observations from an observant observationist

the new river experience — part I

2011-05-16T23:06:00.010-04:00

american redstart. cerulean warbler. brown- and yellow-billed cuckoos. blue- and golden-winged warblers. hooded warbler. pileated woodpecker. spotted sandpiper. field sparrow. broad-winged hawk. scarlet tanager…
just a few of the many beautiful life birds i added to my list.

susan kailholz-williams. beth russell. laura hardy. jay davis. beth goffe. kathi hutton. lynne schoenborn. nina harfmann. heather aubke. julie zickefoose. bill thompson III. vicki luker. dawn fine…
some of the many incredible people with whom i shared the pleasure of birding.

thursday, may 5. friday, may 6. saturday, may 7. sunday, may 8…
the dates of some of the most amazing days of my life.

if ever there was an appropriate time for the use of the word "verklempt," it would be when attempting to describe the feeling one has while immersed in the experience of west virginia's new river birding and nature festival. nestled in the breathtaking mountains of the aforementioned state, new river gorge is nature's best-kept secret. sheltered from the caustic push of "progress," it is a refuge for the soul, a healing elixir for the heart, a respite for the mind…in addition to serving as a rest stop for several species of winged travelers on the long road north from central and south america. while the birds were certainly a major part of this festival—and the reason most, if not all, of the attendees were there in the first place—there were other factors involved in turning the "event" into an unforgettable "experience."

the lodging.

a charming two-story cabin ensconced in a lush, green depression, boasting its own creek which wound its way through the backyard noncommittally, an amazing view of the fertile hillside from the back deck, a dead tree whose snags served as a convenient perch for two amorous red-shouldered hawks, and my favorite part of this home-away-from-home…the hot tub, from within whose tension-relieving recesses one could see more stars than the mind could comprehend.

this is also where i was introduced to some amazing people—"the flock," a clutch of intelligent, talented, like-minded individuals with a penchant for the beauty and wonder of nature and an encyclopedia of knowledge about the inhabitants therein—whose warm acceptance of me into their circle left me feeling as though i was among family. even though i had just met them, i felt like i had known them forever. they contributed greatly to the overall experience, and i can't imagine new river without them. susan, beth r, beth g, jay, laura, nina, heather, kathi, vicki, dawn, lynn, debra (and anyone else i may have left out—i'm not terribly good with names and there were a lot of people to remember)…thank you.

by now, some of you are probably wondering if i actually saw any birds on this birding trip. well, i did; more than i can even recall (did i mention i'm bad with names?). so many, in fact, that i'm creating a separate post just for them. yes, you will probably have to wait a week or so for this post, as there are hundreds of pictures from which to choose (and some id'ing that needs to take place) before it sees the light of day. something to look forward to, though: it will be very heavy on images and most likely very light on words.
*sounds of cheering, clapping, whistling, and other festive noises erupt nationwide in a celbratory chorus*
:|

vernal reflections

2011-04-18T21:02:00.010-04:00

your cool, gentle breeze meanders through meadows, whispers promises in the treetops, lazily caresses my skin, having no real urgency to be anywhere in particular.

your sweet perfume of fresh, new life wafts through the cleansed air—i breathe it into my lungs and hold it there, absorbing its essence into my bloodstream.

a rousing opus announces your arrival—a brilliant composition that shakes the dull hum of winter from my soul—performed by nature's winged prodigies as they busy themselves in a perfectly orchestrated dance of excited, urgent activity.

i bask in the alluring warmth of the sun's invigorating rays; its radiance illuminates my heart as it brings a glow to the hidden beauty all around me, and stirs in me a yearning, restores in me a hope.

spring.

welcome back, my friend.

back to it…finally.

2011-02-26T12:05:00.007-05:00

after a brief hiatus, i've resurrected the blog.

haha. "brief hiatus." understatement of the century, don't you think?

ok, so it's been nearly a year since my last post. why the prolonged absence?

a lot has happened in the last year; none of it very good. in a nutshell (with just a pinch of drama thrown in for effect), i had my heart wrenched from my chest; my emotions twisted and contorted into unrecognizable permutations of their former selves. i wandered through a vast desert of emptiness, void of feeling and hope; adrift in a cold sea of bitterness, confusion, and indifference. (you were warned…)

coaxing every last drop of motivation in me just to get myself out of bed in the morning was a battle of wills tantamount to the physical effort that must have been required to haul the giant boulders of stonehenge from their origin to their final resting place at that famous monument. needless to say, with an internal struggle like that, blogging fell to the bottom of the "things to do today" list.

and then came winter. i abhor winter. everything's dead. i look out my windows and all i see is death. the trees are bare and lifeless, the grass is cold and brown. and i'm freezing all the time. i'm cold in my house, i'm cold at work. so in addition to the emotional deadness weighing me down, i have the deadness of winter pressing its enormous, lifeless mass down on me.

but sometimes, in the midst of the chaos and turmoil, all you need is to see an old friend (or at least someone that resembles and old friend) to stir the passion back up from the mire in which it stagnated for so long. the friend i'm referring to, of course, is shakespeare, the barred owl.

however, this is most likely not shakespeare. so if it's not shakespeare, then it's a heretofore unnamed owl…and we just can't have that. so…

meet lilly.
yes, i realize that this could very well be a male…hear me out. since this one is smaller than shakespeare, it is "lilliputian" in comparison, hence the name "lilly."
(ok, so i just thought of that now. hey, whatever works.)

actually, the name "lilly" just popped into my head as i was talking to her/him. (yes, i talk to the birds i stalk.) the conversation went something like this:
me: "you're not shakespeare. so who are you?"
owl: …
me: "we need to call you something. you need a name. i like my friends to have names."
owl: … blink, blink …
me: "i'll call you 'lilly'. what do you think of that?"
owl: *yawn*

and so it came to be, the owl-that-looked-like-shakespeare-but-wasn't finally had its very own name.

beautiful. it never fails to take my breath away.

i interrupt the sequence of these posts

2010-07-05T20:03:00.002-04:00

to bring you this jewel of a story. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did.

and when you're finished with that, you should read his post on the emu he had in his yard.

nm birds 2 [song sparrow. probably.]

2010-07-04T18:36:00.001-04:00

i was being lazy when i petitioned you all to identify the birds in my next few posts. i never even attempted to look them up; i couldn't make an educated guess when glancing briefly at the photos, so i put the burden on you.

and that's shameful, really. i'm not like that. i have an insatiable thirst for knowledge, especially when it comes to nature. i normally can't spend enough time researching birds or turtles or lizards or spiders… the list goes on. so what's happening? am i getting old? losing my passion, my drive? well, after some quick soul searching, i decided to chalk it up to laziness. pure, good ol' fashioned, 100%, grade-a, premium cut laziness.

and for that, i apologize.

so for this next post, i took a stab at identifying this on my own. i don't know my sparrows very well; only enough to know that's what i would start my search with. my first stop for bird id is always allaboutbirds.org, run by the cornell lab of ornithology. in less than a minute, i came up with my assumption: song sparrow. please let me know if i am off.

