Showing posts with label Winslow Homer paintings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winslow Homer paintings. Show all posts

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Winslow Homer paintings

Winslow Homer paintings
William Bouguereau paintings

Turtles aren't known for their speed and that's partly why scientists believe populations of the reptile are in serious decline.
For millions of years, the reptiles have been nearly invincible by growing hard shells that protect them wherever they go. When a predator approaches they can quickly retreat under their cover, safe from harm. Only a select few predators like the coyote and wolf are known to be able to crack through an adult turtle's armor.Then came the automobile.About one-third of U.S. turtle species are reaching dangerously low numbers — and in nearly every state of the nation at least one species of turtle is listed as threatened or endangered. Scientists believe the declining numbers may be caused by increasing traffic near their homelands."For the fleet of foot, like deer or rabbits, traffic is not as much of an issue," says James Gibbs, a conservation biologist at State University of New York in Syracuse. "But these ground-hugging animals are much

Monday, June 16, 2008

Winslow Homer paintings

Winslow Homer paintings
William Bouguereau paintings
But how came he to have so singular a companion?"
"Ah, that is more than I can tell. Since, however, we had already determined that Small had come from the Andamans, it is not so very wonderful that this islander should be with him. No doubt we shall know all about it in time. Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep."
He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air -- his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound until I found myself in dreamland, with the sweet face of Mary Morstan looking down upon me.