 Item number SCP-202, Object Class, Safe Special Containment Procedures Research is being conducted on SCP-202 at Bioresearch Area 12. Here, researchers are actively seeking to understand and cure the condition plaguing SCP-202. He is granted full amenities of Level 0 personnel quarters when not being examined. SCP-202 is under the assumption that he is in the hospital, and is not to be made aware that his doctors are in fact SCP researchers. Description SCP-202 is an Asian-British male, 41 years of age, who performs all actions in reverse. He does not appear to age in reverse, but speaks, eats, walks, and performs all other actions opposite to what is considered normal. SCP-202 speaks in reverse English with a British accent. Recording his speech and playing it backwards at one-to-one speed allows for normal communication. The subject asserts that he was a normal individual living in Stockport, England, until he woke up one morning four years ago, and found that every action he have attempted to do, he did in reverse. He pledges that no matter how hard he tries, he is unable to carry out normal patterns of motion. He also claims to be unable to explain how he is able to walk backwards through crowded halls without bumping into others, or other inexplicable acts. Watching SCP-202 is particularly frustrating to foundation biologists and physicists. Rather than acting as a pump, the chambers of his heart act as vacuums, pulling his blood towards the heart in arteries, and pushing it away in veins. SCP-202 actually exhales oxygen and processes carbon dioxide. Researchers are fervently seeking answers to how his respiratory system works and if, on the molecular level, the Krebs cycle of metabolism could possibly run in reverse. His eating habits confound researchers as well, as food comes up from his stomach and out his mouth and undergoes a reverse chew. For example, when eating a sandwich, SCP-202 somehow regurgitates a bolus of food that reverse chews into a portion of sandwich. Boluses are added from SCP-202 into a complete sandwich that defies laws of both physics and biology. The resulting sandwich is completely normal and edible according to research. SCP-202 claims that he isn't aware of what he's going to eat until it starts coming. As for waste, when SCP-202 needs to, data expunged. SCP-202 does not think in reverse and cannot foresee the future, as some personnel believe. He is rather good at Rubik's cubes and enjoys dismantling jigsaw puzzles. Addendum. Direct order from commander expunged. We're not having any more discussion about what happens when 202 goes to the bathroom. I think we can all paint a pretty picture of what goes on in there. The damned scientists can't explain where it comes from and neither can the plumbers, so let's just leave it at that. The poor man has enough problems. Give him the courtesy of a little privacy. Until the quacks can come up for a reason to study it, I want all data on the topic expunged. Item number. SCP-224. Object Class. Euclid. Special Containment Procedures. Item SCP-224 is to be stored in a soundproof enclosure with acoustic destructive interference nodes. Nodes must be replaced on a weekly basis by remote means, due to the erratic nature of SCP-224's effect. Non-class depersonnel are not to enter the enclosure. Additionally, SCP-224's enclosure must be kept free from moisture to avoid rapid oxidation. In the event that the clock begins to chime, all personnel must evacuate the area, and the location should be secured following procedure ZYT-77. Description. SCP-224 is a wooden grandfather clock, accented with a black lacquer and gold leaf. Markings, remotely observed, date its origin at the end of the 19th century. Though internal examination of its components has been done, the density and construction of its gears make method of function impossible to interpret. The hands of the clock do not move with any known consistency, though the tendency seems to be generally clockwise. Additionally, chimes occur at non-regular intervals, ranging from approximately one minute to several months. To further complicate matters, the numbers on the clock also have a tendency to move and shift, though they generally retain ascending order. Each chime has an anomalous acoustic signature that causes a drastic localized temporal acceleration. People and objects in range of the sound begin to age. The amount of time is not consistent with the chimes, ranging from essentially inconsequential amounts to several years, though the amount aged during any single event is consistent for all objects within the field of effect. SCP-224 was originally found in the antique shop, and purchased by Mr. Brown as a gift for his wife. When brought home and wound, the anomalous properties were noticed, though not acted upon, both apparently considering the object broken. Their bodies were discovered in their collapsed house two days later, aged significantly. Foundation personnel monitoring the house took interest, and SCP-224 was subsequently recovered. Foundation agents were unfortunately lost following exposure during transportation. Any instances of SCP-224 retaining any numeric pattern for an extended period should be reported to Dr. Locke. Failure to do so will result in suspension and possible