Natura Semper Liberiby EverfreePonyChaptersForewordOf Timberwolves and Zap ApplesOf Cockatrices and "Poison Jokes"Of Parasprites and--Not Just--Their Peculiar Liking for Rhythmic SoundsOf Differences between Cragadiles and CrocodilesOf Chimeras and Similar CreaturesOf Phoenix's GraceUnsortedForewordNature. I always felt attracted to it. It fascinated me with its relentless beauty and hidden logic. Fillies of my age all played with dolls while I was running around the meadows and forests surrounding my hometown, trying to learn the name of every plant, insect, and bird I could find. Oftentimes, I returned with small bruises and at least one beetle biting my muzzle. I slowly became "the weird one" in the eyes of my peers. Not that I cared about it that much, my curiosity and thirst for knowledge were far more important. My curiosity grew with every new fact I learned, just like another piece clicking into place fuels your effort to finish a puzzle. Time went on, and I moved from stuffing my head full of terms and basic facts to seeking something more advanced. Something that’d go beyond the scope of ordinary textbooks and their black and white view of our grey world. The deeper and deeper I went, the more I discovered how many of the simple facts we were taught were either completely wrong or simplified so much the bits of truth in them were twisted beyond recognition. I was now led to thinking of causes and consequences, acquiring new insight on things that many ponies think they know. For example: How many times have you been told that a chameleon precisely changes its colour to whatever is around it? And do you think it’s really true? Have you ever seen it yourself or read a proper treatise on it? No? Then let me tell you it’s not as simple as you think. I stood at a crossroads: I could either spread the truth about the natural world, or I could keep everything my books and mentors taught me to myself. I’d love to choose the first path, however, nopony was willing to listen to me anymore. Apparently everyone around me was just annoyed by my weird interests and scientifical remarks. So what, I told one posh filly that the ambergris in her perfume came from the gut of a sperm whale. That was just a fact, it was not meant to humiliate her! On the other hoof, now I’m glad it did humiliate her. Still, I refused to give up my crusade of spreading knowledge. I hoped to find something that would show everypony that biology was not just about pointless boning up on terms and names. Naïve younger me. I was rummaging through every library I could and nose-diving into any book that had at least something to do with nature. There just had to be something that’d help me find common ground with other ponies. The result? I seemed even weirder than before. I started doubting myself and hid away among dozens of dusty old books. A few tomes in particular managed to reignite the spark of my curiosity. They were written in some long unused language, but I managed to get my head around it. These books were the magna opera of many researchers of the Classical era, the time when the Castle of the Two Sisters bustled with life, and the knowledge of ponykind was in full bloom. Many things and places have changed since then. Many places, including the feared Everfree Forest, which now slowly takes over the ruins of the once mightiest castle in all of Equestria. Unlike us, the ponies back then tried to understand why the local weather and nature were so independent. They knew every plant, creature, and drop of magic that at least once touched the ground of the Everfree. At the same time, I moved to the more central parts of Equestria and was confused by what I found. Back at home, just south of the plains of the Frozen North, we were used to at least a little feral animals and semi-autonomous weather. But here? All the wild animals were almost domesticated, used to having picnics and parties with ponies. The only place that seemed normal to me was the "Celestia forsaken" Everfree I have read so much about. It took just a few--more or less dangerous--trips to this place and a meeting with one of the most exotic and friendly creatures I ever met, a certain zebra, to make me and my companion settle down in this forest. And here we are, trying to bust the ancient myths about the dangers of the Everfree. May the knowledge trapped on the pages of this journal be your guide through the Everfree Forest. Author's Note Please report typos and other errors in PMs rather than comments. Of Timberwolves and Zap ApplesLet's start with the most famous creatures of the Everfree: timberwolves. However, before we dive into the study of these peculiar wooden wolves, we first need to look at the source of their beloved food. Zap Apple Trees A species well-known thanks to the Apple family's famous jam and the strange phenomena surrounding its production. However, that is not the case of the wild specimens. But I am getting ahead of myself. I bet that everypony from Hoofington to Appleloosa at least once tasted the jam and heard the story of how these apples got out of the Everfree and into the light of Celestia's sun: the tale of a brave filly forced by hunger into the depths of the dangerous forest. In case you are unfamiliar with her story, the short version is that she was fortunate enough to stumble upon a clearing with many trees whose branches were laden with the colorful fruits. Given the zap apples are ripe only for a very short period of time, it seems like a real stroke of luck, doesn’t it? What appears as a huge coincidence in fact isn’t. The zap apple trees in the Everfree bear fruit much more often, mainly due to the more favourable conditions. The trees grow very slowly when present in a grove of older trees of their kin, the meagre amount of light decelerating the saplings’ growth. On the other hoof, I dug a few test pits in a zap apple grove and found a very complex and delicate system of roots and fungal hyphae connecting the individual plants. I presume that the seedlings might use these to obtain nutrition from the older trees. Zap apple seeds colonising new land grow much faster, but their habit is somewhat gaunt and sickly, and the trees are unable to bear fruit as often as trees grown in long-established groves (i.e. twice or thrice a month). This is likely the result of the tree investing all it has into rapid growth and lacking the extra sustenance from its brethren. Zap apple trees grown outside the Everfree can also call on their innate magic to bring forth the necessary weather for them to start blooming. This might explain the so-called "Signs of the Coming Harvest" observed in zap apple orchards outside the Everfree. Some of the phenomena, such as the flocks of crows and meteor showers might help the trees in the foreign environment, serving as possible pollinators and a way to scare off herbivores, respectively. Or, given these plants are distant relatives of the poison joke, and everything living in the Everfree has a pinch of chaos magic in it, all of these signs might as well be pure shenanigans without any purpose. The zap apple trees usually grow in drier, semi-shaded clearings where the trees usually create groves consisting of three to ten individuals. Timberwolves Hierarchy Unlike normal wolves, timberwolves lack a strict hierarchy and are usually present in family groups or packs of three to eight individuals. Members of a pack share one or rarely more clearings with a zap apple tree grove. The pack is usually led by one individual, usually the eldest. Females with pups might wander further away from the group, but are still treated as members. You may also encounter loners, usually young male timberwolves repelled from their packs due to aggressive behaviour or an insufficient amount of zap apples. Loners just wander around the Everfree, looking for something edible and for another pack they could join. They might sometimes gather in smaller, unstable groups. These are also the timberwolves with the terrible stench coming from their maws, why is it so will be explained shortly. Diet Timberwolves feed primarily on zap apples. They are after them like ~~Princess Celestia after cake~~ Equestrian dragons after gemstones, and their pack's zap apple grove clearing is the most guarded part of their territory. When there is an overall scarcity of zap apples--usually after the sudden onset of tough winter when the buds and young shoots of the trees freeze--the wolves turn to berries, roots, and meat for sustenance. Loners resort to this diet if they fail to steal a few zap apples for themselves. However, there is hardly enough to sate all loners, and so some have to make do with devouring rotten wood, which is the worst possible option for their gastrointestinal tract. The wood continues breaking down in their stomach, decomposing the timberwolves on the inside as well. This also results in their stinking breath. The timberwolves can survive this for a while, though if the decomposition goes too far, the wolves are then unable to switch back to a normal diet as anything they eat will only worsen their state. The most important thing for you to remember is that stinking breath means a hungry and possibly deranged timberwolf. Range Timberwolves can be found through the whole Everfree Forest, though they usually avoid the areas where cragadiles occur, including Froggy Bottom Bog and the rocky region above it. The packs tend to defend their zap apple groves and their immediate vicinity, but they are not strictly territorial. Give them a wide berth, and they’ll likely do the same. Reproduction The only act of timberwolf reproduction I was able to observe resembled some sort of ritual. It seems that it can occur only during spring and early summer. It also requires two different mating types, which I consider to be male and female, for the reproductive process to start. Both partners gather sticks, leaves, bark et cetera from their surroundings or, less commonly, from their own bodies and build the pup from inside out. The male often initiates this, presenting a pile of the aforementioned materials he gathered. The female sniffs the pile and checks the quality of the items. If she finds the male’s contribution sufficient, she starts gathering more material herself and the two wolves start assembling the pup together. When that phase is done, both parents freeze in a howling position as if they were howling and release wisps of their magic. Each of these wisps looks and behaves differently, and given that the same individual always releases the same kind of magic, I dare propose that the wolf’s gender (or mating type, if you prefer), is firmly set. The parents’ magics combine and together soak to the body of the little one. The pup then slowly awakes. It stays with the pack, usually pretty close to its mother for a year or so. A newborn timberwolf is about one third the size of an adult timberwolf and has the withers height of an average filly. Growth occurs through the wolves attaching new pieces of wood into their bodies. In theory, their growth can be unlimited, but it seems the wolves limit themselves only to a certain size, most likely because sustaining and moving a larger physique through the underbrush would be too cumbersome. Appropriate behaviour First option: Most timberwolves will let you go if you offer them a batch of zap apples. Throwing a few before their muzzle should be enough. However, don’t try to pick zap apples from the timberwolf groves, it’ll only provoke the wolves further. As I know, all of them are currently taken. Also, throwing zapples to loners is a bit dicey as their insides may have rotted so much that the fruit will only upset their stomach. Second option is carrying something that you can make noise with. Timberwolves are generally unable to distinguish most loud sounds from the clapping of cragadile jaws. And since cragadiles are one of the few creatures that can seriously hurt a timberwolf, the wolves make sure to give a wide berth to anything that sounds like the ‘diles. Though I admit lugging around some pans or pots to make noise with is quite impractical. Furthermore, you are always at risk of attracting the attention of something worse than a timberwolf. Fire might also seem like a viable option, since these creatures are mostly made of wood. It is not. Someone already tried it on a few timberwolves. I was lucky enough--if you can call it luck--to be around and witness the consequences. They burn quite slowly and become far more aggressive. And as they run around, trying to extinguish themselves, they can set the forest around on fire. You might escape a timberwolf, but you'll most likely end up in an inferno of your own making. