We have such a long way to go from films, programs, and arrangement, and today we will discuss somebody who has contributed a ton to it. Her name is Kaya Scodelario. She is a gifted, lovely entertainer who has won numerous crowds' hearts with her astounding acting. Her first arrangement is Skins, and it was her greatest hit too.
Kaya Scodelario was brought into the world on 13 March 1992 in the town named Haywards Heath, West Sussex. She was conceived Kaya Rose Humphrey to Roger Humphrey (father) and Katia Scodelario (mother). Roger was British, though Katia was from Brazil, who had moved to England in 1990, two years before Kaya was conceived. Her folks were isolated when she was a youngster, and her mom brought her up in London. Kaya received her mom's last name, which comes from her mom's Italian granddad. She was the lone kid to her folks.
Kaya Scodelario had something other than what's expected from the beginning being British yet a plunge Brazilian. She was familiar with Portuguese too. In spite of any acting involvement with the age of 14 of every 2007, she got a part in an arrangement named Skins for new station E4 as Eddy Stonem. She had a significant little part before all else, yet as time passed, she felt a great deal alright with it, and by 2008 and 2009, she was the focal character of the arrangement. She left the arrangement after the fourth season in November 2009. She was designated for Best Actress at the TV Quick honors twice in 2009 and the next year.
Indeed, Kaya Scodelario worked in various films after 2009, which are Moon, a science fiction spine chiller film, Shank, Clash Of The Titans, and numerous others. In 2011 she endorsed to play in a British Thriller named Twenty8K. She additionally endorsed for Before I bite the dust, the (novel) novel based film Now Is Good, where she played as an adolescent young lady. She likewise cast for a BBC One's television arrangement, True Love, where she just played in one scene. Without precedent for January 2012, The Truth About Emanuel, where she is the principle character, Emanuel. She additionally showed up in a film Spike Island in April 2012 and the dramatization arrangement Southcliffe in 2013.
Kaya Scodelario additionally has some critical functions in film establishments, The Maze Runner and Pirates of the Caribbean, which we have known about. She was a lead female character in The Maze Runner, which depends on the novel that passes by a similar name. She likewise played in another arrangement of the film The Maze Runner in the year 2018. In the year 2019, she got numerous other new tasks. She cast in Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile, a wrongdoing film where she assumes the spouse's function to a chronic executioner. She likewise contributed as the fundamental character in Crawl, the most recent blood and gore movie by Alexandre Aja. It was delivered in July 2019.
Kaya Scodelario is a unimaginably hot youthful British entertainer who is only 27 years of age and still got many profession and motion pictures to play later on. Her sun sign is Pisces. She stands five feet and six inches (168 cm). She weighs 55 kilograms and 121 lbs in pounds. She a serious thin young lady with body estimations 34-24-35. She has a blue eye and dim earthy colored hair. All things considered, as of her voice, she has an imposing voice. She has a tattoo of her significant other's name Ben in her ring finger.
Kaya Scodelario came to notoriety from arrangement Skin and motion pictures The Maze Runner and Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell no Tales. These are her most noteworthy hits. She is familiar with Portuguese and English. She has additionally demonstrated for certain magazines, including Instyle UK, Elle UK, Nylon, Vogue, and numerous others.
Kaya Scodelario is hitched to entertainer Benjamin Walker in December of the year 2015. They began dating when they initially met in the film The King's Daughter in mid 2014. This wonderful couple has a child, and entertainer Daniel Kaluuya is his guardian. Prior to this, she was dating Jack O'Connell, a co-entertainer in arrangement Skin. They dated for a year before they separated away in June 2009. In spite of the fact that they are old buddies still today.
At the MeToo Movement in October 2017, Kaya Scodelario uncovered that she was explicitly attacked thirteen years prior. Concerning her, she is a resilient lady who had a severe past, and furthermore, her mom is a tough lady who had the option to instruct a kid and upheld Kaya without her better half. Kaya's dad passed on 22 November 2010.
It is accepted that Kaya Scodelario has dyslexia. She uncovered that she was harassed while in school, and definitely likewise drove her to be an entertainer.
Well discussing Kaya's total assets, starting at 2020 it is assessed around 1 million dollars.
