Nature.

I always felt attracted to it. It was fascinating with its relentless beauty and hidden logic. Fillies of my age all played with dolls while I was running around the meadows and forests surrounding my hometown, trying to learn the names of every plant, insect, or bird I could find. Oftentimes, I returned with small bruises and at least one beetle biting my muzzle. I slowly became „the weird one“ in the eyes of the other foals. Not that I cared about it that much, my curiosity and thirst for knowledge were far more important. My desire to learn, to discover grew with every new fact I learned, just like another piece clicking into place fuels your effort to finish a puzzle.

Time went on, and I moved from stuffing my head full of terms and basic facts to seeking something more advanced. Something that’d go beyond the scope of ordinary textbooks and their black and white view of our grey world. The deeper and deeper I went, I found out how many of the simple facts we were thought were either completely wrong or simplified so much the truth in them was twisted beyond recognition.

I was now led to thinking of causes and consequences, acquiring new insight on things that many ponies think they know. Let me demonstrate: How many times have you been told that a chameleon precisely changes its colour to whatever is around it? And do you think it’s true? Have you ever seen it yourself or read a proper treatise on it? I was at a crossroads: I could either spread the truth about the natural world, or I could keep everything my books and teachers taught me to myself. While the choice seemed obvious, it was not so easy as almost nopony was willing to listen to me at this point. Apparently everyone around me was just annoyed by my weird interests and scientifical remarks. So what, I told one posh filly that the ambergris in her perfume came from the gut of a sperm whale. That was not meant to humiliate her. On the other hoof, now I’m glad it did humiliate her.

Still, I refused to give up my crusade of spreading knowledge. I hoped to find something that would show everypony that biology was not just worthless learning of terms and names. Naïve younger me. I was rummaging through every library I could and nose-diving into any book that had at least something to do with nature. The result? I seemed even weirder than before. Their rejection of me was the most painful punch in the face I ever received. I started doubting myself, and hid away among dozens of my dusty, old books.

A few of the tomes in particular managed to reignite the spark of my curiosity. They were full of words of some long unused language, but I managed to get my head around it. These books were written by the scientists of the Classical era, the time when the Castle of the Two Sisters was bustling with life, and the knowledge of ponykind shone in full bloom. Many places have changed since then.

Many, including the feared Everfree Forest, which now slowly takes over the ruins of the once mightiest castle in all of Equestria. Unlike us, the ponies back then tried to understand why was the local weather and nature so independent. They knew every plant, creature, and drop of magic that at least once touched the ground of the Everfree.

In the same time, I moved to the more central parts of Equestria, and was confused by what I found. Back at home, just south of the plains of the Frozen North, we were used to at least a little feral animals and semi-autonomous weather. But here? All the wild animals were almost domesticated, used to having picnics and parties with ponies. The only place that seemed normal to me was the „Celestia forsaken“ Everfree I have read so much about.

It took just a few--more or less dangerous--trips to this place and a meeting with one of the most exotic and friendly creatures I ever met, a certain zebra, to make me and my companion settle down in this forest. And here we are, trying to bust the ancient myths about the dangers of Everfree.

May the knowledge trapped on the pages of this journal be your guide through the Everfree Forest.

Let's start with probably the most famous creatures of the Forest; Timberwolves. But to understand them completely, we first need to look at the source of their beloved food.

Zap apple trees

A species well-known thanks to the Apple family's famous jam and the strange phenomena surrounding it. However, such is not the case with the wild specimens. But I am getting ahead of myself there.

I bet that everypony from Hoofington to Appleloosa at least once tasted the jam and heard the story of how did these apples get out of the Forest and into the light of Celestia's sun: the story of a brave filly forced by hunger into the Everfree.

She luckily stumbled upon a clearing with many trees, their branches just bearing the colorful fruit. Really lucky given the Zap apples are ripe only once a year, wasn't she?

That indeed appears as a huge coincidence. And the answer to that is simple; it was not a coincidence. The Zap apple trees in the Everfree bear fruit much more often. It is mainly due to the conditions of the Forest being more favourable to them.

The trees also grow very slowly when present in a grove of their kin, the saplings most likely fed by the older trees via their roots or mushroom hyphae connecting them. When old enough to give fruit, they do so approximately about twice or trice a month. Seeds colonising new land will grow much faster--resulting in the gaunt appearance of these trees and their disability to bear fruit more often--and also call on their innate magic to bring forth the needed weather, if grown outside the Everfree.

Trees grown in the Forest hardly do this, my theory being that the so called "Signs of the Coming Harvest" help the trees in the new environment, with the crows as possible pollinators and meteor showers to scare off herbivors. Or, given they are distant relatives of the Poison Joke, it might be just pure shenanigans without yet known purpose.