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. Of Cockatrices and "Poison Jokes"Cockatrice, a basilisk's cousin. A creature feared as much as timberwolves, maybe even more. I understand that the idea of being turned into stone and remaining like that for eternity with snails slithering over your face isn't exactly pleasant. Well, that idea has one substantial flaw. If it worked as described above, the Everfree would look like the statue garden in Canterlot by now. Speaking of the garden, you might have heard some hearsay about some of the statues there being ponies intentionally exposed to the curse of cockatrice for ‘preservation’. It’s all mere gossip as you’ll learn below. Cockatrices Hierarchy Given these creatures are half-chicken and half-snake, I find it quite reasonable to refer to the male and female cockatrice as rooster and hen, respectively. I’m also not aware of anyone else introducing a cockatrice-specific terminology yet. Roosters are highly territorial, fiercely defending the patches of forest where their harem tends to roam. One rooster’s harem consists of three to four hens on average, the amount of hens is defined mainly by the size of the territory and the amount of food and shelters found therein. The hens hardly ever flock together, foraging on their own most of the time. The hens gather only when another rooster challenges their master to a duel over his harem. The challenger initiates this by crowing in the rival's territory, and all the cockatrices (including nesting hens) rush to watch the duel. Once the whole harem had gathered, the two roosters engage each other in a stare off. Cockatrices aren't completely immune to their own weapon, thus both opponents are slowly petrifying each other. Turning their gaze away, or, far more rarely, being completely turned to stone, means defeat. The loser is then punished by a slash of talons and chased away, or left behind in his stone prison in case of the latter. Roosters also have their own specific forest-wide hierarchy. Roosters of higher status have larger territories and are more likely to be tolerated when passing through territories of others. Diet Cockatrices mainly feed on insects, earthworms, and slugs they found in leaf litter or under smaller objects. Their beak is not shaped for digging. If invertebrates are scarce, they can survive on berries and seeds for a limited amount of time. They might occasionally spice up their diet with smaller mammals, hatchlings, and eggs. They never use the stare when hunting as it’d only result in their prey being scared off or turned to stone immediately. It may seem as a good way of trapping the prey since cockatrices have the ability to release their petrified victims on will, however, the whole process costs much more energy than what the consumption of a small bird or rodent would provide. Range and Associated Ecology Cockatrice territories are marked by crowing of roosters and pheromone secretions of hens. These have rather pungent odour, so you should be able to tell when you stumble into one. Most territories can be found in areas of central Everfree with dense bushy undergrowth, but it’s not impossible to encounter a cockatrice closer to the forest edge. Most of these are males attracted by crowing of normal roosters from nearby villages. As was already stated, crowing is mostly reserved for challenging opponents to a stare off. Casual communication happens mainly through infrasound waves, much like in case of elephants and snakes. Given their eyes were largely repurposed for channelling magic, the cockatrices’ sight is rather poor. They may still use it to scan their surroundings, but hearing is definitely their primary sense. This fact is nicely illustrated by how they explore their surroundings. Upon spotting a large creature, a cockarice slowly crawls nearer through the underbrush. Once close enough, it sticks its head out of the bush, facing away from the creature. It then analyses the situation behind it by hearing and occasionally a few side glances. It seems like a risky strategy, as the cockatrice might be mistaken for an innocent chicken by some predator, but apparently it’s worked so far. If the cockatrice decides that the creature poses a threat or is a larger prey item, it strikes. The cockatrice jumps at its prey, using the moment of surprise to pin it to the ground with its talons. It then proceeds to eat the creature, or, in case of larger beings, petrify it. However, coackatrice petrification is only temporary and serves as a mere warning, much like the disgusting secretions of poisonous animals. This is the reason why the Everfree isn’t littered with dozens upon dozens of petrified victims. Reproduction Hens can lay up to four leathery eggs, nesting might occur from Spring to early Autumn. Hatchlings are nidicolous, meaning they stay in the nest and depend on their mother for sustenance. Whenever the hen returns with more food, the hatchlings switch from quiet peeping to intensely fixing their mother with their stares and pecking at the red tips of her wings--much like many seagull hatchlings do with the red spot on their parents' beaks. Young cockatrices wander away after reaching maturity to join harems or fight for other territories. Only rarely do they stay in the territory where they hatched. Appropriate Behaviour, Handling Potential Petrification If you are (un)lucky enough to encounter a cockatrice the best course of action is to fly/teleport/run away or stay completely still--not sure which is better, especially for earth-bound ponies. You can close your eyes, wait and just hope that the cockatrice'll think you aren't a living creature. If you want to take a closer look for some reason, you'll need special goggles with a polarising filter. Looking into their eyes "bare-eyed" isn't the best idea as you already know. That is, unless you want a shiny new coat or a nice deep scratch from their talons. Cockatrices fear foxes, my guess is that it’s a side effect of them being part chicken. However, a normal pony doesn’t usually have a fox at hoof, and a truly angry cockatrice will ignore the presence of a fox anyway, so this piece of advice is not really applicable. But hey, somepony might find it useful anyway. What might be a bit more practical is the fact that if you are fast enough and manage to put a mirror in a cockatrice's line of sight, you’ll effectively freeze it in place as it's blind and deaf to the world when staring. If you find yourself in a spot where you need to deal with a petrified creature, then just know that a small hammer should be enough. The stone is just a crust on the surface of the petrified one. Let's say that testing this theory was quite... peculiar. If the brute force approach is not for you, waiting also works--the stone starts falling apart on its own after a day or two. The trapped one is in a state of torpor during their entrapment, and they should wake up once you pull them out, just provide them with fresh water and something to eat. There are a few reports of stiff joints and slight muscle atrophy after a longer period of petrification, but to be fair, the credibility of these documents is not exactly high. Also, some old sources claim that the higher the cockatrice’s hierarchy rank, the longer will its petrification last. The alfa rooster's stare might even result in permanent petrification. However, I haven't collected any data on that yet. Another interesting fact is that the stone the “prison” is made of is the same as the nearest parent rock. I suspect they derive it partially from there. Since we are already discussing creatures able to somewhat alter one's appearance, let's mention a plant with a similar ability. However, this one is not likely to turn you to stone. It’s going to do something much worse. Lilium noxia cupiunt as called by the botanists of the Classical era, now commonly known as poison joke, is one of the rarest plants of the Everfree. A small, innocent-looking blue flower with the ability to alter the physical form of any creature, from vocal cord tightness to bone density. These plants can grow only on a few sites in the Everfree, though they might become very abundant in these localities. They create patches of dense, linked underbrush, most of the “individual” plants being asexually produced clones of just a few parent plants. Poison jokes require medium humidity and don't react well to being completely overshadowed; you'll most likely find them around remains of old paths to the Castle of the Two Sisters or former clearings as both provide enough light for these plants. This makes poison joke one of the most excellent paleobotany indicators. Their magic is contained in the powder produced by their anthers and also the outer membrane of their pollen grains. The powder's primary purpose is protection from herbivores and pollen eaters. In other words, touching the plant carefully and in the right places won't cause any harm--just like a tender grip on a nettle will help prevent you from getting stung. You are probably wondering how is it possible that you have encountered the blue flowers almost every time you had ventured into the Everfree if the joke is supposed to be so scarce. If you were lucky enough, these really were the rare jokes, but much more likely it was the common Lilium hyacinthum, commonly called "blue archer” in old Zebrican. These plants can survive being overshadowed by the treetops or growing in wetter soil, so that's why they are very common not just in the Everfree Forest. You can tell blue archer apart from poison joke by the presence of white or light blue spots at the bases and ends of petals. Though the most accurate--and also the easiest--method is determining the number of stamens the plant has. Poison joke has four, you can remember it by four letters of the common name, J-O-K-E, while archer has six of them, so you can use the mnemonic device: A-R-C-H-E-R. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. Of Parasprites and--Not Just--Their Peculiar Liking for Rhythmic SoundsMaybe you heard about the parasprite infestation in Ponyville and Fillydelphia some time ago. If you did, don’t expect me to go into detail on how to get rid of these. I have no idea, and to be honest, I don’t really care as ponies brought it upon themselves. Parasprites shouldn't be swarming like that under natural conditions. Of course, a sudden excess of food in the absence of predators or parasites will lead to such massive overabundance of any creature. Not to mention that magically tampering with the ‘pest’ might only worsen the situation. Anyway, normal ponies apparently don’t have to deal with that as whenever they mess up, they just quickly dispose of the mutated creatures in the Everfree. ‘Cause nothing can go wrong here, right? Parasprites Parasprites are not the most typical representatives of Everfree fauna as they mostly occur in rocky areas and drier marshlands. Because of this, they’re far more common on western rock farms and some parts of Zebrica, where they caused quite a few large famines in the past when the zebras failed to handle them properly. Parasprites are actually symbionts of cragadiles or many other creatures such as hydras when cragadiles are absent. Parasprites are the only one with a sufficiently long tongue--or sufficiently shaped hypopharynx, if you prefer more arthropod-oriented terminology--and also the only known creatures willing to lick their hosts' teeth clean of any leftovers. Their big eyes and slow fluttering moves serve as the signal for the host to open its maw for cleaning. The parasprite is then allowed to fly in and feast. However, cragadiles might sometimes shut their mouth quickly upon spotting potential prey or danger, and their jaws effectively squish or pierce their little helpers. Parasprites are unable to react fast enough to escape, and their exoskeleton isn't durable enough to survive the pressure, though it still protects them from getting killed immediately. That’s why they have evolved a different tactic of somewhat surviving these little accidents--they simply split in two and create a clone of themselves. Or, better said, they spit out their clone and fling it to safety. I must admit, these creatures have probably the fastest asexual reproduction among multicellular organisms. Their metabolism has to be extremely fast for this to work, which probably leads to the small and scattered parasprite populations under normal conditions. This form of reproduction can be triggered by any of these three factors: the parasprite recently ingested something the pressure against its exoskeleton increased the ambient light dimmed suddenly When a parasprite gets trapped in a cragadile’s maw, at least one of these factors is surely present too. If more of them add up, the reaction is even faster and the parasprite spits out its clone. Two possible scenarios might follow. First: The parasprite was facing out of the cragadile's mouth. The clone is propelled outdoors, forming immediately and happily flying away. Second: The parasprite was facing the inside of a cragadile's mouth. This one works only if a sufficient number of