(click the picture for a larger version)

if you look closely at these next two shots, you can see that he has some sort of caterpillar in his beak.

(click the picture for a larger version)

(click the picture for a larger version)

i keep referring to it as "he." i assume this because its behavior suggests that of a male. song sparrows typically forage on the ground or low in bushes, doing their best to keep out of sight. males will flit out onto exposed branches to sing, which is what this one was doing. i heard him before i saw him; in fact, that's how i found him — by following his song.

nm birds 1 [steller's jay]

2010-07-03T08:50:00.007-04:00

i recently went back home to new mexico for a family reunion. naturally, no trip to new mexico would be complete without my camera. in fact, clothes were a secondary consideration; as long as i had my camera with me, everything else would work itself out.

yes, i'm obsessed. i have a hard time leaving the house without my camera just to go check the mail. hey, you never know what you might see on the way to the mailbox…

anyway, this is the first of five posts featuring some birds one might see on a vist to the land of enchantment, which include steller's jay (this post), an unidentified hummingbird, an unidentified perching bird, an unidentified bird going to town on some dandelion seeds, and…well, you get the picture: i'm going to need some of my faithful readers to help me identify these ufos (unidentified feathered objects).

but on to the one bird i had no trouble identifying: steller's jay.

(click the picture for a larger version)

these aren't the greatest photos, as composing an ideal shot that morning — one where the jay actually stood still for more than a few seconds, was well-exposed, and where the background and foreground weren't so messy (or if i would have been able to dial in a shallow depth of field) — proved to be very difficult. but despite that, i liked the way the blue patch of sky matched perfectly with the color of the jay's feathers in this next pic.

(click the picture for a larger version)

like a lot of other jays, these guys can be quite noisy when they want to be. adept at mimicry, steller's jays can imitate the sounds of cats, dogs, squirrels, chickens, certain types of machinery, and, of course, other birds. in this particular instance, however, my jay preferred not to break the peaceful morning silence while he hopped around looking for items on the breakfast menu, which can include insects, seeds, nuts, and berries. and like others in the jay family, they also rob other birds' nests for eggs and/or hatchlings.

(click the picture for a larger version)

while that's all very impressive, i just like their "mohawk." in fact, that's one of the first dead giveaways that it's a steller's jay. since their coloring and markings can vary by region, this rebellious hairstyle makes identification pretty fool-proof.

squirrelly

2010-06-09T22:30:00.004-04:00

whole, complete, live squirrels this time!

so, i thought after my last post, i should lighten things up a bit. in that spirit, here are some live squirrels doing what they do best, which is apparently eating, jumping, and defying gravity on the sides of tree trunks. enjoy.

(click the picture for a larger version)

(click the picture for a larger version)

UPDATE: i just found out that the gray squirrel is north carolina's state mammal. (drop that little tidbit of useless trivia at your next social gathering and watch the party come alive…)
i also just noticed that the tree trunk in the second-to-last image lines up perfectly with the line of the squirrel's back in the image below it, as though he was an extension of the trunk. weird.

red-tailed & half-squirrel

2010-06-06T20:56:00.019-04:00

okay! the observationist is back online!
for the time being, anyway.
i'll spare you the details of my computer resurrection adventure — i have a lot of catching up to do, so i'll just cut to the chase…

this post is not for the squeamish. or for people who really like cute little squirrels. but a hawk's gotta eat, and, lacking the shirt and shoes to gain service at subway, panera, pita delight, or other similar fine dining establishments, he opted for a fur-covered, bushy tailed, slow-off-the-draw squirrel instead.

this is not to say i enjoy dead squirrels, but this is nature — what was done was done — and i just captured it. my role of the observer keeps me detached.

squirrels always provide a source of amusement for me, put a smile on my face, and even instill a sense of wonder. i recently watched two of them chase each other up and down and around a tree in what i believe to be a courting ritual. (not that i can tell the difference between male and female squirrels. i just project human traits and behavior patterns on animals until said projections are proven to be wrong or just plain silly, at which point i retract my opinions in favor of cold, hard fact.) one would chase the other up and around a tree trunk, then they would stop, tails held at attention, ears pricked, listening for the tell-tale sounds of claws against bark, then it was off to the races again. they would always pause on opposite sides of the tree, so that at any given moment, neither squirrel could see the other. in essence, they were playing hide-and-seek. this went on for some time, and i never got tired of watching it.

yeah, yeah, the squirrels…amusing. so what about the hawk?

oh yes, the hawk. i'm too easily distracted…

as i've stated in previous posts, i rarely look ahead of me when i'm walking, opting instead to whip my head about as though it is operating on a completely different set of instructions than that of my body, constantly scanning left, right, up, and down while my body continues on, straight ahead, undeterred. this habit has ensured that my neck is left feeling as though i'd been in several consecutive car accidents, rear-ended each time. it has also ensured that i occasionally step off the trail, tripping over roots and crashing through underbrush like a drunk ox. but it has also yielded some great opportunities, as well: the barred owl (featured in a couple of previous posts), a female wolf spider carrying her egg sac (featured later on in this post), a black rat snake draped over some tree branches (he was dead, so he kind of fit in with this post, too), and, of course, the squirrel-eating red-tailed hawk.

finally, the hawk.

i know…thanks for your patience.

not-for-the-squeamish, part I

here is the red-tailed, perched on the branch. at this point, i had not noticed that he was sitting down at — or more accurately, standing on — a meal.

apparently, their eyesight is astounding, because, like most of the other birds i try to photograph, they see me and/or my camera coming, and they bolt. this one was what seemed like a mile away, but sure enough, he spotted me spotting him, and away he went. but first he picked up the meal that i had been unaware of all this time.

cool! another opportunity for a flying sequence with an added bonus!

