Nest Year 7, 64th day
Feast!
Yesterday, five hatchlings joined the nest as adults, and we are all proud (and relieved!) for it. Many had thought none would make it; the cold winter meant fewer small animals to hunt, which meant both less food for us and more predator attacks on the nest. But, now that spring is here, our prospects are improving!
If the new-adults' ritual hunt is any indication, this year will be bountiful indeed! I can't remember a time when I ate so much, nor danced so long! Asha, my hunting apprentice, plays the tubes* like no one else in the nest: fast and furious one moment, calling forth the image of the chase, and all our legs pounding chaotically in the great hall; the next, the soft and contemplative evocation of the quiet woods, of rustling leaves and flowing water in the calm evenings of summer (a summer, I might add, that Asha has yet to know—but will!); then finally, the tense anticipation of lying in ambush, waiting to strike; and finally, Victory! Triumph!
At long last the winter is over and we are still alive!
* A series of pitched hollow tubes played somewhat like a xylophone.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Life in the Nest - Something Monstrous This Way Comes II
Nest Year 7, 36th day.
Hello again.
Sandra helped me write my last post, and after I posted it, she suggested that I write about what life in our nest is like.
Unfortunately, because of our isolation, I do not have a good idea what other pentapede nests are like, or even what your society is like. So, Sandra is helping me to highlight areas where we differ.
I was hatched from a six-parent egg group. From a biological perspective, Sandra says our sexual reproduction is similar to yours, one sperm + one ovum = one offspring (more complicated than that, she says, but good enough for now). So that means I have one "mother" and one "father", but without testing it would be impossible to know which of the six is which. It's even possible, though unlikely, that I only have one genetic parent that provided both ovum and sperm. That doesn't really matter, though, because every parent of the egg group is considered a primary caretaker of the hatchlings. I suppose there could be vastly greater numbers involved, but generally our nest has three- to nine-parent groups.
Only about 60% of the eggs hatch, and only 30% of the hatchlings survive their first two weeks; most are killed by other hatchlings. I have to justify this, she says. Well, when we hatch, we aren't aware of ourselves; we're vicious, violent. In a couple weeks, we grow out of this, but we can't remember it. There's no more justification to give, it's how we are.
After we reach awareness, we are allowed to participate in the nest. We're taught our language quickly, and meanwhile we are assigned simple, menial tasks while we mature, which takes about two months. Then, we join the nest as adults and are expected take part in organizing and running it.
Which is something I must do now; we raise mice for food, but they don't provide all our nutrition, and anyway they don't breed fast enough to sustain our growth. So, I must hunt for birds or other small animals to feed us tonight.
-- Shndahshah
Hello again.
Sandra helped me write my last post, and after I posted it, she suggested that I write about what life in our nest is like.
Unfortunately, because of our isolation, I do not have a good idea what other pentapede nests are like, or even what your society is like. So, Sandra is helping me to highlight areas where we differ.
I was hatched from a six-parent egg group. From a biological perspective, Sandra says our sexual reproduction is similar to yours, one sperm + one ovum = one offspring (more complicated than that, she says, but good enough for now). So that means I have one "mother" and one "father", but without testing it would be impossible to know which of the six is which. It's even possible, though unlikely, that I only have one genetic parent that provided both ovum and sperm. That doesn't really matter, though, because every parent of the egg group is considered a primary caretaker of the hatchlings. I suppose there could be vastly greater numbers involved, but generally our nest has three- to nine-parent groups.
Only about 60% of the eggs hatch, and only 30% of the hatchlings survive their first two weeks; most are killed by other hatchlings. I have to justify this, she says. Well, when we hatch, we aren't aware of ourselves; we're vicious, violent. In a couple weeks, we grow out of this, but we can't remember it. There's no more justification to give, it's how we are.
After we reach awareness, we are allowed to participate in the nest. We're taught our language quickly, and meanwhile we are assigned simple, menial tasks while we mature, which takes about two months. Then, we join the nest as adults and are expected take part in organizing and running it.
Which is something I must do now; we raise mice for food, but they don't provide all our nutrition, and anyway they don't breed fast enough to sustain our growth. So, I must hunt for birds or other small animals to feed us tonight.
-- Shndahshah
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Something Monstrous This Way Comes
Nest Year 7, 35th day.
Hello.
My name is Shndahshah. I am a pentapede. I am a fifth-generation nestling.
My nest has selected me as envoy to the outside world. I am told that I am the most eloquent of us, and that my English is the best.
I have been told that I must bring understanding to you, by telling of life in our nest. We hope that, by my words, you will come to accept us, or at least to tolerate us amongst you.
Are we so different from you? I don't know; all I see of humans is The Undersecretary's Third Assistant on his three-times-a-year visit, and the few that journey into the woods where we've nested. Sandra is one of these, older by years than any of the nest, but still young for a human. She taught me much of the English I know. Some of our oldest speak decent English, and they tried to teach me, but this is only my third year since hatching, and the nest spent many years in isolation.
