doc Martens, what?)
The other week, I had a rather more disconcerting experience. I was straphanging on the Number 8 bus (again, coincidentally, on Hastings Street), when I felt a prick between the shoulderblades. I spun around to see who'd stuck me, and there was this shabby gent hurrying off the bus. You can imagine what I thought. There I was, smack bang in the middle of the heroin district, and I'd just felt a jab in my back. To make matters worse, this bum was scurrying away, looking all guilty-like. What could I do? I got off, too, but he'd got too much of a head start. Soon, I lost him in the crowd.
These were my thoughts on the way home: AIDS! NEEDLE! AIDS NEEDLE! AIDS! AIDS! AIDS! AIDSAIDSAIDSAIDSAIDSAIDSAIDS!
The next morning, I went to the walk-in clinic. I'd calmed down a bit--instead of AIDS! I was thinking HIV! Anyhow, eventually it was my turn, and I went in to see the nurse. She looked at my back, and burst out laughing. Apparently, I'd been bitten by a SPIDER! I must've been jostled on the bus, and felt pain from that bite. Good thing I didn't catch the scuttling bum--he'd've thought I was barmy!
I got an HIV test anyway, since I was there. It was negative.
Also, it turned out that my couch was infested with spiders.
(Note about the photo, itself: the dog is actually IN the photo (taped to the wall), not added later in Photoshop. It's kinda crappy. I accidentally cut off some pieces that were part of it, while cutting it out.)
My friend wanted to move -- the mosquitoes were biting -- but I told him he'd just have to tough it out.
Nikon D5100 -- Nikon 18-55mm
26mm
F16@1/30th
I had to retouch the security light and the house out of the shoreline.
(DSC_9390 copy)
© Don Brown 2013
Bonus, biting bit...
Soo.. When I was taking a nice shot (my prvious post) of the River Avon at Stratford-upon-Avon, I felt my foot being attacked by this wayward fellow! - I think he just wanted my attention ( and probably food! )
#swan #bite# foot #travel #stratforduponavon #avon
Blue Banded Bee (Amegilla cingulata)
Night Macro, Home, Butterworth
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this is to serve as a reminder for me to stop biting them. and when they eventually grow again, i'll look back and be shocked.
p.s. please leave comments.
Lesson learned. Don't stand in the Colorado River in Austin Texas hoping to see the bats take off from under the bridge.
Lone fisherman on the lake.
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Thanx for stopping by.
Steve
St Edmund, Southwold, Suffolk
I kept meaning to come back to Southwold - the church, I mean, for I found myself in the little town from time to time. I finally kept my promise to myself in the summer of 2017, tipping up on a beautiful sunny day only to find the church closed for extensive repairs. The days got shorter, and by the time the church reopened it was too late in the year for me to try again. In fact, it was not until late October 2018 that I made it back there, on another beautiful day.
Southwold is well-known to people who have never even been there I suppose, signifying one side of Suffolk to which Ipswich is perhaps the counter in the popular imagination. Some thirty years ago, the comedian Michael Palin made a film for television called East of Ipswich. It was a memoir of his childhood in the 1950s, and the basic comic premise behind the film was that in those days families would go on holiday to seaside resorts on the East Anglian coast. In the child Palin's case, it was Southwold.
The amusement came from the idea that people in those days would sit in deckchairs beside the grey north sea, or shelter from the drizzle in genteel teashops or the amusement arcade on the pier. In the Costa Brava package tour days of the 1980s, the quaintness of this image made it seem like something from a different world.
I remember Southwold in the 1980s. It was one of those agreeable little towns distant enough from anywhere bigger to maintain a life of its own. It still had its genteel tea shops, its dusty grocers, its quaint hotels and pubs all owned by Adnams, the old-fashioned and unfashionable local brewery. In the white heat of the Thatcherite cultural revolution, it seemed a place that would soon die on its feet quietly and peaceably.
And then, in the 1990s, the colour supplements discovered the East Anglian coast, and fell in love with it. The new fashions for antique-collecting, cooking with local produce and general country living, coupled with a snobbishness about how vulgar foreign package trips had become, conspired to make places like Southwold very sought after. Before Nigel Lawson's boom became a bust, the inflated house prices of London and the home counties gave people money to burn. And in their hoards, they came out of the big city to buy holiday homes in East Anglia.