(click the picture for a larger version)
poor little squirrel. awesome little photo op.

not-for-the-squeamish, part II
i love wolf spiders. they can get quite large and scary looking, but i love the fact that they take such good care of their young. like, for instance, they don't eat them. at least, not readily.

and they will fight to the death to defend their eggs.

when the young have made it past the larval stage, the female bites open the egg sac and the little guys crawl out and onto her back, clinging for dear life to the tiny, bristly hairs that are found there. then they proceed to try not to fall off as the mother resumes her hunting duties. wolf spiders are predatory hunters, chasing down their prey “on foot” rather than building webs, thus the “wolf” part of their name. though i don't believe they hunt in packs.

not-for-the-squeamish, part III
i smelled it before i saw it. i was on the gibson park greenway, having taken a left where the trail splits, rather than my usual right. i take it all in when i'm outdoors: the sights, the sounds…and the smells. on this particular day, i was enjoying the smell of the crisp, cool forest air when it hit me. it was like running into a wall of foul odor, having an almost physical effect on my body upon “impact.” a couple more steps and i was out of it. the smell was immediately recognizable as decaying flesh, so why i turned back to investigate the source of that stench remains a mystery to me, but that's exactly what i did. and that's how i found this guy:

he smelled worse than he looked. in fact, for a minute there, i wondered if he was actually alive and that the smell belonged to something else close by. but his lack of response to my tromping around in the dead leaves next to the tree he was in pretty much convinced me that this was the source.

i had to wonder how he ended up here. my first thought was that he got plucked up by a hawk, then dropped in flight for some reason — maybe he whipped up and bit the hawk, and the hawk dropped him out of surprise? i don't know, but whatever happened, it wasn't a messy death. i noticed one scratch midway between his head and his midsection, but that was it for wounds…and it wasn't a life-threatening wound, at that. i took a few shots, but felt a little weird about it after a few minutes. this was kind of undignified end to his life, me taking pictures of him frozen in his final moment of consciousness on this earth, hanging from a tree. thus, only one picture posted.

well, that wraps up the “squeamish” post. from this point on, my posts will be about creatures that are still actively breathing, flying, leaping, slithering, and/or walking. i guess i was just in a mood with this post. my apologies to those who were expecting something more…lively.

what?! no comments?

2010-04-22T18:14:00.010-04:00

nobody seems very interested in my last two posts.

not that i blame them. i'm not very interested either. i find them quite…lacking. missing something. something that would liven them up… ah, yes… photos!

so much going on this time of year, and i've been capturing a lot of it. i'm dying to post the action, but i like to include those colorful things called photos in my posts. not only does it provide a visual reference to what i'm talking about, but it helps break up the long, boring lines of text.

along the greenway at gibson park, there is an observation deck (which is right smack dab in the middle of that map i just provided a link to). there are some tall trees off to the right (which would be down and to the left on the map), and a great blue heron has decided to make a home and raise a family in the top of one of them.

took lots of pictures of that, and will continue to visit so i can document the progress on the construction of said home.

i've seen some canada geese sitting on eggs, and documented one of them after incubation, hatching, and apparently fledging, although i thought they fledged for about a month. maybe i'm wrong. there are three or four cracked open egg shells around the nest area. i hope that a fox or something didn't get them. i was kind of wondering why the eggs were so far from the nest…

i went out on randleman lake last sunday morning at 9am, and saw an osprey. it flew right over my head. did i get a picture?
of course not. i was too busy sitting in the canoe with my mouth open, not really believing that an osprey was flying directly over my head giving me a perfect photo opportunity. and he was flying slowly, too. as if giving me a chance to put the paddle down, dry my hands, reach for my bag, unzip it, remove my camera, turn it on, get the settings in order, dial the lens to 500mm, and press the shutter release. it sounds like a lot to do while a bird (a life bird, at that) is flying over your head, but as i mentioned earlier, but probably not with enough emphasis, that he was flying s-l-o-w-l-y. and i blew it.

i drove the paddle back into the water with a small measure of annoyance, spun the canoe around, and paddled my butt after that bird. he made another pass — not as close this time, but another pass, nonetheless — and…
i missed that shot, too.
boy, i'm glad i don't shoot nature photos for a living. i'd be homeless, naked, and starving.

i did get a few keepers of some double-crested cormorants perched on the branch of a submerged tree that morning. (that is to say, the cormorants were on the part of the branch that was above the surface, not perched underwater. just thought i should clear that up.)

and later, on the greenway again, i shot some striking mallard specimens. contrary to how it usually works with birds, the female mallard is as beautiful as the male, if not more so. sure, she lacks the iridescent green head and the cool, curled feathers above the tail. but what she lacks in color and style, she makes up for in pattern and contrast. who knew that brown could look so good? the tight consistency of the brown-white feather arrangement had me staring at her intently, hypnotized, as though looking for a hidden 3-d picture in one of those magic eye books.

moths, too. the moths are out and about, and while i don't know moths like i do birds, it doesn't stop me from marveling at their unique and intricate beauty, as well.

well, this concludes today's long, boring, no-photos post. i know how much you were looking forward to it.
at least there was a link to a satellite image to break up the monotony…

more of the same

2010-04-15T18:00:00.019-04:00

that is to say, nothing. day after day of nothing. no working on photos. no updating my blog (with the exception of these nothing posts). no photoshop. no firefox. no facebook, twitter, or email. no hulu…no internet. computer's still dead, with no real concrete solution in the works. two month's worth of great photos, possibly lost forever. i'm trying not to think about it, though.

it's weird not having a computer. or rather, it's weird the way i realized i feel about not having a computer. i don't like to admit it, but there is a sense of freedom, of bliss, a certain elation in being liberated from the shackles of technology, emancipated from the enslaving bonds of aluminum and silicon and blinking lights and whirring fans and the glow of lcd screens.

there is more time to read. to think. to cook. to get outdoors and enjoy the life that awaits outside the four walls. i still take pictures; that won't stop. can't stop. well, at least until i run out of space on my memory card. then i'll need to download them onto a comp…

but i said i was going to try not to think about that.

i guess that's the point of this post (aside from whining about my predicament): that i realized how much time i actually spend in front of my computer. my blog heralds me as an observer of nature. how's that possible if my butt is parked in my chair and my eyes are glued to a couple of monitors? sure, i get out, but in hindsight, my excursions have been nothing more than a quick hit — hit the trails; get to the destination; snap some pictures; okay, cool; now back home to download them and look at them on my… com… pu…

i'm not saying i can do without a computer. no…can't go there. but i think i'll approach my time in front of it from a little different perspective — a perspective that will leave me outdoors a little longer. where an observer of nature belongs.

i hate technology

2010-04-08T12:45:00.009-04:00

in some ways, it has improved our lives significantly; in others, it has made life even more frustrating and difficult.

for instance, try updating your photo blog without a computer.

i was in the middle of composing a long overdue post, when my computer just blinked out and rebooted itself. ok. i had saved my work a few sentences ago, but i knew i lost a couple of good lines. i had my canon photo viewer app open, but wasn't in the middle of anything. i wasn't editing anything in photoshop. nothing else was going on. so i should be ok.

it never booted back into windows.

