FOM

Leaf Sheep Nudibranch

Wed, 05 Jul 2023 16:00:00 GMT

The last surviving sheeps (short for leaf sheep nudibranch) in the council have convened on the flat surface of an algae-covered rock for an important meeting.

One of the sheeps cries out in a frightened shrill, "The wolves have found us! Two days ago, when many of us were grazing at Observation Rock, a few wolffish gobbled up half the flock."

"Then, it is time to find new lands." The lead sheep, who happens to be the largest and oldest amongst the council members, said and the council members nodded their heads vehemently in agreement.

The once 100000-strong flock have been reduced to a population of 2000. Within a year, several terrible events have befallen the sheeps. Large swarms of worms have ravaged their green grazing pastures. Cloudfish schools have started hanging around in the space above their usual grazing areas, blocking out essential sunlight for the leaf sheep nudibranch to photosynthesise. (A quick introduction for those unfamiliar with the sheeps: the sheep is small green nudibranch which consumes algae that would be reconstructed into tiny food-making factories in the the sheep's body. The sheep is hence able to produce food for their own consumption through photosynthesis, a process often thought exclusive to plants.) Some sheeps have reported sightings of the green wrasse, one of their many predators, lurking in the distant. Previous talks about migration have fallen through due to fear of unknown lands but the latest attack has made the move inevitable.

The leader continues, "The south will lead us to higher grounds where more sunlight reaches. And it is rumoured to have an abundance of exuberantly green algae fields." The sheep have not had a good meal in some time and the mention of algae fields suddenly intensified sheeps' hunger.

The next morning, when the wolffish are expected to be in deep slumber in their burrows, the sheep gather and begin their march towards the south. No sheep stayed behind.

The sheeps know they have reached their destination when endless rows of initimidatingly tall red corals greeted them. After facing no threats while making their way around the new territory, the sheep drop most of their caution and they start to climb a large yellowish green alage rock to sleep in the nooks and crannies of the rock.

Their arrival has not gone unnoticed by the resident red nudibranch, who are alarmed and angry that another nudibranch colony are sharing their territory.

Pink-Neck Green Pigeon

Tue, 27 Jun 2023 16:00:00 GMT

Borb, Mr Green's daughter, chirped with glee. “Is this Thomson? You said there’s a tree that grows weird durians!”

“Better,” Mr Green said confidently.

Chirp, who was sporting a few berry stains from lunch, perked up. “Is this about that giant pigeon statue again?”

“You guys are almost fledged,” Mr Green said, nuzzling them gently. “Green pigeons visit the Fat Pigeon for blessings before young birds take flight on their own.”

The sky was dim, hazy but the the remaining sun rays made the river glow a gentle gold. As they approached the plaza where the Fat Pigeon Statue stood, they were greeted by a swirl of rock pigeons flapping about and fighting over food scraps.

Rock pigeon nests are scattered across the infrastructure around the plaza, built from twigs, bits of plastic, and random debris, and tucked into nearby ledges and rooftop corners. They passed one ragged pigeon gingerly placing a twig next to a single, vulnerable egg on a concrete bench.

“Ew...” Borb chirped rather audibly. “Do they call that a nest? Aren’t they too... distracted by chasing soggy crumbs and giving up on proper housing? These pigeon’s idea of home improvement is adding a third stick."

“Chirp!” Mr Green warned in hushed but sharp tone. “Mind your manners.”

He hovered close to them, lowering his voice. “Rock pigeon ancestors lived on wind-battered cliff faces, where flat and sturdy nests were the key to survival. So their nesting ‘design’—while strange only to us—is inherited from eons before skyscrapers.”

The chicks blinked. They looked again at the sparse and messy nests.
“And they sleep here under the skies patrolled by peregrine falcons. Living in the nooks of concrete helps them hide better.”

The two fledglings' feathers fluffed with anxiety. “Are they out at night?” Borb asked, glancing toward the tall buildings.

