Board Thread:Off-Topic Discussion/@comment-28009263-20170702193612/@comment-27163598-20171017201831

???

What kind of predators are out here, how large, how dangerous, how, aggressive? My survival is on the line here, if I get jumped by something I'm not prepared for, I'm through. I need to research passive behaviours more before I make any conclusions about the... YOU again. I turned back to shore, and surely enough, seated on the beach, was the yellow penguin swan. Sawing into the fish and scooping the fillets down its long muscular throat. I splashed through the water, trying to get to shore before I have no dinner left. The yellow swan noticed my incoming, and sped up the eating, gulping more and more fillets before I can stop him. Then, he turned and legged it. Seriously. This reminds me of the gingerbread man, saying "you can't catch me" but in reality, it's a fat bird with short stubby legs and an elongated neck. It was slower than I was as a toddler. I stopped at the fish corpse, it was partly bleeding, pecked to the bone, organs torn and fins ripped. There wasn't a stripe of edible flesh left on the morsel. This made me pretty angry, that penguin swan is selfish, greedy, lazy even. He is literally designed to catch fish, yet here he is, following me to the end of the earth for a few fillets. He's dead.

Imagine the scene, from a distance, with the view, perhaps from over the water. Me, running along the beach, at the slow yellow penguin. When I got close, I tackled him, wallowing around like pigs wrestling. Is he slow? Yes, stupid? Probably. But he was in no way weak. It seems that sliding around in mud and shallow water is his specialty. Slipping from my grasps and escaping to the water, where he sped off like a little motor boat. Darn it. I need food, my survival depends on it, and unlike that scumbag, I cannot catch fish at will, or find specific edible plants without going into the darkness of the mucky forest, I'm stuffed. Well, I guess its time to give the penguin swan a taste of his own stupidity. I started my journey, back the way I came. Running occasionally to make sure the swan was in sight. I was drenched in mud, yellow feathers randomly stuck to my skin from the tackle.



I'm laying there, my the water glittering in the sun, my view was somewhat obstructed by the grass and shrub that I sat behind. In front of me, was the penguin, floating amongst the mangroves I found him in, by one of the mangroves was a hole, a burrow. I saw him enter it, and exit it later. This bird is definitely a he, just started floating off with the shallow currents beneath him. I sat there and waited, while he finally disappeared through the mangrove maze I spent so long in. This is my chance, I stood up, mud dripping as if I had a bath. I slowly passed through the water, holding myself close to the water, allowing the mud to flow off while also keeping myself somewhat, concealed.

It's a fair trade, I recon. Im walking, walking with pride. In my hands sat a small egg, it was covered in speckles of gold that glittered in the light. Without the reflection of the sun, the egg was more brown and grey. I think I can truly call this golden, a golden egg. A fish for a shiny egg, worth it, I guess. I just hope it tastes as good as it looks. But I need a fire to cook it in, and I don't have much to work with here. The air is humid, no dead plants and broken twigs are dry, everything is soaked. It would take forever to make a spark, let alone, light a fire. I am not gonna try using friction, rubbing a stick for hours on ends. I start digging my hands into the mud, pulling up rocks and pebbles. I wash them, one by one and hold them in the light. My eyes search for a glitter, the tiniest shine. I'm looking for something that might spark, maybe a small sharp edge, or a strong stone type, something like that, with the right work, could make a spark. So, there I says, by the water, smashing rocks together, breaking them open, then rinsing the slime from their surfaces. A sparkle? I inspected the suns image, speckling forth from the stones. On the inside of one round piece of earth was a shard, an orange sharp shard. The hay is this surprise to be. It's unfamiliar, but I'm not someone who really cares about rocks. And so, I put it aside and continued on my rock smashing adventure. Stone by stone, they smashed open, exposing its own shards, grey and brown from the sticky muddy ground.

I spent at least half an hour, inspecting the insides of rocks. And now, I have a good collection of gravel and grind. I sat by the tree line, close enough for shelter, but far enough from the actual forest to feel safe. With a small pile of twig and leaves, the driest ones I could find. I held a rock in each hand, grazing them together, hopping for some form of spark. Nope, not that one, let's try these, not this one. Oooo, I saw a spark, I'll keep this one. Hm, let's try a better match. I sat there chafing the stone together, spark by spark, corroding layers of powder from the balls of earth. It was quite a surprise to me when I started, among the crushed stones was a small metal ore. The metal was increasing spark production, but quickly wore out the stones I bashed them against. I was running out.