Their most typical sites are drier, a little shadowy clearings where the trees usually create groves in the number of three to ten individuals.

Timberwolves
Hierarchy

Unlike normal wolves, Timberwolves lack strict hierarchy and are usually present in family groups or packs of three to eight members, that usually share together one or rarely more of Zap apple tree clearings. The pack is usually led by one individual, usually the eldest. Females with pups might wander further away from the group, but are still treated as members.

You may also encounter Loners, Timberwolves repelled from their packs due to lack of Zap apples or for aggressivity, just wandering around and looking for something edible, individually or uncommonly in smaller groups. These are the ones with the terrible stench coming from their maws, why is it so will be explained shortly.

Diet

Timberwolves feed primarily on Zap apples. They are after them like Princess Celestia after cake Equestian dragons after gemstones and their pack's Zap-tree clearing is the most precious to them.

When there is an overall lack of Zap apples--usually after the sudden return of tough winter and Zap apple buds freezing--the next option are berries, roots and meat. Repelled Loners usually feed on this if they haven't managed to steal a few Zap apples for themselves.

Sadly, there isn't usually enough to sate all Loners, and so some go devouring rotten wood, which is the worst possible option for they metabolism. The wood continues breaking down in their stomach, decomposing the Timberwolves a little on the inside too. This is the source of their stinking breath. So, stinking breath means a hungry and possibly dangerous Timberwolf.

Range

Territories around Zap-tree clearings. They are avoiding the areas where the Cragadiles usually lurk, including Froggy Bottom Bogg and the rocky areas above it.

Reproduction

They are gonochorists, or at least two different mating types are needed for the reproductive process to start. The only reproduction I was able to observe resembled some sort of ritual occuring usually during spring and early summer.

Both partners gather sticks, leaves, bark et cetera from their surroundings or more rarely parts of their own bodies and build the pup from inside to out. The male often iniciates this, presenting a pile of the aforementioned materials it gathered to the female. When the assembling phase is done, both parents freeze in a "howling" position and release part of their magic.

The two magics look a little bit different in appearence and "behaviour", and I've noticed that the same individual always uses the same kind, thus their gender seems to be firmly set. These magics combine and together soak to the body of the little one and it slowly awakes. It stays within the pack, following one of its parents, the mother. The pup is about one third of the size of an adult Timberwolf: height of average pony filly, though longer than that from muzzle to tail. When growing, they attach new pieces of wood into their bodies.

Adults can migrate between nearby packs if there are less members and bigger chance of having more Zap apples for themselves.

Age: Data deficient (not immortal)

Appropriate behaviour

First option: Even the hungry Loners will let you go if you offer them a batch of Zap apples. Throwing a few before their muzzle is enough. But beware taking the apples from the trees on the clearings! As I know, all of them are taken currently.

Second option is carrying around something that you can make "clapping" noises with. The Timberwolves are unable to distinguish it from the clapping of Cragadile jaws. Since those are the only creatures that can seriously hurt the Timberwolves, along with Hydras, they'll wander off. Though it's quite impractical to carry around some pans or pots to make the noise. Also, this doesn't work everytime.

Fire might also seem as a viable option, since these creatures are mostly made of wood. It is not. Someone already tried it on a few. I was lucky (?) enough to be around and witness the consequences. They burn quite slowly and become more aggressive. And as they run around, trying to extinguish themselves, they can set the forest around on fire. So you might escape a Timberwolf, but end up in an inferno of your own... Think about it.

Otherwise I wasn't able to tame them--and I don't want to--but they at least accepted me. Though it took quite a long while and careful maneuvering. They wouldn't attack a pony on the first sight, if not hungry, but don't provoke them.

Cockatrice, Basilisk's cousin. A creature feared just as the Timberwolves, maybe even more. I understand that the vision of being turned into stone and remaining like that for eternity isn't the most pleasant...

Stop right here. If all that worked as described above, don't you think that the Everfree would by now look like Canterlot Statue Garden? Better not mention the myth that some of those statues are ponies intentionally exposed to the curse of Cockatrice for preservation. Well, enough of gossip, let's focus on unraveling this mystery.

Cockatrices
Hierarchy

One rooster lives with his "harem" of three to four hens, at least in a medium-sized territory. The hens aren't in flock, they are just dispersed around the area, trying to fetch something edible on their own.

The only time they get nearer together is when another rooster challenges their "master" to a duel over his harem and position. The duel is basically just a "stare off", because cockatrices aren't completely immune to their own weapon. It is usually started by crowing in rival's territory. Sometimes one of the opponents--almost always the intruder--then changes his mind and doesn't want to reciprocate the stare, leading to a talon-sharp punishment from the indigenous rooster.

