Sea Cat Song

This one's (another) post on Tyatora. The poem suddenly came to me yesterday, and I liked it. This is a popular "patriotic" song the Sea Cats like to sing. They're the ship-sailing race in Tyatora (see the first Tyatora post).

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Always have, and always will be!
We're Sea Cats! We're Sea cats!
Rulers of ocean, wave, and sea!

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Masters of water, and seashore and wave.
The Ocean was our birthplace,
The Ocean will be our grave.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Cats with dorsal fins and long tails,
We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats,
Hunters of white-sharks, tuna, and whales.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
The waters we guard and we keep,
Forever preserve the seabeds,
Where our ancient forefathers sleep.

We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats!
Small in number, great in will,
Though war and rapine rage round us,
We survive and hold on still.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Come see our caravels sailing.
We're Sea cats! We're Sea Cats!
Come hear our fiddles a-playing!

We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats!
Kings and sailors of the sea,
Sea cats, Great Sea Cats,
Open, merry, free.

We're Sea cats, We're Sea Cats!
Devoted to Maker on high,
Devoted to Jehovah the Mighty,
Creator of ocean, land and sky.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea cats!
Always have and always will be!
We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Rulers of ocean, wave, and sea!

Ice Legend: Part Three

This is a really short part of the Polar bear story.