i get the ol' PAGE_FAULT_IN_NONPAGED_AREA 0x50 bsod, which means that it is more than likely hardware-related. i couldn't boot in safe mode, safe mode with networking, safe mode with command prompt; couldn't boot with my last known good configuration; couldn't run a repair booting off the xp install cd… nothing. just an endless cycle of rebooting.

i hate microsoft (a topic on which i could start another blog and have over a hundred original posts on the subject right from inception), but mac charges too much for their "eliteness" — i like fine art; i just can't afford it. no pc i've built was ever outgunned by a mac. however, this pc is 6 years old, and i'm pushing the limits of MTBF on all the hardware. come to think of it, i'm surprised it's lasted this long.

anyway, now i get to remove and/or swap different pieces of my hardware puzzle until the thing boots back up, if it even will. ram first, cd/dvd drive next, and God forbid, my boot drive last. i need my hard drive to work, need it accessible, because if it's not, i've just lost the last two month's worth of the best photos i've ever taken. this includes my high-res versions of shakespeare.

and the kicker of all of this is, i've been feeling a gnawing sensation in my gut that has nothing to do with food, or the lack thereof. a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that subtly whispered, "you should really consider backup up your stuff."

as usual, my obstinate little brain — my one-track mind, the command center that controls what my body does and when — impatiently responded with, "but i'm busy. i'll do it later. i've got time."

…and here we are.

shakespeare, revisited

2010-03-12T13:31:00.006-05:00

i walked right past him this time, and never knew he was there. again, perched about 30 feet off the trail, he sat silent in his awesomeness. two women happened to see him and were crouched, taking pictures, oohing and ahhing — thoroughly enjoying their discovery — when i came back up the trail.

hey...wait a minute!! i'm supposed to be the observant one! i don't walk out of my front door without scanning the trees and sky for des oiseaux. i specifically look for owls in the woods when i walk the trails, spending more time looking left, right, and up, than i do focusing on the path in front of me… what's going on here?!?
i feel betrayed.
let down.
mocked.

oh, get over it. he's there now, so swallow your pride and enjoy this time that you were blessed with. again.

i was without camera, so i had a critical decision to make: go get it and capture the moment on a CompactFlash card (but risk him leaving), or stay put and capture it on my grey matter?

the squishy mass of dendrites and axons that fills up the cavity in the top of my head is becoming less reliable with every passing year. that and my skull is lacking a usb port…i'll go get the camera.

20 minutes later, i came back with my camera, and…

there he was, waiting patiently for me.

what took you so long?

the sun was on him when i left to get the camera, but i was a little dismayed to find him wrapped in the cool blanket of a shadow when i got back.

you look vaguely familiar…

a quick turn of my head to look behind me, and i saw that the blanket was only going to get bigger — the sun had fallen behind the trees, trying its best to smile through the spaces in between the many branches, but failing miserably. i faced the owl again, whom i am going to refer to and think of as shakespeare, my pretend pet owl, first encountered over two months ago on the opposite side of the trail. is it possible that this was the same owl? i'm going to ask you to indulge my little fantasy of believing that it was.

as before, i shot plenty of pictures, the first of which i used my on-camera flash. but a rash of guilt quickly spread over me, and i turned off the flash, feeling that i just couldn't subject him to that again. in lieu of good lighting, i 'pulled up some asphalt and had a seat'. we talked. about what he was doing there on that branch so close to the trail, about where his friends were, about what he was going to have for dinner. but mostly we talked about why he remained on that branch…in the shadow. i pleaded with him to move to a nice sunny spot still within camera range.

he obliged.

now i shifted into full gear. armed with a fresh battery and an empty memory card, i snapped and snapped and snapped until my finger hurt. on his new perch, he was more alert to things happening around him. the rustle of a leaf on the forest floor, and he looked down. snap, snap, snap! something heard far off in the distance, and he looked to the right. snap, snap! a dry leaf, stirred by a gentle breeze, rattling against its branch at the top of the tree he was in, and he looked up. more snapping. i stayed there with him for a couple of hours, sometimes taking photos, sometimes letting my camera drop to my side and just staring at this wondrous creature, soaking in its intricate beauty, and the fact that i was nearly eye-to-eye with him.

(click the picture for a larger version)

two and a half hours later, he decided that he wanted some company other than me — someone more engaging, someone able to relate to him more on his level…someone with more feathers. he leaned forward, puffed out his chin feathers, and called for companionship in that trademark hooting pattern of his: "who, who, who-WHOo. who who who-whO WHOOoo."

a few seconds later, an answer, higher pitched.

two more calls, two more answers, and he was gone.

(click the picture for a larger version)

i really must learn to pan with the bird as it flies off. (the picture not shown in this sequence is an empty branch, the camera having not moved an inch.)

instantly i scrambled up and gave chase. a light wind noise up and to my right made me turn my head, and intuition made me raise the camera. his friend soared through the canopy of leafless limbs and out over the trail. snap, snap, snap!

i quickened my pace and found them up ahead, each occupying a separate tree. as well as we've come to know each other, i admit with a small degree of shame that i couldn't tell one owl from the other. one was larger than the other, but which of those was shakespeare? (i learned later that the females are larger than the males.) i refrained from calling out his name; i'm afraid my fantasy is only shared by one of us.

i snapped a few more pictures, but my time with him had come to a close; my owl had given me his undivided attention for over two hours, and now it was time for him to bid me adieu. he had owls to hang out with, things to catch for dinner, and much hooting to attend to.

and i had a CompactFlash card full of images to go download.

a taste of spring

2010-02-21T21:24:00.002-05:00

i've been waiting for this since winter started. evidently, so have the flies, spiders, and wasps, which seemed to just pop out of nowhere with the slightest hint of warm weather. although it means my bluebirds, hooded mergansers, and woodpeckers won't be so readily visible anymore, i embrace the coming of spring with open arms and a lightened heart.

winter brings me down. i really don't like it very much. two things i do like: the snow and the new species of birds that migration ushers in. other than that, i could do without it.

as for new, or more accurately, first species sightings, this winter brought me hooded mergansers, white-throated sparrows, and yellow-rumped warblers. now, you may be thinking, "uuuhh…those are common winter birds here in the carolinas," to which i would say, yes, they are, but i have only recently become aware of the fact that not every bird is a robin or a sparrow. the sheer magnitude of the hundreds of species of birds in just this state—let alone the entire planet—is enough to make me light-headed (which often happens when i contemplate the grand scope of nature). so, common to you; a first for me.

here are two female hooded mergansers taking flight.

the presence of me and my camera made them nervous. no surprise there…

and here are two male hoodies squabbling over territory:

this winter also brought me a barred owl. that was one of those light-headed, awe-inspiring moments of which i just spoke.