Roosters themselves have hierarchy that carries out thorough the whole Forest. Higher the position, larger the territory and more tolerated right to enter and cross other territories.

Diet

They primarily feast on insects, earthworms and slugs--after rain, their beak isn't shaped for digging--but don't mind berries and seeds either. Rarely do they spice their diet with smaller mammals or fallen hatchlings and eggs.

They never use the stare when hunting, otherwise they would die from hunger. Their bigger prey would be either scared off or turned to stone immediately. Which may seem good as a way of trapping since they have the ability to release their petrified victims on will, but it's really energy-consuming, more than what the small bird or mouse would be worth. And with the invertebrates, it would either cause nothing, which would again mean a needless loss of energy on staring, or create a little crunchier food.

Range

Territories are marked by crowing of roosters and pheromone secretions in hens' cases. They are more common in the parts of Forest with bushy undergrowth, closer to the centre of the Everfree, yet once or twice have I heard of them from the Forest borders.

They aren't really good fliers, they can hover just above the ground or glide short distances if they climbed up some tree before or tried jumping up.

Territorial behavior

Upon spotting a movement, their tactic is to crawl nearer, covered by surrounding bushes, then stick out a little their head in the opposite direction than the victim is to map the situation around by sideglances and hearing. This probably helps them to not misuse their stare. They usually try to pin down the possible danger with their talons to petrify or eat it. Bigger creatures always end up petrified. The only reason the Forest is not full of "possible dangers" turned to stone is that the petrification is temporary, and serves only as a lesson and further warning, much like the disgusting secretions of any slightly poisonous animal.

Except the marking and challenges iniciated by crowing, they communicate through infrasound waves, much like elephants or snakes. It might be surprising, but their sight isn't as good as you'd expect it.

Reproduction

From spring to the beginning of autumn, hens can lay up to two leathery eggs. Hatchlings are dependent on their mother, requesting food by staring and by pecking the red parts of mother's wings--much like many seagull species do with parents' beaks. They wander away after reaching maturity to join or fight for other territories.

Age: up to twenty years

Handling the petrification, appropriate behaviour

Petrification: small hammer should be more than enough. Or if you are afraid, the stone starts falling apart on its own after day or two. The trapped one is in the state of 'hibernation' during their stay, when you pull them out, they awake. Provide the victim with fresh water and something to eat and they should be fine. The stone is really just a crust on the surface. Let's say that testing this theory was quite... peculiar.

Also, some old sources say that the Alfa rooster's stare might cause something more durable and maybe even permanent, but I haven't collected any proof to that yet.

Another interesting fact is that the stone their prison is made of is the same as the nearest parent rock. I suspect they derive it at least partially from there.

Upon meeting them: fly/teleport/run or stay completely still--not sure which is better, especially for earth-bound ponies. You can close your eyes and wait, hoping that they'll think you aren't a living creature. If you wanted to look, you'd need special goggles. Looking into their eyes "bare-eyed" isn't the best idea, as you'll receive a shiny new coat or a nice deep scratch from their talons, but that's common knowledge.

They fear foxes, their chicken part getting on surface. But normal pony doesn't usually have one with them. And if they are really angry, fox wouldn't help anyway. Mirrors are the only way how to attract them. When staring they are blind and deaf to their surroundings, so you can try and knock them unconscious. Though they'd snap back to reality immediately after spotting your hoof in the reflection.

Since we were already discussing creatures able to "alter" one's appearance, let's now mention a plant with similar ability, albeit this one will most likely not turn you to stone.

Lilium noxia cupiunt
as called by the botanists of Classical era, now commonly known as Poison Joke, is one of the rarest plants of the Forest. A small, innocent-looking blue flower with the ability to alter the physical form of any creature, from vocal chords to bone density.

There are only a few sites where they grow in the Everfree, but when they do, they are very abundant. They create patches of dense, linked underbrush, most of the individuals being asexually reproduced clones of just a few individuals. The plants require medium humidity and don't react well to being completely overshadowed; you'll most likely find them around remains of paths to the Castle of the Two Sisters or former clearings, both providing enough light for these plants. This makes the Poison Joke an excellent paleobotany indicator.

Their magic is contained in the powder produced by anthers and also the outer membrane of their pollen, primarily emitted as a protection from herbivores and pollen eaters. Touching the plant carefully and in right places won't cause any harm--just like nettle can be held tenderly to prevent it from stinging. Poison Joke is pollinated by wind, but a few pollen grains touching your coat as they fly by don't seem to leave any effects.