“No,” Mr Green said casually. “Falcons are day-flyers. At this hour, even hunters dream.”

Chirp began to examine one of the makeshift nests from a respectful distance. "Still...it could be... better.”

Borb suddenly puffed up, wings rising slightly. Her eyes shone.

The statue towered over them. A bronze pigeon with an exaggerated belly, half-smiling, and its checked tucked out.

“Wow,” Borb whispered. “She looks very well-fed.”

“She represents more than food,” Mr Green explained proudly. “She’s about prosperity, generosity, and always having enough to share.”

“But mostly food, right?” Chirp muttered, wondering how much he had to eat to attain this rotund figure.

The trio stood in silence, marvelling at the grand size of the pigeon statue.

"You’ll leave tomorrow," Mr Green said softly. "Just like I did once. Remember — Fly with kindness. And never forget where the best figs grow. We will meet again soon enough at our favourite spot.”

“Dad, I want to help them! I want to help rock pigeons build better homes — strong, comfy nests. Like ours. With springy twigs, layered leaves, airflow…but still with their tradition in mind.”

Mr Green gave her a long, proud look. “That’s a noble thing.”

Borb flapped her wings excitedly. “Materials will be twine, pliable sticks, leaf composites, and ethically sourced lint. I will develop new nest safety standards.”

Mr Green chuckled. “I look forward to seeing your work in pigeon towns.”

“You will soon hear about Borb the amazing builder.” Borb replied coolly.

"How about you, Chirp? Where are you going?"

Chirp tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. He seemed to mull it over for a moment. “I think I want to be a mango farmer,” Chirp said. Mr Green and Borb looked at him puzzled, like that idea came out of nowhere.

“Really?” Borb blinked.

“Yeah,” Chirp said airily. “Rare commodity in the city. I’ll harvest only the finest, most golden mangoes. Not just for pigeons, but all birds who appreciate a aesthetic well-aged fruit. I’ll sell to treetop bird cafés.”

Borb narrowed her eyes. “And what if they just get their fruits from... like, any other tree?”

“That’s where service comes in,” Chirp explained. “There’s a fee for selection, exclusive tastings, tailored recommendation based on preferences and beak type.”

Mr Green looked at his children. Borb already measuring the perch angles of nearby balconies. Chirp sketching shadowy mangoes in his mind.

“Someday my mangoes and i are so famous that there will be a giant mango statue next to her.”

“Make it as plump as Prosperity Pigeon!” Chirp added.

Suddenly, without warning, a massive droppings landed directly in front of them — just inches from Mr Green’s claws.

The trio looked up slowly.

A rotund juvenile rock pigeon, perched smugly on the head of the Fat Pigeon Statue, tilted his own head, watching them. "Mango?", the young rock pigeon asked, eyes filled with anticipation.

KK

Fri, 16 Jun 2023 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Blue-tailed bee eater

Wed, 21 Dec 2022 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Nusa Penida

Mon, 21 Nov 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Henrietta, Henrietta II and White Jr went on a girls-only vacation to Bali. This tropical beach vacation was intended to be a well-deserved relaxing break after their most recent motherhood which lasted 3 weeks.

The holiday did not end very well. They were sunburnt and constantly on edge as a result of the many dangerous-looking coconut trees. The trio were also homesick as they missed the delicious slices of watermelon served by their loyal servant back home.

Borb Statue

Fri, 30 Sep 2022 16:00:00 GMT

This is the statue of the First Minister of Floof, Dr. Pigeon, who is the mascot of MOF SG. The statue is located at the Singapore River.

The First Minister is a widely celebrated war hero. One of his greatest contributions was the delivery of secret messages for intelligence during the first war. Little is known about the extremely private minister's personal life except that he is a huge fan of sourdough bread.

