Tinet is a cartoonist, illustrator, letterer, graphic designer, editor, translator and pig-keeper.

Other parts of Tinet's internet presence are, for instance:

The main website

Another blog

The Blog of Swine


and some photos on Flickr


<< May 2005 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
01 02 03 04 05 06 07
08 09 10 11 12 13 14
15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31

Favourite entries

¤ Mum and Ainur were visiting
¤ Sunny Saturday
¤ Cheap thrills
¤ Labour Day
¤ Definitely no Sergei Elmgren III
¤ Mum was here
¤ Nordens ark
¤ Cool weather today
¤ Piggies in my bed
¤ Black & white
¤ Two collages
¤ Bankhar mä!
¤ Lilac skies
¤ Kickass industrial sites
¤ Mayday
¤ Views from Pankow and a backyard
¤ Kugelblitz & cuddly 'street art'
¤ Shameless exploitation of workers and communists
¤ Berlin, Berlin
¤ Cuteness
¤ More Berlin
¤ Ouch, my feet ...
¤ Frosty collage
¤ Another fine old house hits the dust
¤ Horror and pigeons
¤ The smooth sides of houses
¤ Streets of Lund 2006
¤ Hungry for Hills
¤ Skärhamn
¤ Foggy sun
¤ Furry puppies
¤ Snow and a sleeping little baby
¤ Around the railway tracks in Lund
¤ The moon
¤ Lund in October
¤ The steaming sea
¤ Misc. scenes from Orust
¤ Territorial disputes
¤ Road Trippin'
¤ Sergei's tail
¤ Yellow
¤ The sleepy kingdom of Princess Mitsu
¤ A house, graffiti and a rook
¤ Green
¤ Feather canyons everywhere
¤ Sky and earth
¤ Misc. perspectives on Orust
¤ Mushrooms
¤ Fauna
¤ Flora
¤ A window
¤ Green landscapes
¤ My babies
¤ Dead house
¤ Dead elk
¤ Views on our home
¤ Pictures from a spontaneous cycling tour
¤ A parking lot in Malmö
¤ Twilight sky
¤ A once nice house
¤ Serpieri, the flying pig
¤ Yukata madness
¤ Rundown allotment garden
¤ Bristly!
¤ Furry!
¤ Home
¤ Dead animals
¤ Ängavallens gård
¤ Gothenburg
¤ One of the 2-3 pictures that actually came out perfect
¤ Where animals travel to their death
¤ Winter in Kävlinge
¤ Orient and Occident - blurry concepts!
¤ My baby is such a tease
¤ Eggs are interesting
¤ Here's the wuffie!
¤ The Carpathians
¤ Anti-kitsch
¤ Sunset over Kävlinge
¤ My cuddlymunchkins
¤ Streets of Lund
¤ Food

¤ Elephant digging up old bones + a burglary
¤ MSU in my subconscious
¤ Bad puppy
¤ The mansion
¤ A dream of menstruation in Sin City
¤ My dreams are so nice sometimes (aka Russian Policewoman)
¤ Desperately trying to reach MGU
¤ Blood, devastation, death, war and horror dream #6
¤ Family life
¤ Dreams, bloody dreams
¤ I need a sword
¤ Tony Blair & Lenin haunt me

¤ My thoughts on the presidential elections in France
¤ Just google it! - Nana version
¤ Meat has it all
¤ The amazing world of Swedish copyright laws
¤ Anna Politkovskaya
¤ It's about time we all get out and vote for love!
¤ Bilal's Nikopol vs. Moore's Promethea: Being possessed by gods and forced to have sex in comics
¤ Tinet's kitchen of pain
¤ The hymen is an evil MYTH!!!

