- published: 13 Oct 2014
- views: 496755267
Albatrosses, of the biological family Diomedeidae, are large seabirds allied to the procellariids, storm-petrels and diving-petrels in the order Procellariiformes (the tubenoses). They range widely in the Southern Ocean and the North Pacific. They are absent from the North Atlantic, although fossil remains show they once occurred there too and occasional vagrants are found.
Albatrosses are among the largest of flying birds, and the great albatrosses (genus Diomedea) have the largest wingspans of any extant birds. The albatrosses are usually regarded as falling into four genera, but there is disagreement over the number of species. They have a wingspan of 11 feet.
Albatrosses are highly efficient in the air, using dynamic soaring and slope soaring to cover great distances with little exertion. They feed on squid, fish and krill by either scavenging, surface seizing or diving. Albatrosses are colonial, nesting for the most part on remote oceanic islands, often with several species nesting together. Pair bonds between males and females form over several years, with the use of 'ritualised dances', and will last for the life of the pair. A breeding season can take over a year from laying to fledging, with a single egg laid in each breeding attempt. A Laysan albatross, named "Wisdom" on Midway Island is recognized as the oldest wild bird in the world; she was first banded in 1956 by Chandler Robbins.
Actors: Tate Bunker (editor), Tate Bunker (producer), Tate Bunker (writer), Tate Bunker (director), Tate Bunker (producer), Peter Batchelder (composer), Daniel Mooney (actor), Bill Baldus (actor),
Genres: Fantasy, Short,Blood blood all around
The land is crying out
All men are dead underneath the sands
And noone understands
Gold gold all is sold
Ten thousands have been slain
They stole their gold and destroyed their souls
The prayers were all in vain
War war behind the shore
All men are on the run
They burned the earth until there
But a wasteland in the sun
A wasteland in the sun
But there's the albatross
Flying circles through the wind
The silent master of this land
Far beyond the Southern Cross
Nobody heard his cries
Wailing sadly through the skies
Now his voice from up above
is slowly dying
Home home we wanna go home
The beach is bleak and empty
All has burnt to ashes
Nothing will grow
We wanna go home
But there's the albatross
Flying circles through the wind
The silent master of this land
Far beyond the Southern Cross
Nobody heard his cries
Wailing sadly through the skies
Now his voice from up above
is slowly dying
There's just the albatross
Flying . . .