Kingfisher

Thu, 29 Sep 2022 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Reserved Seating

Sun, 18 Sep 2022 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Pigeons

Fri, 09 Sep 2022 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Softshell Turtle

Sat, 13 Aug 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Young water hen chicks, Blackie and Lilie, were ecstatic for their first ever night river cruise tour with Turtle Tours and Transportation Pte Ltd . As get-ahead early childhood enrichment programmes were increasingly popular amongst the local bird families, Mrs Lilywalker thought this tour would be a safe way to educate her chicks about the perils of the night wildlife and put their constant begging for night outings to end. She had been frequently chiding them for wanting to go out of the home bush past night fall. Water hens hide and sleep in their chosen home bushes as any incoming intruders would stir up sounds and movement in the bush to warn the slumbering water hens.

Mr Turtle, who was both the tour guide and also the vessel, was punctual for the pickup and parked himself at the front of the water hens' homebush. He had his shell cleaned and shined to receive the guests. Blackie immediately jumped in carelessly, to which Mrs LilyWalker shot a disapproving look. After the water hen family got on board, Mr Turtle slowly cruised away into the dark waters.

Mr Turtle was an excellent night wildlife spotter, and this skill has helped him avoid predators for the past decades. Before pivoting to river cruises, he initially aspired to be a ride-sharing operator, but the local market proved too small for a third competitor (the two main operators being U.B.E.R. and G.R.A.B.). When interesting wildlife was sighted, he would stop at a safe observing distance, extend its long neck and pointed his head in the direction of it. The guests managed to sight some G.R.A.B. owls, water monitors, various snakes in strike poses on low hanging branches creeping above the waters at the sides and some grumpy blue-eyed white cat resting behind the water edge. Mr Turtle shared that on rare occasions, a lucky visitor might spot the big 3: sambar deers, large alligator gars and also crocodiles. Mrs Lilywalker sighed as the chicks were having more fun than she had hoped.

They glided along the river which was flanked by well-maintained rows of flowering plants dimly lit by the underwater lights. Then, Mr Turtle slowed to a stop. He craned his neck to the left and stretched out as long as he could. "A crocodile!", he chimed. At the other end of the river, there were 2 small shining beady eyes poking out of the water surface. The chicks gasped in excitement but Mrs Lilywalker was visibly shaken. She quickly requested that the tour end early and they start heading back.

Crows

Sat, 06 Aug 2022 16:00:00 GMT

WIP

Expressway

Tue, 26 Jul 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Goldie, a middle-aged yellow labrador, was an experienced road user instructor and also a vocal advocate for dog-friendly road signs. Due to a recent heatwave, the tarmac roads often got too hot in the day for dogs to comfortably run on, thereby requiring dogs to wear booties. To beat the heat, Mr Goldie had resorted to conducting morning and evening classes most of the time. This evening, he has a class for 3 young learner road users - a chihuahua, a corgi and a Singapore Special.

Road User Training was getting more popular amongst dogs. Many dogs spent most of their lives primarily concerned with socializing with other dogs. Being able to use the express road networks to visit farther dog parks greatly benefited doggie networking.

The process for training to become a safe and effective road user is an arduous and strenous process. The training covers many aspects, such as road etiquette, navigation, road signs.

The first module covered basic road etiquette: no peeing and pooing on the road, no blocking other road users, no road rage/excessive barking.

The second module was about road signs, navigation and road network familiarity. The current road network and signs are particularly confusing for dogs as the initial designers of the roads did not have dogs in mind at all while building the roads. Dogs' eyes cannot see some of the colors (red and green) commonly used for road signs well. This may have contributed to the worrying trend of increasing lost and missing dogs reports. Mr Goldie hoped that his classes would go some way towards addressing this problem.

Croc & Heron

Fri, 10 Jun 2022 16:00:00 GMT

It was a clear night and a full moon hung over the estuary.

"You really should come every 6 months, you know. You're 3 months late and it really shows — I'm going to have to remove some of these."