By this time, you are probably wondering how is it possible that you have probably seen the blue flowers everytime you have ventured into the Forest. If you were lucky enough, these really were the rare Jokes, but much more likely it was the common Lilium hyacinthum, "Blue Archer" as called in old Zebrican. These plants don't mind being overshadowed by the treetops nor do they mind wetter soil, so that's why they are a typical plant of not just the Everfree Forest.

You can tell the Archer apart from Joke by the presence of white or light blue spots at the base and at ends of petals. Though the most accurate--and also the easiest--method is the number of stamens. Poison Joke has four, you can remember it by four letters of the trivial name, J-O-K-E, while archer has six of them, again a mnemonic device: A-R-C-H-E-R.

Also Joke is a hemiparasite, while the shadow-loving Archer is holoparasitic, but that's just a minor detail, not needed for survival. Any basic biology textbook holds the meaning of these two terms, should you seek further explanation.

Maybe you heard about the Parasprite infestations in Ponyville and Fillydelphia sometime ago... Well, I cannot tell you how to deal with the bigger swarms, at least not directly... Heck, these creatures shouldn't be swarming like that! It's not their natural behaviour by far. They're not the most typical creatures of Everfree, but I still know that a sudden excess of food with no predator or parasite around to reduce their amounts will lead to massive overabundance. And to crown it, mutate the whole with magic and then quickly dispose of them in the Forest! Because nothing can't go wrong here, right?

I apologize for this little tantrum, certain events are still just too fresh in my memory...

Parasprites

As I mentioned, these are not exactly typical inhabitants of the Forest. Their favourite biotopes are rocky areas and drier marshlands, making them common on western rock farms and some parts of Zebrica, where they caused quite a few problems in the past, including large famines.

It might seem unbelievable, but actually these "pests" are mutualists of many creatures such as Cragadiles or Hydras. The latter only when there is a lack of Cragadiles. Parasprites are the only ones with sufficiently long tongue--or sufficiently shaped hypopharynx? Probably yes, should we think of them as of arthropods--and also only creatures "willing" to use them for the purpose of licking their hosts' teeth clean of any leftovers.

They make use of their big eyes and slow fluttering moves that serve after decades of co-evolution as the signal for the host to open up its maw for the cleaning. They are then allowed to fly in and feast. However, the Cragadiles aren't vitally dependent on the scraps removal and this leads to them sometimes "forgetting" to keep their jaws open, resulting in squishing or piercing their little helpers. My most probable guess is that when they spot possible prey, their instinct to hide and lie in wait is stronger than the relationship with the cleaners.

The Parasprites have managed to form their own tactic of surviving these "accidents". Their reactions aren't swift enough, not even close to that. Their exoskeleton isn't durable enough to survive the force of jaws, in some cases combined with the more than sharp teeth, though it at least protects them from getting squeezed lethally immediately. When they couldn't save themselves as "themselves themselves", they found another way. They could split up in two. Or, better said, they can spit out their clone. I must admit, these creatures have probably the fastest asexual reproduction among multicellular creatures. Their metabolism has to be rendered extremely fast for this to work, probably leading to the small and scattered populations under normal conditions of food availability.

But back to the original problem, the asexual reproduction is triggered by any of these three factors: the Parasprite recently ate something, pressure against the exoskeleton increased or the daylight dimmed suddenly--because creatures usually don't have a light bulb inside their maw. When a Parasprite gets trapped, one of these is surely present too. The next step is to spit out their "heir". Now there are two possible scenarios.

First: The Parasprite was facing out of a Cragadile's mouth. The clone is propelled outdoors, forming immediately and happily flying away.

Second: The Parasprite was facing the inside of a Cragadile's mouth. Then it can only hope that many others suffered the same fate. They began spitting out their clones, with the clones doing the same due to the conditions inside. If there is enough of them, their bodies will open the mouth a crack, allowing a few to slip out.

Said clones may have different colour than the parental creature, reasons for this phenomenon remain unclear, though it is possible that it is caused by exogenous factors such as temperature or moisture during their spawn.

It may seem that Parasprites don't have sexual reproduction. It happens on a rare occasion when there is extreme lack of food or the species is under any other generally stressful conditions. The Parasprites swarm together and the mating can began. They tuck themselves tighter and tighter to the center of the swarm, in the end creating a ball on the ground for a few hours. Immediately after the mating ends and the males die, the females dart off--probably their fastest motion I was able to observe--to look for a smaller hole in the ground to lay just one egg and to find a stone to cover it up with. The females then die too.

The hatched one is able to muster enough power to move away the stone far more heavier than itself. They then climb up on the stone and wait till their wings straighten and dry to be able to fly away.

Given the limited amount of energy that can be stored within their bodies, it would be a suicide for them to fly around, randomly looking for someone in need of their dental care. And staying close to the Cragadiles in the swamp? Thinking about their slow moves and the amount of frogs living here... they'd have soon become extintc.