Tarka the Otter by Henry Williamson
Their scolding was a summons to all small birds. Blackbirds flew in from the fields and let out shrill ringing cries which jerked their tails as they perched above the otters. Soon many small birds were gathered in the trees of the islet, and their mingled cries brought six larger birds, who sloped up one behind the other. They were among birds what the Irish are among men, always ready in a merry and audacious life to go where there is trouble and not infrequently to be the cause of it. Raising their crests and contracting their light blue eyes, the six jays screamed with the noises of tearing linen. (pp.84-85)
The trees of the riverside wept their last dry tears, and the mud in the tidehead pool made them heavy and black; and after a freshet, when salmon came over the bar, beginning their long journey to spawn in the gravel where the river ran young and bright, broken black fragments were strewn on the banks and ridges of the wide estuary. In November the poplars were like bedraggled gull-feathers stuck in the ground, except for one or two or three leaves which fluttered on their tops throughout the gales of November.
One evening, when the ebb-tide was leaning the channel buoys to the west, and the gulls were flying silent and low over the sea to the darkening cliffs of the headland, the otters set out on a journey. The bright eye of the lighthouse, a bleached bone at the edge of the sand-hills, blinked in the clear air. They were carried down amidst swirls and topplings of waves in the wake of a ketch, while the mumble of the bar grew in their ears. Beyond the ragged horizon of grey breakers the day had gone, clouded and dull, leaving a purplish pallor on the cold sea.
The waves slid and rose under the masted ship, pushing the white surge of the bar from her bows. A crest rolled under her keel and she pitched into the left a trough. On the left a mist arose off a bank of grey boulders, on which a destroyer lay broken and sea-scattered. It had lain there for years, in bits like beetle fragments in a gorse-spider's grey web-tunnel. One of the great seas that drive the flying spume over the pot-wallopers' grazing marsh had thrown it up on the Pebble Ridge. During the day Tarka and Greymuzzle had slept under the rusty plates, curled warm on the wave-worn boulders rolled there by the seas along Hercules Promontory.
Two hours after midnight the otters had swum five miles along the shallow coast and had reached the cave of the headland, which Greymuzzle had remembered when she had felt her young kick inside her. The tide left deep pools among the rocks, which the otters searched for blennies and gobies, and other little fish which lurked under the seaweed. They caught prawns, which were eaten tail first, but the heads were never swallowed. With their teeth they tore mussels off the rocks, and holding them in their paws, they cracked them and licked out the fish. While Greymuzzle was digging out a sand-eel, Tarka explored a deep pool where dwelt a one-clawed lobster. It was hiding two yards under a rock, at the end of a cleft too narrow to swim up. Four times he tried to hook it out with his forepad, the claws of which were worn down with sand-scratching, and in his eagerness to get at it he tore seaweed with his teeth. The lobster had been disturbed many times in its life, for nearly every man of the villages of Cryde and Ham had tried to dislodge it with long sticks to which they had lashed hooks. The lobster had lost so many claws that after nine had been wrenched off, its brain refused to grow any more. Its chief enemy was an old man named Muggy, who went to the pool every Sunday morning at low springtide with a rabbit skin and entrails, which he threw into the water to lure it forth from the cleft. The lobster was too cunning, and so it lived.
The otters rested by day on a ledge in the cave under the headland. Here dwelt Jarrk the seal, who climbed a slab below them by shuffles and flapping jumps. Sometimes Tarka swam in the pools of the cave, rolling on his back to bite the drops of ironwater which dripped from the rocky roof, but only when Jarrk was away in the sea, hunting the conger where the rocks of Bag Leap ripped foam out of the tide.
The greatest conger of Bag Leap, who was Garbargee, had never been caught, for whenever it saw Jarrk the seal, its enemy, it hid far down in the crab-green water, in a hole in the rocks of the deepest pool, where lay shell-crusted cannon and gear of H.M. sloop Weazel wrecked there a century before. When no seal was about, Garbargee hung out of the hole and stared, unblinkingly, for fish, which it pursued and swallowed. One morning as Tarka, hungry after a stormy night, was searching in the thong-weed five fathoms under the glimmering surface, something flashed above him, and looking up, he saw a narrow head with a long hooked preying beak two large webs ready to thrust in chase of fish. This was Oylegrin the shag, whose oily greenish-black feathers reflected light. The. smooth narrow head flickered as Oylegrin shifted his gaze, and a pollack below mistook the flicker for a smaller surface-swimming fish. The pollack turned to rise and take it, and the shag saw the gleam of its side at the same time as Tarka saw it. Oylegrin tipped up and kicked rapidly downwards, faster than an otter could swim. Its tight feathers glinted and gleamed as it pursued the pollack. Garbargee also saw the pollack and uncurled a muscular tail from its hold on a jut of rock. The conger was longer than a man is tall, and thicker through the body than Tarka. It weighed ninety pounds. It waved above the weedy timbers, and as it passed over, crabs hid in the mouths of cannon.