Ally murmured something contritely in acknowledgement, which was all she really could do, considering the oral examination that was underway and the fact Dr Hee Onn's head was deep in her mouth.

"And it really stinks. There's probably all sorts of nasty germs holed up in here."

"Igh hor hunking", Ally mumbled.

"What?"

Dr Onn removed his head from her mouth.

"It's for hunting", Ally repeated.

Dr Onn sighed. No doubt the biohazards in Ally's mouth made her bites extra effective by infecting any wound made, but it also made dental work extra challenging and no doubt alienated many of Ally's friends.

Her delicate dental situation was also the reason Ally preferred to keep her mouth closed during dental procedures and have them conducted at night. Fortunately, Dr Onn was willing to take on this challenge. He motioned for some fireflies to enter Ally's mouth and began scrubbing.

Secret pond

Thu, 21 Apr 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Nestled deep inside the Dover Forest is a hidden aquatic sanctuary. It had only been discovered about a week or so ago, but word had quickly spread, and within hours, the first aquatic tourists arrived.

The origins of the pond are unclear but it is speculated to be the result of a little-understood phenomenon known as 'ponding' which is believed to occur during heavy downpours. Rumour holds that the intrepid explorers who discovered the pond were a pair of chickens on a mysterious quest, but the visitors here are less concerned with the history of the pond and are more attracted by its features and ephemeral nature — it could disappear at any time. Visitors have therefore come from across the land to seize this time-limited opportunity to bask in the turquoise waters, surrounded by water lilies under the cool shade of the emerald canopy.

It takes no small amount of effort to keep the place neat and tidy whilst preserving the natural ambience that draws so many visitors, but it's all in a day's work for Walter Hans, caretaker and gardener. Despite his many duties, throughout the day, Hans personally scurries around the pond via the service lily pads, picking up litter and the occasional leaf falling from the canopy. He is usually shadowed by the two young interns he recently recruited to help him in coping with the increasing traffic.

Besides the visitors to the pond who are busy unwinding, disconnecting from their worldly obligations, and reconnecting with themselves, there are also others at the pond who have taken advantage of the business opportunities that have arisen as a result of the pond's popularity.

Some members of the nearby otter clan have begun providing an Uber Buoyant and Energetic Rides (UBER) service for the aquatic residents of the nearby ponds, lakes, and other water bodies. These aquatic residents, including catfish and koi fish, have eagerly taken advantage of the UBER service to explore beyond their local water body, and especially to get to and from the pond.

The advent of the UBER service has put some pressure on the more well-established Generally Roaming Airborne Birds (GRAB) service operated by the Herons. At the moment, the Herons have managed to retain the large population of red-eared terrapins as loyal customers. As is well known, a terrapin is a ground-living creature and it is impossible to live closer to the ground without being under it. Terrapins therefore naturally enjoy the rush of flying through the air in manner they can otherwise realistically do only once, and consequently prefer to soar above than to be awkwardly gripped whilst traversing uneven ground.

The otters have an undeniable advantage though — they can transport larger and heavier creatures, such as catfish and the occasional elderly giant goldfish. And some passengers prefer the kind of quiet ride that is only possible when your ride operator has their mouth full.

It may be that two services will eventually peacefully co-exist, serving two slightly different markets, with the Herons focusing on longer-distance travel and smaller and lighter passengers and the otters being the preferred choice for shorter-distance travel and larger passengers.

Squirrel & Owl

Wed, 20 Apr 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Night had fallen on the promenade. Dr Hoot glided from railing to railing emitting his characteristic hoots. It had been a long day, but he was energised by the cool night breeze and the thrill of open-air flight. It wasn't easy work but it was a nice change from sitting in an office all day.

Six months ago, Dr Hoot had been a promising post-doc researcher in xenolinguistics — the study of non-owl languages. An academic career had seemed the obvious choice. From young, he realised that languages came naturally to him. He frequently found himself patiently helping his classmates with simple phrases and quizzing them at random times in the day to hone their language skills. Natural teacher instincts, he had been told. Add to that the complementary effect a pair of bookish glasses had him, and it was no wonder he dove headfirst into a doctorate without much further consideration.