I looked through my pile, searching for left over stones good enough to use, this ones to small, this ones to weak. My eyes stumbled upon the orange shard, the one I ignored. Might as well give this a try. I clutched the orange shard in my left, and with a quick flick of the arm, I struck it against the metal piece. The flash of friction lit up the air in front of me, only for a moment, then it disappeared from its craze. That would have to be the biggest spark yet. Have I just found flint, and didn't even realise it? To hell, yes I did, how on earth did I ignore this. Its flint. I started striking it repeatedly, sparks flinging off like a grinder at a stone quarry. Those sparks started infecting the twigs, making a meal on the fire starter before it. The sparks grew to flame as its body consumed the leaves, and licked up the twigs. I started breaking sticks, making small wooden pins that formed the kindling of this blaze. The wooden needles began knitting at the flame, making it grew larger, like a red blanket blowing in the wind. I reached my hands over, soaking the heat I very much needed. But I felt nearly nothing of the heat.

Spending the whole day in a small towel wrapped around my downer region can be quite cold. So I had to patiently feed the flame, allowing to do grow to warmth, then hot heat. Why fire seems less hot confuses me, but I'm not one to complain at this point, all that's happening is enough to ruin reality. On a beach with weird yellow penguin swans and large skittish Moa. I just can not wait to see what's next. I pushed the eggs into the dirt by the hot charcoal, allowing the radiation from underneath to slow cook my dinner. I could see the eggs golden glitter turn to brown within seconds, and the moist along the shell speed off in vapour. I can't wait.



With a stick, I flick the dirt and sand beneath the fire aside, the end of the eggs shell gave me a good clue as to how perfectly cooked it was. With my hands I poked the egg, feeling for its heat. It's warm, not boiling, um, is that a good thing? I swear, it doesn't feel like it should be cooking, it's not hot enough. But it's been there for absolute ages. So I push it back more and let it cook. As I start getting impatient, I check and poke the egg regularly, nothing is changing. Since it lacks heat, I dig my hands around it, gripping at its shell. It's hot, but not enough to burn me, that's for sure. With the sharper end of the ore, I slice it across the shells surface, opening it slightly. The inside, it's black??? My hopes of s good meal were momentarily crushed, I stabbed the ore into it, and opened it further. Phew, white insides. I started picking pieces of the shell, flicking them into the fire. The egg is partly burnt, but how. It's barely hot enough. The outer layer of egg whites is completely burnt, if I left it any longer, it would be black right through. I should have pulled it out when it seemed perfect, my sense of heat must be wrong. It takes a lot of fire for me to feel heat, a burnt egg isn't hot enough, what's going on.

I pluck out the burnt bits and chuck them aside, the whole egg smells purely burnt. But all doubt retreated as I scooped the whites into my mouth, my eyes relax and almost shut as it gets teary. Drool flows out my mouth and down my chin as I chew the whites, it's beyond delicious. It has exceeded the physical boundaries set in egg biology, its epic, ultimate, legendary. The nutritional value of this egg must be phenomenal, a golden egg is the best description, valued like gold, flavour quality of gold, this is top tier food. As I swallow, it just slides down, tickling my throat. As I lick my lips and wipe my chin, I realise just how greasy it is, and how slippery the whites are, like it's synthesised with a natural oil, that helps with the cooking and reduces the friction of the insides. This is every chicken egg farmers dream, every bakery's necessity, every body builders diet. This is the perfect egg, laid by the most unlikely of birds. If I ever said there was a yellow swan that stood like a penguin, I would be declared mad, imagine their reactions when I say it also lays the worlds most valuable eggs, golden eggs.

That's just the egg whites, I haven't even tried the yolk yet. The more I scoff down my throat, and the more that slides down my oesophagus. I feel more and more full. I look into the egg, the creamy flesh is slowly expanding. Oil starts pouring down the egg side, running over my finger and down my wrist. I start shoving lots down, eating as much as possible. I've found the best food for survival situations in my life and I might not be able to eat it all. I must, I just must. I can not let a drop be wasted, and not allow the rest to spoil in my slumber. The yolk breaks open, and starts bubbling as it now has room for the gasses to escape. It was like a volcano, the slices in the white starts flowing with yellow. I take a scoop of the yolk, it's soft and fluffy. It tickles the pallet of my mouth as it bubbles up, it's much more sour, but like lemons, that crumple your face. This one tasted like it has been sprinkled with salt, and like milk had been mixed in to make it puffy and fluffy.