as with all things good, though, this glimpse of spring is coming to an end after today: more rain and falling temperatures are on the way, for at least the next three days. but this taste was good, and more than enough to tide me over until the full-course meal.

bird of the week (yellow-rumped warbler)

2010-02-05T20:17:00.009-05:00

presenting mr. butt and friends

of course, i'm referring to those cute little yellow-rumped warblers that are just everywhere this time of year.

with the underwhelming amount of insects that are frolicking about during the winter, these little foragers are resigned to gobbling up berries, which include bayberry, wax myrtle, juniper, the 'poison' plants (ivy and oak), virginia creeper, and dogwood, to name a few.

they're active little buggers, too, flitting from branch to branch, tree to tree, in search of food — but not so active that they don't allow time for me to snap a couple of decent glamour shots. they're a good-looking bird and they know it.

that's right… i was talking about you.

here, i got his good side. well...all of his good sides, actually.

in spring, look for a morph of bright, contrasty colors and patterns, much more pronounced than their winter plumage. they're most easily identified by the bright yellow patch on their rump, hence their common name, and their endearing nickname of "butter-butt."

secondary identifying marks are the patches of yellow on either side of their breast under the wing and the dark streaking or patches that sweep down, out and away from their neck, and follow the curve of their wings. males are predominantly more gray overall, their yellow more vibrant, and their streaking can more accurately be described as dark patches. some have very pronounced "masks" around their eyes, like a raccoon, or, to deviate slightly from the wildlife theme of this post, like zorro. females resemble males, only slightly duller and sometimes having more of a dull brown cast. both sexes may also reveal a yellow patch on the top of their heads. juveniles resemble females. butter-butts have rounded tail feathers, and on the underside, dark grey, brown, or black with a thick white band above just above the tip.

you know, i started this post by introducing 'mr.' butt, but it very well could be mrs. butt. then again, it could really be 'mr.', as in 'mr. first-winter-morph butt' — turns out that males in their first winter have a dull brownish appearance. and, if this isn't enough to make positive identification a little tricky (at least where the sex is concerned), throw in the myrtle and audobon forms. a white throat patch gives away the myrtle form; a deep yellow throat patch, the audobon.

when i'm photographing them, though, they're all just butter-butts to me. i draw no hard lines. however, this is good information to know if, say, someone were to kidnap your wife and hold her for ransom, giving her back to you only if you are able to positively identify the species, sex, and form of this bird in a photograph he is holding.

anatomy of a sunset

2010-01-29T21:13:00.004-05:00

judging by the amount of people — and lack of parking spaces — at the local grocery store, you'd think armageddon was upon us. just to clear things up: the four horsemen of the apocalypse are not riding through the air on their great steeds; the seven seals are not being opened…it's just snow. would it really kill everyone to have to eat PB&Js for a couple of days? i think the thing that bothers me the most is that, as a direct result of weather forecasts predicting 10" of snow and a 1/4" layer of ice that could possibly lead to power outages, people's shopping carts were overflowing with food they wanted, not food they needed. if the power grid decides to take a nap, how exactly are you going to cook that microwaveable pizza? human nature is as perplexing as it is frustrating.

i am, of course, referring to the winter storm that is sweeping across our great nation, from the deserts of the southwest to the eastern seaboard. heavy snowfall, sleet and ice…the works. beautiful.

but for those of you who prefer your winters on the warm side, here are some photos of the progression of a sunset to offset all of that white outside your window, from a cozy yellow-orange glow to a radiant pink & purple. (note: these are not pictures of the sky ripping open on judgement day, fire and brimstone raining down upon our fallen race…it's just a sunset.)

enjoy.

the ever-elusive red-tailed

2010-01-20T21:31:00.016-05:00

man, those things are skittish.

hawk: perched at the very end of the very top branch of a very tall tree.
me: perched on top of the sidewalk, the tallest part of me reaching a mere 6'1" above the surface of the cement, a good 30 feet below mr. nervous nelson.

i don't know...maybe it was the eye contact. maybe it was the change in approach speed (i was walking up to the tree, then stopped). maybe it was raising my large, black rocket launcher and pointing it at him. or maybe he was trying to look for lunch and didn't need the unnecessary distraction.

i just wanted a picture. that's all.

instead, i got a chase, playing follow the leader from tree to tree; him making the effortless transition to a new territory, and probably enjoying a few laughs at my expense while i trudged through puddles down long stretches of sidewalk, finally arriving at the new destination.

stop. steady. slow movements. raise camera. fly away.

wait...what? no! that wasn't part of the sequence! come back here!

back and forth like this, three times. he ditched me on the third pass.

i hung my head and took defeat like a (hu)man, foiled again by the crafty ways of nature.

i left for southwest park, hoping to catch some jays, downys, butter butts, chickadees, kinglets, cardinals, sparrows, and nuthatches. found 'em all, but the day was very overcast, so my best shots were the ones i took next to the feeders, with flash, standing about 15–20 feet away. evidently my field craft skills leave something to be desired. thank God for feeders.

all of my non-feeder shots were at 800 ISO, 1/640 shutter, and f/5–6.3. they didn't turn out so well.

it was getting late and starting to drizzle again, so i headed home. back the way i came. past the area where the red-tailed gave me the slip. past the tree he was perched in when i first saw him. approaching the tree he glided to the first time i scared him off, and...there he was. sitting right at the top. dominating the scene. and i swear he was laughing at me, saying, "alright, big guy...you gonna stop now? polly want a picture? is that fancy camera of yours waterproof? hahahahaha!" yes, i swear i actually heard that.

i saluted him, acknowledging a job well done, and drove on through the rain.

an evening with shakespeare

2010-01-01T20:32:00.004-05:00

shakespeare is my pet owl. (he's a barred owl, hence the name — a play on words.) the problem is that he doesn't seem too enthusiastic about that idea. i guess i can't blame him. i have 1000 sq. ft. of living space; he has millions. i have an old 1990 honda civic wagon; he has wings. i have a computer with high-speed internet, image/audio/video editing software, and my iTunes is packed with 4.4 days worth of music; i have a couple of synths, an acoustic guitar, a drum set, and microphones…he has wings. i have a nice camera; he has…well, let's just say he could care less about taking pictures of me. oh…and he has wings.

i would kill to have wings.

yeah…i guess i'm a little envious of my feathered friend. i often entertain a daydream/fantasy of being able to fly. the way birds zip through the heavily wooded landscape, deftly navigating around trees and thier branches at high speeds, then swooping up and out of the woods to soar gracefully through the vast expanse of open sky — twisting, turning, diving, they ride currents of air, effortlessly covering great distances in very small amounts of time, then accelerate suddenly and glide back to earth, where they pop open their wings, adjust the angle of their tailfeathers slightly, and alight effortlessly on a branch, window ledge, belltower, rooftop…or pretty much anywhere they feel like landing.

