Manners Transport
View allAll Photos Tagged Manners.
Australian Pelican just after being woken up by this female Darter rudely landing a bit too close.
(Pelecanus conspicillatus)
(Anhinga novaehollandiae)
Female Rose-breasted Grosbeak dining on Honeysuckle fruit.
Common migrant and Summer resident. Usually gone by 01 October returning in mid-April.
“Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first..?”
Just today, Process of Elimination had released a very versatile weapon that can pose as a Carbine, PDW, Assault Rifle, or even a Machine-Pistol! Absolutely had to get my hands on it, was not disappointed in the slightest. If you want to get it yourself! Here's the Link:
www.flickr.com/photos/138986071@N03/51272386501/in/datepo...
This little dude joined me for lunch...look at the little finger!
He knows his manners this little creature....al though he was a bit noisy with the desert...!
Have a wonderful day everyone!
--x--
more of a learning how to capture it thing, then process it..
Loved the brief time out and about in Oswestry seeing the world outside the farm.
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Street capture from Glasgow, Scotland.
I do hope that the establishment wiped those tables down afterwards!
Captured at arms length with pure guesswork for the focus point so as not to cause them to fly off. Yes I could have increased the depth of field but in that split second I just went for the shot without really considering it as I walked on by.
My obvious focus is people when out for some street photography but I will always try to capture other stuff that catches my eye. Enjoy.
• Skin applier Leon (tone 04) from Session Skins for Catwa Head (shown on Justin head)
This skin is available in 2 tones with 4 beard options, freckles, moles, boths, Eyeshadow option & Shape.
Session Skins Mainstore :
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/kunst/120/202/35
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Credits details on blog
dandyandfunonsl.wordpress.com/2017/11/01/leon-manners/
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• Applier skin Yin from Session Skins - Tone 02 for Lelutka (Simone)
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/kunst/120/202/35
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Raw picture & details hud on blog
dandyandfunonsl.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/yin-manners/
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At Anthem
KraftWork Succulent Collection . Vase C Neutral
KraftWork Succulent Collection . Vase D Neutral
KraftWork Succulent Collection . Vase B Neutral
KraftWork Succulent Collection . Vase A Neutral
[ kunst ] - Kepler speaker (R)
[ kunst ] - Kepler speaker (L)
At C88
BROKEN ARROWS - Mystic Butterfly - Black - Wall (Worn)
Fancy Decor: Luce Wave Lamp
[Con.] Searchlight - Black
Other items used ~
7 - Ivan 1983
7 - Wooden Cat Bench
7 - Not A Lamb Statue
Soul2Soul. Portobello Chandelier Short -Fatpack
Elm. Penelope Gallery Wall [Cluster #2]
Elm. Penelope Gallery Wall [Cluster #3]
Elm. Penelope Gallery Wall [Cluster #1]
8f8 - Eclectic Living - Armchair
Apple Fall Books - Arrangement 4
Apple Fall Books - Arrangement 8
Apple Fall Books - Arrangement 11
Apple Fall Books - Arrangement 14
Soy. Coffee Table [wooden top]
[ Venture ] Tealight Table Top Candle
[ kunst ] - Metal ashtray
Dahlia - Babylon Eclectic - Picott Print - 5
Schadenfreude Mirror of the Sun
floorplan. round beaded frame / cat
Fancy Decor: Costanza Console (marble)
Fancy Decor: Wren Framed Male Drawing
Fancy Decor: Jansen Frans Hals Portrait A
Theory . Paloma Shag Rug . Eclipse
[North Oak] + Meadows Angular Couch
MudHoney Delilah Small Pillow - Black
MudHoney Delilah Big Pillow - Stripes
MudHoney Delilah Small Pillow - Zebra
~BAZAR~ Milena Painting_02
~BAZAR~ Kay vase 01
hive // kentia palm plant
Found this in the doorway of an old ,unidentified ,abandoned club in downtown Monroe,Louisiana. 7.5.2013.
In my day the only AI I knew was "Artificial Insemination"....for cows. Now it stands for bullshit stories.
Now, Strontian’s a quiet enough wee place, tucked between the mountains and the loch, where the mist rolls down like a sigh from the hills. But it wasn’t quiet the weekend Brad the Bull took the huff.
Brad was a grand beast — black as peat, broad as a boat, and with a temper that could curdle cream. He belonged to Maureen MacGuinness, crofter, knitter of questionable jumpers, and wielder of words that could melt the varnish off a church pew. For years, Brad had strutted about Maureen’s croft like he was king of Ardgour itself — and maybe he was, in his own hooved head.
But one spring morning, the livestock inspector came round with a clipboard and a smirk and said,
“Maureen, regulations are regulations. Brad’s not to sire any more calves this season. Something about... lineage management.”
Well, Maureen took it in stride — but Brad didn’t. His great shaggy head drooped, his horns glinted with indignation, and his bellow echoed off the braes like thunder looking for trouble. Before anyone could stop him, he’d turned tail and stomped off into the Ariundle oakwoods, breaking a fence or three just to make a point.
Maureen, standing by the river with her apron flapping in the wind, cupped her hands and shouted up the glen:
“Brad MacBovidae, you stubborn lump of muscle! If you don’t come home by seven o’clock tonight, I’ll turn you to granite and moss, so help me!”
Now, anyone else might’ve thought twice — Maureen was known to dabble in what she called “practical enchantment” (and what others called “odd things with peat ash and moonlight”). But Brad? He just snorted. He was a bull, after all. What did bulls care for witchy words and bedtime threats?
So he wandered deeper into the woods, grumbling to himself about injustice and cows and the general unfairness of human meddling. The oaks closed around him, whispering secrets older than crofting itself. Evening came, the sun bled gold over the loch, and Maureen’s words began to hum in the air like midges at dusk.
At exactly seven o’clock — give or take a moo — the forest went still. A wind rose, strange and low, and Brad froze mid-step, his eyes wide, his breath caught. His hooves rooted into the earth. His hide turned cold and hard. Moss crept over him, soft and green. By dawn, where once stood the proudest bull in Lochaber, there was only a shape of stone — proud, defiant, and staring forever toward the hills he’d never climb.
Locals still point him out on walks through Ariundle, half-hidden among the oaks, his horns like grey crescents in the lichen. Some say if you stand there at sunset, you can still hear him snort — a gust of wind through moss and myth.
And so, when the old wives tell their tales by the fire, they always end with a wink and a warning:
“Mind your manners and your Maureens, or you’ll end up like Brad the Bull — too proud to listen, and too stony to complain. Do you see him, covered in moss on the left?
A male Brown-headed Cowbird. These birds have the nasty habit of laying their eggs in the nests of others, often at the expense of the host nest chicks. But I find them rather beautiful. At the Pool, Central Park, New York.
There is something very special about hand feeding a wild birds who comes to sit at my table. This is Bruce, the most delightful and trusting of all the Kookaburras who visit my garden every afternoon. I didn't take this shot, it was taken by a visitor from the UK who was delighted and excited to see half a dozen Kookaburra descend on my yard one afternoon this past week.
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