View allAll Photos Tagged Shouting
Marina Ovsyannikova, an editor at Channel One, burst on to the set of the live broadcast of the nightly news on Monday evening, shouting: “Stop the war. No to war.”
She also held a sign saying: “Don’t believe the propaganda. They’re lying to you here.” It was signed in English: “Russians against the war”.
Grabbed profile shot of a colleage shouting for something or other..lol
Available light, canon60D 50mm F/1.8
A young girl shouts very loudly at her companion, a little boy, as she cautions him to not go farther away from the river shore and just stay in the shallow waters.
Captured at a village in Candelaria, in northern Zambales, Philippines.
almost in shouting distance from this spot off US Hwy 12. a Japanese conglomerate bought some land and wants to build a 100,000 sq ft factory to extract plastic waters bottles from the valley and ship them away. Lewis County Water Alliance is a 2000+ member group that says no! to that.
The cafe at Carsington Water. These little fella's were all over us, they would take food from your hand without hesitation. Also, see here...
This cart pusher is nice. He kept shouting to alert customers. Hope no one was hit by his cart. However, some customer don't really like the way he shout.
Our "happiness" birds (mountain bluebirds) were back in the Gallatin Valley by the end of March, and already pairing up near nest boxes. This male and his mate laid claim to box 62 (of more than 100 boxes maintained by the Sacajawea Audubon Society), as he was loudly announcing.
OK, I give in! Here's a macro shot of something pretty at Exbury Gardens yesterday...
Bald eagle shouting loudly, Delta, BC, Canada.
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I was shouting him at the top of my voice across the meadow, when I turned round he was standing behind me.
(The passing hikers found it so funny)
Kept shouting this TV / movie star (Bosco Wong)...
But what would you expect a crazy guy like me to do?
I stood still, waited for the right moment, pressed the shutter.:-)
Chun Yeung Street, North Point, Hong Kong
PS. Do click the image to view large.
Kittiwakes get their name from their call and can easily be distinguished from all other European gulls by their triangular dipped-in-ink wing tips without white mirrors. They also have black legs, unusual for gulls, and only three toes, hence the scientific name tridactyla. I photographed this one shouting its name "kitti-waaake" on the Farne Islands in Northumberland.
Engines shouting to the sky, an eastbound BNSF stack train gets back underway at Dalies after holding for a late Amtrak 3. After this brief interlude, the nearly continuous parade of intermodal traffic will once again resume on the "Southern Transcon."
I can hear it shouting at me: "I'm not going back! You can't make me!"
If this Budgerigar escaped from the big cage in the middle of the park then it is one formidable Houdini ^^
Cheers everyone
________________________________
Portugal - Oeiras
Budgerigar or Common Pet Parakeet (Melopsittacus undulatus)
Periquito Australiano ou Periquito Comum (Melopsittacus undulatus)
________________________________
Contact Luis Gaspar:
luis.gaspar.fotografia@gmail.com
Somewhere in the distance a voice could be heared shouting: "Alms for the poor?"
Pembosass and his crew were wandering through the streets of one of those smugglers settlements on the backwater world of Mataou. It was hot and the air as thick as Bantha butter. No wind was blowing.
The party dispersed, gathering intel, looking for a job...
A rugged stormtrooper, who certainly had seen better days, was sitting in the burning sun, asking the passers-by: "Alms for the poor?"
While the group dispersed, Kragan approached some Jawas. He could haggle for hours. A skill he mastered in his former life as smuggler and pirate.
"Alms for the poor?" the old stormtrooper shouted.
Pembosass walked over and handed some rations and - hidden between the food packages - a few credits to the old man.
"Aye, Pembosass the Pirate!" The trooper said with a firm voice.
"How has it arisen that you know my name?" Pembosass asked without getting an answer.
Suddenly the beggar widened his eyes and leaned against the wall behind him. Staring into the sky, as if he had an vision, he shouted repeatedly:
"The Flame of Zhar....I saw it in my dreams" The old trooper continued to shout!
Pembosass looked left and right but nobody was paying attention to the beggars dramatical episode and after some minutes, in which the beggar continued shouting, finaly mustered the courage to ask: "What is this Flame of Zhar?"
The beggar was shouting: "A gem, a precious gem! The eternal flame! Great power comes with it" He continued with great verve: "The Flame of Zhar....is calling YOU!"
Exhausted from his vision the dazed beggar fall silent and slowly started eating one of the rations.
