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From a charging buffalo to an erupting volcanoa€”see the winning pictures of the 2010 National Geographic Photo Contest.
A canceled trek turned into the opportunity of a lifetime for photographer Aaron Lim Boon Teck, who captured an active Indonesian volcano in his image "Eruption of Gunung Rinjani.""Trekkers [who] were able to make it up to the crater rim on time [were] able to camp overnight to witness the eruption [the] whole night long," Boon Teck, of Singapore, wrote with his submission to the 2010 National Geographic Photography Contest. A two-million-dollar rodent eradication program flopped in the South Pacific, and now scientists think they know why.
From insults to terms of endearment, Shakespeare turned to the animal kingdom to get his point across. But in the darkness and snows of December, sometime around the fifth anniversary of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, she will give birth to her tenth child.
Few families remain in this region, where frequent bombings have destroyed both villages and crops as the Russians attempt to close this important route to the interior.
When an April 1978 coup brought a Marxist regime to power in Kabul, armed resistance began within months.
BUT THE MOST VISIBLE effect of the war has been the flight of the Afghan people, a multilingual population of mixed tribes and ethnic groups, from their homeland.
Abdul Wahed (not his real name), husband of the pregnant woman in this Jaji village, comes in out of the cold and darkness, letting in a gust of icy wind. After dinner Abdul Wahed’s wife sits down next to me, adjusts her veil over her shiny dark braids, and pours me another glass of tea.
I walk with the two men who have been specially detailed to accompany me by Syed Ishaq Gailani, a mujahidin commander who has for several years been a close friend of my family.
His friend Mustafa’s manner is quieter, though at 29 he has been a fighter for six years.
On this dusty dirt road, one of the main supply routes of the mujahidin, we pass several parties of men coming from distant fronts.
Outside a village, near a bomb crater, we talk to a group of battle—weary men from Kabul. In the refugee camps of Pakistan I had heard reports of destruction of food supplies, and of fears of a famine in the spring. Farther on, in another village, a gray and-white cat prowls delicately along the top of a ruined wall. Later, in a field of grass stubble under an opalescent autumn sky, we find shattered pieces of dull green plastic, one with a detonator still attached.
THE SUN is nearly on the edge of the sharp, snow-covered peaks and ridges that mark the far limits of the valley when Mustafa stops and points to a cluster of nondescript mud buildings on a hilltop about a kilometer away. A couple of hours later the attack on the government post begins, and Bahram Jan leads me up the stairs to the square tower with a picture-window view of fiery parabolas of tracer bullets arcing from the mountainsides toward the mud fort. In this narrow, uncultivated valley some of Afghanistan’s internal refugees have built crude houses of earth, wood, and stone. When I return to Pakistan, I learn that the United Nations General Assembly has passed yet another resolution calling for the withdrawal of foreign troops from Afghanistan. In a refugee camp at Sateen, not far from the Afghan border, I find some of the last people to flee from Ali Sangi, the village where the gray-and-white cat walked along the ruined wall.


PESHAWAR, capital of Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province, homeland of the Pashtun, or Pathan, tribes that inhabit the border areas of both Afghanistan and Pakistan, has two faces. Many disillusioned mujahidin say that the parties fail either to supply arms or to achieve political unity.
Beyond the refugee camps that fringe Peshawar is the Khyber Pass, the historic passage between the uplands of Central Asia and the plains of the Indo-Pakistani subcontinent. On the way through the pass, on a winding dirt road beyond the limits of government control, a pickup truck bounces along in a cloud of dust, while a train of camels lopes on unconcerned.
Poppy cultivation is a tradition in certain families, and a source of income tribesmen are reluctant to give up.
Despite the number of refugees and their length of stay, there has been little tension between refugees and locals. Each refugee is supposed to receive a daily ration of 500 grams of wheat, 30 grams of edible oil, 30 grams of dried skim milk, 20 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of tea.
Most who arrived before 1984 have been officially registered and receive close to their allotted rations.
At the time of my visit, in late 1984, new arrivals typically faced delays of as long as four months in registration and issue of rations. New arrivals, hungry and dazed from their long and dangerous journey across the border, often could not comprehend the reason for the delay. THE GREAT MAJORITY of Afghan refugees in the North-West Frontier Province are Pashtuns, a robust, handsome people.
Near Qissa Khawani, down the narrow lane of the gold bazaar and across from the delicate mosque of Mahabat Khan, is an even narrower lane that leads to Murad Market, the heart of the refugee bazaar. One day I accompany Sher and his younger brother to their camp, where I am welcomed by their mother and two young aunts. While his young wife cooks outside the tent, pulling her yellow-embroidered black veil over her face modestly, Sher tells me of his wedding, only three months ago, to this girl who lived in the tent next door. Abdul Ali, 12 went out to play one morning, stepped on a mine, and lost both his legs at the thigh. Simeen Musharaf, widowed mother of four children, is a teacher at a girls school in Nasir Bagh camp. Noor Jehan, a sprightly widow with bright eyes, expressive face, and hennaed gray hair, runs to embrace me. IN A HOSPITAL BED in Lahore, far, from the Afghan border, lies Commander Mohammed Naim, age 22. A few days later I deliver a letter to Naim’s father, Khan Mohammed, who lives in a camp in Kohat District. Under some willow trees by a stream, former enemies sit side by side with me, sharing an incongruous picnic lunch of unleavened bread and a tomato omelet. Ishaq Gailani has spent much time at many fronts and tells me he hopes to go back again soon. As a heavy dusk deepens over the craggy hills, a muezzin’s voice calls the men to prayer, and once again the mujahidin put aside their study of war.


Yong Lions attack a Cape buffalo - National Geographic Best Wild Animal Wllpapers a€?His wild eyes flash in desperation. I wonder if this photo would look quite as amazing if it didn’t blend in so well with my blog template?
Take a moment to enjoy this aptly named gallery of breathtaking photography from the National Geographic archives. The winners of this year’s National Geographic photography contest have been announced and, as usual, the selection is outstanding. The submissions are divided into three groups – People, Places, and Nature (including the wildlife, my favorite). Jessica Crabtree, Pastel Artist Native American Portraits & Wildlife Original Fine Art PaintingsThanks for visiting my blog!
When you purchase an IPower hosting package through one of the ads in this page, a portion of the sale goes to support this site! About MeI am a freelance artist living in Arkansas, US, specializing in historical portraits of American Indians.
I am fascinated by history and world cultures, ancient and modern, and particularly indigenous peoples.
You can see some of my pastel work, and my drawings in charcoal and graphite, by visiting my online Gallery. The mujahidin claim to control as much as 80 percent of the countryside, while Soviet troops and an army of Afghan conscripts defend parts of major cities, a few main roads, and fortified posts in some rural areas. The two defectors, who speak to me in Persian when we are left alone, have heard that several Soviet soldiers have gone to England and the United States, and they are hoping Canada or the United States will accept them. Choose an image and click the link which matches your screen resolution (Your current resolution is ). For the images in your folders, you may use the desktop wallpaper function provided by the photo management softwares such as ACDSee or Picasa .
I blog about the portrayal and influence of Native Americans in art, history, and the media. My other interests include wildlife ecology, environmental issues & sustainability, journalism, photography, web design & development. The Cape buffaloa€™s hoarse bellows resonate across a stretch of Africaa€™s Great Rift Valley. Drug Enforcement Administration, most of it passes by the town of Landi Kotal, near the head of the Khyber Pass.




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