¤ Gouache
¤ Pigasso paintings
¤ The Light comes from the Right
¤ Some kind of Valentine
¤ 2006 - a card and a snow Mitsu
¤ Serilda
¤ Standing on eggshells
¤ Mmm ... surströmming
¤ Rudolfo from the rapeseed fields
¤ The freedom to not choose
¤ Red China Comics
¤ Till alla svenskjävlar som inte klarar av att sätta komma i ert eget språk
¤ The Kostroma Elk farm
¤ The boob diaries part 4 - conclusion
¤ The boob diaries part 3
¤ The boob diaries part 2
¤ Breast cancer can be fun
¤ Why can't I wear a skirt and still be one of the guys?
¤ Garlic update #2
¤ Garlic update
¤ EU garlic is no good against vampires.
¤ I want to learn Maltese!
¤ Dirty men in the public library
¤ The marvels of life #4637
¤ My new life as a one-armed bandit
¤ Severiina exposed
¤ Severiina - a tale of an obsession
¤ On drawing techniques
¤ TschöRmen
¤ I might be going insane.
¤ 15 reasons

Some favourite blogs:

Baci dalla provincia
Yellow Peril

Nyt on yö.
Minä kuljen yksin
tyhjiä katuja.
En tiedä, mihin olen menossa,
hyvä kun tiedän mistä
olen tulossa,
ja ruumiissani
soi tuhat kaunista ja
voimakasta sävelmää,
minun koko menneisyyteni,
ja silmissäni loistavat
tuhannen ihmisen silmät,
silmien takana tuntemattomuus,
tätä naista ei tunne kukaan,
se ei ole vielä täysin syntynytkään,
ei kukaan tiedä
mitä se on tulevaisuudessa.

- Mirka Lattunen


El a întins spre mine o frunză ca o mână cu degete.
Eu am întins spre el o mână ca o frunză cu dinţi.
El a întins spre mine o ramură ca un braţ.
Eu am întins spre el braţul ca o ramură.
El schi-a înclinat spre mine trunchiul
ca un umăr.
Eu mi-am înclinat spre el umărul
ca un trunchi noduros.
Auzeam cum se încetineşte sângele meu suind ca seva.
Eu am trecut prin el.
El a trecut prin mine.
Eu am rămas un pom singur.
un om singur

- Nichita Stănescu

Kunst ist nicht ein Spiegel, den man der Wirklichkeit vorhält, sondern ein Hammer, mit dem man sie gestaltet.

- Karl Marx

The Hermit’s Song

A hiding tuft, a green-barked yew tree
Is my roof,
While nearby a great oak tree keeps me

I can pick my fruit from an apple
Like an Inn,
Or can fill my fist where hazels
Shut me in.

A clear well beside me offers
Best of drink,
And there glows a bed of cresses
Near its brink.

Pigs and Goats, the friendliest neighbours,
Nestle near,
Wild swine come, or broods of badgers,
Grazing deer.

All the gentry of the county
Come to call!
And the foxes come behind them,
Best of all.

To what meals the woods invite me
All about!
There are water, herbs and cresses,
Salmon, trout.

A clutch of eggs, sweet mast and honey
Are my meat,
Heathberries and Whortleberries
For a sweet.

All that one could ask for comfort
Round me grows,
There are hips and haws and strawberries,
Nuts and sloes.

And when summer spreads its mantle
What a sight!
Marjoram and leeks and pignuts,
Juicy, bright.

Dainty redbreasts briskly forage
Every bush
Round and round my hut there flutter
Shallow, thrush.

Bees and beetles, music-makers,
Croon and strum;
Geese pass over, duck in autumn,
Dark streams hum.

Angry wren, officious linnet
And black-cap,
All industrious, and the woodpecker’s
Sturdy tap.

From the sea the gulls and herons
Flutter in,
While in upland heather rises
The grey hen.

In the year’s most brilliant weather
Heifers low
Through green fields, not driven nor beaten,
Tranquil, slow.

In wreathed boughs the wind is whispering,
Skies are blue,
Swans call, river water falling
Is calling too.

- Unknown old Irish poet

eXTReMe Tracker

If you want to be updated on this weblog Enter your email here:

rss feed

Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Rudolfo from the rape fields

Last Sunday, me and Mihai went biking into the countryside near Gunnesbo. Mihai wanted to find a nice, big rape field to photograph.