A figure darted across the wooden boards, interrupting his thoughts. A squirrel. A bit fidgety but more pleasant than the toad from the last round at least. Dr Hoot launched himself off the railing and skilfully swooped towards the target. He slowed slightly as he closed in, raising his claws to carefully grab the target, then flapped his wings vigorously several times to regain altitude.

"I'm Nutmeg. To Dover Forest please," his new passenger called out.

"Dr Hoot. Of course," Dr Hoot replied, and began navigating north-west.

It was considerate of Nutmeg to give him a running start. Particularly since she seemed to be on the heavier side for a squirrel. A pickup at speed was easier and safer for all involved, with lower acceleration and less chance of injury than a stationary take-off.

The addition of owls to the Generally Roaming Airborne Bird (GRAB) service allowed the service to operate beyond the hours of daylight. Many actually preferred the quieter and nimbler owls to the noisier herons and egrets who operate the service during the day. Owls made their presence known with simple, discreet hoots, whereas the larger birds prefer what can only be described as a cacophony of squawks. The ability of owls to flap their wings noiselessly, glide silently, and keep their thoughts to themselves whilst flying meant that passengers could enjoy a peacefully silent journey across the night sky. By contrast, a journey with the daytime crew normally involved a continuous barrage of raised squawks.

A small coo rang out from underneath Dr Hoot. A small head peeked out and was excitedly surveying the landscape below.

"That's Meg. It's her first time flying at night," Nutmeg explained.

Dr Hoot smiled in acknowledgement and gradually descended to just above the tree-level to give Meg a closer look.

Grey Herons

Tue, 19 Apr 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Gold and crimson rays of light reached across the sky. A few faint hoots echoed out from the forest, but by and large the members of the nighttime service had begun their slumber. The light illuminated a wooden structure perched on a platform standing in the water. It was circular in shape, constructed out of curved wooden boards.

It would have been an excellent shelter for the Herons, had the ceiling been completed. As it stood, any inhabitants would frequently find themselves drenched by rain.

The structure has been under construction for some time. Plans for the Shelter had first been drawn up when some of the Herons were but hatchlings. Even at that time it had been clear that the growing Heron population would require more accommodation, but the Heron Decision-making Branch (which normally sat on that eponymous part of the tree) had been reluctant to commit resources in advance of demand. The Branch was concerned that the Shelter might not be necessary if the population did not grow as quickly as expected and unoccupied accommodation would be a waste of resources. Sub-optimal occupation of the Shelter might also disrupt the delicate pecking order within the Herons — the shelter would provide comfortable nesting spots to many, making existing highly-prized nesting spots less attractive. In any case, there was no need to put the chicken before the egg; the situation might right itself in time to come. The Branch therefore made arrangements for some lizard neighbours to keep a close eye on the availability of Heron accommodation.

Some years back, the lizards, who had since come to be known as Monitor Lizards (in light of their task), had reported to the Branch that accommodation availability was at an all-time low, and an accommodation crunch was to be expected in the near future. The omnivorous lizards also included in their report an offer to resolve the accommodation crunch with a munch or two, hoping for some lunch as payment for their work, but the Branch was unamused. Left with no other option, it finally commissioned the construction of the structure.

The Shelter project was a costly one, and much of the proceeds from the Herons' participation in the Generally Roaming Airborne Bird (GRAB) service had been diverted to paying for the construction. Recently though, the Herons' finances had become further stretched by some new fees they had to pay.