parasprites suffered the same fate. They all begin spitting out their clones, with the clones doing the same due to the conditions inside. The cragadile’s buccal cavity will fill with parasprites till the cragadile opens its mouth or till their bodies crack open its mouth, allowing a few individuals to slip out. Clones may have different exoskeleton colour than the parent creature, the underlying mechanisms of this phenomenon remain unclear, though it is possible that it is caused by a combination of genetic and exogenous factors such as temperature or moisture during their spawn. Parasprites reproduce sexually on rare occasions during extreme lack of food or any other generally stressful conditions. They swarm together and the mating begins. They tuck themselves tighter and tighter into the center of the swarm, in the end creating a tight ball on the ground. This stage lasts for a few hours. Immediately after the mating ends and the males die, the females dart off in search of a smaller hole in the ground in which they lay a single egg and cover it up with a stone. The females then die too. The newly-hatched parasprite is able to muster enough strength to move the stone away. They then climb onto the stone and wait till their wings straighten and dry before they can fly away. Given the limited amount of energy that can be stored within their bodies, it would be a suicide for them to fly around, randomly looking for some being in need of their dental care. And staying close to the cragadiles in the swamp? Given the parasprites’ slow moves and the amount of frogs living here... they'd have soon become extinct. No, parasprites learned to react to sounds emitted by their hosts, the very same signals timberwolves deem a warning. Cragadiles commonly communicate by a complex system of jaw clapping and teeth screeching together with air whizzing between them. The rhythmic nature of these sounds draws the parasprites' attention and makes them follow it in some sort of trance. Surprisingly, they usually survive this trip, and, once close enough, they propose their services to the cragadiles as described above. Furthermore, they react similarly to rhythmic sounds resembling cragadile communication, be it a specific combination of natural sounds (e.g. a creaking broken branch and a drumming of a woodpecker) or an orchestra's performance. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. Of Differences between Cragadiles and CrocodilesYou have probably noticed that I don't follow a certain pattern with these. I admit I didn’t originally intend this, but I reckon it nicely mirrors the diversity of nature. So, let’s get a bit more comparative this time. Cragadiles, which I’ve already mentioned a few times, are quite similar to their crocodile relatives and vastly different at the same time. Here we follow them from egg to death and document all the similarities and differences. More precisely, we will watch them from egg to old age, as I wasn't lucky enough to find a deceased cragadile yet. Cragadiles An egg. A stone. Big difference, right? In this case, it is not. Cragadile eggs look like a porous rock about the size of an adult stallion's hoof. The mother lays the eggs on the ground and covers them with piles of rotting wood and foliage, much like crocodiles do. Although, a crocodile lays its eggs into a hole in the ground and then stuffs it with plant scraps. Anyway, you should be careful when wading through piles of leaf in the swamps. The first reason is an angry cragadile mother, second the fact that you'll remember tripping over a rock-hard egg for a long time. Also, you'll most likely kill the little one inside. Because, unlike bird eggs which you can shake nearly to your liking, these eggs lack chalazae--the strings holding the yolk and developing embryo in place. One abrupt movement spells doom to the young one inside. This is similar in almost all reptiles except birds. So, what's inside the egg? Well, quite everything like in a "normal" egg: the embryo, the yolk sack, lots of membranes, and albumen rich in mineral ions. These ions gradually dissociate from the inner side of the stony eggshell and are later incorporated in the bones of the little one. It hardens the bones, yet it still keeps the structure as porous as the eggshell, so the bones are lighter. Adult cragadiles would be too heavy to move otherwise. Just like their crocodile relatives, cragadiles have bony scales. Now it's easy to guess where all the rocks on a cragadile's body come from, right? When a Cragadile hatches, it needs to crawl through the compost above it. When the mother sees her young waddling away, she may help them, but usually she has no interest in protecting them anymore. Hungry, the hatchlings start searching for food--insects, worms, amphibians, small fish and mammals, birds, eggs, whatever they happen to stumble upon. They move away from their maternal swamp to drier parts of the Everfree, usually following smaller streams and rivers. One reason is that older cragadiles may eat them, the second reason is that their squamous armor needs to dry off to fully crystallize, which needs to happen mostly out of water. Young cragadiles usually end up in territories inhabited by larger groups of cockatrices. There are lots of food and next to none predators able to eat them. And being already part rock makes you immune to further petrification. Ideal, isn't it? Growing larger and heavier, they slowly abandon the strategy of chasing their prey and instead lurk in or near rivers and brooks, waiting for prey to come over for a drink and... dinner. The prey meets its fate in a typical crocodile way. Since they can't really chew, cragadiles clench the prey in their jaws, rolling with it and swinging it from side to side till they tear it apart. It's not exactly fast nor painless death, and the sight is quite gruesome… and somewhat interesting, if you can stomach it. When lazing around and digesting, cragadiles usually start to communicate with each other by click-clacking their jaws, similar to our Marese code. Though be warned, only satiated cragadiles are in a communicative mood. The hungry ones may be quietly waiting nearby. That means, the sounds just indicate a cragadile-inhabited location, not all the individuals there. You will never find timberwolves in a place where such sounds can be heard. Older cragadiles slowly move back to the swampy areas. By now they're big enough to just lie in water and wait for some prey to show up. And they can wait for a really long time, easily a few months. They will eat anything above a certain size level, be it an overfed goose, a zebra, or a timberwolf. Older publications also speculate about them being able to eat gemstones similarly to dragons. This assumption is probably incorrect, as when they were experimentally provided with a pile of gems, the cragadiles didn't seem to show any interest in them. The mineral hardness of their teeth is also slightly below the level of quartz, thus they seem unsuited for this kind of diet. Upon arriving back to the swamps, they start looking for a mate.You can tell that the mating season started by the smell that can be most easily described as what you smell when you sniff two pebbles that were quickly rubbed against each other. This smell is a mixture of the secretions of their scent glands and lots of jaw clapping with rock teeth rubbing. Males become more territorial during this period. It is not a good idea to go near them as the swamp is practically boiling with cragadile males fighting, proposing, and copulating. The biggest and usually oldest male mates with the largest amount of females. The pairs, if we can even talk about them, last for just one season. After a few months, the female lays up to ten eggs and piles up leaves and wood over them, staying nearby to protect the small hill of compost till the hatchlings scramble out. There is not much that can be done when they attack you. Killing them is practically impossible. The most useful advice is probably gonna be: incapacitate their maw and tail and get away as fast as you can. Alternatively, you can sacrifice someone you don’t like and then run away. The cragadile won’t follow. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. Of Chimeras and Similar CreaturesTechnically, all of us are chimeras. In most cases it means nothing more than a few cells exchanged between the mother and her baby during pregnancy. Some of us may have also absorbed the fetus that was supposed to be our twin, and now this twin’s cells make up a part of our body. However, there are creatures that truly take the cake when it comes to chimerism. The biologists of the Classical era blamed the existence of those "monsters"--the beautiful abominations consisting of different animal parts fused together--on the magic lingering after Discord's banishment. I can't disagree with them. I have no evidence to contradict their hypothesis. To be fair, while I’m not a fan of such mythological explanations, I have to admit that the behaviour of these creatures is indeed quite peculiar and chaotic. Chimeras Creatures whose bodies seem to be a mixture of a tiger and a goat with a snake serving as their tail. They roam mainly the eastern parts of the Everfree where it slowly fades into the Badlands. You may know this place under the name Flame Geyser Swamp. The main reason why they live there is the fact that they'd be easily outnumbered and pushed to the sidelines by timberwolf packs in the "normal" parts of the forest. However, you can't find timberwolves near flame geysers for obvious reasons. Before I tell you more about chimeras, I feel that some basic information about survival in the swamp is due, just in case you were in charge of emergency pie deliveries through it. The two main dangers of the swamp are the fire and the bog itself. On a side note: if you want a hot mud bath, there are far better places to go. The bog can be avoided quite easily like in a normal marshland, and the fire eruptions are predictable. When you feel hard ground under your hooves, you are safe, but when it gets just a little muddy, you need to pay full attention to the bubbling and shaking underneath. When it intensifies, run. You are standing just above a flame geyser. And of course, watch out for the boggy areas when fleeing. Chimeras have the advantage of being part snake and thus possessing the ability of sensing infrasound waves. When dragging the third head on the ground, they know exactly where all the geysers are. However, there are other problems they have to face. Griffons have a similar saying to our "No bees, no honey, no work, no money." Their saying is, "Roasted pigeons won't fly into your mouth." Funnily enough, quite the opposite is true for chimeras. Food will come straight under their noses, sometimes even cooked. However, the problem is that the food is usually rather scarce. A chimera doesn't need to eat everyday, but it can't starve for a month either--or, well, theoretically, one scaly third of it can. Each of the heads eats nearly the same food as the original animal would. The tiger part goes for meat, the snake after smaller creatures, and the goat after plants and sometimes baked stuff. For each head, there is an appropriate digestive system, meaning that not all three have to eat every time to get some sustenance for the whole body. If a chimera is hungry for quite a while, the heads start to act more autonomously and return to their respective ancestral behaviour and weaknesses. The winner is usually the goat, at least for some time. When it's grazing happily, its sisters or brothers are starving. That often ends with the tiger's mind snapping and attacking the goat part, while the snake is waiting for the right moment to strangle the other two. This is the time when you might be able to escape a chimera unscathed as it’s going to be somewhat deranged and too busy committing its own murder. Or should it be called a suicide? Due to the harsh conditions in the swamp, I still wasn't able to observe chimeras mating. Chimeras are one of the most sapient creatures around, but even I don't feel like seeking out one to ask such intimate questions. All I know is that a pair of chimeras then function as two individuals, not six. Hydras Chimeric creatures that bear an odd mixture of reptilian, amphibian, and possibly even cnidarian traits. They have both lungs and outer gills--visible as a bright red hem on their heads--and can switch between them. This grants them the ability to stay underwater for a long time, but also to survive on dry land. Unlike chimeras, hydras are more fused together, and the individual animal parts are not really discernible anymore. Their heads also aren't as autonomous. However, each of them has control of the full body, which results in their lumbering gait and clumsy movements--in chimeras, the control is distributed between the heads. Younger hydras are more agile, simply