Owls would be scary if I were anything the size of an owl or smaller. I saw a group of owls hunting a hawk that was out a little too close to dusk. Hawk got away but it was a full scale assault by 3 or 4 owls.

There is a similar phenomenon in the San Francisco Bay Area in California. Around dusk every day in the springtime, a 'tidal wave' of fog flowing eastward from the coast would hit the western foothills of the peninsula, and arc gracefully over the 280 freeway like a massive, slow-motion crash of water. From 20 miles away it looks like a tidal wave, capable of wiping out all of silicon valley, is just frozen in place at the edge of civilization. Up close, it's like surfing your car through the barrel of an enormous wave.
It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life, and it happens almost daily there.

The work involved a good number of people, all contributing to moving the figure, it is a challenge, working from dawn to dusk, it is breathing life into something inanimate. I had hoped the fact that it reveals the work involved in it's creation might make it more interesting for a watching audience, who would see it's creation, rather than concealing it through sets etc.

Why would there be "a hell of a lot more traffic?" It's in a neighborhood. At dusk. The one or two cars you see are cruising around slowly checking out the cool show from the ground. How is that hard to believe?

You guys are all paranoid fuckers. Lay off the herbs.

Don't give up your dusk jobs...

Given it's Wisconsin, these people really should have known better. Generally, they're pretty good about driving in these conditions here. They're kind of breaking the fundamental rule though, which is however fast the car in front of you is going, you drive no faster than that and leave plenty of room to stop. You don't change lanes except when it's necessary for navigational purposes.

I'm also wondering about the lights thing. I don't see a lot. My new car has an "automatic" setting, but it doesn't really work properly and the lights are off a lot of the time when they should be on (the most important times, dusk and dawn). As a rule, I leave my lights on all the time anyways. That said, there are still a lot of people who seem to think the lights on the car are there to help you see rather than to help others see you.

@daxgaz, @grinter and @Bruti79

I know some of you are joking, but I think you're overstating the risk here. Shark attacks against humans are rare. Shark attacks against divers are even rarer. Shark attacks against divers underwater are practically nil.

The risk of doing this vs (for example) surfing at dusk are much lower. Personally, I'd say it's worth the risk for the chance to interact with one of the most amazing creatures on the planet.

>> ^johncusick2:

no shadow is there?


Yeah, there is, it's just not directly under it because it seems to be dusk. The shadow is like 30 feet in front of the helicopter, you can see it starting at 12 seconds.

Pendulum - The Island - Pt. 2 Dusk

(from YouTube)

Movies in order of appearance:

Halloween
Freddy VS. Jason
Resident Evil
The Amityville Horror
Night of the Demons
Christine
Shocker
From Dusk Till Dawn
Planet Terror
Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood
The Thing
Alice Sweet Alice
Don't Look Now
The Town That Dreaded Sundown
Madman
The Shining
The Exorcist
Poltergeist
Child's Play
28 Days Later
Psycho
Cemetery Man
Salem's Lot
Hellraiser II: Hellbound
Bram Stoker's Dracula
Jacob's Ladder
Suspiria
Slither
Trick R Treat
Re-Animator
Killer Klowns From Outer Space
Creepshow
American Psycho
Leprechaun
The Dark Half
The Hitcher
The Final Destination
Zombi 2
Audition
The Changeling
The Omen
Drag Me To Hell
The Crazies
The Ring
Jaws
The Descent
When a Stranger Calls
Dawn of the Dead
The Devil's Rejects
The Exorcist
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Near Dark
Motel Hell
Carrie
Spontaneous Combustion
An American Werewolf in London
The Blair Witch Project
[REC]
Paranormal Activity
Day of the Dead
Cube Zero
Ichi the Killer
Dead Snow
The Machine Girl
Wrong Turn 2
Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead
Black Sheep
Saw III
Freddy VS. Jason
Hatchet II
The Descent
Braindead (Dead Alive)
Day of the Dead
Troll 2
Shaun of the Dead
Phantasm
Profondo Rosso (Deep Red)
Return of the Living Dead
Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn
C.H.U.D.
Baby Blood
Slugs
Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight
Bride of Chucky
976-EVIL
Tremors
The Devil's Backbone
Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare
A Tale of Two Sisters
Jeepers Creepers II
Basket Case
Alien
Cujo
Rosemary's Baby
Interview with the Vampire
Let the Right One In
Halloween III: Season of the Witch
Scream
Chakushin Ari (One Missed Call)
Ju-On (The Grudge)
House on Haunted Hill
Hostel
Candyman
Insidious
The Orphanage
Black Christmas
Pet Semetary
Fright Night
The Exorcist
Mother's Day
Scanners
The Shining
The Evil Dead
The Exorcism of Emily Rose
Chopping Mall
Braindead (Dead Alive)

SREDNI VASHTAR

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor was silky and effete, and counted for little, but his opinion was endorsed by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, in perpetual antagonism to the foregoing, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things---such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dulness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.

Mrs. De Ropp would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him ``for his good'' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome. Conradin hated her with a desperate sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained an added relish from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian, and from the realm of his imagination she was locked out---an unclean thing, which should find no entrance.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.

The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.

After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian. ``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow, which she was ready to rebuke with a flow of excellent precepts and reasoning. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him; also because the making of it ``gave trouble,'' a deadly offence in the middle-class feminine eye.

``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.

``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.

In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont to chant his praises, tonight be asked a boon.