No, instead they learned to get called by their host, letting their course be defined by the very same signal Timberwolves deem a warning. The clapping of jaws is Cragadiles' common communication, a very complex system of claps, teeth screeching together and air whizzing between them. The rhythmic nature of these sounds draws Parasprite's attention, leaving them in some sort of trance, following it. Surprisingly they usually survive this trip and once close enough, they propose their service as described above.

Furthermore, it looks like they react similarly to rhythmical sounds resembling the Cragadile communication, be it a creaking broken branch and a woodpecker in the middle of work in the same place, or an orchestra's performance.

You have probably noticed that I don't follow a certain pattern with these. It was to be so by intent. It mirrors the fact that you can't just enclose each organism into a strictly defined box and mark it with 'Here lines everything you need to know about...' Everytime a tail, a fin, a leaf or a root will stick out, creeping its way into the next box on the shelf. So, why not get more comparative this time, shall we?

It'll be needed, because the reptiles I already mentioned a few times, Cragadiles, are quite similar to their "normal" relatives and vastly different at the same time... From egg to death we will watch them, or more precisely from egg to old age, as I still wasn't lucky enough to find any deceased.

Cragadiles

An egg. A stone. Big difference, right? In this case, it is not. Their eggs look like a porous rock about the size of an adult stallion's hoof. The mother lays the eggs on the ground and covers them with piles of rotting wood and foliage, much like normal crocodiles do. Although, a normal crocodile lays its eggs into a dug out hole and then stuffs it up with plant scraps. So be careful when roaming around swamps and wading through the leaf piles here. First reason is an angry Cragadile mother, second the fact that you'll remember tripping over a rock-hard egg for a long time. Also, you'll most likely kill the little one inside. Because, unlike bird egg with which you can shake nearly to your liking, these eggs lack the chalazas--the strings holding the yolk and embryo. One abrupt movement spells doom to the fetus inside. This is similar in all reptiles except birds.

So, what's inside the egg? Well, quite everything like in a "normal" egg: embryo, yolk sack and lots of membranes. And albumen rich in mineral ions. Those are dissolving from the inner side of the stone-y eggshell. They then stratify in the bones of the little ones, encrusting and hardening them, yet keeping the structure as porous as the eggshell, so the bones are lighter. Otherwise the adult Cragadiles would be too heavy to move. Just like their crocodile relatives, Cragadiles have scales that are made of bones. Now it's easy to guess where all the rocks on Cragadile's body come from, right?

Clusters of gemstones can be found on their bodies from time to time, but they are rarely visible, covered by mud.

When a Cragadile hatches, it needs to crawl through the compost above and away. When the mother sees her young crawling away, she may help them, but most usually she has no interest in protecting them anymore. Hungry, they start searching for anything edible. Insects, worms, amphibians, small fish and mammals, birds, eggs, whatever they happen to stumble upon.

They are getting away from their maternal swamp to drier parts of the forest, usually following smaller streams and rivers. One reason is that older Cragadiles won't mind young meat and second, their squamous armor needs to dry off to fully crystallize. Out of water, of course.

Young Cragadiles usually end up in territories inhabited by larger groups of Cockatrices. There are lots of food and next to none predators able to eat them. And being already part rock makes you immune to further petrification. Ideal, isn't it?

Growing up, they slowly abandon wasting energy by chasing their prey, and instead lurk in or near rivers and brooks, waiting for prey to come for a drink and... dinner. It meets its fate in a typical crocodile way. Since they can't chew, Cragadiles clench the prey in jaws, rolling and swinging with it from side to side, till they tear it apart. It's not exactly fast nor painless death and the sight is quite gruesome as well.

When lazing around and digesting, the Cragadiles start to communicate with each other by their jaws click-clacking, similar to our Marese code. Though be warned, only satiated Cragadiles are in a communicative mood. The hungry ones may be quietly waiting nearby. That means, the clapping sounds just give off the position of the territory, not all the individuals there. You will never find a single Timberwolf in a place where such sounds can be heard.

Getting older, they are slowly moving back to the swampy areas. Now they're big enough that they can just lie and wait for some prey to show up. And they can wait for a really long time, easily a few months. They will eat everything above certain size level, be it an overfed goose, a zebra or a Timberwolf. Older publications also speculate about them being able to eat gemstones similarly to dragons. This assumption is probably incorrect, as when they were experimentally provided with a pile of gems, the Cragadiles didn't seem to be interested in them. The mineral hardness of their teeth is also slightly below the level of quartz, thus rendering them useless for this kind of diet.