Bird, animal, and fish made a chasing arrowhead whose tip was the glinting pollack; conger the flexible shaft, otter and shag the barbs. Oylegrin swam with long neck stretched out, hooked beak ready to grip, while it thrust with webbed feet farther from the bubbles which ran out of its gullet. The pollack turned near Tarka, who swung up and followed it. Oylegrin braked and swerved with fourteen short stiff tail-feathers and one upturned web. The pollack turned down a sheer rock hung with thong-weed, but meeting Tarka, turned up again and was caught by Oylegrin.
The chasing arrowhead buckled against the rock, in a tangle of thongs and ribbons and bubbles shaking upwards. The giant conger had bitten the shag through the neck. Wings flapped, a grating, muffled cry broke out of a bottle of air. Tarka's mouth opened wide, but his teeth could not pierce the conger's skin. The gloom darkened, for an opaqueness was spreading where there had been movement.
Now Jarrk the seal, who had been searching round the base of the rock, saw an otter rising to the surface, and was swinging up towards him when he saw a conger eel wave out the opaqueness, which was Oylegrin's blood staining the green gloom. Garbargee held the shag in its jaws. The undersea cloud was scattered by the swirls of flippers as the seal chased the conger. Garbargee dropped the shag, and the cleft of rock received its grey tenant. Jarrk swung up with a bend of his smooth body, and lay under the surface with only his head out, drink-ing fresh air, and looking at Tarka six yards away. Wuff, wuff, said Jarrk, playfully. Iss, iss, cried Tarka, in alarm. The pollack escaped, and later on was feeding with other fish on the crab-nibbled corpse of the shag. (pp. 121-25)
The moor knew the sun before it was bright, when it rolled red and ragged through the vapours of creation, not blindingly rayed like one of its own dandelions. The soil of the moor is of its own dead, and scanty; the rains return to the lower ground, to the pasture and cornfields of the valleys, which are under the wind, and the haunts of men.
The moor knew the sun before it was bright, when it rolled the falcons, and the hawks, pitiless despoilers of rooted and blooded things which man has collected and set apart for himself; so they are killed. Olden War against greater despoilers began to end with the discoveries of iron and gunpowder; the sabre-toothed tigers, the bears, the wolves, all are gone, and the fragments of their bones lie on the rock of the original creation, under the lichens and grasses and mosses, or in the museums of towns. Once hunted himself, then hunting for necessity, man now hunts in the leisure of his time; but in nearly all those who through necessity of life till fields, herd beasts, and keep fowls, these remaining wildings of the moors have enemies who care nothing for their survival. The farmers would exterminate nearly every wild bird and animal of prey, were it not for the land-owners, among whom are some who care for the wildings because they are sprung from the same land of England, and who would be unhappy if they thought the country would know them no more. For the animal they hunt to kill in its season, or those other animals or birds they cause to be destroyed for the continuance of their pleasure in sport—which they believe to be natural—they have no pity; and since they lack this incipient human instinct, they misunderstand and deride it in others. Pity acts through the imagination, the higher light of the world, and imagination arises from the world of things, as a rainbow from the sun. A rainbow may be beautiful and heavenly, but it will not grow corn for bread.
Within the moor is the Forest, a region high and tree-less, where sedge grasses grow on the slopes to the sky. In early summer the wild spirit of the hills is heard in the voices of curlews. The birds fly up from solitary places, above their beloved and little ones, and float the wind in a sweet uprising music. Slowly on spread and hollow wings they sink, and their cries are trilling and cadent, until they touch earth and lift their wings above their heads, and poising, loose the last notes from their throats, like gold bubbles rising into the sky again. Tall and solemn, with long hooped beaks, they stalk to their nestlings standing in wonder beside the tussocks. The mother-bird feeds her singer, and his three children cry to him. There are usually but three, because the carrion crows rob the curlews of the first egg laid in each nest. Only when they find the broken empty shell do the curlews watch the crows, black and slinking, up the hillside.