I sit there, a shell bowl resting on the dirt, holding half its content. My hands were gently placed over my stomach, I was full, and still filling as more expanding. I breathed out my nose, with a sudden burst of air as the bubbles in the yolk shot out my nose in the fashion of a burp. I can't finish it, it's too much. The egg was about the size of a football and shaped in a smith oval, yet, it expanded twice its content, like it was compact within that shell. And now, I couldn't go on, this meal was by far, the best I've had since I got here. It's also the only meal I had since I got here, but I doubt anything will beat it.

I heard a crack in the forest, my peace was instantly broken and nerve disturbed. I looked back, frightened and uttermost lacking the energy to run, if it comes to it. The sun disappeared behind the forested hill long ago, and in the darkness behind me, I saw nothing. Nothing at all. Silhouettes of trees and figures of plantation. As my eyes had been on the fire beforehand, it was only focusing on the night now. As as it didn't, black became grey, grey became brown. I started distinguishing reds, greens, blues and yellows. Yellow. A tall yellow figure. My nerve settled, as I realised my foe was no more than the Moa. It's left leg was lifted, frozen in the motion of walking before noticing my presents and freezing up. It was long frozen before I even turned around, you could tell, in his eyes. He knew I was there, I knew he was there. I turned back to the fire, ignoring the bugger. As I faced the fire, I heard his claws slowly scrape the ground and his toes make gentle impact and sink within the sand. I turned again, he was closer then before, but once again, he was frozen was I stared him down. What does he want? I want to know, so I turned my head again, away from his massive figure. And once again, he came closer. When I turned again, his neck was stretched elongated as far forward as he could reach, making him appear much closer. His eyes were on me, but his face was toward the ground before me. The egg, the bowl shell with the unfinished meal, the Moa is hungry. His head was just about beside me now, no longer frozen, slowly reaching for the egg. I moved my foot and pushed the egg closer. The sudden movements on my behalf had the Moa rear back in fright. But I remainder relatively still, not at all being threatening.

The Moa attempted to calm itself and moved in again for the egg, but as it got close, it freaked out again, just because I'm there. This isn't going anywhere. I slowly picked up the egg and held it towards him. He eyeballed the egg for a moment. He reached forth, trying to keep the rest of his body as far away as possible. And with sudden burst, it grabbed the egg, and ran a few meters. He stopped and started scooping the yolk out with his little tongue, he looked back at me. And we held eye contact, only for a moment. He picked up the empty egg shell bowl and started jogging down the beach. It was quite majestic, watching the mighty bird as its figure shrunk in the distance down the beach. I turned back to the fire, with a big smirk on my face, this is how trust is built, this could be the start of a little mutual friendship. Like what I had with Dialect the cockatoo, back home.

My smile broke as a squawking screech made me jump, I turned to the dark. To figures wrestled in the darkness down the beach. One was the Moa, undeniably being overwhelm by the large predator that I couldn't make out. The Moa looked back at me, screeching, asking for help, begging for help. Despite the dangers, I legged it, right toward the fierce fight. The Moa kicked and screamed, hopping to break free, hopping to live another day. I sprinted like it was a friend of mine, being mugged or murdered by a stranger. My legs thrust forward, clamping to the ground and springing me forward. I may not be fast, like the Moa was, but I felt like I was speeding faster then light, rushing toward the limits of reality. The beast pinned the Moa down, further boosting my adrenaline, speeding me up to save the mighty bird. Snap... the shattering of bone echoed through the night, the beast removed its jaws from the moas twisted neck. I slowed, to a stop, "NOOOOOOOOOOO" my voice was shattered, from a wounded conscious and hurt feelings. It was one the only things I said perfectly, but I only wish the circumstances were different. The beast looked to me, eyes shining a small round rainbow of green, pink and purple. It's lack of momentum showed it's true shape, a long tail, slouching spine, long jaw and short arms, this was no normal animal. It knew my presents, and how exposed it was to the open world, gripping its trophy within is muscular jaw and strong arms, it dragged it into the forest, out of sight, away from the world. Away from the brightness of the moon, away from its own fear of its own hideous self. It disappeared, it and a large dead bird, gone, too far to chase, too dense to follow, too dark to see. I rushed toward the crime scene. Yellow feathers scattered the ground, with blood staining each one. Sand dug from body's rolling around, holes with the shapes of feet scratched into the dirt. And sitting half buried in the muck, was the eggshell. Preserved in shape, like a real bowl. The echo of growls in the distance shut the forest up. Closed the door in my face, I wasn't going to follow. The victory screeches proving the murderers dwelling.

I picked up one of the feathers, torn along one side, and the other stained red. I held it close, like the egg shell. The first possibility of a friend, not any more. I will keep these with me, in memory of the first one to scream for my help.