Upon arriving back to the swamps, they start looking for a mate. Males are becoming more territorial in these times. You can tell that the mating season started by the smell that can be most easily described as what you smell when you sniff two pebbles that were currently scratched against each other. This is the resulting mixture of their activated scent glands and lots of jaw clapping with rock teeth rubbing. The biggest and usually oldest male gets to the highest amount of females. The pairs, if we can even talk about them, last for just one season.

It is not a good idea to go nearby them in such times. The swamp is literally boiling with Cragadile males fighting, proposing and "handling" the females in a specific way.

After a few months, the female lays up to ten eggs and piles up leaves and wood over them, staying nearby to protect this small hill of compost till the hatchlings scramble out.

There is not much that can be done when they attack you. Killing them is almost impossible, theoretically speaking. The most useful advice is probably gonna be: incapacitate their maw and tail and get away as fast as you can. And good luck.

All of us are chimeras, just some of us more. To most that means a few cells exchanged between mother and baby during pregnancy, or even absorbing the fetus was supposed to be its twin. However, there are creatures that can truly take pride in that title. The beautiful abominations consisting of different animal parts fused together. The Classical era biologists blamed existence of those "monsters" on the magic lingering after Discord's banishment. I can't disagree with them. I have no evidence to contradict that fact, more like to support it. The behaviour of these creatures is indeed quite peculiar.

Chimeras

Creatures with a body of tiger and goat, and a snake for tail. They roam mainly the eastern parts of Forest where it slowly starts to fade into the Badlands. Ponies know this place under the name of Flame Geyser Swamp.

The only reason why they live there is the fact that they'd be easily outnumbered and pushed to the sidelines by Timberwolf packs in the "normal" parts of Forest. However, you can't find Timberwolves near flame geysers for obvious reasons. Before I tell you more about Chimeras, basic information about survival in the Swamp would be due, in case you were in charge of emergency pie deliveries through it.

There are two main aspects you should be concerned with. First is the fire, second the bog. Just on a side note; if you want a hot mud bath, there are far better places to go. Mud can be avoided quite easily like in a normal marshland and the fire eruptions are predictable. When you feel hard ground under your hooves, you are safe. Though when it gets just a little muddy, you need to pay full attention to the bubbling and shaking underneath. When it intensifies, run. You are standing just above the hypocentre. And don't forget to watch out for the boggy areas when fleeing away.

The Chimeras have the advantage of being part snake and thus possessing the reptilian ability of sensing infrasound waves. When dragging the third head on the ground, they know exactly where all the geysers are. But there are other problems they have to face.

The griffons have a saying of similar meaning to our "No bees, no honey, no work, no money." Theirs says, "Roasted pigeons won't fly into your mouth," which in the case of Chimeras isn't exactly true. Or, better said, the literal opposite is real life for them. Food will come straight under their noses, sometimes even cooked. However, there isn't much of it. And here comes the problem I have mentioned before.

The Chimera doesn't need to eat everyday, but it can't starve for a month, too--theoretically, one scaly third of it can... Each of the heads eats nearly the same food as the original animal would. Tiger goes for meat, snake after smaller creatures and goat after plants and sometimes baked stuff. For each head, there is an appropriate digestive system, meaning that not all three have to eat everytime to get some energy for the whole body.

When the true hunger hits, the heads start to act more autonomously, returning to their respective ancestral behaviour and weaknesses. The winner is usually the goat, at least for some time. When it's grazing happily, its sisters or brothers are starving. That often ends with the tiger's mind snapping and attacking the goat part, while the snake is waiting for the right moment to strangle the other two. Here is a philosophical question. Does Chimera commit a murder or a suicide? Furthermore, this is the time when you might be able to escape a Chimera unscathed.

Also, due to the conditions I still wasn't able to observe their mating and not even come up with a plan how to stay in the swamp long enough. Chimeras are one of the most sentient creatures around, but even I don't feel like seeking out one to ask such intimate questions... All I know that the pair of Chimeras then functions as two individuals, not six.

Hydras

Another chimeroid creatures, these a mixture of some reptilian, amphibian and possibly cnidarian of the same name. That's it if I can guess from their abilities and behaviour. They have both lungs and outer gills--visible as the bright red hem on their head--and can switch between them. This makes them able to stay underwater for a long time, but also to survive on dry land.

Unlike Chimeras, Hydras are more "melted together" and their heads aren't as autonomous. However, each of them has control of the full body--in Chimera, the control is distributed between the heads--resulting in their lumbering gait and clumsy movements. Younger Hydras are more agile, simply because when they hatch, their body is adorned only by one head. Their eggs look like those of a frog, and so do the "tadpoles" consisting of long neck and tail. Legs grow later. Hydras lay millions of eggs, but if one of them makes it into adulthood, it's a huge success. As they age, new heads start to bud around the "original" neck. You can recognize the oldest head by being the slowest one.