demotion. Addendum SCP-224 Catalogged Incidents Due to repeated errors on the part of the maintenance crews working on containment for SCP-224, Dr. Simmons insisted that the following report be spread among the on-site work crews to fully stress the importance of SCP-224's containment. After its circulation, it was added to the primary case file for historical purposes. Today, I had the pleasure of informing Agent Brown that he is to be given retirement pay and is free to leave active duty as of this evening. It was not initially approved by Director Brown until I explained the circumstances. Agent Brown, who is the father of Alice and husband of Marilee, was walking past the SCP-224 containment facility on Friday, March 17, 1981. He was reporting to his supervisor's office to deliver the final report on SCP-224, which he was instrumental in helping acquire. Because SCP-224's effect is so unpredictable, he had no way of knowing that the object had activated until the acoustic dampening equipment failed, leading to the collapse of the wall. At this time, said agent was exposed to seven iterations of SCP-224's effect. The first one saw him age into his mid-thirties. Those of you who have seen the video are aware that this wasn't a drastic change. However, by the second exposure, he was now well into his forties. There was significant graying of hair. By the third iteration, he was balding, and we estimate his age reached into the early sixties. By the fourth, his skin had noticeably wrinkled, with liver spots appearing in several places. By the sixth iteration, Agent Brown collapsed due to a broken hip, fracturing several ribs, and his left arm. It was at this time that he lost control of his bowels and bladder. When the seventh iteration ended, containment had to be manually re-established. At this time, said agent is estimated to be over 100 years old. As a note, Agent Brown volunteered for termination and examination of SCP-224's effects should the retirement pay he was now technically entitled to be rewarded to his family. I heartily thank Director Brown and said agent for giving us this opportunity to study SCP-224's effect. I hope you'll remember in the future that while some SCPs kill immediately, others do not. Others leave lingering effects that have ramifications for the people and the families of the people who are subjected to them. Dr. Rosmusson was down the hall from Agent Brown. He is now a 35-year-old man in an elderly body. Assistant researcher Jessup, who was pregnant when she was exposed in the same incident, died when her child was forced through her abdomen. Her son is a 40-year-old man with the mind of an infant. Dr. Quinn's undiagnosed case of bladder cancer consumed his entire abdomen in a matter of moments. Please keep these incidents in mind before failing to replace the perfectly fine acoustic nodes in the containment enclosure. Dr. Jay Simmons, Head of Containment, SCP-224. Item number, SCP-235, Object Class, Safe. Special Containment Procedures. Currently, four instances of SCP-235 have been recovered. All instances are to be kept in a secure storage locker within reliquary research and containment site 76. Authorization of two Clearance Level 2 staff is required to remove an instance of SCP-235 from storage for research and testing purposes. Description. SCP-235 appeared to be shellac phonograph records of the type commonly produced in the late 1920s. Each instance of SCP-235 has a white label with a title in black lettering. Each record contains a different song. They are as follows. Instance. SCP-235-1. Title. After you get what you want, you don't want it. Artist in year. Van and Schenck, 1920. Number of skips per play. Four. Instance. SCP-235-2. Title. Dark Was the Night. Artist in year. Blind Willie Johnson, 1927. Number of skips per play. Five. Instance. SCP-235-3. Title. Who's Sorry Now? Artist in year. Marion Harris, 1923. Number of skips per play. Seven. Instance. SCP-235-4. Title. Unknown. Artist in year. Unknown. Number of skips per play. 15. SCP-235-4 has no label and contains a song that has not been identified. The tune has no lyrics and is a slow, mournful dirge. Each instance of SCP-235 creates an identical phenomenon when played at speeds between 77 and 79 RPM. All objects within a certain distance of the recording correlated with the volume at which it plays appear to freeze in place whenever the record skips or is unable to play a section of the recording. This freeze lasts for a set duration, approximately times the amount of time skipped. Those affected do not perceive the freeze and will continue as they were before it began, unless outside stimulus is introduced to alert them to the gap in time. During the freeze, all motion in the affected area stops completely. Objects thrown or falling will remain in midair. Individuals do not breathe or blink and even chemical reactions, such as fire, will simply pause in a manner visually similar to pausing a movie. During this time, any individual outside range of effect, hereby known as an observer, may enter the area and interact with affected objects. Any object or individual willfully contacted, either directly or via another object, by an observer, will resume normal behavior. That is, objects will fall, individuals will begin