what freedom.

however, i would not want to give up a thick juicy, grilled bacon-onion-and-pepperjack cheese hamburger on a toasted, buttered bun, with seasoned curly fries, and a thick, chocolate malt (or an ice cold corona) for an uncooked, fur-covered rodent. no envy there.

but, to be able to fly like that…

anyway, to get back on track, i saw the strapping fellow above on one of my walks along the greenway. he was perched on a bent tree branch about five or six feet off the path. because i am constantly looking in every direction but the one in which i'm traveling, i noticed him right away. (seriously, i arrive home from some of my walks with my neck aching like nobody's business from all of the constant craning to the left and right, and from the obsessive scanning of the treetops.) i would hear the owls from time to time and wonder where they are, where do they hang out, and will i ever see one? judging from the amount of everyday common people whose flickr accounts boast nice pictures of owls of all kinds, it would seem that the odds are very much in favor of bearing witness to these solemn creatures. but walk after walk, i was beginning to lose hope. i would hear one, up ahead — sounds really close — so i would pick up the pace, only to hear him again…farther away.

sigh. maybe someday…

then, without warning — or sound of any kind — there he was. i'm not sure how long he'd been sitting there, but he seemed very content, and very confident of his anonymity. people skated by on their roller blades, zipped by on their bikes, got pulled along by their happy-go-lucky, panting dogs, briskly trotted down the path yapping loudly on their cell phones — all oblivious to the feathered wonder that was perched less than ten feet from them. anyone who did happen to notice, noticed it only because they saw me standing there with a large-lensed camera, staring into the woods with a dumb look on my face.

them: "what are you looking at?"

me: [drool, drool] "owl." [drool]

them: "an owl?!? what...? oh. wow!"

me: [drool]

it was dusk, so lighting was at a bare minimum. i was hesitant to use flash, because i didn't know what kind of damage it might cause to the structure of their eyes. but i broke down in a moment of selfishness and fired off a few anyway, praying everything would be fine. to my delight, though irresponsibly after the fact, i found out that their eyes can adapt to sudden bright flashes of light. at worst, the owl's night vision capabilities would be impaired for about an hour; at best, owls' retinas can withstand direct exposure to the sun, which, of course, is much brighter than a flash. (read more "for/against" information here: effects of flash photography on owls, just one of the many sites i visted for information on this topic.)

i need to do more research on owls, especially the barred owl, because i'd like to know more about their behavior, particularly their nest-to-hunting-area proximity: do they typically hunt away from their nests? close to their nests? etc. i'd love to be able to find a nest and observe (through my lens, of course) the behavior of these owls as they raise their young.

for now, however, i'll just be content and grateful for the unique and unexpected glimpses i'm allowed until that day.

have an ice day

2009-12-29T19:26:00.010-05:00

[i realize this post is about two weeks late, but better late than never, i guess…]

the snow was awesome…

…but the cocoon of ice that encapsulated all of the branches of our towering trees was even better. when the sun broke through the thick, broiling blanket of clouds, there was a point at which the treetops looked as though they were littered with a million tiny, glittering diamonds.

of course, i failed to capture that spectacle, what with me on the ground and possessing the distinct disadvantage of not being 40 ft. tall. so i had to shoot everything at 500mm from what felt like a worm's-eye view, leaving the glistening ice on the other side of the branches (i.e., the top) while the view through the lens revealed a less appealing scene (i.e., the not-frozen, non-glistening underside of the branches).

i was blessed to have a northern flicker alight for a bit on one of the frozen treetops, giving me a nice shot of the eye-catching gold underneath his wings.

silver and gold…what a perfect combination for this special time of the year.

happy thanksgiving

2009-11-26T17:47:00.007-05:00

we feed the feral siamese that calls our neighborhood — and the woods surrounding it — home. we have been for almost a year now. at first it was, "awww…look at the cute little cat. she looks hungry." so we'd stick a little bowl of food out for her. of course, our back porch became her favorite spot, and now she enjoys three hearty meals a day out there. she grew on us, with her beautiful coat and color, and her striking blue eyes; we looked forward to her arrival, came to expect her presence at our back door.

then, 4 days ago, she stopped coming around.

we scanned the woods for her cream-colored silhouette; we watched the stump of a large, dead tree that had become her throne, where she would bask in the sun and bathe herself; we consistently eyed the corner of the house, expecting her to slink around the corner at any moment, plop herself down, and wait patiently for her meal; we monitored the back door, turning toward it with so much frequency our necks started to hurt, hoping to see her face pressed up against the glass…

nothing.

our hearts, heavy, surprised at how much we missed our little visitor. there have been a lot of hawks around lately. vultures, too. and let's not forget cars.

we feared the worst.

then, thanksgiving eve.

out of habit, i turned toward the glass door, now coming to expect a backyard devoid of furry animal friends, but too set in my new ritual of hope not to look…and there she was. like a ghost. silent, her face pressed against the transparent barrier; patient, as if saying, "no, no…don't get up. finish what you're doing. i can wait."

so today i'm thankful that our "unofficially adopted outdoor pet" is safe, and has resumed her daily routine at "restau de le dugfresh."

i'm thankful for God and for the seemingly impossible likelihood that He continues to love a sinner like me.

i'm thankful for my family, and for our health.

i'm thankful that i have a job, and can still pay (mostly) all the bills.

and i'm thankful for birds. and flying squirrels. and cats and dogs and dragonflies and caterpillars. racoons, foxes, coyotes, and possums, bats, mayflies, assassin bugs, northern water snakes, deer, boxelders, towering oak trees, ferns, rain…for nature and this wonderfully complex and bewilderingly beautiful planet that circles the sun at just the right distance away.

happy thanksgiving, readers. (although it's only ~~one~~ four so far, i'm still thankful for you.) i hope your day was filled with joy, comfort, love, family and friends, and appreciation for all the little things we can so often take for granted.

case of the curious flying squirrel-like bird-thing

2009-11-21T15:10:00.011-05:00

so this thing came gliding down from the canopy of tall oak trees, from the upper left field of my vision, gliding down to the right in a slight arc. i watched, filled with anticipation, wondering what new species of bird i was going to discover at 7:45am saturday morning. without warning — no flapping or extending of wings to slow down and prepare for a graceful landing — *SMACK!* mr flying thing hits the side of a large tree. my brain was in denial that a bird would travel that fast and smack into a tree (nothing bounced off and landed in the crisp bed of leaves on the forest floor), so my eyes kept following the possibly-now-deceased bird-thing's previous trajectory. they gave up when my brain registered the fact that they were just sweeping across a scene filled with trees and not much else and that all the action was back there at the tree. so my eyes swung back to the crash site.