Although they are often lumped together, the coasts of Norfolk and Suffolk are very different to each other (Cambridgeshire and North Essex are also culturally part of East Anglia, but the North Essex coast is too close to London to have ever stopped being cheap and cheerful, and Cambridgeshire has no coastline). Norfolk's beaches are wide and sandy, with dunes and cliffs and rock pools to explore. Towns like Cromer and Hunstanton seem to have stepped out of the pages of the Ladybird Book of the Seaside. Tiny villages along the Norfolk coast have secret little beaches of their own.
Suffolk's coast is wilder. Beaches are mainly pebbles rather than sand, and the marshes stretch inland, cutting the coast off from the rest of the county. Unlike Norfolk, Suffolk has no coast road, and so the settlements on the coast are isolated from each other, stuck at the ends of narrow lanes which snake away from the A12 and peter out in the heathland above the sea. There are fewer of them too. It is still quicker to get from Walberswick to Southwold by water than by land. Because they are isolated from each other, they take on individual personalities and characteristics. Because they are isolated from the land, they become bastions of polite civilisation.
Between Felixstowe in the south, which no outsiders like (and consequently is the favourite of many Suffolk people) and Lowestoft in the north, which is basically an industrial town-on-sea (but which still has the county's best beaches - shhh, don't tell a soul) are half a dozen small towns that vie with each other for trendiness. Southwold is the biggest, and today it is also the most expensive place to live in all East Anglia. Genteel tea shops survive, but are increasingly shouldered by shops that specialise in ski-wear and Barbour jackets, delicatessens that stock radicchio and seventeen different kinds of olive, jewellery shops and kitchen gadget shops and antique furniture shops where prices are exquisitely painful. Worst of all, the homely, shabby, smoke-filled Sole Bay Inn under the lighthouse has been converted by the now-trendy Adnams Brewery into a chrome and glass filled wine bar.
If you see someone in Norfolk driving a truck, they are probably wearing a baseball cap and carrying a shotgun. in Suffolk, they've more likely just bought a Victorian pine dresser from an antique shop, and they're taking it back to Islington. Does this matter? The fishing industry was dying anyway. The tourist industry was also dying. If places like Southwold, Aldeburgh and Orford become outposts of north London, at least they will still provide jobs for local people. But the local people won't be able to afford to live there, of course. They'll be bussed in from Reydon, Leiston and Melton to provide services for people in holiday cottages which are the former homes they grew up in, but can no longer afford to buy. Does this seriously annoy me? Not as much as it does them, I'll bet.
So, lets go to Southwold, turning off the A12 at the great ship of Blythburgh church, the wide marshes of the River Blyth spreading aimlessly beyond the road. We climb and fall over ancient dunes, and then the road opens out into the flat marshes, the town spreads out beyond. We enter through Reydon (now actually bigger than Southwold, with houses at half the price) and over the bridge into the town of Southwold itself.
Having been so critical, I need to say here that Southwold is beautiful. It is quite the loveliest small town in all East Anglia. None of the half-timbered houses here that you find in places like Long Melford and Lavenham. Here, the town was completely destroyed by fire in the 17th century, and so we have fine 18th and 19th century municipal buildings. One of the legacies of the fire was the creation of wide open spaces just off of the high street, called greens. The best one of all is Gun Hill Green, overlooking the bay where the last major naval battle in British waters was fought. The cannons still point out to sea. The houses here are stunning, gobsmacking, jaw-droppingly wonderful. If I could afford to buy one of them as a weekend retreat, then you bet your life I would, and to hell with the people who moaned about it.
At the western end of the High Street is St Bartholomew's Green, and beyond it sits what is, for my money, Suffolk's single most impressive building. This is the great church of St Edmund, a vast edifice built all in one go in the second half of the 15th century. Only Lavenham can compete with it for scale and presence. Unlike the massing at St Peter and St Paul at Lavenham, St Edmund is defined by a long unbroken clerestory and aisles beneath - where St Peter and St Paul looks full of tension, ready to spring, St Edmund is languid and floating, a ship at ease.
