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Aesche
72.2K posts
Aesche
@Aesche
Fahrradfahrend, singend, radiohörend, lesend, twitternd in Berlin. Mi piace to read and talk les langues étrangères. #birding @[email protected]
Berlin Inscrit le Eylül 2009
4.5K Abonnements877 Abonnés
Aesche retweeté
Hello!
It doesn’t cost anything to repost but it helps me spread the word about my small business.
My online shop is full of bold & colourful prints, homewares and cards.
I’m also available for freelance design work and art licensing.
gailmyerscough.co.uk
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Aesche retweeté
16:21, 5/30 Oh, the techniques we can learn. Iris circles NG2 twice, tightening the circle the second time as she bumps his tail feathers, causing him to rise.
Bonus- a sound of NG2's wing (s) as he leaves.
#HellgateOsprey
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@CeliaBedelia They also have two observation towers in the area, but those are closed at the moment, but according to postings on the tower itself they should be reopened in autumn 2026 🔗
grosstrappe.org
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@CeliaBedelia Maybe you might want to add the Great Bustard (Großtrappe) on your list! They have a protected area between Nennhausen & Buschow (western direction of Berlin). I was there recently and was lucky enough to see a male displaying, unfortunately with the protective fence in front.
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@CeliaBedelia I've seen both Bee-eaters and hoopoe south of Berlin, in the area between Beelitz, Teltow and Zossen, approximately. I was on bicycle tours, and I have seen both only once there, so it's not a sure thing. I heard a lot of hoopoes in the area between Kamenz & Lauta in spring.
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@CeliaBedelia @chrisinthebooks This morning I found this clinical guide pdf on reddit about the connection of ADHD/Autism with different medical conditions, maybe it's of interest! 🔗
allbrainsbelong.org/wp-content/upl…
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I have a condition called Ehlers-Danlos, which makes my skin more elastic. One common EDS reality is eyelid skin that eventually droops & affects vision. My doctor diagnosed me with this today.
"The skin must go. It cannot feel good, and it certainly doesn't look too good."😆
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Weingärten werden in Österreich zunehmend ökologisch bewirtschaftet. Einst rar gewordene Vogelarten wie der Wiedehopf und die Dohle finden hier nun wieder Insekten. Der Trend zum Biowein verschaffte der Artenvielfalt somit indirekt einen Aufwind.
science.orf.at/stories/323560…
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07:49, 5/16 Let us count the ways Iris has to cause NG2 to relinquish egg-sitting! #HellgateOsprey
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4/5
When you are busy feeding your chick and the adolescents are trying to impress each other on your front lawn.
WYL and chick (yesterday)
AllAboutBirds.org/Albatross
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My favourite variant of “people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” is a colloquial (and extremely rare) Swedish phrase that goes kasta inte bäver i trähus. It means “do not throw beavers in wooden houses.”
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@lynnbonham @HellgateOsprey Did NG figure it out in the end, or do we have to hope for a steep learning curve this season...?
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@HellgateOsprey Louis knows more about 'calling' than
that new guy did last year!!
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4/6 Some things never change, and Louis will be Louis. He's been "calling on" Iris already. Buckle up! Our Ospreys are sure to entertain and surprise you while we learn more about Osprey Life. #HellgateOsprey
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Iris the Osprey, one of the world's oldest known breeding ospreys, returned to her nest on April 6 at 6:52. She has visited the site several times since. Watch the cam zoom in as she perches before flying to the nest to spruce up some sticks. youtu.be/xM_3aiCH4hM
YouTube
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06:52, 4/6 Rejoice!!! Iris is home and starts nestorations immediately! All is right with the world! #HellgateOsprey
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Aesche retweeté
Impressive. Read the whole thing. 👇
Gandalv@Microinteracti1
Robert Mueller died last night. He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving. He had integrity. And tonight the President of the United States said good! I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good. I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word. Good. This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather. That is what is happening. That is what has happened. The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming. America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner. And the church said nothing. Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary. Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him. Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart. JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn. These men are something more painful than monsters. They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again. Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing. Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less. That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him. And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it. When Trump is gone, they will still be here. Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous. That morning is coming. Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say. He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true. He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad. The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it. That is all it needed to be. A man died. His family is broken open with grief. That is all it needed to be. Instead the President said good. And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸 Gandalv / @Microinteracti1
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@Aesche Leider haben sie seine Lieblingspalme letztes Jahr abgesägt.
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Aesche retweeté
This male Siskin was a feisty little fella defending its perch on the feeder against a larger Greenfinch! #LytchettFields
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Honestly at this point, fine. Welcome my space bacteria overlords, you’ve got your work cut out.
World of Engineering@engineers_feed
Scientists discovered that the bacteria living on the International Space Station have mutated into a species that doesn't exist on Earth.
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Aesche retweeté
Word of the Day: FAKKI-IDIOOTTI (Finnish) — someone who is knowledgeable in their specialist area of expertise but ignorant about everything else; from the German word ‘Fach’ meaning ‘subject’.
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This just makes me happy.
A volunteer found this medieval bronze wheel cross and then they realised it fitted the mould they found 40 years ago:
archaeology.org/news/2026/01/2…
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