An enterprising colony of ants had put together a number of brightly-marked wooden platforms to make passenger pickups more convenient. The platforms functioned as designated pickup points and were angled with a gentle incline for ease of pickup and takeoff. The ant colony was large and well-organised, and weighed approximately a ton, hence was known as the Ant Ton. For the convenience of using the wooden platforms, the Ant Ton charged a small 'platform fee'. The fee had initially been nominal and the Ant Ton had provided other freebies such as food and drink for the busy Herons, but as passengers became used to and began to expect the convenience of using the wooden platforms, the Ant Ton saw less need to sweeten the deal. The platform fee therefore gradually increased and the freebies were withdrawn. Coupled with some unwise investments in Of late, the Herons therefore found themselves taking home barely enough to support themselves.

The construction of the Shelter had been carried out by the Gray Turf tribe, which was simultaneously involved in redevelopment projects in Dover Forest. Despite their increasingly tight financial situation, the Herons continued to make payments on time to Gray Turf, until construction abruptly stopped. For reasons unknown, Gray Turf had suddenly collapsed or vanished. No one could find any trace of any tribe members or tribe activity.

This was the final straw for some of the Herons who had been anxious over the growing accommodation problem for some time. They had petitioned the Branch repeatedly requesting for more accommodation sooner and in greater quantity, but the Branch had commissioned only this single Shelter project. Whilst the construction had proceeded at a glacial pace, the Herons had to squeeze on overcrowded trees and endure guano leaks from other occupants above. The estimated completion date for the Shelter had been repeatedly pushed back, and construction had now completely stalled. Enough was enough for these disgruntled Herons and they seceded from the greater flock, heading north towards greener pastures where it was rumoured that accommodation was 3.3 times easier to come by.

Masked Lapwing and Asian Shrew

Mon, 18 Apr 2022 16:00:00 GMT

Pennybags returned to the nest and picked up another egg. The nest was small and made out of dried grass and small, soft twigs. It was located on the forest floor, partially obscured by the surface-level vegetation but obvious enough to anyone with experience. Pennybags was experienced and thought the nest was in a very convenient location, at least for him.

The eggs were apparently adorned with a camouflage pattern, which breaks up the outline of each egg and helps it blend it with the surrounding vegetation. Or so Pennybags had been told. Since shrews are half blind, he had never noticed any visual pattern. In any case, he never had trouble locating the eggs when sounding out the area anyway.

Hugging the egg close to his body, Pennybags set off, expertly traversing the thick vegetation. Small as it was, the egg was dense and surprisingly hefty. Still, Pennybags was careful to keep a good grip and periodically rotate it for the best results.

15 minutes later, Pennybags was done and back to the nest for the next egg. A strong breeze suddenly swept through the area and Pennybags almost lost his balance. The sound of wing flaps confirmed that the Lapwings had returned.

Although slightly nervous, Pennybags was an experienced egg-walker and was used to doing his job under the his clients' watchful eyes. Having composed himself following that unexpected interruption, he pulled the egg closer to himself and tried his best to look diligent whilst setting off for another tour of the area.

His services consisted of an advanced get-ahead enrichment programme that involved twice-daily 15-minute guided tours of the surrounding area complete with engaging introductions to local flora and fauna. The physical aspect of the tour provides young birds-to-be with fresh air and a tactile sensory experience. It also gave Pennybags a good workout. As for the 'running' commentary, Pennybags found it helpful to have a captive audience, and often pointed out to prospective clients that he had never received any complaints from his charges.

Pennybags was probably the best egg-walker in the area and being the entrepreneurial soul that he was, he ensured this was reflected in his fees, and his journey home was always accompanied by the sound of jingling coins.

Sambar Deer in Dover Forest

Mon, 18 Apr 2022 16:00:00 GMT

It began as rhythmic thumping, slowly growing louder and nearer. Reports from the advance sentries had reached the herd. But there was barely any time to understand the message before it was drowned out by the very subject of the message — a distant rumbling that appeared to be drawing closer.

They had known that this day would come, of course. The agreement had been for the herd to have use of the Dover Glen for ninety nine years, and this was the final day.