moving, breathing and thinking and chemical reactions will resume. All others remain frozen as before until either touched by an observer or the effect ends. This unfreezing effect appears to be entirely subjective. Only objects that the observer touches or influences intentionally will resume normal activity. Common phenomena such as rain and wind will not have any effect on the area and will behave as though all objects and individuals in the affected area are rigid and non-absorbent. Instances of SCP-235 and the devices playing them cannot be interacted with during a freeze. All forces, up to and including plastic explosives, have proven unable to affect either device while in this state. Neither copies nor recordings of SCP-235 exhibit any of the anomalous effects displayed by SCP-235. It is believed that the effects of SCP-235 are caused by an anomaly specific to the records themselves and is not attributable to the contents of the records. SCP-235-1 was found in 1940. It was discovered atop a record player, found at the scene of the murder of Data Expunged, who was at the time president of the R-Corporation. SCP-235-2 was found still spinning at a wedding between Data Expunged. Both bride and groom were found murdered by single gunshot wounds to the head with no witnesses, despite both individuals being discovered dead on the dance floor at the reception. SCP-235-3 was found following reports of a time-traveling tune, at the time in the hands of several college students who were administered Class B amnestics and released. SCP-235-4 was discovered firsthand by Foundation agents investigating a person of interest, believed to be a member of... Agents discovered him dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. On his desk was SCP-235-4 with a note reading. This one has served us well, but is nearly full. You know what to do. Addendum 235-001, an additional anomalous property was discovered while Dr. Brown was attempting to discern the properties of SCP-235's effect. Dr. Brown ordered a D-class under the influence of SCP-235 shot and killed from a distance. While this in and of itself produced little useful data, it was noted on the next playthrough that the record skipped in a location where it had previously played smoothly. Further testing confirmed that each time an individual dies while affected by SCP-235, the instance that produced the effect is damaged slightly, producing another section of the song that is likely to skip. Multiple deaths during a single skip appeared to correlate with the new skip being longer in duration, but a consistent pattern has not emerged. Item number, SCP-276. Object Class, Euclid. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-276 is to be indefinitely more at its site than its docks, with access given only to personnel with level three clearance or higher, considering its unique qualities. No objects are originating from an earlier or possibly later, era that our own are to be taken onto SCP-276 due to the potential for loss of valuable materials. Regular maintenance is to be carried out after SCP-276 has been made incapable of operation due to containment issues. Description, SCP-276 has a variable shape, size and mass, but always appears to be a nautical vessel of make and model relevant to whatever era it exists in. Currently, it takes the form of a large sailing schooner, 19.93 meters or 304.9 feet in length and weighing 1,360 metric tons. Under normal conditions, SCP-276 operates as a standard sailing vessel capable of achieving 16.2 knots at optimal conditions regardless of its current manifestation. On SCP-276's bridge near the wheel of the ship is a throttle labeled forward, back and back again. Usage of any of these functions will activate SCP-276's ability to travel through time while taking anyone currently on the vessel as well. This ability is only limited by the requirement that the era in question possess some form of boat. Attempts made to travel before the emergence of human life have failed as well as trips made into the far future. The throttle will act in relation to the current era with the exception of back again, which will return SCP-276 to modern time. It is unknown if operation of SCP-276 can fundamentally alter history due to the retroactive nature of time. Any changes made would have already taken effect and all current research into SCP-276 is related to making sure that any possible manipulation of the timeline does not occur. Of note is the anti-anachronistic nature of SCP-276. Beyond its tendency to change its form to the respective era it resides in, all non-human objects on SCP-276 will alter as well to become time appropriate. A flashlight taken back to the early 1700s will revert to a more primitive form of illumination such as a gas lamp. Organic life is unaffected with the exception of creatures that either do not exist yet or have ceased to exist. In both cases, the animal will become another species from the closest taxonomic rank it shares. Dead persons brought to modern times are similarly affected, becoming an entirely different person. Genealogical testing reveals that the subjects are data-expunged. Note, SCP-276 is not, I repeat, not to be used as a recreational device, especially involving exploitation of SCP-276's temporal qualities. Temporarily restricting access to level four personnel until further notice. Dr. Addendum. As of the newly formed Mobile Task Force row five, stitch in time is to be assigned to and given full security clearance involving use of SCP-276. After taking into consideration SCP-276's ability to fix anachronisms and errors in time, all missions involving temporal tampering are to be headed by row five. Item number. SCP-281. Object Class. Safe. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-281 is currently contained within maximum security storage locker 18E on level seven of research, reliquary in containment site 76. SCP-281's lithium ion battery pack is to remain plugged into the site's main power grid, unless used in testing. Necessary cables have been supplied and are stored with the object. Because of the nature of the object's anomalous properties, testing on SCP-281 is to be authorized by the level four senior member of research staff currently assigned to this project. D-class personnel used in testing are not to be informed on the nature of SCP-281. Description. SCP-281 is a makeshift device measuring approximately 25 centimeters by 35 centimeters by 20 centimeters. Built into the device is a high capacity lithium ion laptop battery to provide power. In addition, the object incorporates a variety of components from such diverse sources as a Phillips brand alarm clock, a digital kitchen timer of unknown makin' model, a NECPC-8201A portable computer, and a USB keypad, brand unknown. Attempts to reverse engineer it have thus far not yielded any significant results. SCP-281 is currently not believed to be functioning as intended by its creator. SCP-281's effects become apparent when the following tasks are performed in the correct sequence. One, subject sets an alarm using the alarm clock interface. Two, subject waits for the alarm to sound and presses the alarm clock's snooze button. The depression of the snooze button triggers the creation of a localized temporal anomaly around SCP-281. The area affected is a spherical field with an approximate radius of six meters centered on SCP-281 and designated SCP-281-1. Personnel and items outside this anomaly are not affected in any way. How the device creates the temporal anomaly is unknown at this time. The kitchen timer component of SCP-281 will display nine minutes when SCP-281-1 is created and begin counting down. Setting the kitchen timer to any other amount of minutes or seconds prior to activation does not appear to have any effect on SCP-281's functioning. Within SCP-281-1, time passes at a highly increased rate with nine minutes lapsing inside it compared to approximately one millisecond outside. From the perspective of those inside the temporal anomaly, time moves at a normal rate. While outside of SCP-281-1, time appears to have effectively stopped. Note, this effect is similar in nature to the Wonder Zoom feature of SCP-2445. While no link between the creation of these objects is believed to exist, examination of this documentation provides further insight into the nature of paratechnological temporal distortions. Subjects within SCP-281-1 can move around within its limits, but attempts to have subjects cross from an active instance of SCP-281-1 into an area beyond its influence have invariably resulted in subjects undergoing massive and acute cellular disruption along the line, separating those parts inside and those outside of SCP-281-1. A similar effect has been observed on subjects and objects brought into an instance of SCP-281-1 from outside its area of effect. It has proven possible to move SCP-281-1 by transporting SCP-281 to a different location while active, but any materials, biological or otherwise, immediately suffer a massive cellular and molecular disruption as described above. Any organic material present within SCP-281-1 when the device is activated is subject to normal biological processes over the period of time that lapses inside SCP-281-1. To those outside of SCP-281-1, no time appears to have passed. If subjects present in an active instance of SCP-281-1 have moved during the period of time SCP-281-1 was active, they will seem to have teleported to their new location. As the timer reaches zero minutes and zero seconds, the alarm sounds again and time inside and outside of the instance of SCP-281-1 are instantaneously resynchronized. Due to the abrupt nature of this event, subjects inside SCP-281-1 when the nine-minute period expires suffer effects resembling severe decompression sickness. Known treatments for that condition have been proven to be equally effective in treating SCP-281-1 test subjects. Addendum 281A01, recovery and preliminary containment notes. On date undisclosed, a remote monitoring station picked up encrypted transmissions emanating from a location in the mountains. After decryption, the transmissions were found to be reporting progress on a project referred to as Full Circle and SCP-281 was secured by a Foundation airborne recovery team during a raid on a fortified hiker's cabin. The device's creator, a 36-year-old African-American male identified post-mortem as . . . exhibited erratic and aggressive behavior when encountered. No evidence exists of an affiliation with any known GOI or other organization. Item