because when they hatch, they have just one head. Their eggs look like those of a frog, and so do the legless "tadpoles" consisting of a head on a long neck that slowly tapers off into the tail. Hydras lay millions of eggs, but if one of them makes it into adulthood, it's a huge success. As they age, new heads start to bud around the "original" neck. You can recognize the oldest head by it being the slowest. Even large adult hydras are excellent swimmers who are able to monitor everything that’s going on both underwater and above the water surface. So, whenever you are in the Froggy Bottom Bog and the surrounding open areas, be aware that you are being watched from everywhere. Their keen senses make hydras rather skilled, non-picky hunters of smaller creatures. A duck, a small cragadile, or a frog, it’s all food. Luckily this saved the bog from frog overpopulation suppressing other marshland wildlife. Because somepony though that poor froggies needed more space and should be relocated there. Despite their maw being able to gobble up a whole pony in a single bite, hydras won’t usually treat you as prey. If they attack you, it’s most likely going to be for intruding on their territory. However, you should be able to escape them by mere gallop. The true danger of hydras are the many parasites who feast on their thick skin. Many of these are large leeches or tick-like arthropods with long and sharp nippers, teeth and stingers whose host range includes ponies as well. Manticores A lion with a scorpion stinger and bat wings that are more or less useless. Younger manticores are able to glide with their wings, older can just propel themselves while running and flare their wings to look bigger and more intimidating. These are one of the laziest creatures I've ever met. Manticores spend almost all day napping, and when hunger finally calls, they search their surroundings for leftovers of a feast of another predator. Their search usually ends successfully on the hunting grounds of a younger cragadile. When they do actually hunt, they prefer to use their paws over the stinger. Luckily, the laws of nature survived the amendment they went through with this creature. You might have heard of the rule "the bigger scorpion, the better" relating to the fact that the smallest of scorpions are the deadliest. Given their size, manticore's poison is even weaker than that of a wasp, though the stinger can still cause quite a lot of damage given its sheer size. However, you should be more afraid of their saliva, it's as thick as glue and has nearly the same quality. Also, when eating, manticores quietly hum to themselves. The reason for this is not yet clear. Albeit, do you have any reason for singing in the shower? They roam the more central parts of the Everfree, and a lot of them are drawn to the edge of the rocky areas as there are always some fallen chamois to be found. They are strictly territorial, especially in the places they use for sleeping. It’s not a good idea to wake them up, trust me. Quite many ponies ask this, so: Yes, females lack the mane, though the differences pretty much end there. Well, maybe they are a little more energetic. Before mating, the male incapacitates the female with the poison to calm her and then proceeds to the actual act. Up to two cubs can be born, and they stay with their mother for a few years. So, how to deal with them? Don't interrupt their dreams, and you'll be fine. Otherwise, Tartarus help you, magic or strength won't. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. Of Phoenix's GraceHer wings flared with the sheer strength of her kin, each feather shining like the finest fire ruby in the light of Her Mistress's rising Sun. She accompanied Her Highness every morning, swirling higher and higher as the night shadows returned the land to the hooves of sunlight. ~ Philomena the Royal Phoenix, by unknown Post-classical author A little more poetic opening than usually, but those creatures deserve it. They are even rarer than poison jokes these days, but it would be a shame to not give them some spotlight. Phoenixes Given the old reports, there used to be large flocks of phoenixes residing in the Everfree. The same sources also mention the periodical phoenix migration every once in a while, and I suspect it has something to do with phoenixes following the great dragon migration to new nesting sites. Being used to your feathers burning surely allows you to live in a neighborhood of fire-breathing creatures. It seems that we're currently in the phoenixless period of the Everfree. You can only find a few pairs of phoenixes in the southern drier parts of the Everfree, some birds are also residing in Whitetail Woods. The rest now lives at the edge of the Badlands. Surprisingly, not many ponies comprehend that these regal birds are also birds of prey, the bane of squirrels and forest voles. They are deadly effective when it comes to hunting, the patches of forest they inhabit are almost devoid of small mammals. This might be another reason for them having to migrate from time to time. Of course, phoenixes are most well-known for their unique life cycle. Their feathers serve both as a fireproof shield and as a burning weapon. The rachis--the stiff line in the center of the feather--has the ability to channel their fiery magic, allowing it to burn around their wings and tail. They can activate this at will, though the feathers don't lose this feature even after being pulled out as they still contain some leftover magic. However, its discharge becomes random afterwards. So, those of you not blessed with the magic of telekinesis, try to avoid using phoenix quills... and those of you who can levitate things, make sure that your face and other body parts you hold dear are far from it. But back to the phoenixes' defenses. Their bright feathers can tell that their bearers aren't afraid of being spotted. Instead, their bright colors are a warning to predators. Much like a poisonous salamander's aposematic colour scheme gets labeled as Don't eat. Let it be. in the mind of any animal that tried tasting it, the bright red feathers are an unpleasant reminder of the fire that burned your muzzle. Even the eggs are brightly coloured. A phoenix's feathers can vary from yellow to red with lighter markings, females always have a pink stripe at the tip of their beak, pinkish markings on wings also occur. Another difference between the genders are the feathers on the top of their head. A male has a crest of thick feathers, while the female's head is adorned by a peacock-like crown thingy. But how is it with them burning to ashes if their feathers are fireproof? And why do they even have to burn down? If they didn't, they'd die. Fire is a great weapon, but it needs huge amounts of magic and energy to be controlled properly. Of course, there isn't an indefinite amount of energy, so the phoenix's body has to compromise. The trade off for having fire-controlling abilities from a young age is that their bones, muscles, and internal organs take quite a short while to get worn out. Their beak becomes distorted, wings are no longer able to carry them, neck muscles atrophy to the point that they are unable to support the head anymore, and the bird starts to cough heavily, lungs slowly collapsing and filling with mucus. Very regal. Their feathers start to fall off on their own as the small muscles operating them fail. This messy period of molting takes about a week, and it's the only time when they are truly vulnerable. You can find a hidden molting phoenix’s location by shed feathers lying all around, though it's almost impossible to spot the bird itself hiding in the treetops. It lies there quietly--except for the coughing--and waits till its fireproof shield is down. Then the remains of its magic are called, igniting the phoenix from inside and turning it to ashes. Nopony knows if getting incinerated alive is painful for them or not. In my opinion, it's far better than what they must feel when their body starts to wear out. Anyway, it seems that they fall into some sort of coma right before catching fire, so it’s possible they don’t register the flames licking at them at all… or maybe it’s just their nervous system giving out. Despite them being able to manipulate their ashes and precisely recognize every part of their body--or at least, if you throw their ashes into an already cinder-filled hearth, you get a phoenix of the same mass and volume--they try to choose their hiding place to be in the lee of the branches. Another interesting fact is that their fire doesn't ignite their surroundings. There is a second, somewhat romantic version of their renewal cycle, one used for courtship and mating. After the female chooses the male--one sporting a nice feather crest and bright colors, but the same should go for the female, because males don't accept the proposal from just anybody--they both start to perch and fly around, gently pulling out each other's feathers. When just a few are left, they soar high to the sky, getting rid of the remaining feathers and together fall to the ground in fire. When their ashes land, parts of them mix together. This mix then gets absorbed into the female's body. She lays up to five eggs after a few days. The hatchlings’ feathers take just a few days to fully grow, and the young birds start to fly shortly after. As they grow up, their burning period prolongs from a few weeks to months till it stabilizes on periods lasting roughly half a year. So, what to do when you have a phoenix nearby? Don't disturb them, not even in the ash form. And if your good behaviour somehow managed to annoy them, it’s best to lay down and stop moving. They'll just fly over you with ignited wings a few times and then leave. Furthermore, if a phoenix is scared in the worn-out state, it can explode in your face. The only situation when I suggest touching a worn-out phoenix is if it somehow fell in freezing water, ate some ice cream or otherwise got cold and might be in need of your help. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM. UnsortedQuarray eels. Originally creatures of cliffs above the sea, reveling in the waters of high tide and hunting seagulls for the rest of the day... Some time ago, they somehow got into the slopes of ravines running through the Everfree. Needs further research. The water left in the holes after floods or soaking through the ground has to be the reason why they are able to breathe and survive. Or is it possible that they are able to breathe through air sacs or primitive lungs? How the hay am I supposed to find out, when they immediately cannibalize all of their deceased kin?!... Star spiders seem to be endemic to the Castle of the Two Sisters and the surrounding areas. Though this might be just because no one looked for them in other places. The Equestrian Society for the Preservation of Rare Creatures considers these not rare enough to pay them any attention, so what? Should I travel all over Equestria by myself, looking into every cave? Now I really wonder if I'll ever be able to finish these reports. And I have to remember to get rid of these jottings this time... ... What are you reading now is the sheet of paper I use as a bookmark and some sort of message for those who like to poke their muzzle into my unfinished notes... I'll just ask you... How did you get there? No, don't say anything. Or say whatever you want, the paper won't mind... probably. Though I understand that you could have easily wandered in here by accident. There aren't many houses in the Everfree, after all. And an open notebook on a lectern is like a beacon for any curious guest, am I right? Well, now you have read it all. Or maybe you opened it at this last page... So, do you have anything to say about everything you have just read? Except for the work-in-progress parts, of course. Don't think anything bad of me, but I really don't want to discuss my unfinished work. Reading anything in that state might result in you misinterpreting something... and that's something I want to avoid. So, feel free to leave me a note below. Also, in case you have an acquaintance at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns or know some normal pony working for the E.S.f.t.P.o.R.C., it would be great if you told them what you have read here. As you have likely seen above, I could really use a helping hoof. I'm afraid that this is all I have to say, so now please take leave. If you read carefully, I reckon you'll know how to behave to make it home safely. Good luck on your journey. Sincerely, H. G. PS: Oh, please be careful around my flock of cockatrice hatchlings. They all have blindfolds on, but who knows what could happen? Author's Note I hope you enjoyed this little scientific trip into the Everfree If you want to read an actual story obeying these rules, I recommend taking a look at The Forest Pony. This guide is pretty much an in-universe thing in that tale.