Southwold church was just one of several vast late medieval rebuildings in this area. Across the river at Walberswick and a few miles upriver at Blythburgh the same thing happened. Blythburgh still survives, but Walberswick was derelicted to make a smaller church, as were Covehithe and Kessingland. Dunwich All Saints was lost to the sea. But Southwold was the biggest. Everything about it breathes massive permanence, from the solidity of the tower to the turreted porch, from the wide windows to the jaunty sanctus bell fleche.
Along the top of the aisles, grimacing faces look down. All of them are different. The pedestals atop the clerestory were intended for statues as at Blythburgh, but were probably never filled before the Reformation intervened. At the west end, above the great west window, you can see the vast inscription SAncT EDMUND ORA P: NOBIS ('Saint Edmund, pray for us') as bold a record of the mindset of late medieval East Anglian Catholicism as you'll find.
As at Lavenham and Long Melford, the interior has been extensively restored, but not in as heavy or blunt a manner as at those two churches. St Edmund has, it must be said, benefited from the attentions of German bombers who put out all the dull Victorian glass with blast damage during World War II. Here, the interior is vast, light and airy, and much of the restoration is 20th century work, not 19th century.
Perhaps because of this, more medieval interior features have survived. Unlike Long Melford, Southwold does not have surviving medieval glass (Mr Dowsing saw to that in 1644), but it does have what is the finest screen in the county.
It stretches right the way across the church, and is effectively three separate screens. There is a rood screen across the chancel arch, and parclose screens across the north and south chancel aisles. All retain their original dado figures. There are 36 of them, more than anywhere else in Suffolk. They have been restored, particularly in the central range, but are fascinating because they retain a lot of original gesso work, where plaster of Paris is applied to wood and allowed to dry. It is then carved to produce intricate details.
The central screen shows the eleven remaining disciples and St Paul. They are, from left to right, Philip, Bartholomew, James the Less, Thomas, Andrew, Peter, Paul, John, James, Simon, Jude and Matthew.
The south chancel chapel is light and open. The bosses above are said to represent Mary Tudor and her second husband Charles, Duke of Brandon. The screen here is painted with twelve Old Testament prophets, and Mortlock suggests that they are by a different hand to the images on the other two screens. Here on the south screen, some of the figures have surviving naming inscriptions, and Mortlock surmises that the complete sequence, from left to right, is Baruch, Hosea, Nahum, Jeremiah, Elias, Moses, David, Isaiah, Amos, Jonah and Ezekiel. Further, he observes that the subject is a usual one for the English Midlands, but rare for East Anglia, and that perhaps this part of the screen came from elsewhere. The same may be true of the other two parts - it is hard to think that the central screen was deliberately made too wide for the two arcades.
The north aisle chapel is reserved as the blessed sacrament chapel. The screen is harder to explore, because the northern side is curtailed by a large chest, but it features angels. Unlike the screens at Hitcham and Blundeston, which show angels holding instruments of the passion, these are the nine orders of angels, with Gabriel at their head, and flanked by angels holding symbols of the Trinity and the Eucharist. Mortlock says that they are so similar to the ones at Barton Turf in Norfolk that they may be by the same hand, in which case the central screen is also by that person. They are, from left to right, the Holy Trinity, Gabriel, Archangels, Powers, Dominions, Cherubim, Seraphim, Thrones, Principalities, Virtues, Messengers, and finally the Eucharist. The Holy Trinity angel still has part of the original dedicatory inscription beneath his feet.
If part or all of this screen came from elsewhere, where did it come from? Possibly either Walberswick, Covehithe or Kessingland, the three downsized churches mentioned earlier. More excitingly, it might have come from one of the churches along this coast that was lost to the sea, perhaps neighbouring St Nicholas at Easton Bavents, or, just to the south, St Peter or St John the Baptist, the two Dunwich churches lost in the 16th and 17th centuries. We'll never know.
If you turn back at the screen and face westwards, your eyes are automatically drawn to the towering font cover, part of the extensive 1930s redecoration of the building. The clerestory is almost like a glass atrium intended to house it. Also the work of the period is the repainting and regilding of the 15th century pulpit (a lot of people blanch at this, but I think it is gorgeous) and the lectern. Beneath the font cover, the font is clearly one of the rare seven sacraments series, and part of the same group as Westhall, Blythburgh and Wenhaston. As at Blythburgh and Wenhaston, the panels are completely erased, probably in the 19th century, an act of barbarous vandalism. Given that Westhall is probably the best of all in the county, we must assume that three major medieval art treasures were wiped out. Astonishingly, vague shadows survive of the former reliefs; you can easily make out the Mass panel, facing east as at Westhall, the Penance panel and even what may be the Baptism of Christ.