After biking around for a while trying to find one, we came to a pond in the fields near Gunnesbo, where many birds were hanging around. There was a swan patrolling the waters, as well. On the other side of the pond, the female swan apparently was sitting in her nest, and the male was protecting her. Mihai took some paparazzi pictures of the swan, who was very cross that someone had dared come near his pond …

When we continued on the path from the pond, we came across a young rook, who seemed unable to fly. When we approached it, it hopped away into a sheep fence, and got its claw tangled into the wire of the fence. Mihai picked up the bird and got it loose again, and we tried to see if there was anything wrong with it.

The rook was breathing heavily (from the stress), and sounded as if it had a snotty nose. We suspected that it might have fallen out of its nest. No rook parents were attacking us, so we also suspected that they had abandoned this bird-child.

Well, since we didn’t want it to die or anything, we decided to take it home and see if we could help it. To make it easier to bike with a bird, Mihai wrapped the rook into his shirt and carefully put the bundle in his open backpack.

At home, we unpacked the little rook, whom we had now named Rudolfo.

Rudolfo, who was breathing normally again, with no snotty sound, took a dump in Mihai’s shirt, and then started to explore his surroundings a bit. We put a bowl of water in front of him, but he didn’t want to drink. Instead, he walked a bit uneasily over the floor (too slippery for bird’s feet), until he had settled down under my desk. He stayed there, while I went searching for information on the internet about what to do with findling rooks.

I didn't find much about rooks, but after changing 'rook' into 'crow', I came across Kevin McGowan’s baby crow FAQ at Cornell University.

And it turned out that we were real rookies when it came to young rooks (and other birds) … According to McGowan,

“When a young crow leaves the nest it will be somewhere around 80 to 100% adult body weight, have legs that will never grow any further, and wings that are nearly full size. This is a large bird, to be sure, up to 300 to 450 g in weight. But they still cannot fly! I have had a number of fledgling crows picked up off the ground because the people thought they were injured.”

And on the ASCAR home page, I also found out that all birds are lactose intolerant, so our plans to feed Rudolfo cheese were not really a good idea. ("Oh, so *that’s* why all those sparrows died in my care", Mihai mused as I shared this fact with him.)

So, we decided to bring young Rudolfo back to where we found him. When we were going to pick him up, we realised that he was sleeping under my desk. After Mihai had gently woken him up by stroking his beak and talking to him, Rudolfo seemed very trusting towards us. He climbed on Mihai’s hand, and just stood there calmly. We wanted to give him something to eat, but he didn’t quite like our vegetarian cooking (corvidae are omnivorous, but prefer meat products). After tasting a piece of pasta, he wiped his beak on Mihai’s arm and fleece jacket, as if he wanted to get rid of the taste. I also tried an adzuki bean, but he spit it out into Mihai’s arm hair.

Well, after marvelling a bit about his trust towards us, and starting to be afraid that he might have imprinted on us, and would be far too trusting to all humans from now on, we packed him into the backpack again, and took the bikes back to Gunnesbo.

We let him go on the same spot where we had found him. We hope that he has found his way and met his parents again, and will grow up to be a fine rook with a just as nicely bald face as his older relatives.

I doubt that we could have given him the care and attention he truly needed, anyway.

(Rudolfo just took a dump on my finger.)

Posted at 9:14 pm by turukhtan

June 6, 2005   06:35 PM PDT
ja millä kielellä?
June 6, 2005   01:13 AM PDT
Tänk om ni hade tämjt den... undrar om man kan lära råkor att tala?
June 2, 2005   06:39 PM PDT
voi tidi ku te ootte niin söpöjä!!!!!!!
June 1, 2005   07:23 PM PDT
voikun söpö se rudolfo!!!!! toivottavasti sen mamsu löysi sen... siis te ootte karmeita kidnappaajia!!!!!!!!
oottekste muuten varmoja et se oli poitsu... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, jos se olikin likka!

Leave a Comment:


Homepage (optional)


Previous Entry Home Next Entry