ForewordNature. I always felt attracted to it. It fascinated me with its relentless beauty and hidden logic. Fillies of my age all played with dolls while I was running around the meadows and forests surrounding my hometown, trying to learn the name of every plant, insect, and bird I could find. Oftentimes, I returned with small bruises and at least one beetle biting my muzzle. I slowly became "the weird one" in the eyes of my peers. Not that I cared about it that much, my curiosity and thirst for knowledge were far more important. My curiosity grew with every new fact I learned, just like another piece clicking into place fuels your effort to finish a puzzle. Time went on, and I moved from stuffing my head full of terms and basic facts to seeking something more advanced. Something that’d go beyond the scope of ordinary textbooks and their black and white view of our grey world. The deeper and deeper I went, the more I discovered how many of the simple facts we were taught were either completely wrong or simplified so much the bits of truth in them were twisted beyond recognition. I was now led to thinking of causes and consequences, acquiring new insight on things that many ponies think they know. For example: How many times have you been told that a chameleon precisely changes its colour to whatever is around it? And do you think it’s really true? Have you ever seen it yourself or read a proper treatise on it? No? Then let me tell you it’s not as simple as you think. I stood at a crossroads: I could either spread the truth about the natural world, or I could keep everything my books and mentors taught me to myself. I’d love to choose the first path, however, nopony was willing to listen to me anymore. Apparently everyone around me was just annoyed by my weird interests and scientifical remarks. So what, I told one posh filly that the ambergris in her perfume came from the gut of a sperm whale. That was just a fact, it was not meant to humiliate her! On the other hoof, now I’m glad it did humiliate her. Still, I refused to give up my crusade of spreading knowledge. I hoped to find something that would show everypony that biology was not just about pointless boning up on terms and names. Naïve younger me. I was rummaging through every library I could and nose-diving into any book that had at least something to do with nature. There just had to be something that’d help me find common ground with other ponies. The result? I seemed even weirder than before. I started doubting myself and hid away among dozens of dusty old books. A few tomes in particular managed to reignite the spark of my curiosity. They were written in some long unused language, but I managed to get my head around it. These books were the magna opera of many researchers of the Classical era, the time when the Castle of the Two Sisters bustled with life, and the knowledge of ponykind was in full bloom. Many things and places have changed since then. Many places, including the feared Everfree Forest, which now slowly takes over the ruins of the once mightiest castle in all of Equestria. Unlike us, the ponies back then tried to understand why the local weather and nature were so independent. They knew every plant, creature, and drop of magic that at least once touched the ground of the Everfree. At the same time, I moved to the more central parts of Equestria and was confused by what I found. Back at home, just south of the plains of the Frozen North, we were used to at least a little feral animals and semi-autonomous weather. But here? All the wild animals were almost domesticated, used to having picnics and parties with ponies. The only place that seemed normal to me was the "Celestia forsaken" Everfree I have read so much about. It took just a few--more or less dangerous--trips to this place and a meeting with one of the most exotic and friendly creatures I ever met, a certain zebra, to make me and my companion settle down in this forest. And here we are, trying to bust the ancient myths about the dangers of the Everfree. May the knowledge trapped on the pages of this journal be your guide through the Everfree Forest. Author's Note Please report typos and other errors in PMs rather than comments.
Of Timberwolves and Zap ApplesLet's start with the most famous creatures of the Everfree: timberwolves. However, before we dive into the study of these peculiar wooden wolves, we first need to look at the source of their beloved food. Zap Apple Trees A species well-known thanks to the Apple family's famous jam and the strange phenomena surrounding its production. However, that is not the case of the wild specimens. But I am getting ahead of myself. I bet that everypony from Hoofington to Appleloosa at least once tasted the jam and heard the story of how these apples got out of the Everfree and into the light of Celestia's sun: the tale of a brave filly forced by hunger into the depths of the dangerous forest. In case you are unfamiliar with her story, the short version is that she was fortunate enough to stumble upon a clearing with many trees whose branches were laden with the colorful fruits. Given the zap apples are ripe only for a very short period of time, it seems like a real stroke of luck, doesn’t it? What appears as a huge coincidence in fact isn’t. The zap apple trees in the Everfree bear fruit much more often, mainly due to the more favourable conditions. The trees grow very slowly when present in a grove of older trees of their kin, the meagre amount of light decelerating the saplings’ growth. On the other hoof, I dug a few test pits in a zap apple grove and found a very complex and delicate system of roots and fungal hyphae connecting the individual plants. I presume that the seedlings might use these to obtain nutrition from the older trees. Zap apple seeds colonising new land grow much faster, but their habit is somewhat gaunt and sickly, and the trees are unable to bear fruit as often as trees grown in long-established groves (i.e. twice or thrice a month). This is likely the result of the tree investing all it has into rapid growth and lacking the extra sustenance from its brethren. Zap apple trees grown outside the Everfree can also call on their innate magic to bring forth the necessary weather for them to start blooming. This might explain the so-called "Signs of the Coming Harvest" observed in zap apple orchards outside the Everfree. Some of the phenomena, such as the flocks of crows and meteor showers might help the trees in the foreign environment, serving as possible pollinators and a way to scare off herbivores, respectively. Or, given these plants are distant relatives of the poison joke, and everything living in the Everfree has a pinch of chaos magic in it, all of these signs might as well be pure shenanigans without any purpose. The zap apple trees usually grow in drier, semi-shaded clearings where the trees usually create groves consisting of three to ten individuals. Timberwolves Hierarchy Unlike normal wolves, timberwolves lack a strict hierarchy and are usually present in family groups or packs of three to eight individuals. Members of a pack share one or rarely more clearings with a zap apple tree grove. The pack is usually led by one individual, usually the eldest. Females with pups might wander further away from the group, but are still treated as members. You may also encounter loners, usually young male timberwolves repelled from their packs due to aggressive behaviour or an insufficient amount of zap apples. Loners just wander around the Everfree, looking for something edible and for another pack they could join. They might sometimes gather in smaller, unstable groups. These are also the timberwolves with the terrible stench coming from their maws, why is it so will be explained shortly. Diet Timberwolves feed primarily on zap apples. They are after them like ~~Princess Celestia after cake~~ Equestrian dragons after gemstones, and their pack's zap apple grove clearing is the most guarded part of their territory. When there is an overall scarcity of zap apples--usually after the sudden onset of tough winter when the buds and young shoots of the trees freeze--the wolves turn to berries, roots, and meat for sustenance. Loners resort to this diet if they fail to steal a few zap apples for themselves. However, there is hardly enough to sate all loners, and so some have to make do with devouring rotten wood, which is the worst possible option for their gastrointestinal tract. The wood continues breaking down in their stomach, decomposing the timberwolves on the inside as well. This also results in their stinking breath. The timberwolves can survive this for a while, though if the decomposition goes too far, the wolves are then unable to switch back to a normal diet as anything they eat will only worsen their state. The most important thing for you to remember is that stinking breath means a hungry and possibly deranged timberwolf. Range Timberwolves can be found through the whole Everfree Forest, though they usually avoid the areas where cragadiles occur, including Froggy Bottom Bog and the rocky region above it. The packs tend to defend their zap apple groves and their immediate vicinity, but they are not strictly territorial. Give them a wide berth, and they’ll likely do the same. Reproduction The only act of timberwolf reproduction I was able to observe resembled some sort of ritual. It seems that it can occur only during spring and early summer. It also requires two different mating types, which I consider to be male and female, for the reproductive process to start. Both partners gather sticks, leaves, bark et cetera from their surroundings or, less commonly, from their own bodies and build the pup from inside out. The male often initiates this, presenting a pile of the aforementioned materials he gathered. The female sniffs the pile and checks the quality of the items. If she finds the male’s contribution sufficient, she starts gathering more material herself and the two wolves start assembling the pup together. When that phase is done, both parents freeze in a howling position as if they were howling and release wisps of their magic. Each of these wisps looks and behaves differently, and given that the same individual always releases the same kind of magic, I dare propose that the wolf’s gender (or mating type, if you prefer), is firmly set. The parents’ magics combine and together soak to the body of the little one. The pup then slowly awakes. It stays with the pack, usually pretty close to its mother for a year or so. A newborn timberwolf is about one third the size of an adult timberwolf and has the withers height of an average filly. Growth occurs through the wolves attaching new pieces of wood into their bodies. In theory, their growth can be unlimited, but it seems the wolves limit themselves only to a certain size, most likely because sustaining and moving a larger physique through the underbrush would be too cumbersome. Appropriate behaviour First option: Most timberwolves will let you go if you offer them a batch of zap apples. Throwing a few before their muzzle should be enough. However, don’t try to pick zap apples from the timberwolf groves, it’ll only provoke the wolves further. As I know, all of them are currently taken. Also, throwing zapples to loners is a bit dicey as their insides may have rotted so much that the fruit will only upset their stomach. Second option is carrying something that you can make noise with. Timberwolves are generally unable to distinguish most loud sounds from the clapping of cragadile jaws. And since cragadiles are one of the few creatures that can seriously hurt a timberwolf, the wolves make sure to give a wide berth to anything that sounds like the ‘diles. Though I admit lugging around some pans or pots to make noise with is quite impractical. Furthermore, you are always at risk of attracting the attention of something worse than a timberwolf. Fire might also seem like a viable option, since these creatures are mostly made of wood. It is not. Someone already tried it on a few timberwolves. I was lucky enough--if you can call it luck--to be around and witness the consequences. They burn quite slowly and become far more aggressive. And as they run around, trying to extinguish themselves, they can set the forest around on fire. You might escape a timberwolf, but you'll most likely end up in an inferno of your own making. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