number, SCP-292, Object Class, Euclid, Special Containment Procedures. SCP-292 is to be kept at Site-72 in a guarded room in a locked padded container set up to avoid movement of or damage to SCP-292. Access to SCP-292 is prohibited without Level 3 authorization. Site personnel must report all incidents of deja vu or related symptoms to Site administration. Description, SCP-292 is a 60-second brass hourglass, 10 centimeters tall. When all its sand is at the bottom, and SCP-292 is flipped over, only two outcomes have ever been observed. Either the sand runs out normally after one minute, or SCP-292 is knocked over on its side. If SCP-292 is knocked over, anomalous properties do not again manifest until all the sand in SCP-292 is in one bulb. At no time has SCP-292 ever been observed to be flipped over a second time within 60 seconds, except when knocked over as above. Anytime SCP-292 is upright, and all its sand is in its bottom bulb, and a subject attempts to flip SCP-292 over, with the intent to flip it again before all its sand runs out, the subject and people nearby suddenly experience deja vu. The intensity of deja vu is inversely proportional to a person's distance from SCP-292. The subject is often momentarily stunned by the experience. Persons experiencing deja vu from the same event often describe similar recalled experiences. It is believed that when SCP-292 is flipped over, a process is started in which, if SCP-292 is flipped again before its sands run out, time flows in reverse to a point a couple of seconds before SCP-292 was initially flipped. Time then flows forward again as if SCP-292 were never flipped. Deja Vu would thus be a side effect of this process. Prolonged exposure to SCP-292 can cause nausea, migraines, vertigo, hallucinations, seizures, and symptoms consistent with temporal disjunction, somatic psychological, or both. Addendum 1, experiment 292-31, procedure. Subject 0-3-1-0-1 was instructed to flip SCP-292 over and then shoot Subject 0-3-1-0-2 to death and flip SCP-292 back over before it runs out. Results, as Subject 1 reached for SCP-292, both subjects, as well as other personnel in the area reported feeling deja vu. Subject 1 exhibited elevated levels of adrenaline, while Subject 2 exhibited elevated levels of adrenaline, while Subject 2 exhibited pronounced apprehension in the presence of Subject 1. Addendum 2, experiment 292-46, procedure. Subject 0-4-6-0-1 was instructed to flip SCP-292 over, wait 30 seconds, and flip SCP-292 back over. When deja vu was experienced, Subject 0-4-6-0-2 was instructed to do the same thing. When deja vu was experienced a second time, Subject 0-4-6-0-3 was instructed to do the same thing. Results, as Subject 1 reached for SCP-292, all subjects experienced deja vu as expected. Subject 2 hesitated and was instructed to flip SCP-292. While reaching for SCP-292, Subject 2 fell to his knees. Subject 1 doubled over, and Subject 3 staggered. Subject 3 was instructed to flip SCP-292, and as he reached for SCP-292, all subjects appeared to exhibit temporal shock for 10 to 15 seconds before falling unconscious. Temporal symptoms subsided within five to seven days, while visual and audio hallucinations persisted for several months more. Addendum 3, incident 292-0-4. While preparing for experiment 292-75, Dr. Pratt suddenly clutched SCP-292 to his chest and reported he had just experienced deja vu. Dr. Pratt said that he felt like he was about to drop SCP-292, and if he did, something bad would happen. Dr. Pratt has hypothesized that Dr. Pratt had indeed dropped SCP-292, but instead of breaking, SCP-292 reversed the flow of time until a moment before it was dropped. If SCP-292 does in fact possess such a self-preservation system, the potential consequences, data expunged. Reclassification to Euclid approved until more information on SCP-292's properties can be gathered and analyzed. Item number, SCP-317. Object Class, Safe. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-3171 is to be preserved in a vat of liquid nitrogen. Requests for tissue samples from SCP-3171 must be made in writing. All research into tissue samples from SCP-3171 must be in compliance with Class 5 Biohazard Protocols. Examination of SCP-3172 must be done in Class 3 Clean Room Facilities. Requests for examination of 3172 must be made in writing. SCP-3173 has been disassembled. The parts are stored in separate locations. Requests for examination of 3173 must be made in writing to two separate O5-level personnel. No two components of SCP-3173 may be brought within 100 kilometers of each other. Description. SCP-3171 is the cadaver of a sapient reptilian entity tentatively identified as a previously unknown species of Pachycephalosaurid. Subject was bipedal, female, and 3 meters tall and wore clothing made from synthetic polymers. Subject also wore corrective lenses. Subject was largely herbivorous and had prehensile digits. Subject's metabolism was adapted to a higher atmospheric oxygen content, and therefore, subject wore a respirator device when not in its quarters. Biochemical analysis post-mortem, radopsins, mitochondria, homeobox genes, cytochrome P450 confirms that SCP-3171 shared common ancestry with current Earth life. Autopsy records are available in Archive 317b685. In the 40 days between