nothing moved.

there were some thin branches, belonging to equally thin trees, stubbornly clutching on to their last reddish-orange leaves that crossed in front of the tree i was watching. the leaves swayed in the cool morning breeze every once in a while. registered that: not a bird-thing.

there was a knot of wood on the trunk of the tree; it didn't move. file that: not a bird-thing.

up a little ways, above the criss-cross of branches, above the benign knot of wood, there was a vertical gash, dark brown, about six or seven inches long. hmmm…that's right about where the flying thing smacked into the tree. registering…registering…

two to three minutes later, it hadn't moved. register that: not a bird-thing.

a few seconds after i filed that into the mental topographic map of this tree, the gash moved. it scampered up the tree. no hopping, bouncing, or fluttering; it climbed. my brain decided that this was a pretty fantastic moment, so it sent signals on down to my facial muscles to assume the appropriate expression, meaning that my mouth fell open in that universal countenance indicating reduced mental faculty. as that happened, the once-flying-now-scampering thing leapt from the tree and glided down *SMACK!* into another equally unforgiving tree. same descending arc. no wing action.

my brain, being overstimulated at this point, busied itself with the task of rearranging the expression on my face into one of delight, surprise, and confusion, while simultaneously toying around with another thought: flying squirrel.

could it be possible? they're nocturnal creatures. it was pretty light out, and anything past 6:00am, in my book, is disqualified from being classified as "nocturnal." even so, i'm sticking with my decision until someone can prove me wrong, based on these three Very Scientific Observations:

Very Scientific Observation number 1: it didn't fly. at least, not in the traditional sense. wing beats were never present, nor was there any spreading of wings to slow down before landing.
Very Scientific Observation number 2: it didn't die. birds are not constructed to survive SMACKING into trees at moderately high speeds. this creature was supposed to be able to SMACK into tree trunks. he probably thinks he's pretty cool, too.
Very Scientific Observation number 3: it scampered. in addition to surviving high-speed impacts into solid objects, scampering is also something that birds do not do well.

as you can plainly see, the Scientific Evidence is stacked in favor of the southern flying squirrel. and you can't argue with science…

on the wings of a song

2009-11-18T22:05:00.011-05:00

those hard-working ornis at cornell have postulated (and through the clever application of lasers, proven) that birds can "sing" by using their wings. or at least this one can. it's a club-winged manakin, found in south america (possibly peru?).

i think it's my new favorite bird. it's beautiful, and that little trick he does with his wings puts him right over the top. i also like how he puffs up after his little wing song, like he's saying, "that's right…with my wings. you wanna see it again?"

enjoy. (and it looks like you might have to go full screen to do that…not sure what's up with the incredible shrinking player…)

mute monday

2009-11-16T18:19:00.005-05:00

gonna let the great blue heron speak for itself.

seeing red

2009-11-08T20:01:00.010-05:00

i'm seeing red again, which is usually what happens when i spend too much time thinking about the direction in which this great country of ours is headed. but this red isn't due to societal ills — this red centers on my haven from all the madness: nature.

this time of year, the northern cardinals seem to increase the intensity of their hue, as if in competition with the trees to see who can draw the most attention with their splendid display of color.

make sure you get my good side…

i love the tchip-tchip of the females hidden in neighboring trees, no doubt voicing their admiration of the males showing off for them.

…and don't forget my other good side…

the votes are in: cardinals—10; trees—9. cardinals take this round…

the color of magic

2009-10-31T21:02:00.009-04:00

ok…gonna lighten things up a bit. apologies for that last post, for both the length and preachiness factor…i was in a mood.

thought i'd just post some nice images of fall in north carolina this time around. no preaching. just pictures.

i have never been blown away by the color of fall like i have been since moving here. new mexico has two seasons: hot and cold. north carolina, i was pleased to discover, has four. the old traditional winter-spring-summer-fall roster. and spring and fall are my favorites. it's absolute heaven here; it literally takes my breath away sometimes. there is so much going on with color at this time of year, it overwhelms the senses.

the feel of the air — crisp, clean, comforting — carrying the promise of holiday warmth to come; the scent of wood crackling and popping in fireplaces; the cozy, yellow glow of lit-up windows; the wonderful aroma of cinnamon and clove and nutmeg wafting down neighborhood streets. it feels right.

one of my favorite walking trails had fresh new carpet put down; plush, full, soft…and colorful. gone was the old motif of brown soil with pine needle accents.

fall colors compliment the simple beauty of this female adult house finch. (at least that's my guess. initially, i would have gone with pine siskin, but in the end — mainly because of the beak, i decided on female house finch. please…correct me if i'm wrong, though.)

i don't want this magical time to end, but, as with all seasons in life, this one will pass and usher in the next, and it, too, will be laced with it's own subtle beauty, waiting to be uncovered and enjoyed by those who know how to look for it.

random, if not slightly stupid, act of kindness

2009-10-26T21:45:00.008-04:00

i think i saved a northern water snake yesterday. (i say "think" because i couldn't spot the heat sensing pit between the nostril and the eye that are common to the family that water moccasins belong to — pit vipers, i believe. i never saw any fangs, either. maybe they were tucked up against the roof of his mouth. strangely enough, i can't recall if his pupils were elliptical or not. i'm thinking not. if my identification was off, then i'm dumber than i originally thought…and just as lucky.) anyway, he was trapped in the mesh that landscapers use to start patches of grass. not sure how long he had been there, but he was tangled up good. apparently, he went after a field mouse or some other rodent — successfully, i might add, judging from the bulge in his midsection — stealthily tracking it up the bank from the river…and on through the mesh.

i was out for a drive in God's country, trying to find some peace, and finding it in the overwhelming beauty along I-85 and its little random offshoots of backwoods country roads. the peace came not only from the beauty of the trees proudly displaying their fall fashion line in this season's hues of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, and everything in between, but also from the fact that no large corporations were currently tearing it all down to build office complexes and malls.

i'm going to interject here in the interest of keeping it relatively short (i could post a few pages on just the drive alone), and cut to the part about the snake.

he was at a rest stop. (have you noticed that snakes are always "he"?) or more specifically, on the river bank next to a bridge, where, as i mentioned at the beginning of this post, landscapers were trying to grow grass. the bridge led to a vietnam vet memorial for north carolinians who served — and gave up their lives — in the war. (not to get off the subject again, but the memorial itself was a haven. simple and bold, it was built within an earthen "bowl," the memorial surrounded by a circular barrier of impossibly lush, green grass, and featured a curved wall built with handmade bricks, each carved with the name of a soldier who died or went missing in that war. trees and benches were placed sparingly along a brick pathway that encircled a large patch of grass that made up the middle of the monument. All in all, a nice serene place to remember those who gave up their lives for whatever reason we engaged in that horrible war.)