All members of the herd had grown up in the Glen. The ground was cool and soft under their hooves, and the cool breeze flowing through the vegetation had a hint of trampled grass and soil.

From the occasional sightings and skirmishes over the years, the herd had some knowledge of the human tribe. The members of the tribe appeared to spend much of their time building and staying in large concrete forests, and it seemed inevitable that the Glen would be assimilated into the concrete landscape.

The rumbling grew louder. By now, most of the herd had retreated eastwards, away from the rumbling. There was no other choice. Only a handful of sentries remained discreetly hidden in the glade, looking forlornly at their surroundings, and both brave and curious enough to hope to catch a glimpse of the arriving tribe.

The rumbling was almost upon them when it abruptly stopped. The sentries hesitantly lifted their heads, vegetation still clinging to their antlers. Nothing. There was nothing in sight, and nothing within earshot either.

They crept forward towards the source of the earlier rumbling. Nothing either. The tribe had not shown, or had been thwarted in some way.

Subsequent reports would confirm the latter. For reasons unknown, all tribe activity had ground to a halt and there was no trace of any tribe members. Although the concrete forests continued to stand, the loud noises of construction or the rumbling of tribal activity had ceased. The herd returned to the Glen with mixed feelings of relief and trepidation — what had happened? Would it happen again? And what changes were to come?

Swimming Chickens

Sat, 04 Dec 2021 16:00:00 GMT

"This is a feather-headed plan. It's just a myth anyway."

The pair turned their back and began gearing up.

Undeterred, the larger roo continued, "They're practically chimeras. Bird feathers and frog feet, and they run, fly, and swim? It's scientifically impossible, feathers don't float."

By this time, Hen Solo had already entered the water. She put the naysaying roos out of her head and focused on the expedition at hand: to locate and make first contact with the 'ducks'.

There had only been a few unconfirmed sightings of yellow-brown birds flying and swimming, and the majority of the feathered community believed that ducks were no more than a myth. There were many stories: apparently the ducks, although incredibly secretive, had been part of the wider community and had even been the reigning triathlon champions a long time ago. As if simply flying and swimming was not impressive enough, ducks were also rumoured to be experts in software development — supposedly, they were worshipped by software developers and had invented duck typing.

Considering that the few witnesses had all reported that the ducks vanished (possibly even by submerging in the water) very quickly upon realising they were being watched, it was crucial to avoid detection. It was for their yellow-brown and white colourations, thought to resemble duck colours, that Solo and ChewBocka had been nominated for this expedition. Armed with provisions in an unusually buoyant teapot, and equipped with gear that allowed them to float with ease and dive if necessary, it was hoped that the pair would be able to look like and swim like ducks, and with a bit of luck, get up close to an actual duck.

Rail Corridor Pangolins

Sat, 24 Jul 2021 16:00:00 GMT

Upon turning 18 in otter-years, by tradition from the time of Sang Nila Otterma, a young otter is responsible for embarking on the 'ottersey'. The youngest eligible otter from each major otter clan will journey across the island and gather together in the cool shade of the largest trees at the midpoint of the island, where they will exchange greetings and knowledge. Surrounded by water and ample fish to catch, the site is known to the otters as the Central Water Catchment.

The young otter from the Pandan clan tasked with undertaking this particular 'ottersey' is Suay-Tar (水獭), or 'Suay' for short. Armed with a full belly of fish, she set off from West Coast Park northeast towards the site of the gathering.

She was familiar with the waterways in her clan's territory, which stretched from the southern coast till the Pandan river, but the river could only take her so far. Soon the river ran out and she had to move on land, following her instincts. It appeared to have rained recently. The damp conditions kept Suay's smooth coat cool and moisturised, but the mud on the path did tend to cling to her coat. Along this muddy corridor through the forest, the trees were tall and there was no concrete in sight.

