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Old January 25th, 2015 #1
N.B. Forrest
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Default Rare Prehistoric-Looking Frilled Shark Caught

One scary looking mutha.....





http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-n...rk-300-5014280
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Old January 25th, 2015 #2
N.B. Forrest
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Another creepy bastard that looks disconcertingly like the frilled shark (and is far larger & smarter) is the leopard seal of Antarctica - and they've been known to attack & kill humans:

Quote:
Leopard seals are potentially highly dangerous towards humans, but attacks are rarely reported.[12] Examples of aggressive behaviour, stalking and attacks have been documented.[13] Notable incidents include:

A large leopard seal attacked Thomas Orde-Lees (1877–1958), a member of Sir Ernest Shackleton's Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914–1917 when the expedition was camping on the sea ice.[12] A large "sea leopard" of about 12 ft (3.7 m) long and 1,100 lb (500 kg) chased Orde-Lees on the ice. He was saved only when another member of the expedition shot the animal.

In 1985, Scottish explorer Gareth Wood was bitten twice on the leg when a leopard seal tried to drag him off the ice and into the sea. His companions managed to save him by repeatedly kicking the animal in the head with the spiked crampons on their boots.[12][13]

In 2003, a leopard seal dragged snorkeling biologist Kirsty Brown of the British Antarctic Survey nearly 200 ft (61 m) underwater to her death, in what was identified as the first known human fatality from a leopard seal.[12][13]
Leopard_seal Leopard_seal






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"First: Do No Good." - The Hymiecratic Oath

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Old January 25th, 2015 #3
N.B. Forrest
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Quote:
The going was easy and as I moved over the ice I had no idea that I was being stalked from beneath its surface.

Ahead was a working crack which was slightly more than one stride in width—too far to comfortably cross without jumping. It was covered with a very thin layer of unblemished ice. Innocently, I stepped closer. Would it hold my weight, I wondered, or would I have to jump? Stretching one foot down, I probed it with the tip of my crampon, much as I'd done with dozens of other working cracks in similar circumstances. Suddenly, the surface erupted as the massive head and shoulders of a mature leopard seal, mouth gaping in expectation, crashed through the eggshell covering. It closed its powerful jaws about my right leg, and I fell backward, shocked and helpless in its vise-like grip. Feeling myself being dragged toward a watery grave, I locked my left crampon onto the opposing edge. I knew that once I was in the water, it would be all over.

"Help, help, Steve, Tim, help," I screamed repeatedly. It seemed an age before I finally caught sight of their running figures.

"Kick it, kick it, kick it, get the bloody thing off me, hurry, hurry for Christ's sake, you bastard, you bastard," I yelled hysterically,
my gloved hands scrabbling fruitlessly for purchase on the smooth ice behind me as I strained against the seal's prodigious weight.

For one tiny fraction of a second our eyes met. These were not the pleading eyes of a Weddell seal nor the shy glance of a crabeater seal—they were cold and evil with intent. What fear the seal must have recognized in my own during this brief moment of communication, I can only imagine.

"Bloody hell, it's a leopard seal," Steve shouted breathlessly as he leapt across the crack to attack the brute from the opposite side.

"Get the bloody thing off me, kick it, for Christ's sake," I screamed again.

"Aim for its eye, its eye," Tim shouted, his voice verging on panic.

"Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" Steve chanted in rhythm to his swinging boot.

"Get its eye, blind it," Tim shouted again.

I watched, dazed, as the front tines of Steve's cramponed boot made small, fleshy wounds in the side of the beast's head near its eye. Fifteen or 20 times his foot swung with crushing impact. Blood streamed from the wounds and spattered to the ice with each sickening smack of the boot. The impact of the violent attack vibrated through my body. Stubbornly, the beast continued to grip my leg, which appeared tiny in its jaw. I felt as powerless as a mouse caught by a cat.

"My God, we've blown it," I gasped. "Kick it, kick it, for Christ's sake...."

"It's backing off," Tim shouted triumphantly as the seal suddenly released its hold and slipped slowly back beneath the surface.

Numbed, confused, and mesmerized by the concentric ripples slapping the edge of the bloodstained hole, I stared entranced at the spot where the frightening beast had disappeared.

"Quick, get him back from the edge," Tim gasped.

Arms had just grabbed me when the seal's monstrous form leapt once more from its watery lair. Lunging at me, it crossed the ice with an awkward gait, streams of bloody water cascading to the ice around it. Its large, interlocking teeth crushed down on my plastic boot.

"My God, we've blown it," I gasped. "Kick it, kick it, for Christ's sake, kick it," I shouted, the fear in my throat threatening to choke me.

"Its eye, get its eye," Steve shouted as he and Tim again booted its head with the lance-like front tines of their crampons.

Irrational thoughts carreered madly about my brain. What would the ice look like from beneath the surface? What would death be like? As if divorced from life already, I pictured the seal swimming down with my limp, red-coated body in its jaws. I could see pale, green sunlight filtering down through the ice as I descended into the gloom of certain oblivion. It all seemed so real, so peaceful—a silent movie with myself as the reluctant hero.

Tim's tugging at my shoulders pulled me swiftly back to reality—finally vanquished, the animal had retreated to its nether world. They skidded me quickly over the ice a safe distance from the crack. I stood up shakily.

"Lie down, let's have a look," Steve implored, motioning me down.

"No, I'm all right. Thank God it's not broken," I gasped, as I tested my wounded leg by stumbling backward, away from the terror I had just experienced. Glancing down at my torn clothing I saw blood on my leg—whether it was mine or the seal's I was not sure. I unzipped my outer Gore-Tex and fiber-pile pant.

"Oh my God," I trembled, horrified at the blood and puncture wounds on the front and back of my leg just below my knee.


Do they like kikes?
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"First: Do No Good." - The Hymiecratic Oath

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frilled shark, prehistoric looking, rare

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