its arrival and foundation custody and its death from a lactobacillus infection, SCP-3171 learned to communicate via a combination of sign language, crude vocalizations, and drawings. Video Archive 317b36 shows interview sessions with SCP-3171. Drawings made by SCP-3171 are available in Archive 317b42, General Access, basic anatomical figures, interactions between itself and foundation personnel, demonstration of knowledge of mathematics, demonstration of knowledge of chemistry, demonstration of knowledge of nuclear physics, and Archive 317b58, restricted access, circuit diagrams, mechanical schematics, data expunged. SCP-3172 is the personal effects of SCP-3171, a tunic, a robe, a tool belt, six tools, corrective lenses, an oxygen mask, three empty oxygen tanks, a fire-damaged document pouch made from synthetic polymers, and its fire-damaged contents, and a fire-damaged digital camera whose contents were unrecoverable. SCP-3173 is the fire-damaged remains of what is believed to have been a time machine, which SCP-3171 was attempting to repair at the time it was taken into custody by the Foundation. Preliminary testing of the intact components revealed data expunged, at which point all testing was halted, and SCP-3173 was disassembled. Note, there's something wrong with this one, people. A technological civilization should have left some trace in the stratigraphic record. If there was a Holocene epic before us, where did the evidence go? Doctor, it's not just the complete lack of trace in the fossil record. It's the species. How could it have been a Pachycephalosaur that developed intelligence? They were at best average for Cretaceous fauna. Why not a Trudontid, an Ornithomomid, or another small theropod? There's something going on here that we're missing. Doctor M. Item number, SCP-346, Object Class, Safe. Special Containment Procedures. SCP-346 is to be kept in a store-bought bird cage, at least one meter in height, at 1.5 meters in width either way. No locks or additional security measures are required, as SCP-346 is no stronger nor smarter than the average parakeet. SCP-346's cage is to contain at least two water dishes with standing perches, to be refilled daily, and fed a diet of five to six medium-sized live crickets daily. SCP-346's cage also contains one tree branch for perching, scratching, and climbing. One open-top nest, purchased at a commercial pet store, lined with moss, and a string with bright-colored bells on it for entertainment. The bottom of SCP-346's cage is covered with corn cob-based biodegradable bedding, and is to be cleaned out and replaced every other week. During cleaning, SCP-346 may be either held by hand, allowed to fly around a room with a closed door, or placed in a paper bag with a book over the end to be held out of the way. SCP-346's cage is held in Dr. Wright's office, and may not be moved without her permission. Despite SCP-346's habit of nibbling fingertips and pulling strands of hair, SCP-346 poses no danger upon escape, and may be recaptured gently with either a net or by hand. Description. SCP-346 is a small member of an unidentified family of pterodactyl, ancient flying reptiles. SCP-346 is approximately the size of a small bat, and has very lightweight bone structure. Although its head, wings, and legs are bare, its main body is covered with a soft coat of fur-like dark-colored down. The origin of SCP-346 is unknown, and was purchased by Agent B in a small pet shop in Brazil, being marketed under the name Congomotto. The owner of the pet store claims not to know where SCP-346 came from, having purchased a set of eggs off the black market, of which only one, SCP-346, hatched. Believing them to be from a rare species of parrot, some theories suggest that there may be a large colony of creatures similar to SCP-346 somewhere in South America. Testing has revealed that SCP-346 is an adult, but appears to have had its growth somewhat stunted by malnutrition and being raised in a small, cramped cage. SCP-346 is also a male, and has been nicknamed by staff who find the little creature's appearance charming as Terry. SCP-346 behaves in a manner similar to birds and bats, being most active at dawn and dusk, and energetically flying in whatever space it's given, snapping up insects either out of the air or off the ground in branches. SCP-346 chirps and squeaks in a manner similar to birds and rodents, and is most vocal during the evening hours. Some describe this as endearing, others as annoying. Addendum one. After the discovery of SCP-1265, some theories suggest that there may be a large colony of creatures similar to SCP-346 somewhere in South America. However, the existence of SCP-346 implies that these alleged colonies, should they exist, do not possess the same anomalous properties as SCP-1265. Addendum two. It has been suggested that further investigation into the origins of SCP-346 should be taken in the hopes of finding a large colony of similar creatures, perhaps indicative of a surviving member of the pterodactyl lineage, or a rip in space and time. SCP-346 should be kept well away from SCP-529 as per request of Dr. Wright's. Lesson complete. To continue with your orientation training, subscribe to SCP Orientation right now and make sure you don't miss any of our upcoming videos.