Suay moved quickly but slowed her pace upon spotting three large figures in the distance. She cautiously moved closer, and the figures also approached, closing the distance between them. They appeared to be otters, but rather odd-looking otters, with light brown coats and poorly-maintained fur that has clumped together and grown hard. With their untrimmed nails, they looked slightly menacing standing in her way.

"What is your name?", the first figure asked. The figure spoke otter with an odd accent, but the question was a clear and easily understood one, so Suay answered.

"Suay-Tar". The figure appeared satisfied, but the other two now looked askance at her.

"What is your quest?", the second figure inquired.

"To reach the Central Water Catchment". Suay contemplated elaborating for a moment, but the second figure had already turned away. The third figure stepped forward.

"And what is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Suay looked quizzically at the figure. Its accent was particularly thick, and it seemed like a complicated sentence. The other two figures had already stepped away from the path and were scowling at the third, whilst gesturing at her. She smiled and tried to appear friendly but completely lost.

The third figure sighed and shook its head.

"What is your favourite colour?" That was much clearer.

"Red," she answered — fat fish, one of her favourite foods, was usually red in colour.

Eminently satisfied, the third figure nodded, and followed the other two in retreating into the forest with some haste.

With the path clear again, Suay sped down the path, hoping to avoid any more confrontations with rather peculiar local otters and to get to the gathering punctually.

Loyang Hornbills

Wed, 14 Jul 2021 16:00:00 GMT

The Loyang Hornbills had been people-watching at one of their favourite spots when a kind stranger offered them a bit of yellow goodness that quickly became their new favourite food. It was sweet with a hint of sourness, and at the same time fluffy yet firm. The Hornbills had tried to eat clouds before, but the clouds had somehow always gotten away. But this new food was a pretty good substitute: it was a bit like eating a sweet creamy cloud that had somehow solidified and fallen to the ground. It was perfectly understandable why the Hornbills would go bananas for bananas.

Contrary to the uncivilised slur 'bird-brain', the Hornbills had a decent memory, not least when it came to debts, so naturally they mentally placed the banana-debt on their bill and waited for a chance to pay it. And their chance came later that evening.

The Stranger had just polished off a zi char dinner together with some friends when the group suddenly stood up and hurriedly left. No doubt some very urgent business, the Hornbills thought, whilst observing quietly from a distance.

But what about the unfinished food and trays? Not willing to see their banana-benefactor be fined $300 for failing to return his tray, the Hornbills stepped in. After snapping up the leftovers, the Hornbills paired up up and use their giant beaks to support each end of the tray so as to skilfully air-lift each tray to the tray return station. With that accomplished, they settled down at the table to do some final clean-up and check the ground for any scraps that might have escaped.

Note: the above blurb is not intended in any way to encourage feeding of wild animals. It is purely fictional and you should not seek to re-enact the events described any more than you should embark on a candy-sorting career after clearing the 10,000th level on Candy Crush. Feeding wild animals is bad for them. It can encourage animals to permanently change their behaviour and become dependent on human food. They may also become aggressive towards humans, increasing the risk of violent human-wildlife conflict.

Red Junglefowl

Thu, 10 Jun 2021 16:00:00 GMT

Rumour has it that junglefowls are strategically dispersed in trees outside apartment windows throughout the island, tasked with a single mission — to ensure that locals get up bright and early every morning so they can lead productive lives.

The scene above is an artist's impression of the well-known fable of the two original junglefowls who lived in the Garden of Leedon along Farrer Road. Legend tells of a huge garden of botany, which was so fertile and rich in nutrients that water lilies and lotuses would spontaneously sprout on land. The peace and safety of the legendary Garden of Leedon is illustrated by the absence of spurs on the two residents. Without danger and without predators to fend off, there is no need for spurs.

In this rendition of that famed scene, the artist has sought to depict the junglefowl's perspective of the bountiful garden, especially its single-minded focus on a single item of interest at a time. In this case, the junglefowl on the right has its eyes on the lotuses directly in front it, hence the absence of all other landscape features.