Of Cockatrices and "Poison Jokes"Cockatrice, a basilisk's cousin. A creature feared as much as timberwolves, maybe even more. I understand that the idea of being turned into stone and remaining like that for eternity with snails slithering over your face isn't exactly pleasant. Well, that idea has one substantial flaw. If it worked as described above, the Everfree would look like the statue garden in Canterlot by now. Speaking of the garden, you might have heard some hearsay about some of the statues there being ponies intentionally exposed to the curse of cockatrice for ‘preservation’. It’s all mere gossip as you’ll learn below. Cockatrices Hierarchy Given these creatures are half-chicken and half-snake, I find it quite reasonable to refer to the male and female cockatrice as rooster and hen, respectively. I’m also not aware of anyone else introducing a cockatrice-specific terminology yet. Roosters are highly territorial, fiercely defending the patches of forest where their harem tends to roam. One rooster’s harem consists of three to four hens on average, the amount of hens is defined mainly by the size of the territory and the amount of food and shelters found therein. The hens hardly ever flock together, foraging on their own most of the time. The hens gather only when another rooster challenges their master to a duel over his harem. The challenger initiates this by crowing in the rival's territory, and all the cockatrices (including nesting hens) rush to watch the duel. Once the whole harem had gathered, the two roosters engage each other in a stare off. Cockatrices aren't completely immune to their own weapon, thus both opponents are slowly petrifying each other. Turning their gaze away, or, far more rarely, being completely turned to stone, means defeat. The loser is then punished by a slash of talons and chased away, or left behind in his stone prison in case of the latter. Roosters also have their own specific forest-wide hierarchy. Roosters of higher status have larger territories and are more likely to be tolerated when passing through territories of others. Diet Cockatrices mainly feed on insects, earthworms, and slugs they found in leaf litter or under smaller objects. Their beak is not shaped for digging. If invertebrates are scarce, they can survive on berries and seeds for a limited amount of time. They might occasionally spice up their diet with smaller mammals, hatchlings, and eggs. They never use the stare when hunting as it’d only result in their prey being scared off or turned to stone immediately. It may seem as a good way of trapping the prey since cockatrices have the ability to release their petrified victims on will, however, the whole process costs much more energy than what the consumption of a small bird or rodent would provide. Range and Associated Ecology Cockatrice territories are marked by crowing of roosters and pheromone secretions of hens. These have rather pungent odour, so you should be able to tell when you stumble into one. Most territories can be found in areas of central Everfree with dense bushy undergrowth, but it’s not impossible to encounter a cockatrice closer to the forest edge. Most of these are males attracted by crowing of normal roosters from nearby villages. As was already stated, crowing is mostly reserved for challenging opponents to a stare off. Casual communication happens mainly through infrasound waves, much like in case of elephants and snakes. Given their eyes were largely repurposed for channelling magic, the cockatrices’ sight is rather poor. They may still use it to scan their surroundings, but hearing is definitely their primary sense. This fact is nicely illustrated by how they explore their surroundings. Upon spotting a large creature, a cockarice slowly crawls nearer through the underbrush. Once close enough, it sticks its head out of the bush, facing away from the creature. It then analyses the situation behind it by hearing and occasionally a few side glances. It seems like a risky strategy, as the cockatrice might be mistaken for an innocent chicken by some predator, but apparently it’s worked so far. If the cockatrice decides that the creature poses a threat or is a larger prey item, it strikes. The cockatrice jumps at its prey, using the moment of surprise to pin it to the ground with its talons. It then proceeds to eat the creature, or, in case of larger beings, petrify it. However, coackatrice petrification is only temporary and serves as a mere warning, much like the disgusting secretions of poisonous animals. This is the reason why the Everfree isn’t littered with dozens upon dozens of petrified victims. Reproduction Hens can lay up to four leathery eggs, nesting might occur from Spring to early Autumn. Hatchlings are nidicolous, meaning they stay in the nest and depend on their mother for sustenance. Whenever the hen returns with more food, the hatchlings switch from quiet peeping to intensely fixing their mother with their stares and pecking at the red tips of her wings--much like many seagull hatchlings do with the red spot on their parents' beaks. Young cockatrices wander away after reaching maturity to join harems or fight for other territories. Only rarely do they stay in the territory where they hatched. Appropriate Behaviour, Handling Potential Petrification If you are (un)lucky enough to encounter a cockatrice the best course of action is to fly/teleport/run away or stay completely still--not sure which is better, especially for earth-bound ponies. You can close your eyes, wait and just hope that the cockatrice'll think you aren't a living creature. If you want to take a closer look for some reason, you'll need special goggles with a polarising filter. Looking into their eyes "bare-eyed" isn't the best idea as you already know. That is, unless you want a shiny new coat or a nice deep scratch from their talons. Cockatrices fear foxes, my guess is that it’s a side effect of them being part chicken. However, a normal pony doesn’t usually have a fox at hoof, and a truly angry cockatrice will ignore the presence of a fox anyway, so this piece of advice is not really applicable. But hey, somepony might find it useful anyway. What might be a bit more practical is the fact that if you are fast enough and manage to put a mirror in a cockatrice's line of sight, you’ll effectively freeze it in place as it's blind and deaf to the world when staring. If you find yourself in a spot where you need to deal with a petrified creature, then just know that a small hammer should be enough. The stone is just a crust on the surface of the petrified one. Let's say that testing this theory was quite... peculiar. If the brute force approach is not for you, waiting also works--the stone starts falling apart on its own after a day or two. The trapped one is in a state of torpor during their entrapment, and they should wake up once you pull them out, just provide them with fresh water and something to eat. There are a few reports of stiff joints and slight muscle atrophy after a longer period of petrification, but to be fair, the credibility of these documents is not exactly high. Also, some old sources claim that the higher the cockatrice’s hierarchy rank, the longer will its petrification last. The alfa rooster's stare might even result in permanent petrification. However, I haven't collected any data on that yet. Another interesting fact is that the stone the “prison” is made of is the same as the nearest parent rock. I suspect they derive it partially from there. Since we are already discussing creatures able to somewhat alter one's appearance, let's mention a plant with a similar ability. However, this one is not likely to turn you to stone. It’s going to do something much worse. Lilium noxia cupiunt as called by the botanists of the Classical era, now commonly known as poison joke, is one of the rarest plants of the Everfree. A small, innocent-looking blue flower with the ability to alter the physical form of any creature, from vocal cord tightness to bone density. These plants can grow only on a few sites in the Everfree, though they might become very abundant in these localities. They create patches of dense, linked underbrush, most of the “individual” plants being asexually produced clones of just a few parent plants. Poison jokes require medium humidity and don't react well to being completely overshadowed; you'll most likely find them around remains of old paths to the Castle of the Two Sisters or former clearings as both provide enough light for these plants. This makes poison joke one of the most excellent paleobotany indicators. Their magic is contained in the powder produced by their anthers and also the outer membrane of their pollen grains. The powder's primary purpose is protection from herbivores and pollen eaters. In other words, touching the plant carefully and in the right places won't cause any harm--just like a tender grip on a nettle will help prevent you from getting stung. You are probably wondering how is it possible that you have encountered the blue flowers almost every time you had ventured into the Everfree if the joke is supposed to be so scarce. If you were lucky enough, these really were the rare jokes, but much more likely it was the common Lilium hyacinthum, commonly called "blue archer” in old Zebrican. These plants can survive being overshadowed by the treetops or growing in wetter soil, so that's why they are very common not just in the Everfree Forest. You can tell blue archer apart from poison joke by the presence of white or light blue spots at the bases and ends of petals. Though the most accurate--and also the easiest--method is determining the number of stamens the plant has. Poison joke has four, you can remember it by four letters of the common name, J-O-K-E, while archer has six of them, so you can use the mnemonic device: A-R-C-H-E-R. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
Of Parasprites and--Not Just--Their Peculiar Liking for Rhythmic SoundsMaybe you heard about the parasprite infestation in Ponyville and Fillydelphia some time ago. If you did, don’t expect me to go into detail on how to get rid of these. I have no idea, and to be honest, I don’t really care as ponies brought it upon themselves. Parasprites shouldn't be swarming like that under natural conditions. Of course, a sudden excess of food in the absence of predators or parasites will lead to such massive overabundance of any creature. Not to mention that magically tampering with the ‘pest’ might only worsen the situation. Anyway, normal ponies apparently don’t have to deal with that as whenever they mess up, they just quickly dispose of the mutated creatures in the Everfree. ‘Cause nothing can go wrong here, right? Parasprites Parasprites are not the most typical representatives of Everfree fauna as they mostly occur in rocky areas and drier marshlands. Because of this, they’re far more common on western rock farms and some parts of Zebrica, where they caused quite a few large famines in the past when the zebras failed to handle them properly. Parasprites are actually symbionts of cragadiles or many other creatures such as hydras when cragadiles are absent. Parasprites are the only one with a sufficiently long tongue--or sufficiently shaped hypopharynx, if you prefer more arthropod-oriented terminology--and also the only known creatures willing to lick their hosts' teeth clean of any leftovers. Their big eyes and slow fluttering moves serve as the signal for the host to open its maw for cleaning. The parasprite is then allowed to fly in and feast. However, cragadiles might sometimes shut their mouth quickly upon spotting potential prey or danger, and their jaws effectively squish or pierce their little helpers. Parasprites are unable to react fast enough to escape, and their exoskeleton isn't durable enough to survive the pressure, though it still protects them from getting killed immediately. That’s why they have evolved a different tactic of somewhat surviving these little accidents--they simply split in two and create a clone of themselves. Or, better said, they spit out their clone and fling it to safety. I must admit, these creatures have probably the fastest asexual reproduction among multicellular organisms. Their metabolism has to be extremely fast for this to work, which probably leads to the small and scattered parasprite populations under normal conditions. This form of reproduction can be triggered by any of these three factors: the parasprite recently ingested something the pressure against its exoskeleton increased the ambient light dimmed suddenly When a parasprite gets trapped in a cragadile’s maw, at least one of these factors is surely present too. If more of them add up, the reaction is even faster and the parasprite spits out its clone. Two possible scenarios might follow. First: The parasprite was facing out of the cragadile's mouth. The clone is propelled outdoors, forming immediately and happily flying away. Second: The parasprite was facing the inside of a cragadile's mouth. This one works only if a sufficient number of parasprites suffered the same fate. They all begin spitting out their clones, with the clones doing the same due to the conditions inside. The cragadile’s buccal cavity will fill with parasprites till the cragadile