Later Pembosass gathered his crew: "We have to find out more about this Flame of Zhar..."
Quand on est au bon endroit au bon moment, que l'on sait détecter leur chant au loin, et s'approcher sans faire de bruit... Coqs de roche péruviens (Rupicola peruvianus aequatorialis) mâles lors de la préparation d'un tour de 15 jours que j'ai guidé avec Nature Experience pour la Fédération Francaise d'Orchidophilie dans le nord de Pérou.
When you are at the right place at the right moment, and you can recognize their shouting at a distance, and approach without making noise... Male Andean Cock-of-the-rocks (Rupicola peruvianus aequatorialis) during the preparation of a 15 days tour I guided with Nature Experience for the French Orchid Federation in northern Peru.
Cuando uno esta en el buen lugar en el buen momento, que se sabe reconocer su canto a lo lejos, y acercarse sin hacer ruido... Gallitos de roca peruanos (Rupicola peruvianus aequatorialis) machos durante la preparación de un tour de 15 días que guié con Nature Experience para la Federación Francesa de Orquídeologia en el norte de Perú.
unter dem Baum in der Einkaufsstraße von Medemblik war ein lautes Geschrei zu hören. Es stammte von einer jungen Dohle, die gefüttert werden wollte. Mutter Dohle lehnte das aber ab.
Loud shouting was heard under the tree in Medemblik's shopping street. It came from a young jackdaw that wanted to be fed. But Mother Jackdaw refused.
I shot this last year and it had a Red Kite flying above the tree. This year i found the tree again and this time it has a shouting crow on it. Pretty good tree. Shot at f1.8 and just focusing on the tree.
"Stop shouting, you're scaring fish!" — Alexander Nevsky
Media:
* Alexander Nevsky (1938). Directed by Sergei Eisenstein and Dmitry Vasiliev. Music by Sergei Prokofiev.
Stable Diffusion
Somewhere in the distance a voice could be heared shouting: "Alms for the poor?"
Pembosass and his crew were wandering through the streets of one of those smugglers settlements on the backwater world of Mataou. It was hot and the air as thick as Bantha butter. No wind was blowing.
The party dispersed, gathering intel, looking for a job...
A rugged stormtrooper, who certainly had seen better days, was sitting in the burning sun, asking the passers-by: "Alms for the poor?"
While the group dispersed, Kragan approached some Jawas. He could haggle for hours. A skill he mastered in his former life as smuggler and pirate.
"Alms for the poor?" the old stormtrooper shouted.
Pembosass walked over and handed some rations and - hidden between the food packages - a few credits to the old man.
"Aye, Pembosass the Pirate!" The trooper said with a firm voice.
"How has it arisen that you know my name?" Pembosass asked without getting an answer.
Suddenly the beggar widened his eyes and leaned against the wall behind him. Staring into the sky, as if he had an vision, he shouted repeatedly:
"The Flame of Zhar....I saw it in my dreams" The old trooper continued to shout!
Pembosass looked left and right but nobody was paying attention to the beggars dramatical episode and after some minutes, in which the beggar continued shouting, finaly mustered the courage to ask: "What is this Flame of Zhar?"
The beggar was shouting: "A gem, a precious gem! The eternal flame! Great power comes with it" He continued with great verve: "The Flame of Zhar....is calling YOU!"
Exhausted from his vision the dazed beggar fall silent and slowly started eating one of the rations.
Later Pembosass gathered his crew: "We have to find out more about this Flame of Zhar..."
A protester speaks into megaphone surrounded by smoke, Free Palestine Protest, Hyde Park, London, 22 May 2021
A Remnant of Society:
A Short Post-Apocalyptic Story
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They had been driving across the desolate expanse of desert wasteland for several hours, when Alixa lowered her binoculars and pointed ahead and slightly to the right.
“I see something over there,” she said, shouting over the wind and the roar of the engine to be heard by the other occupant of the Polaris Dune Rover.
Aaron, driving, swerved the battered Rover around part of a rusted car sticking up out of the sand.
“What do you think it is?” he shouted back.
“I think it’s an abandoned farmstead. Might be worth checking out.”
The other nodded, and turned the nose of the Polaris towards the distant farm.
Passing tumbleweeds, and the occasional piece of wreckage, they drew closer to the farm with each passing minute, until finally it loomed up before them.
Aaron pulled the Polaris up to what had been the yard in front of the main house, and shut the engine off.
The two of them sat for a moment, studying the farmstead.
