Podcasts about guitarscapes

The Fable of the Tarsierby Barry J. NorthernWhy not listen along to the Fable of the Tarsier as you read? Just click the play button below or download the MP3. A tarsier sat upon his branch, chewing on a large cricket he had just caught. A warm jungle breeze rustled the leaves about him, and above, stars twinkled through the forest canopy.He heard approaching footsteps on the branch and swivelled his head, fixing his large eyes upon a brother hurrying towards him. The younger tarsier waved his arms and chirruped. So hurried was Chirrup that Cricket-Catcher did not at first understand his words.“... coming … quick … coming … this big.”Cricket-Catcher smiled around a mouthful of food as he watched Chirrup extend his little arms as wide as his slight frame would allow. “Big, eh?”Chirrup jumped up and down and nodded. “Yes, yes. Big it is. Quick.”“Quick too?”“No, no quick, we must go.”“Where? I've just caught this cricket. I'm not moving.”This sent Chirrup into another frenzy of arm-waving and high-pitching singing. “... coming … big … snake.”This caught Cricket-Catcher's attention. “A snake? A big snake is coming?”Chirrup sighed and deflated. “Yes.”“Relax. Snakes are slow.”Cricket-Catcher spotted a Striped Tree Frog sneaking up the tree's wide bole below him. Finishing off his cricket, his mind already on his next meal, he spoke idly to Chirrup whilst eyeing the frog. “You know, those are clever little things. Tasty though. Worth catching. Can't leap as well as us. I saw one in the morning once, just before going to bed.”“Go! We go now!”“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute. It was pale coloured. You never see them pale like that at night. It's like they change colour to fool us. Argh! A snake!”Cricket-Catcher had never before seen a snake as large as the one that loomed up from the shadows beyond the small frog.“I told you!” cried Chirrup as the pair leapt upwards into the canopy where the branches were thin and the snake could not follow.“I know. But did you see the size of that thing?”A picture is worth a thousand words.The Fable of the Tarsier by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.Hosted by The Internet Archive.Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Pigeonby Barry J. Northern A young pigeon, not long out of the nest, squabbled among his fellows around the legs of one of the wingless giants who sat upon the strange wooden bush at this time every day.His father stayed close to him. “Look Fletch, this here giant is dropping bits of giant food already, good as grain that stuff. Oh, he'll fling us his scraps at the end, but you wanna watch out for anything you can get.” His father laughed at the older pigeons at the front of the crowd, fighting for scraps. “Look at em go. That's the way!”“But, Dad?”“Yes, my son?”“Can't I just have grain mash? You've still got crop milk. I like it with a bit of crop milk.”“Look son, I told you already, you're off the milk now. It'll dry up soon anyhow.”“What about Mum?”“She's got your brother to worry about. Look, you're not a squab any more.” His beady red eye darted ahead of a sharp-turned neck. “Look out! He's dropping scraps! Go on, get in there my son.”Fletch, wanting to impress his father, pushed his way in. Everyone said Fletch was big for his age, and he was pleased that he had weight enough to force through the crowd of adults and defend his own patch. There were grains among the fluffy giant-food. He picked at them, they were delicious but few. He tried one of the giant's fluffy grains. “Ergh!” He spat it out. In his moment of disgust he lost his place and was forced to the back of the crowd.“What happened, boy?”“Those fluffy grains are horrible, Dad. There were hardly any proper grains, you know, like the ones you and Mum give me.”“Son, if you live long enough to have squabs of your own, you'll wanna rear em on the best pickings. But you gotta learn to take what you can get now, lad. You're on your own.” And with that he flew into the mêlée and pecked at the floor with gusto.Fletch flew around the green square of woodland for a while, not daring to venture into the giant's cliffs that surrounded it. He searched for good grain, but found little, and after several days he was so hungry that the next time the giant sat upon his wooden bush, Fletch was the first at his feet.“Beggars can't be choosers.”The Fable of the Pigeon by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, track 5 Reality Check, and provided by magnatune.com

This week's story, "Healing" is inspired by the rather bad year we've been having so far.Incidental music in the episode is by Jeff Wahl, from the album "Guitarscapes" available at Magnatune.Direct Download