opens its mouth or till their bodies crack open its mouth, allowing a few individuals to slip out. Clones may have different exoskeleton colour than the parent creature, the underlying mechanisms of this phenomenon remain unclear, though it is possible that it is caused by a combination of genetic and exogenous factors such as temperature or moisture during their spawn. Parasprites reproduce sexually on rare occasions during extreme lack of food or any other generally stressful conditions. They swarm together and the mating begins. They tuck themselves tighter and tighter into the center of the swarm, in the end creating a tight ball on the ground. This stage lasts for a few hours. Immediately after the mating ends and the males die, the females dart off in search of a smaller hole in the ground in which they lay a single egg and cover it up with a stone. The females then die too. The newly-hatched parasprite is able to muster enough strength to move the stone away. They then climb onto the stone and wait till their wings straighten and dry before they can fly away. Given the limited amount of energy that can be stored within their bodies, it would be a suicide for them to fly around, randomly looking for some being in need of their dental care. And staying close to the cragadiles in the swamp? Given the parasprites’ slow moves and the amount of frogs living here... they'd have soon become extinct. No, parasprites learned to react to sounds emitted by their hosts, the very same signals timberwolves deem a warning. Cragadiles commonly communicate by a complex system of jaw clapping and teeth screeching together with air whizzing between them. The rhythmic nature of these sounds draws the parasprites' attention and makes them follow it in some sort of trance. Surprisingly, they usually survive this trip, and, once close enough, they propose their services to the cragadiles as described above. Furthermore, they react similarly to rhythmic sounds resembling cragadile communication, be it a specific combination of natural sounds (e.g. a creaking broken branch and a drumming of a woodpecker) or an orchestra's performance. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
Of Differences between Cragadiles and CrocodilesYou have probably noticed that I don't follow a certain pattern with these. I admit I didn’t originally intend this, but I reckon it nicely mirrors the diversity of nature. So, let’s get a bit more comparative this time. Cragadiles, which I’ve already mentioned a few times, are quite similar to their crocodile relatives and vastly different at the same time. Here we follow them from egg to death and document all the similarities and differences. More precisely, we will watch them from egg to old age, as I wasn't lucky enough to find a deceased cragadile yet. Cragadiles An egg. A stone. Big difference, right? In this case, it is not. Cragadile eggs look like a porous rock about the size of an adult stallion's hoof. The mother lays the eggs on the ground and covers them with piles of rotting wood and foliage, much like crocodiles do. Although, a crocodile lays its eggs into a hole in the ground and then stuffs it with plant scraps. Anyway, you should be careful when wading through piles of leaf in the swamps. The first reason is an angry cragadile mother, second the fact that you'll remember tripping over a rock-hard egg for a long time. Also, you'll most likely kill the little one inside. Because, unlike bird eggs which you can shake nearly to your liking, these eggs lack chalazae--the strings holding the yolk and developing embryo in place. One abrupt movement spells doom to the young one inside. This is similar in almost all reptiles except birds. So, what's inside the egg? Well, quite everything like in a "normal" egg: the embryo, the yolk sack, lots of membranes, and albumen rich in mineral ions. These ions gradually dissociate from the inner side of the stony eggshell and are later incorporated in the bones of the little one. It hardens the bones, yet it still keeps the structure as porous as the eggshell, so the bones are lighter. Adult cragadiles would be too heavy to move otherwise. Just like their crocodile relatives, cragadiles have bony scales. Now it's easy to guess where all the rocks on a cragadile's body come from, right? When a Cragadile hatches, it needs to crawl through the compost above it. When the mother sees her young waddling away, she may help them, but usually she has no interest in protecting them anymore. Hungry, the hatchlings start searching for food--insects, worms, amphibians, small fish and mammals, birds, eggs, whatever they happen to stumble upon. They move away from their maternal swamp to drier parts of the Everfree, usually following smaller streams and rivers. One reason is that older cragadiles may eat them, the second reason is that their squamous armor needs to dry off to fully crystallize, which needs to happen mostly out of water. Young cragadiles usually end up in territories inhabited by larger groups of cockatrices. There are lots of food and next to none predators able to eat them. And being already part rock makes you immune to further petrification. Ideal, isn't it? Growing larger and heavier, they slowly abandon the strategy of chasing their prey and instead lurk in or near rivers and brooks, waiting for prey to come over for a drink and... dinner. The prey meets its fate in a typical crocodile way. Since they can't really chew, cragadiles clench the prey in their jaws, rolling with it and swinging it from side to side till they tear it apart. It's not exactly fast nor painless death, and the sight is quite gruesome… and somewhat interesting, if you can stomach it. When lazing around and digesting, cragadiles usually start to communicate with each other by click-clacking their jaws, similar to our Marese code. Though be warned, only satiated cragadiles are in a communicative mood. The hungry ones may be quietly waiting nearby. That means, the sounds just indicate a cragadile-inhabited location, not all the individuals there. You will never find timberwolves in a place where such sounds can be heard. Older cragadiles slowly move back to the swampy areas. By now they're big enough to just lie in water and wait for some prey to show up. And they can wait for a really long time, easily a few months. They will eat anything above a certain size level, be it an overfed goose, a zebra, or a timberwolf. Older publications also speculate about them being able to eat gemstones similarly to dragons. This assumption is probably incorrect, as when they were experimentally provided with a pile of gems, the cragadiles didn't seem to show any interest in them. The mineral hardness of their teeth is also slightly below the level of quartz, thus they seem unsuited for this kind of diet. Upon arriving back to the swamps, they start looking for a mate.You can tell that the mating season started by the smell that can be most easily described as what you smell when you sniff two pebbles that were quickly rubbed against each other. This smell is a mixture of the secretions of their scent glands and lots of jaw clapping with rock teeth rubbing. Males become more territorial during this period. It is not a good idea to go near them as the swamp is practically boiling with cragadile males fighting, proposing, and copulating. The biggest and usually oldest male mates with the largest amount of females. The pairs, if we can even talk about them, last for just one season. After a few months, the female lays up to ten eggs and piles up leaves and wood over them, staying nearby to protect the small hill of compost till the hatchlings scramble out. There is not much that can be done when they attack you. Killing them is practically impossible. The most useful advice is probably gonna be: incapacitate their maw and tail and get away as fast as you can. Alternatively, you can sacrifice someone you don’t like and then run away. The cragadile won’t follow. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
Of Chimeras and Similar CreaturesTechnically, all of us are chimeras. In most cases it means nothing more than a few cells exchanged between the mother and her baby during pregnancy. Some of us may have also absorbed the fetus that was supposed to be our twin, and now this twin’s cells make up a part of our body. However, there are creatures that truly take the cake when it comes to chimerism. The biologists of the Classical era blamed the existence of those "monsters"--the beautiful abominations consisting of different animal parts fused together--on the magic lingering after Discord's banishment. I can't disagree with them. I have no evidence to contradict their hypothesis. To be fair, while I’m not a fan of such mythological explanations, I have to admit that the behaviour of these creatures is indeed quite peculiar and chaotic. Chimeras Creatures whose bodies seem to be a mixture of a tiger and a goat with a snake serving as their tail. They roam mainly the eastern parts of the Everfree where it slowly fades into the Badlands. You may know this place under the name Flame Geyser Swamp. The main reason why they live there is the fact that they'd be easily outnumbered and pushed to the sidelines by timberwolf packs in the "normal" parts of the forest. However, you can't find timberwolves near flame geysers for obvious reasons. Before I tell you more about chimeras, I feel that some basic information about survival in the swamp is due, just in case you were in charge of emergency pie deliveries through it. The two main dangers of the swamp are the fire and the bog itself. On a side note: if you want a hot mud bath, there are far better places to go. The bog can be avoided quite easily like in a normal marshland, and the fire eruptions are predictable. When you feel hard ground under your hooves, you are safe, but when it gets just a little muddy, you need to pay full attention to the bubbling and shaking underneath. When it intensifies, run. You are standing just above a flame geyser. And of course, watch out for the boggy areas when fleeing. Chimeras have the advantage of being part snake and thus possessing the ability of sensing infrasound waves. When dragging the third head on the ground, they know exactly where all the geysers are. However, there are other problems they have to face. Griffons have a similar saying to our "No bees, no honey, no work, no money." Their saying is, "Roasted pigeons won't fly into your mouth." Funnily enough, quite the opposite is true for chimeras. Food will come straight under their noses, sometimes even cooked. However, the problem is that the food is usually rather scarce. A chimera doesn't need to eat everyday, but it can't starve for a month either--or, well, theoretically, one scaly third of it can. Each of the heads eats nearly the same food as the original animal would. The tiger part goes for meat, the snake after smaller creatures, and the goat after plants and sometimes baked stuff. For each head, there is an appropriate digestive system, meaning that not all three have to eat every time to get some sustenance for the whole body. If a chimera is hungry for quite a while, the heads start to act more autonomously and return to their respective ancestral behaviour and weaknesses. The winner is usually the goat, at least for some time. When it's grazing happily, its sisters or brothers are starving. That often ends with the tiger's mind snapping and attacking the goat part, while the snake is waiting for the right moment to strangle the other two. This is the time when you might be able to escape a chimera unscathed as it’s going to be somewhat deranged and too busy committing its own murder. Or should it be called a suicide? Due to the harsh conditions in the swamp, I still wasn't able to observe chimeras mating. Chimeras are one of the most sapient creatures around, but even I don't feel like seeking out one to ask such intimate questions. All I know is that a pair of chimeras then function as two individuals, not six. Hydras Chimeric creatures that bear an odd mixture of reptilian, amphibian, and possibly even cnidarian traits. They have both lungs and outer gills--visible as a bright red hem on their heads--and can switch between them. This grants them the ability to stay underwater for a long time, but also to survive on dry land. Unlike chimeras, hydras are more fused together, and the individual animal parts are not really discernible anymore. Their heads also aren't as autonomous. However, each of them has control of the full body, which results in their lumbering gait and clumsy movements--in chimeras, the control is distributed between the heads. Younger hydras are more agile, simply because when they hatch, they have just one head. Their eggs look like those of a frog, and so do the legless "tadpoles" consisting of a head on a long neck