velvet antlers

I’ve no interest in starting the troll bone/horn discourse but I’m always game to dispense science/biology/zoology knowledge! 

This also brings up the difference between horns, antlers and ossicones too when we talk about troll horns.

Horns: bone with keratin coated over the top. These have a capacity to heal and grow

Antlers: not bone, similar stuff but less tough and also dead. Often these are temporary/seasonal because they cannot heal from damage

Ossicones: entirely made of bone and straight up just chunks of angry sharp skull. Usually have fur or tough skin on top.

Since Alternian horns are always referred to as horns and grow larger as they age, they are most likely living horn. Y’all don’t have to head canon this but since there’s no current lore going around of trolls having their horns suddenly drop off or horrifying insect antler velvet that comes off in bleeding strips. I’m gonna say horns. Although if we wanted to get inventive we could go for ossicones with some crazy skin growing over. Or even some kind of extrapolation based on bug antenna/integument. Because why not.


The Big Guy, Denali by David & Shiela Glatz
Via Flickr:
Huge bull Moose (Alces alces) with antlers in velvet, Denali National Park, Alaska.

anonymous asked:

Hey hey! So I've noticed no one really ever mentions this, but has anyone ever used a piece of deer antler for protection? I come from a catholic family but my grandfather would always carry around a piece of polished antler for protection. Wonder if anyone has ever tried this- now I don't mean you take out your hunting rifles and shoot Bambi but if you ever find one, why not try?

I’ve heard of deer antler velvet, which is the growing bone and cartilage of a deer that’s used as medicine. But I have never heard of deer antlers as protective amulets. Maybe my followers have?

Your explanation of it sounds really legit to me and I’d say try it! I don’t have many deer around me but if I ever happen upon an antler, I’ll remember your suggestion, anon ( ^ v ^ )

The Lucky One (a poem)

The Lucky One

Three old men sneak up
on their Golden Years
upwind and quietly as possible
knowing how easy it is to spook
the buck in its 90’s
that constantly sniffs the air
the velvet on its antlers
scuffed off from time
and rough tree limbs
but he’s still magnificent
though few ever reach him
except the ones who
survive the heart attacks
and chemo and dialysis
the divorces and dying spouses
and countless nights in empty homes
where the phone never rings
but occasionally one gets through
who never gave up his cigars
or half a pint of whiskey a day
they call him the lucky one
though often as he hoists
those antlers high for a photo
he’s the only one left of his friends
to have made it that far
giving truth to the phrase
of a lonely victory.



It was a late night, and Hannibal couldn’t sleep. Sometimes work and study and socializing tired him out and let him sleep at a normal hour, and sometimes they left him still keyed up and awake after everyone else went to bed. He was using the time, though. He always did. He was curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and his tablet, working on an update for his profile.

He’d taken commissions for years, first on DeviantArt and then on FurAffinity. Eventually he’d created a fursona of his own. It seemed to make people more comfortable with him, like he was one of them instead of an outsider. So he was drawing a comic of his avatar, a black-furred deer creatively named Buck Juodas, fitfully scratching the velvet off his antlers on a wall.

Halfway through the sketch, he finally felt tired enough to sleep, and he dragged himself off to bed, forgetting to shut down the computer.