The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpeckerby Barry J. Northern One morning, a black rhino looked up from the thorny bush he was stripping with his hooked lips, for he heard the distant rumble of hoofbeats.He squinted against the savannah sun and could see only a cloud of dust with a vaguely darker kernel, for his eyesite was poor.He set his feet to the ground and charged off to meet this new threat, for the bush was good, and the females were nearby.An oxpecker, who had been working at a tick near Rhino's ear, flew up above his head. "Charge, my tick-infested friend, charge well. Don't worry about your wounds, for I will keep them clean for you."Rhino called back. "Thank you little friend. I will be back as soon as I have dealt with my enemy."Rhino charged, and soon shortened the distance between himself and the approaching blur. The hoofbeats grew louder, until soon they were as loud as his own, and the distance closed so that even Rhino could clearly see his enemy -- another male, like himself.He called out to him. "Begone, my enemy. There is no room for you here." Then horns collided, and huge pointed heads glanced across each other forcing the pair eye-to-eye for an instant. Then the energy of their momentum was spent, and then their heavy bodies pounded the hard dirt beneath them in a slow cycle of stand-off and head-butting.The pair fought for several minutes, but Rhino was the largest, and so, before long, his rival backed away. "You are the better beast. Perhaps one day I will match your skill." Then Rhino's enemy turned and fled.Rhino chuckled, but it was only as he ambled back to his bush that he began to feel his injuries.When Rhino returned, Oxpecker was waiting, perched on the thorny bush. "Are you hurt my friend?" he said, and if Rhino's ears hadn't been ringing, he might have heard the hint of hopefulness in Oxpecker's voice."A little. Nothing really, just a few scratches along my neck.""Oh dear, oh dear," said the bird, fussing over him. "You feast on your bush while I fe-- er, clean your wounds."Rhino bent his head down. "Thank you my friend."As he ate, Rhino insensibly ignored the sharp pains caused by the duplicitous bird's eager 'ministrations' as the Redbilled Oxpecker set about earning his name."A good enemy is a better person than a false friend."It is commonly held that the symbiotic relationship between the Redbilled Oxpecker and the large mammals of the African plains, such as the Black Rhino, Impala, and Wildebeest, is mutualistic, that is beneficial to both parties. Recent research has shown that the tickbird's behaviour might not reduce the tickload of such animals, and even that it only feeds on engorged ticks to get the food it really wants -- the animal's blood. This is corroborated by observations of the birds drinking and eating from small wounds on the animals, and evidence of them keeping wounds from healing and enlarging them. Such evidence suggests the relationship actuallymay be parasitic, or that perhaps the relationship itself changes to suit environmental factors.Red-billed Oxpeckers : Vampires or Tickbirds? http://beheco.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/reprint/11/2/154The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpecker by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, track 5 "Reality Check", and track 11 "Waterfall", and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Carpby Barry J. Northern There was once a school of carp who lived in a slow river with many other water creatures. The river was a beautiful place, full of life, and there was plenty to eat for everyone among weeds, which floated in the clear water.The carp ate well along the river bed, where their favourite food lay, and grew large. Some carp found ways to eat more than others, for they were clever and rooted deep in the mud, and so they became larger more quickly. One carp grew so large in this fashion that he crowned himself king. Even so, he still desired to grow larger, and even began to eat the other fish of the river.Now many of the carp were jealous of King, even while they desired to be as large as he, and so they too rooted deep in the mud and ate the other fish. A few of the carp among them saw that the once clear water was growing muddy, and that there were less kinds of fish in the river than there once were, but most simply desired to grow bigger like those around them.One carp mourned the lost beauty of the river, and so he vowed not to root in the mud lest he help dirty it, nor to eat the other kinds of fish and water creatures, for there were few now left. Yet his efforts made little difference, for all the other carp only desired to grow bigger like their neighbours. He tried to turn the others to his ways, but they would not listen to him, for he was small.One day, King searched for food among the weeds, but found little, and after a time he crossed paths with Small. “Ah,” he said, “a little fish for me to eat.”Small raised his fins. “No, King, you cannot eat me for I am a fish of your own kind.”“But there are no other fish in the river,” said King, and though Small tried to escape, he could not swim as fast as King, and so King swallowed him up. Soon only the largest carp were left swimming with King. No other fish or water creatures played among what was left of the weeds, which were barely visible in the muddy water. King lead the carp on a long swim for a new place to live, but the river only lead to the inhospitable sea, and though some had always said they could live there, they found they could not. So they knew then, when it was too late, that they had spoiled their only good place to live. But still they continued to root in the mud and eat the weeds, for now they were large fish and could not become small again.The Fable of the Carp by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here.Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, GuitarScapes, track 14 "Allegro in D Minor", and provided by My Podcast Alley feed! {pca-c39023e5ddc790eb138a25ec5c3b5285}