Maybe our history will help you to understand better.
We, pentapedes, were created two years before nestfounding, I am told, by a human performing genetic research. I know that we were not created mistakenly, but that we were unexpected by the world. I have read enough on Sandra's internet, with her help, to understand that we were meant to be destroyed when our usefulness to our human creator had ceased.
But, those pentapedes he had created were smarter than he expected. Sandra calls this "hubris", but I think it was both that and a desire to see his creation thrive. So I tell myself.
These ancestors escaped from him, but after they were free, they disagreed on what they should do. Some of them were militant, and wanted to enslave you. Some wanted to join your society. One returned to the human creator, for what reason I have not been told.
The others, and they were the largest portion, wanted as little to do with you as possible. They began a nest like mine. But as the nest grew, they were discovered by nearby humans, who saw us as bugs and began to poison the nest. Terrified, they struck at the humans, biting them again and again until they bled to death.
That was the first time you heard of us. Not of the pentapede army quietly growing in the north, not of the cautious ambassadors slowly forging friendships one by one in the west, but of a chaotic nest of isolationists, stumbled upon accidentally and made vicious by an unwitting slaughter. Sandra has showed me the articles from that day, the video news reports that were seen around the world of the horrible monsters lurking in the basement, in numbers set to overwhelm and with fangs like knives.
That nest's entire hatchgroup was killed by the poison, because they were so young. Many of the Originals were destroyed as they fled, by fire, by crushing, by guns. Every nestling is told, nearly from hatching, of that day. As you might expect, some of the survivors went to join the militants. We have never heard from any of them, so we do not know whether they were successful in reaching them. But the rest resolved to try again, to separate into several groups and find better nesting sites, farther from you.
That is how my nest came to be. Since then, we have had only ourselves until two years ago, when Assistant came, and shortly thereafter my friend Sandra. They have told us much of what transpired in the world. Though we do not know what path lies before us, we are convinced that we can remain isolated no longer.
Please, read my words and know us.
I will explain more, but now I have other duties to do.
-- Shndahshah
Hello.
My name is Shndahshah. I am a pentapede. I am a fifth-generation nestling.
My nest has selected me as envoy to the outside world. I am told that I am the most eloquent of us, and that my English is the best.
I have been told that I must bring understanding to you, by telling of life in our nest. We hope that, by my words, you will come to accept us, or at least to tolerate us amongst you.
Are we so different from you? I don't know; all I see of humans is The Undersecretary's Third Assistant on his three-times-a-year visit, and the few that journey into the woods where we've nested. Sandra is one of these, older by years than any of the nest, but still young for a human. She taught me much of the English I know. Some of our oldest speak decent English, and they tried to teach me, but this is only my third year since hatching, and the nest spent many years in isolation.
Maybe our history will help you to understand better.
We, pentapedes, were created two years before nestfounding, I am told, by a human performing genetic research. I know that we were not created mistakenly, but that we were unexpected by the world. I have read enough on Sandra's internet, with her help, to understand that we were meant to be destroyed when our usefulness to our human creator had ceased.
But, those pentapedes he had created were smarter than he expected. Sandra calls this "hubris", but I think it was both that and a desire to see his creation thrive. So I tell myself.
These ancestors escaped from him, but after they were free, they disagreed on what they should do. Some of them were militant, and wanted to enslave you. Some wanted to join your society. One returned to the human creator, for what reason I have not been told.
The others, and they were the largest portion, wanted as little to do with you as possible. They began a nest like mine. But as the nest grew, they were discovered by nearby humans, who saw us as bugs and began to poison the nest. Terrified, they struck at the humans, biting them again and again until they bled to death.
That was the first time you heard of us. Not of the pentapede army quietly growing in the north, not of the cautious ambassadors slowly forging friendships one by one in the west, but of a chaotic nest of isolationists, stumbled upon accidentally and made vicious by an unwitting slaughter. Sandra has showed me the articles from that day, the video news reports that were seen around the world of the horrible monsters lurking in the basement, in numbers set to overwhelm and with fangs like knives.
That nest's entire hatchgroup was killed by the poison, because they were so young. Many of the Originals were destroyed as they fled, by fire, by crushing, by guns. Every nestling is told, nearly from hatching, of that day. As you might expect, some of the survivors went to join the militants. We have never heard from any of them, so we do not know whether they were successful in reaching them. But the rest resolved to try again, to separate into several groups and find better nesting sites, farther from you.
That is how my nest came to be. Since then, we have had only ourselves until two years ago, when Assistant came, and shortly thereafter my friend Sandra. They have told us much of what transpired in the world. Though we do not know what path lies before us, we are convinced that we can remain isolated no longer.
Please, read my words and know us.
I will explain more, but now I have other duties to do.
-- Shndahshah
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