``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.

And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany went up: ``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.

``What are you keeping in that locked hutch?'' she asked. ``I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away.''

Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and forthwith marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:

Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.

And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the pæan of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.

``Tea is ready,'' said the sour-faced maid; ``where is the mistress?'' ``She went down to the shed some time ago,'' said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.

``Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!'' exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.

I understand that with some fairly minor surgery to their tounges, crows can be taught to mimic. They are also one of the only other animals than man who seem use tools. Such as using a stick to get at something in a hole.
>> ^csnel3:

>> ^ant:
wings
http://www.reddit.com/r/videos/comments/odnoa/damn_theyre_smart_and_love_fun/ says these are not crows. <IMG class=smiley src="http://cdn.videosift.com/cdm/emoticon/oops.gif">

Wow, That link has a lot of other links, alot of info and comments. I saw somebody thought these birds looked like a cousin to the crow.
Most people seemed to think it was definatley a Corvus, to me, These look like the same russian crows that were in the epic "Your text to link...http://videosift.com/video/Black-Cat-Vs-White-Cat" vid (great music).
I have a family of about 12 crows that live in my neighborhood, they have been here for years. They wait for me to come out because I often give them treats (peanuts, food scraps, they will eat anything).
This time of year (winter) they hangout with other local crow families. Right before dusk there are about 70 of them outside, just socializing with each other and watching everything , looking for food , or fun, they do like to fuck with the squirells.
They all have learned to crack peanuts, I gave the local family some peanuts and they loved them, now all the crows know how to crack'em open. They clearly can teach each other .
Throw a peanut to a pigeon or a seagull and they won't know what to do with it. Crack it for them and they will eat it. Crows will just figure things out on their own if you give them time.

>> ^ant:
wings
http://www.reddit.com/r/videos/comments/odnoa/damn_theyre_smart_and_love_fun/ says these are not crows. <IMG class=smiley src="http://cdn.videosift.com/cdm/emoticon/oops.gif">


Wow, That link has a lot of other links, alot of info and comments. I saw somebody thought these birds looked like a cousin to the crow.
Most people seemed to think it was definatley a Corvus, to me, These look like the same russian crows that were in the epic "Your text to link...http://videosift.com/video/Black-Cat-Vs-White-Cat" vid (great music).

I have a family of about 12 crows that live in my neighborhood, they have been here for years. They wait for me to come out because I often give them treats (peanuts, food scraps, they will eat anything).
This time of year (winter) they hangout with other local crow families. Right before dusk there are about 70 of them outside, just socializing with each other and watching everything , looking for food , or fun, they do like to fuck with the squirells.
They all have learned to crack peanuts, I gave the local family some peanuts and they loved them, now all the crows know how to crack'em open. They clearly can teach each other .
Throw a peanut to a pigeon or a seagull and they won't know what to do with it. Crack it for them and they will eat it. Crows will just figure things out on their own if you give them time.

I'm just saying that your sort of "insanity" brings back a lot of bad memories and I hope you learn what the actual nature of everything is without fruitless, wasteful & dangerous ideas.

>> ^shinyblurry:

Please don't compare me to your ex-girlfriends. That's just creepy.
Your point here isn't exactly salient. "Shinyblurry, you're evil and stupid and you remind me of my ex girlfriend the she devil and your mind is full of cancer" Well gee I am touched. Do you have anything constructive to say or are you just going to run your mouth?
>> ^shagen454:
You sound like my ex-girlfriend of seven years. Beautiful, super sweet semi-intelligent girl that turned manic-depressive, schizophrenic & super religious. One day I saw it coming and left at dusk. I guess it ran in the family & even though we moved to San Fran from the east coast her background caught up with her somehow. I'm glad I left when I did; I often refer to her as the "she-devil" because super extreme religious folks are evil/hypocritical beings in my opinion. Religion is only but one cancer on your mind; be mindful of not mixing them up.
>> ^shinyblurry:
This is a spiritual issue. Anyone wearing this bracelet is engaging in sorcery, because this is basically magic. This leaves them open to deception from the enemy. The wearers of these bracelet may well be perceiving a tangible benefit because of this spiritual deception. It is just one of the tacts the enemy uses in spiritual warfare, getting people to rely on themselves or magic devices, or things like "the secret".

Please don't compare me to your ex-girlfriends. That's just creepy.

Your point here isn't exactly salient. "Shinyblurry, you're evil and stupid and you remind me of my ex girlfriend the she devil and your mind is full of cancer" Well gee I am touched. Do you have anything constructive to say or are you just going to run your mouth?

>> ^shagen454:
You sound like my ex-girlfriend of seven years. Beautiful, super sweet semi-intelligent girl that turned manic-depressive, schizophrenic & super religious. One day I saw it coming and left at dusk. I guess it ran in the family & even though we moved to San Fran from the east coast her background caught up with her somehow. I'm glad I left when I did; I often refer to her as the "she-devil" because super extreme religious folks are evil/hypocritical beings in my opinion. Religion is only but one cancer on your mind; be mindful of not mixing them up.
>> ^shinyblurry:
This is a spiritual issue. Anyone wearing this bracelet is engaging in sorcery, because this is basically magic. This leaves them open to deception from the enemy. The wearers of these bracelet may well be perceiving a tangible benefit because of this spiritual deception. It is just one of the tacts the enemy uses in spiritual warfare, getting people to rely on themselves or magic devices, or things like "the secret".