Everont did not sleep well that night. Maybe it was the hopeful expectation that kept him awake, or the thought of the things that the Schoolmaster had warned him about. In any case, the future seemed as up in the air as the night wind that howled like a mourning wolf above him. He shivered. Funny, he thought, that he had always dreamt of being an Ursidian kinght, battling wolf and walrus in heroic fights to defend Glorious Pernia. And now, with the chance to become the warrior of his dreams, he was so hesitant. The Schoolmaster had given him the night to think about his decision. It was hard to think, though, when your mind was tired and faraway, and when three other bears were snoring loudly in the bunks next to and below you. Everont reviewed the encounter with the Schoolmaster once more, and forced himself to make the decision that could change his life forever.

~~~~~~~~~

I'll reveal Everont's decision in part four.

Ice Legend: Part I

This is the continuation of the Polar Bear story:


"Oh Everont! The School-master told me to tell you he wants you in his office. Oh-oh, you're in trouble now."



The polar bear called Everont turned back to see who was calling him. It was Al-Tevan, a small-sized bear known schoolwide as "The Tattler". What an irony, thought Everont, that the word "Al-Tevan", in the polar bear tongue, meant "Truth-bearer."





Everont turned his head menacingly at Al-Tevan, who was thinly concealing his gleeful contempt. The school-master was a stern teacher -a lesson learned quite painfully by the Tattler, and it felt sinfully good to know his rival was in the Schoolmaster's displeasure.


Everont bared his teeth before returning to the gray stone building that was his home and school. He walked briskly past Al-Tevan, and head held high, closed the distance between him and the door. He would not show his fear to his enemy, never! He stoically tried to banish the growing fear from his mind, but like rebels in a stronghold, the fear could not be dislodged.


He passed the door, with its faded stone-carved: Fifth Royal Pernian Orphans' School and Board. Its large imposing letters were painted cherry red, but age and time had reduced the once-pretty shade of crimson to a disgusting tone of dull red-brown, like the color of dried blood.

He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of the doom that was patiently waiting for him. What had he done? He, now a little slower, walked down the cold corridors until he reached the the Schoolmaster's office. Another involuntary shiver. He breathed deeply, then Everont nervously tapped the door with the back of his left paw, as was the custom of the Pernian Polar Bears.

"Come in," was the laconic reply. Everont opened the door a little, and slipped inside. The schoolmaster was sitting behind his desk. He was a tall, old bear, with small slanting eyes and ears that were strikingly long (for a polar bear). "Greetings, Everont son of Ternovont. Sit down."

The room was austere and Spartan in design. The sparsely set furniture were arranged in painfully neat rows on either side of the small room. The only central furniture was the desk, with a chair for the schoolmaster, and a small fireplace behind it. The fireplace was presently not in use, for it was not winter and coal was not cheap. However, upon this fireplace, was a mantepliece on which rested a sheathed sword. This sword was long and thick, and the sheath was enlaid with great large gems. It was the only decoration in the room.

Everont took a seat on one of the chairs, and looked up meekly at the schoolmaster. His right paw scratched his left wrist, as he always did when he got nervous. He licked the fur a little around his lips, then bowed forward respectfully before greeting the elder bear, "May the great Creator -whom we know little of- protect and bless my Elder."

"And the great and wondrous Creator bestow favor and blessing upon my Younger," was the reply. "You look nervous, Everont son of Ternevont. Would you like to tell me what may be troubling you?"

The young bear scratched his left paw even harder. What should he say? Tentatively, he said, "I-I am concerned that my, um, misdeeds might be the cause of you summoning me. Have I done anything wrong, S-Sir?"

"Do you think you have done anything bad?" the Schoolmaster asked.

Everont jogged his memory. He didn't recall anything particularly bad. He had forgotten to finish reading that poetry the other day, but his teacher had already given him a long lecture for that. Otherwise, nothing. "No, Sir," he said, a little less uncomfortable, "I haven't."

"Good! Because I didn't call you here because you did something wrong."

"You didn't?" asked Everont, quite surprised at his own un-badness. He wasn't in trouble! A burst of great relief poured over him.

"No, not at all," he confirmed. "You're actually a very well-behaved young lad. I called you, rather, because I thought you may want to be our orphan school's representative in the National Squire's Contest." The Schoolmaster's voice was almost amiable now, all the severity gone out of his manner and words.

Everont's eyes widened. The National Squire's Contest was a sports competition that brought young bears from across Pernia to compete for a chance to become a squire in the Imperial Palace. The competion was fierce, but the prize was of such high honor and prestige that only the toughest were allowed to compete. There were qualifying matches and races that determined those worthy of the contest. Upon which, the surviving contestants were tested for weeks through dozens of sports and tests. The finalists; the ones with the highest points, were given the privilege to be trained to become a Ursidian Warrior. They would be trained and tutored in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh, and if they graduated, these warriors would fight along the best of the knights and nobles in the Elite Guard. The thought of it filled Everont with surprise and wonder. Did the Schoolmaster really think that he was good enough for the Contest? True, he had been the winner of the school's marathon contest for two years in a row, and he could outswim and outplay most his friends in a game of Aqua-Poled, but was he really Contest material? There were a couple of other bears that were stronger and better than him, so why had he been picked?

The Schoolmaster seemed to read his mind. "You are one of the best sportsbears in the school, and though there are some of your peers that are faster and more athletic than you, your endurance and determination level surpasses all of them. You have potential, and I see it in you. The preparation for this Contest will be hard, and the life of a Ursidian Warrior is not easy. You see, I was one of them, once -before I got my kneecap wound. The training is excruxiatingly painful, and the teachers may seem harsh. There will be times when you will have to make choices, hard choices, so be prepared. You will have to be quick on both your feet and wits in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh." He stopped, and looked into Everont's eyes deeply for a moment. Then he continued, "The decision to join this Contest is completely up to you, Everont, so I give you the rest of the day and tommorow for you to decide. Choose wisely. So Everont at this I dismiss you, so may the Great and Wondrous Creator bestow Blessing and Favor upon my Younger."

Everont nodded. "And may the Great Creator, whom we know little of, protect and bless my Elder," he replied. Then he bowed respectfully, and left, closing the door behind him.

That's where Part One ends.

The Ice Legend: Introduction.

This one's an story I thought would be fun to write.


It was winter in the North, and the harsh, icy, bitter winds whipped across a barren, desolate island mercilessly. An ancient polar bear sat on that desolate island jutting out of the wide sea, staring wistfully at the cold stone ruins of some structure that stood on the center of the isle.


The ruins seemed to have been once a mighty building, a fortress, maybe. Its past glory and splendor seemed to have faded into the ice, but it still seemed to stand proudly, regally, amidst its vast habitat of white and blue, not because of what it now was, but because of what it had been.

Beside the ancient bear was his young grandson, who sat, somewhat puzzled. For a young polar bear who had been so accustomed to the guttural snarls and growling gurrs of his bear-clan's complicated tongue, such silence seemed unbearable.

Finally, after a period of time, the Grandson ventured to ask in his small voice, "Grandpapa, why did you take me with you on this trip? It's so awfully lonely out here."

The old wrinkled bear turned from the ruins, and bent his old head downwards, meeting the curious eyes of his grandson. "Well," he said, "I come here because it is," he paused, "part of the story of our family."

"Ohh. That story," the young bear stopped to scratch an itch on his belly. "Could you tell it to me?"

"It's a sad story. You don't want to hear it."

"But I do! I know Papa says you'll tell me the story when I'm bigger. But I am a big bear! Look, my teeth are growing big and sharp, see?" he opened his mouth as wide as he could to illustrate the point, "Couldn't you tell me now?"

The ancient bear sighed. his grandson should know, when he's still young. Some things are harder to understand when you grow too old and fill your head with all sorts of knowledge, he thought.

"All right. Sit by me, Thervin. The tale is a long one, so it's best you make yourself warm."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is just the intro, I'll continue the next episode . . . someday.

Amazing Grace

My gourami, our pet fish, has died. It had been sick for some days already, and yesterday, it died. We gave it a proper flushing, since we couldn't give it a burial. My brother sang Amazing Grace. When it was alive, it was a greedy, domineering bully that believed it was king of the tank. But I had sadly misjudged him. It was simply his natural instinct to be a fat, territorial, itchtheoid. In its final moments, I felt a pang of regret and pity. Now the prescence of that gourami is somewhat missed beside my computer desk as I blog this post.

Eurasian Badger

Scientific Name: Meles Meles

Family: Mustelidae

Occurrence: Europe, Turkey, parts of China,

Diet: Birds, lizards, berries, roots

Groups: 4-6

Threats: Hunting, culling, road casualties

Predators: Adults have few natural enemies, such as lynxes and wolves, though cubs threatened by eagles and foxes

My Special Pet

I wish I had a nice little pet,

that's trained and very well taught.

Not the kinds that other kids get,

but a pet that I alone sought.

I'll clean her myself,

(no unpleasant scent)

I'll buy it myself,

to the very last cent.

With a cute, fluffy, tail,

and a snow White back,

and manicured nails,

and the rest is sleek black.

What a beautiful thing,

what joy it'll bring!

Its fragrance is such that poets will sing,

Oh Mom, Oh Dad,

I'd be most glad,

if you'd let me get

a skunk as my pet.