Soon the curlew lifts his wings and runs from his young, trilling with open beak; his wings flap, and up he flies to fetch song from heaven to the wilderness again.
A tarn lies under two hills, draining water from a tussock-linked tract of bog called The Chains. The tarn is deep and brown and still, reflecting rushes and reeds at its sides, the sedges of the hills, and the sky over them. The northern end of the tarn is morass, trodden by deer and ponies. Water trickles away under its southern bank, and hurries in its narrow course by falls, runnels, pools, and cascades. One afternoon Tarka climbed out of the rillet's bed, scarcely wider than himself, and looked through green hart's-tongue ferns at the combe up which he had travelled. Nothing moved below him except water. He walked up the hill, and saw the tarn below him. He heard the dry croaking of frogs, and ran down the bank that dammed the dark peat-water. A yard down the slope he stopped.
A hen-raven, black from bristled beak to toes, hopped along the edge of the tarn when she saw him. Tarka heard small plopping sounds and saw ripples in the water, where bullfrogs had dived off the bank. The raven took three hops to a pile of dead frogs, then stopped, crouched down, poked out her head with flattened feathers, and gazed at Tarka. Her small eyes flickered with the whitish-grey membranes of the third eye-lids. The raven was not afraid of an otter.
She had been fishing for frogs by dapping the water with her beak. Hearing the noises, the bullfrogs swam to the surface and turned with bulging eyes towards the dapping. The raven made a dry and brittle croak. When the frogs heard it, the skin swelled under their necks, and they croaked a challenge, mistaking the noises for the struggle of a choking female. They swam within a few inches of the raven's beak. One, perhaps two, would leap out of the water, and then the raven opened her beak and caught one, perhaps two. She was very quick. She hopped with them to her pile, spiked them through the head, and walked quietly to another fishing place. She could carry eight or nine frogs in her craw at once to her nest of young in a rocky clitter near the head of the river Exe. When loaded, she flew with gaping beak.
Tarka lifted his head and worked his nostrils. The steadfast glance of the small eyes along the black beak pointed at him. He smelled the frogs, took three quaddling steps towards the raven, and stopped again. The raven did not move, and he did not like her eyes. He turned away. She hopped after him, and nipped the tip of his rudder as he slipped into the tarn.
Krok-krok-krok! said the raven, cocking an eye at the sky. Tarka lay in the water and watched her picking up frog after frog and pouching them, before she jumped off the bank and flew over the eastern hill.
When she returned, her mate was with her. They soared above the tarn. Sometimes the cock-raven shut his wings, rolled sideways, and twirled on open wings again. Krok-krok! he said to the hen, seeing below the form of the swimming otter, darker than the dark tarn. The raven opened his beak wide, set his wings for descent, and croaked kron-n-n-n-nk during the slow, dip-ping swoop, in the curve of a scythe, from one green-lined margin to the other. Then he tumbled and twirled, alighting on the slope of the hill, and walked down to the water to catch frogs.
Several times each day the two ravens flew to the tarn. The cockbird talked to Tarka whenever he saw him, and pestered him when he was sunning himself on the bank. He would hop to within a few feet of him with a frog in his beak, and drop it just to windward of Tarka's nose. Once, when Tarka was playing with a frog and had turned his back on it for a moment, the raven picked it up and threw it to one side. Bird and otter played together, but they never touched one another. The raven, who was one of the three hundred sons of Kronk, would drop a stick into the tarn and Tarka would swim after it, bringing it to the bank and rolling with it between his paws. Occasionally the raven slyly pinched his rudder, and Tarka would run at him, tissing through his teeth. With flaps and hops the raven dodged him, flying up out of his way only when driven to water.
Day after day Tarka slept in the rushes in the morass at the north end of the tarn. Unless he was tired after the nightly prowl, the kron-n-n-n-k of the zooming raven would always wake him, and he would either run along the bank or swim by the weeds to play with the bird. One morning five ravens flew over the tarn, the hen leading three smaller ravens in line and the father behind them—a black constellation of Orion. They lit on the turf of the dam. The youngsters sat on the bank and watched their mother dapping for frogs. Tarka ran along the bank, amid guttural squawks and cronks, to play with them, but the parents stabbed at him with their beaks, beating wings in his face, and hustling him back to water. They flew over him when he bobbed for breath, and worried him so persistently that he never again went near a raven. (pp. 210-15)