Though in water, they are quick as a few others, as well as brilliantly oriented both underwater and above its surface. So whenever you are in the Froggy Bottom Bogg and surrounding open areas, be aware you are being watched from everywhere.

This makes them skilled, non-picky hunters. A duck, a small Cragadile or a frog, it simply doesn't matter, all is food. Which is what saved us from frog overpopulation suppressing the other marshland wildlife. Because somepony though that poor froggies needed more space and should be relocated there.

Despite their gaping maw, they'll attack you for territory intruding more than as a prey. Though, you should be able to escape them by mere galloping. Also, their large thick skin is a feast for many parasites. And I mean parasites like leeches or tick-like arthropods with long and sharp nippers, teeth and stingers lurking in the water, waiting for a host. Don't forget that pony skin isn't as thick as Hydra's scales and not all parasites are just hydra-specialized...

Manticores

And the last of the beautiful abominations; Manticores. A combination of a lion, a scorpion and a bat. Especially the last one is visible, but more or less useless. Just the younger ones are able to glide with their wings, older Manticores can just propel themselves while running and flare their wings to look bigger and more intimidating. They are one of the laziest creatures I've ever met. Manticores spent almost all days napping and when hunger finally calls, they search their surroundings for any remains after the feast of another predator. Their search usually ends upon the hunting ground of a younger Cragadile, rich in leftovers.

When they do actually hunt, they prefer to use their paws over the stinger. Luckily, the laws of nature survived the amendment they went through with this creature. You might have heard of rule "the bigger scorpion, the better" relating to the fact that the smallest of scorpions are the deadliest. Given their size, Manticore's poison is even weaker than that of a wasp. You should be more afraid of their saliva, it's as thick as glue and has nearly the same quality. If they use their stinger on some smaller creature, it's dead before the poison can take effect as the critter is usually pierced through. Also when eating, they quietly hum to themselves. Reason for this is not yet clear. Albeit, do you have any reason for singing in the shower?

They roam the more central parts of the Everfree, notably around the edge of the rocky areas as there are always some dead fallen chamois to be found. They are strictly territorial, especially in the places they use for sleeping. Not a good idea to wake them up, trust me.

To a fact a lot of ponies are asking; Yes, females miss the mane. But that's the end of the differences. Well, maybe they are a little more energetic. When mating, the male incapacitates the female with the poison to calm her--they have weakness for their own weapon. Up two cubs can be born and they stay with mother for a few years.

So, how to deal with them? Don't interrupt their dreams and you'll be fine. Otherwise, Tartarus help you, magic nor strength won't.

~ Philomena the Royal Phoenix, by unknown Post-classical author

More poetic opening than usually, but those creatures deserve it. They are even rarer than the Poison Jokes these days, but it would be a shame to not give them some spotlight.

Phoenixes

Given the old reports, there used to be whole flocks of them residing in the Forest. Those mention periodical Phoenix migration every once in a while and I suspect it has something to do with Phoenixes following the great dragon migration to new nesting sites. Being used to your feathers burning surely allows you to live in neighborhood of fire-breathing creatures. We're probably in the Phoenixless period of Everfree today.

You can only find a few pairs in the southern drier parts of the Everfree and some are also residing in Whitetail. The rest now lives at the edge of the Badlands.

Surprisingly, not a lot of ponies comprehend that these regal birds are also birds of prey, the bane of squirrels and forest voles.

However, the rest of their lifecycle is really unique. Their feathers serve both as a fireproof shield and as a burning weapon. The rachis--the line in the center of the feather--has the ability to channel their fiery magic, allowing it to burn around their wings and tail. Activating this is within the Phoenix's will, but their feathers don't lose this feature after being pulled out. It just becomes more random afterwards. So, those of you not blessed with levitation, try to avoid using Phoenix quills... and those of you capable, make sure at least your face is far from it.

But back to the Phoenix's defenses. Their bright feathers can tell that their bearers aren't afraid of being spotted. Instead, their bright colors are a warning to predators. Much like poisonous salamander's colour gets stuck with the label "Don't eat. Let it be," in the mind of any animal that tried to taste it, bright red feathers are a non-pleasant reminder of the fire that burned your muzzle. Even the eggs are brightly colored, again as a warning.

Phoenix's feathers can vary from yellow to red with lighter markings, females always having a pink stripe at the tip of their beak, pinkish markings on wings are also possible. Another difference between the genders are the feathers on the top of their head. Male has a "crest" of thick feathers, while female's head is adorned by a peacock-like crown thingy.

