A 375 lb (170 kg) bear was spotted searching for food and shot with a tranquilizer dart. Sadly, things didn't go so well, and the bear jumped towards the water. Biologist Adam Warwick from Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission didn't hesitate for action. If the bear was left in the oceans, he knew it would drown.
Here's a shot of the bear with the tranquilizer dart.
Adam immediately jumped into the water to save it. Of course, the fact that the bear might have been angry because it was shot did not cross his mind.
Adam in action. Look at that grip!
Adam saved the day by rescuing this bear. The amazing part? He only suffered a few minor cuts and scratches from the claws and barnacles. The bear was transported via a tractor back to Osceola National Forest.
There is a tribe in Africa called the Himba tribe, where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come.
And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song.
If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.
The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.
You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
Ca sa ne incepem lunea cu un zimbet, va invit sa participati la PINK MONDAYS, adaugind un link catre ceva hazliu. Eu am revazut serialul THE NANNY si culmea, nu mi se pare desuet, din contra-they dont make it like this anymore. Am ris cu lacrimi ceea ce va doresc si voua. THE NANNY-INTREG AICI, SUBTITRAT
....De ziua celor mai frumosi dintre noi, un copil balai, acum 75 de ani (1939), la Ploiesti. Nichita Stanescu.
"Imping cu mina la o parte acest aer strain si trec, si-aceasta inima straina, din mine, o las drept plata intre monezi si trec. Trec adunindu-ma tot, in ochi, incit nici nu mai pot inchide pleoapele, incit totul in jurul meu nu mai e decit amintire desenata de copii pe trotuare. Alerg in sus, tinindu-ma de balustrada, si-n locul inimii bat treptele, zidurile, tevile, ferestrele, becurile. Aud venind din urma cutia ascensorului ducind in ea creioanele, scrisorile, scutul, sabia, coiful. Ma opresc in fata unei usi deschise care vine plutind ca o aureola de sfint. Sarut miinile, iubita noastra! Ce mai faceti? Dar ea ridea pentru ca nu mai era demult acasa." (Intr-o dupa-amiaza, Nichita Stanescu).