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I'm working on some species of animals that went extinct due to human actions in recent times... I'm considering five species, but the first two are already finished. Feel free to take a look at them and give a try! Report any issue you find Instead of the usual facts and biology descriptions, the plaque contains a short tale I wrote to depict how these species were wipped out from existence... I expect them not to be too dark, just real enough. King Island emu. The last captive specimens died in 1822 in Jardin des Plantes, Paris. ~~ King's Last Heir ~~ Patience is not a gift, but a skill that has to be developed well in the roughest environments. Patience to learn how to find the hideout of the drops after the rain, patience to fold yourself out of the wind strikes. Patience to learn how to listen. I was a great listener. King Island shaped me that way. We needed patience since our legs were pretty short. There was no need to flow across endless plains. I used to listen the wind scoured grass and the whispers of the scrub from my homeland, until the trees started yelling sharp screams when falling down with no storms and the island eventually grew louder, harsher, less like a place that was able to held you with it and more like it was pushing you back instead. It suddenly got completely reformed without asking if we could bent with it. The ground was not able to offer us nests anymore, as the hooves crushed completely lacking care of their step and the chicks weren't returning from the edge of the woods. The bigger ones were never aware what being afraid of anything was until that time. That's the reason why we were easy to get caught when they started looking at us like a mistake that needed to be corrected. I was a great listener. I noticed how, one by one, the voices of my kind thinned and eventually vanished. The last time I met another like me, we were standing far apart, pretending not to notice how quiet it had become. No answering calls, no rustle of feet through the grass, just the echoes of the axes slicing the wind until hitting the logs. After that, I walked alone. I reached every corner of the island, expecting it to remember and bring us back into existence. However, my shadow would not split in two just for a miracle. When I got found, the island was no more speaking my language. They seemed to be pleased, probably amazed. "There is another one!" they said. "Let's take it with the others!". In that moment, I almost lost all hope to find another like me, I was tired. Not wounded at all, just done. They toke me to met my kind again. I was a great listener, but my kind was now just quiet. As the island language is not the mine anymore, I never understood the meaning of the word "collection". ~ Steller's sea cow lived in the Bering Sea until 1768. ~~ The Archipielago that bled off ~~ Odd to find how green is the water today. If you asked me yesterday if it would be this intensely colorful, I'd say that was never going to happen. Nevertheless, we're here. Silent as usual, chilling as usual, serene as usual, but below the surface, the leaves of the kelp forest are making fun of us in an endless wobble that gets lost in the depths of the ocean, down where sun barely reached in the clearest summer ever. In past days, the islands toke the main component of the landscape, blocking our view of the kelp forest below them. They were the ropes or anchors that kept the land in place, and we came from afar alongside the sunrise, just to find our feast, ready to keep us with it until the sun again was getting tired of dancing in the sky and falling again into the horizon, constraining us to follow it to the south if we weren't willing to get lost into the endless night. Today, instead of nourishment, this green moorland, dazzling, ominously gorgeous is our recipiency. However, all of this starvation that ravens our flock it is not the kelp forest's fault at all. They didn't swallow the islands. That wrath that arises from the horizon with infernal blizzards and the north's breath never sank the Archipielago that selflessly granted us plenty of feeding source and shelter for more than five thousand trips of the sun. One day, the islands went under a hideous transformation. They came out of the water in parts and aberrated into beasts with multiple heads with twice times arms. They became louder, with a noisy yell every time they managed to succesfully beat the surface. But most of all, they became faster. One by one, all the islands swam away from sight, leaving behind a trace made by the leftovers of its previous life. Each day, there were less islands and eventually, as fast as a wingbeat, we found almost no place for us to take a rest of the migration and even less of its delicacies that grew, awaiting for our pleasure. I have this theory: The islands got tired of us. That's why the kelp is gloating on our wretchedness. I can distinguish the whispers and the gossip comming throughout the waves of the sea. They are not here anymore and are not wishing to return. Our promised land is no more than a legend. What are we going to say to our offspring? Actually, how far am I supposed to fly today? ~ Have a nice download! Files deleted Feb 24th 2026. Link to newest versions here! 📖📖