that slowly tapers off into the tail. Hydras lay millions of eggs, but if one of them makes it into adulthood, it's a huge success. As they age, new heads start to bud around the "original" neck. You can recognize the oldest head by it being the slowest. Even large adult hydras are excellent swimmers who are able to monitor everything that’s going on both underwater and above the water surface. So, whenever you are in the Froggy Bottom Bog and the surrounding open areas, be aware that you are being watched from everywhere. Their keen senses make hydras rather skilled, non-picky hunters of smaller creatures. A duck, a small cragadile, or a frog, it’s all food. Luckily this saved the bog from frog overpopulation suppressing other marshland wildlife. Because somepony though that poor froggies needed more space and should be relocated there. Despite their maw being able to gobble up a whole pony in a single bite, hydras won’t usually treat you as prey. If they attack you, it’s most likely going to be for intruding on their territory. However, you should be able to escape them by mere gallop. The true danger of hydras are the many parasites who feast on their thick skin. Many of these are large leeches or tick-like arthropods with long and sharp nippers, teeth and stingers whose host range includes ponies as well. Manticores A lion with a scorpion stinger and bat wings that are more or less useless. Younger manticores are able to glide with their wings, older can just propel themselves while running and flare their wings to look bigger and more intimidating. These are one of the laziest creatures I've ever met. Manticores spend almost all day napping, and when hunger finally calls, they search their surroundings for leftovers of a feast of another predator. Their search usually ends successfully on the hunting grounds of a younger cragadile. When they do actually hunt, they prefer to use their paws over the stinger. Luckily, the laws of nature survived the amendment they went through with this creature. You might have heard of the rule "the bigger scorpion, the better" relating to the fact that the smallest of scorpions are the deadliest. Given their size, manticore's poison is even weaker than that of a wasp, though the stinger can still cause quite a lot of damage given its sheer size. However, you should be more afraid of their saliva, it's as thick as glue and has nearly the same quality. Also, when eating, manticores quietly hum to themselves. The reason for this is not yet clear. Albeit, do you have any reason for singing in the shower? They roam the more central parts of the Everfree, and a lot of them are drawn to the edge of the rocky areas as there are always some fallen chamois to be found. They are strictly territorial, especially in the places they use for sleeping. It’s not a good idea to wake them up, trust me. Quite many ponies ask this, so: Yes, females lack the mane, though the differences pretty much end there. Well, maybe they are a little more energetic. Before mating, the male incapacitates the female with the poison to calm her and then proceeds to the actual act. Up to two cubs can be born, and they stay with their mother for a few years. So, how to deal with them? Don't interrupt their dreams, and you'll be fine. Otherwise, Tartarus help you, magic or strength won't. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
Of Phoenix's GraceHer wings flared with the sheer strength of her kin, each feather shining like the finest fire ruby in the light of Her Mistress's rising Sun. She accompanied Her Highness every morning, swirling higher and higher as the night shadows returned the land to the hooves of sunlight. ~ Philomena the Royal Phoenix, by unknown Post-classical author A little more poetic opening than usually, but those creatures deserve it. They are even rarer than poison jokes these days, but it would be a shame to not give them some spotlight. Phoenixes Given the old reports, there used to be large flocks of phoenixes residing in the Everfree. The same sources also mention the periodical phoenix migration every once in a while, and I suspect it has something to do with phoenixes following the great dragon migration to new nesting sites. Being used to your feathers burning surely allows you to live in a neighborhood of fire-breathing creatures. It seems that we're currently in the phoenixless period of the Everfree. You can only find a few pairs of phoenixes in the southern drier parts of the Everfree, some birds are also residing in Whitetail Woods. The rest now lives at the edge of the Badlands. Surprisingly, not many ponies comprehend that these regal birds are also birds of prey, the bane of squirrels and forest voles. They are deadly effective when it comes to hunting, the patches of forest they inhabit are almost devoid of small mammals. This might be another reason for them having to migrate from time to time. Of course, phoenixes are most well-known for their unique life cycle. Their feathers serve both as a fireproof shield and as a burning weapon. The rachis--the stiff line in the center of the feather--has the ability to channel their fiery magic, allowing it to burn around their wings and tail. They can activate this at will, though the feathers don't lose this feature even after being pulled out as they still contain some leftover magic. However, its discharge becomes random afterwards. So, those of you not blessed with the magic of telekinesis, try to avoid using phoenix quills... and those of you who can levitate things, make sure that your face and other body parts you hold dear are far from it. But back to the phoenixes' defenses. Their bright feathers can tell that their bearers aren't afraid of being spotted. Instead, their bright colors are a warning to predators. Much like a poisonous salamander's aposematic colour scheme gets labeled as Don't eat. Let it be. in the mind of any animal that tried tasting it, the bright red feathers are an unpleasant reminder of the fire that burned your muzzle. Even the eggs are brightly coloured. A phoenix's feathers can vary from yellow to red with lighter markings, females always have a pink stripe at the tip of their beak, pinkish markings on wings also occur. Another difference between the genders are the feathers on the top of their head. A male has a crest of thick feathers, while the female's head is adorned by a peacock-like crown thingy. But how is it with them burning to ashes if their feathers are fireproof? And why do they even have to burn down? If they didn't, they'd die. Fire is a great weapon, but it needs huge amounts of magic and energy to be controlled properly. Of course, there isn't an indefinite amount of energy, so the phoenix's body has to compromise. The trade off for having fire-controlling abilities from a young age is that their bones, muscles, and internal organs take quite a short while to get worn out. Their beak becomes distorted, wings are no longer able to carry them, neck muscles atrophy to the point that they are unable to support the head anymore, and the bird starts to cough heavily, lungs slowly collapsing and filling with mucus. Very regal. Their feathers start to fall off on their own as the small muscles operating them fail. This messy period of molting takes about a week, and it's the only time when they are truly vulnerable. You can find a hidden molting phoenix’s location by shed feathers lying all around, though it's almost impossible to spot the bird itself hiding in the treetops. It lies there quietly--except for the coughing--and waits till its fireproof shield is down. Then the remains of its magic are called, igniting the phoenix from inside and turning it to ashes. Nopony knows if getting incinerated alive is painful for them or not. In my opinion, it's far better than what they must feel when their body starts to wear out. Anyway, it seems that they fall into some sort of coma right before catching fire, so it’s possible they don’t register the flames licking at them at all… or maybe it’s just their nervous system giving out. Despite them being able to manipulate their ashes and precisely recognize every part of their body--or at least, if you throw their ashes into an already cinder-filled hearth, you get a phoenix of the same mass and volume--they try to choose their hiding place to be in the lee of the branches. Another interesting fact is that their fire doesn't ignite their surroundings. There is a second, somewhat romantic version of their renewal cycle, one used for courtship and mating. After the female chooses the male--one sporting a nice feather crest and bright colors, but the same should go for the female, because males don't accept the proposal from just anybody--they both start to perch and fly around, gently pulling out each other's feathers. When just a few are left, they soar high to the sky, getting rid of the remaining feathers and together fall to the ground in fire. When their ashes land, parts of them mix together. This mix then gets absorbed into the female's body. She lays up to five eggs after a few days. The hatchlings’ feathers take just a few days to fully grow, and the young birds start to fly shortly after. As they grow up, their burning period prolongs from a few weeks to months till it stabilizes on periods lasting roughly half a year. So, what to do when you have a phoenix nearby? Don't disturb them, not even in the ash form. And if your good behaviour somehow managed to annoy them, it’s best to lay down and stop moving. They'll just fly over you with ignited wings a few times and then leave. Furthermore, if a phoenix is scared in the worn-out state, it can explode in your face. The only situation when I suggest touching a worn-out phoenix is if it somehow fell in freezing water, ate some ice cream or otherwise got cold and might be in need of your help. Author's Note Any questions or thoughts on how does this phenomenon work? I'll be more than happy if you elaborate in the comments below! Please report typos in the form of PM.
UnsortedQuarray eels. Originally creatures of cliffs above the sea, reveling in the waters of high tide and hunting seagulls for the rest of the day... Some time ago, they somehow got into the slopes of ravines running through the Everfree. Needs further research. The water left in the holes after floods or soaking through the ground has to be the reason why they are able to breathe and survive. Or is it possible that they are able to breathe through air sacs or primitive lungs? How the hay am I supposed to find out, when they immediately cannibalize all of their deceased kin?!... Star spiders seem to be endemic to the Castle of the Two Sisters and the surrounding areas. Though this might be just because no one looked for them in other places. The Equestrian Society for the Preservation of Rare Creatures considers these not rare enough to pay them any attention, so what? Should I travel all over Equestria by myself, looking into every cave? Now I really wonder if I'll ever be able to finish these reports. And I have to remember to get rid of these jottings this time... ... What are you reading now is the sheet of paper I use as a bookmark and some sort of message for those who like to poke their muzzle into my unfinished notes... I'll just ask you... How did you get there? No, don't say anything. Or say whatever you want, the paper won't mind... probably. Though I understand that you could have easily wandered in here by accident. There aren't many houses in the Everfree, after all. And an open notebook on a lectern is like a beacon for any curious guest, am I right? Well, now you have read it all. Or maybe you opened it at this last page... So, do you have anything to say about everything you have just read? Except for the work-in-progress parts, of course. Don't think anything bad of me, but I really don't want to discuss my unfinished work. Reading anything in that state might result in you misinterpreting something... and that's something I want to avoid. So, feel free to leave me a note below. Also, in case you have an acquaintance at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns or know some normal pony working for the E.S.f.t.P.o.R.C., it would be great if you told them what you have read here. As you have likely seen above, I could really use a helping hoof. I'm afraid that this is all I have to say, so now please take leave. If you read carefully, I reckon you'll know how to behave to make it home safely. Good luck on your journey. Sincerely, H. G. PS: Oh, please be careful around my flock of cockatrice hatchlings. They all have blindfolds on, but who knows what could happen? Author's Note I hope you enjoyed this little scientific trip into the Everfree If you want to read an actual story obeying these rules, I recommend taking a look at The Forest Pony. This guide is pretty much an in-universe thing in that tale.