Stepping through the screen, the reredos ahead is by Benedict Williamson and the glass above by Ninian Comper, familiar names in the Anglo-catholic pantheon, and evidence of an enthusiasm here that still survives in High Church form. There is a good engraved glass image of St Edmund to the north of the sanctuary, very much in the 1960s fashion, but curiously placed. On the wall of the chancel to the west of it, the high organ case is also painted and gilded enthusiastically.
As well as the screen, Southwold's other great medieval survival is the set of return stalls either side of the eastern face of the chancel screen. They have misericord seats, but the best feature are the handrests between the seats. On the south side, carvings include a man with a horn-shaped hat and sinners being drawn into the mouth of hell. On the north side are a man playing two pipes, a monkey preaching and a beaver biting its own genitals, a tale from the medieval bestiary, apparently.
What else is there to see? Well, the church is full of delights, and rewards further visits which always seem to turn up something previously unnoticed. St George rides full tilt at a dragon on an old chest at the west end of the north aisle. There is good 19th century glass in the porch and at the west end of the nave. A clock jack stands, axe and bell in hand, at the west end, a twin to the one upriver at Blythburgh. This one has a name, he's called Southwold Jack, and he is one of the symbols of the Adnams brewery.
As Mortlock notes, there are very few surviving memorials. This is partly because St Edmund was not in the patronage of a great landed family, but it may also suggest that they were largely removed at the time of the 19th century restoration, as at Brandon. One moving one is for the child of a vicar, and there are some interesting pre-Oxford Movement 19th century brasses in the south aisle.
High, high above all this, the roofs are models of Anglo-Catholic melodrama, the canopy of honour to the rood and the chancel ceilure in particular. But there is a warmth about it all that is missing from, say, Eye, which underwent a similar makeover. This church feels full of life, and not a museum piece at all. I remember attending evensong here late one winter Saturday afternoon, and it was magical. On another visit, I came on one of the first days of spring that was truly warm and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. As we drove into town, a cold fret off of the sea was condensing the steam of the brewery, sending it in swirls and skeins around the tower of St Edmund like low cloud. It was so atmospheric that I almost forgave them for what they have done to the Sole Bay Inn.
Forcipomyia sp. (TBC)
Subfamily: Forcipomyiinae
Family Ceratopogonidae
Order: Diptera
According to the Australian Faunal Directory, there are 21 described Australian species in the genus Forcipomyia and there are at over 1100 described species globally. The real number of species is likely to be considerably higher.
The genus of Forcipomyia are blood feeders and the subgenus Lasiohelea suck vertebrate blood. Some species are ectoparasites of other insects. Other species in the genus are essential pollinators of the cacao tree (Theobroma cacao). Members of this genus also pollinate a number of other plants, for example, rubber, avocado, mango, celery, elderberry.
The family are known in Australia just as midges and quite commonly as the "little bastards". However, despite the annoyance they cause at barbeques, they are relatively harmless and are not known as vectors of human disease in Australia. In the Americas, they spread Oropouche virus (Central/South America) and Mansonella ozzardi (a filarial parasite). They are known to transmit several viruses, parasites, and nematodes in livestock and other animals. These infections of livestock can be serious and include bluetongue virus and Epizootic hemorrhagic virus.
Males antennae typically have long hair, while females have short hair. This individual appears to be a female, though it seems to have lost one of its antennae. It is very small with a body length of about 1.3mm.
Typically, females deposit their eggs in manure, damp soil and decaying vegetation where the larvae feed on microorganisms. The larvae of this genus are notable for having secretory setae that exude a sticky liquid. This liquid appears to be hygroscopic and helps the larvae maintain a moist environment around it. The secretions also have antibacterial properties and may have repellent qualities to deter ants.
This particular individual was found in our house and was attracted to the light of a computer monitor.
2026-04-04-12.35.42 ZS PMax Cropped