The main house, two stories high plus an attic, had once been painted solid white, with a varnished oak wrap-around veranda, topped off with a shallow-peaked roof of olive green shingle.
The white paint remained for the most part, although there were places were it had worn away or faded.
Time and the harsh weather had not been so kind to the porch and roof, however.
The varnish on the porch was all but gone, and in several places the railing had cracked or broken entirely off. Sand was piled up in multiple places along the porch, in some places completely covering the veranda.
The roof was even worse.
A huge hole dominated the right-hand side, jagged and sagging. Shingles had dislodged and fallen away in many places, leaving the roof pockmarked.
The door and been knocked off its’ hinges at some point, shutters were missing from their windows in several places, large cracks were visible in the walls, and there were bullet holes in various spots.
Alongside the house was a large well, once clear water now scummed over.
Right next to the well, (A really bad place for it, in my opinion, Aaron thought), was an old wooden telephone pole, bent and leaning, with a few severed wires trailing from its’ sagging arms.
In front of the main house was a rusting green gas tank, and in the near distance the occupants of the Polaris could make out an old barn and the stump of what had been a windmill.
All in all, Alixa thought, It was a sad remnant of society.
“Well,” Aaron said after a minute, breaking the silence. “Let’s get out and take a look around.”
The two of them climbed out of the Polaris, and removed their helmets, placing them in their seats.
Aaron swapped his helmet for a black Dorfman Pacific adventure hat, placing it on his somewhat unkempt red hair, while Alixa simply let her shoulder-length raven locks tumble free.
Reaching back into the vehicle, Aaron removed the keys from the ignition, sticking them in a pocket, and then picked up his FN SCAR-L from where it sat between the seats.
Chambering a round, Aaron slung the weapon’s sling over his shoulder, and started advancing across the yard towards the rusty fuel tank, saying over his shoulder,
“Might as well see if there’s any gas left. You check the well, see if the water can be filtered.”
Alixa nodded, and retrieved her SIG Sauer SSG 3000 from beside her seat.
Aaron had found the rifle for her in a demolished police station a few towns back, and she’d had grown fond of the reliable weapon.
Working the bolt to chamber a round, Alixa cradled the rifle loosely in her hands, and approached the rank-smelling well.
“Yuck,” she muttered, peering over the rusted metal rim.
The water inside was green and a thick layer of scum had formed over, but underneath, she could faintly see, was clearer liquid.
“The surface is pretty scummed over, but there appears to be fresher water below that. I think we might be able to filter some of it,” she called to Aaron, who was standing on top of the old fuel tank, peering through the open hatch.
“Good. We’ll get the filters out in a minute,” he called back.
Then, after a second, he hopped down and made his way over to her, avoiding the various rusted pieces of junk that littered the yard.
“No gas in that, unfortunately,” Aaron said, jerking a thumb at the tank.
He nodded at the ruined house.
“Let’s search that, see if there’s anything we can use.”
Alixa nodded her agreement, and the two of them headed across the yard for the sagging front steps.
As Araon went to mount the first step, something crashed against a hard surface inside the house.
They both froze, gripping their weapons tighter, waiting tensely for any other sounds.
After about a minute, Alixa relaxed, lowering the SIG Sauer.
“Must have just been a picture falling off the wall or something,” she said lightly.
Aaron slowly lowered his assault rifle, nodding idly as he scanned the yard, looking for anything out of place, as he had been taught to do during his Ranger training.
“You’re probably right. In an old wreck like this the wall probably wasn’t strong enough to support whatever it was, and it ju—.”
He stopped mid-sentence, as his roving eyes fell upon a beat-up motorcycle leaning against the peeling side of the barn.
“Well, might as well go and see—,” Alixa stopped, realizing Aaron wasn’t paying any attention to her.
“What is it?”
He pointed at the motorcycle, and stepped closer to her.
“That bike,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“What about it?” she responded, matching his low tone instinctively. “And why are we whispering?”
“It’s not part of the farm. It’s in too good a condition to have been left here by whoever used to own this place,” the other replied, ignoring her second question.
“What are you saying?” Alixa said, the uncertainty evident in her voice.
“I’m saying,” Aaron answered, bringing the FN SCAR up to his shoulder as he scanned the farm anew, “We’re not alone here.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
So, this is my first post-apocalyptic MOC, and I must say, I'm really happy with the way it turned out.
This will be on display at BFVA, which is in just three weeks!
Hope you all like it! :)