But how is it with them burning to ashes if their feathers are fireproof? And why do they even have to burn down?
If they didn't, they'd die. Fire is a great weapon, but it needs huge amounts of magic, and thus energy to be controlled properly. Of course there isn't an indefinite amount of energy, so the Phoenix's body has to make compromise. To have fire-controlling abilities from a young age, their bones, muscles and intestines take quite a short time to get worn out. The beak becomes distorted, wings no longer able to carry them, neck muscles atrophy, not able to support the head anymore, and the bird starts to cough heavily, lungs slowly collapsing and filling with mucus. Very regal.

Simultaneously, the feathers start to fall off on their own with the small muscles operating them failing. This messy period of molting takes about a week and it's probably the only time when they are truly vulnerable. You can find a hidden molting Phoenix just by shed feathers lying all around. It's almost impossible to spot the bird as it hides in the treetops quietly--except for the coughing--and waits till their fireproof shield is down. Then the remains of their magic are called, igniting the Phoenix from inside and turning it to ashes.

Nopony knows if getting incinerated alive is painful or not. In my opinion, it's far better than what they must feel when their body starts to wear out. But everytime I managed to see them 'renewing', they fell into some sort of comatose sleep right before catching fire. Another interesting fact is that their fire doesn't ignite their surroundings.

Despite them being able to manipulate with their ashes and precisely recognize every part of their body--or at least if you throw their ashes to an already cinderfilled hearth, you get the same Phoenix. Not bigger, not lighter--they try to choose their hiding place to be in the lee of the branches. Adult Phoenix undergoes the cycle twice a year.

There is a second version of their renewal cycle, mainly used for courtship and mating. After female chooses the male-- he should be sporting a nice feather crest and bright colors, but the same should go for the female, because males don't accept the proposal from just anybody--they both start to perch and fly around, gently pulling out each other's feathers. When just a few are left, they soar high to the sky, getting rid of the remaining feathers and together fall to the ground in fire. When their ashes land, parts of them mix together. This mix then gets absorbed to female's body, making her pregnant. She then lays up to five eggs after a few days. During nesting, their fire-controlling ability is weakened, making the parents stronger until the young ones hatch.

Their feathers take just a few days to fully grow and the hatchlings start to fly shortly after. During growing up, the burning period prolongs from weeks to months till it stabilizes on periods lasting half a year.

So, what to do when you have a Phoenix nearby? Don't disturb them, not even in the ash form. And even if your good behaviour somehow managed to annoy them, you'll do best to lay down and not move. They'll just fly over you with ignited wings a few times and then leave. If a Phoenix is scared in the worn-out state, it can explode into your face.
The only thing dangerous for them would be falling in water and then getting cold. I reckon that feeding them ice cream isn't the best idea too.

Quarray eels. Originally creatures of cliffs above the sea, reveling in the waters of high tide and hunting seagulls for the rest of the day... Some time ago, they somehow got to the slopes of ravines running from Everfree. Needs further research. The water left in the holes after floods or soaking through the ground has to be the reason why they are able to breathe and survive. Or is it possible that they are able to breathe "normally"? How the hay am I supposed to find out, when they immediately cannibalize all of their deceased kin?!...

Star spiders seem to be endemic to the Castle of the Two Sisters and surrounding areas. Though this might be just because no one looked for them in other places. Equestrian Society for the Preservation of Rare Creatures considers these not rare enough to pay them any attention, so what? Should I travel all over Equestria by myself, looking into every cave? Now I really wonder if I'll ever be able to finish these reports. And I have to remember to get rid of these jottings this time...

...

What are you reading now is the sheet of paper I use as a bookmark and some sort of message for those who like to poke their muzzle into my unfinished notes...

I'll just ask you... How did you get there?
No, don't say anything. Or say whatever you want, the paper won't mind... probably. Though I understand that wandering in here by accident isn't as improbable. There aren't many ponies living in this Forest after all. And an open notebook is like a beacon for any curious guest, am I right?

Well, now you have read it all. Or maybe you opened it at this last page...
So... do you have any remarks on what you have read? Except for this last page of course. Don't think anything bad of me for it, but I really don't want to discuss my unfinished work. Reading anything in that state might mean a wrong interpretation... and that's something I want to avoid. So, feel free to leave me a note below. Also, in case you have an acquaintance at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns or know some normal pony working for E.S.f.t.P.o.R.C., it would be great if you mentioned to them what you have read here. As you have seen above, I could really use a helping hoof...

Though I'm afraid that this is all I had to say, so now please take leave. If you read carefully, I reckon you'll know how to behave to make it safely home. Good luck on your journey... oh, and please be careful around my flock of Cockatrice hatchlings. They have the blindfolds on, but who knows what could happen?

Sincerely

-H. G.