back to the snake, and from here on out, staying on the snake. i promise.

so it was on my way back from the memorial to the rest stop parking lot that i saw the snake. not sure how i missed it on my way there — it was about 3-1/2 to 4 feet long, and it's dark reddish/bluish-grey body stood out sharply against the pale yellow of the straw. at first i thought, "cool," but then i started noticing things: the fact that he just ate (which was still on the "cool" scale), the fact that his head was missing (tipping toward "uncool"), and the fact that thin green plastic strings were crisscrossed and embedded in its torso (we've fallen completely off the "cool" scale now). my curiosity was piqued, and when my curiosity is piqued, i am not content to just sit and watch…i like to interact. so i detoured around the edge of the bridge, through a little of the grass-to-be, and down into some rocks to keep a safe distance in case his head decided to materialize.
from this new vantage point i could see that his head was not missing, but hidden…under the green mesh and straw. i could also see with more clarity just how serious the green mesh problem was. and my heart dropped.

another interjection (but still on topic!):
i have a love and respect for all creatures, from spiders and flying bugs to feral cats and african plains-roaming elephants, and everything in between. i'm all for the "cycle of life," of letting nature run its course (for instance, if the snake would have been caught by a raccoon or something), but this was nothing of the sort. this was man intruding — even if for good intentions (attractive landscaping) — on nature, and the snake did not have this scenario wired into its dna. no special sensors to detect plastic mesh. this is when i like to take action and intervene. i realize that most people would just frown a little and walk on, maybe even thinking, "poor snake," but i'm not wired like most people.

so, i searched for a large, strong branch of reasonable length to stimulate the snake; i needed to know if its head was stuck, or if instead it was camouflaged with a stealthy purpose in mind. the branch i found was perfect: strong, thick, long enough to prod with, short enough to pry with, and forked at the end, in case i needed to pin its head so i could get in close. i touched the snake's body (with the stick) and he moved a little, but no head. I put the stick underneath him and lifted...and his head popped out of the straw. but my heart sank even farther when i saw the condition of his head. he was so tightly ensconced in the mesh, that it was digging under his scales, into his flesh. my work was cut out for me, and it was at this point that i wondered if i should just leave. what could i do? no scissors, no knife…nothing but a stick. animals are getting caught — and killed — in or by human-made objects all the time — road kill being the perfect example. what could i do about that?
nothing.
what could i do about this?
i could try.
so i did.

my only option was to use the fork with the sharpest end, and dig it underneath the sections of string and pull until the stress snapped them. this was easy at first, as the snake was facing uphill (where i was positioned), so i could dig under the string with his scales instead of against them. it wasn't easy snapping the mesh, though. they pulled apart with relative swiftness when using my hands, as there were two forces acting upon the string in opposite directions, but when using the stick with the snake, the only opposing force to my pulling was the tension of the mesh and/or the weight of the snake. the last scenario was the worst. i knew i was hurting the snake, but i kept telling myself the alternative was worse. so with this pathetic technique, I slowly freed his head.

now you may be thinking to yourself, "you freed the snake's head first?!? what a dumb@$$." hear me out…
there were two good reasons for this: one, his head was being mangled by the way in which he was tangled — parts of his face were being pulled in two different directions at once; and two, i wanted to give him more freedom to be able to move — in essence, help him help himself.
yes, he tried to strike me several times; too many to count. but i was always aware of the distance i needed to keep from him as more of him became free. most of the time he would strike when i put immense amounts of pressure on him while trying to break the strings. the force i was putting on those thin but maddeningly strong filaments lifted him off the ground, which, i can say, he wasn't too happy about. his head would flatten and take on a triangular shape like that of a viper's, and his mouth would open wide, as though he thought he could swallow me. sometimes he would strike, other times he would just pose with flat head and open mouth. but my line of thinking paid off, as he did just what i wanted him to — slithered and writhed and turned — and by the end of it, he and i had a mutual understanding. for the last ten to fifteen minutes i pulled and poked and strained and snapped, and he took it all bravely. no more flattened head, no more open mouth, no more striking. just resolved himself to bear with it until it was over.

perhaps he knew we had made significant progress.

an hour after all this began — an hour filled with frustration and tension and moments of disappointment and elation — i had to leave him to make it out on his own. he was 90% free, and i had to tell myself that as soon as he digested his meal, he would be able to squeeze out of the remaining bonds.

i went back to my car feeling good, feeling right. i think that may have been the driving purpose behind rescuing the snake: because it was right.
This world today is lacking a sense of right, and i'm not saying everyone needs to go out and rescue snakes trapped in landscaping mesh, but it would, at least every once in a while, help to not put yourself first. extend yourself to others, especially those in need. try to see things from others' points of view. open yourself to the idea that, as impossible as it may seem, the world does not revolve around you. you are more than likely the only one that thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread. how does that bumper sticker go..."practice random acts of kindness"? there was a movie called "pay it forward." i never saw it, but heard enough about it to get the gist, and i know this: the concept works, but only if you bury your selfishness first.

the dinner guests

2009-10-14T21:24:00.012-04:00

standing out in the backyard tonight, watching the deer graze through the misty clouds of my breath in the cold air. it is such an awe-inspiring thing, watching the mother deer and her baby cautiously peek out from the woods, checking to see if the coast is clear, and then, after their brief, preliminary inspection, stepping lightly and silently through the leaves and into the open grassy area.

standing there while the deer look at me, almost seeming to peer into my soul — assessing the nature of that other living creature they sense across the yard — does it mean us harm? is this a safe place to eat?
fear not, my frail, short-tailed friends: i am with you, not against you. my backyard is your dining room, and you're welcome anytime. bring the whole family.

what was that?! "quick...into the cover of the thick woods. follow me!"

and just like that, they're gone, leaving me to wonder if they were ever there at all; spirits passing briefly through this world, on their way to the next.

i couldn't kill these animals for sport. i know that knocks me down a few notches on the manly meter, but i just couldn't do it. i don't see the point. skill? the odds are tipped very much on the side of the one holding the rifle, don't you think? i propose that a better test of skill would be to fasten a set of antlers to your head and then go toe-to-toe with a buck. that would be a true test of one's manliness.
nope. hunting's just not for me. i prefer to do all my shooting with a camera.

that's right, little fella. the worst thing that comes out of this black, formidable-looking piece of hardware is some beeping and clicking noises. and a memory or two of when you and your family would come over to dine with us.

ok. so i realize that i said that the great blue heron in flight was coming up next, but i saw the deer again tonight, and, well...
the great blue heron will be coming. soon. maybe not the next post, but soon.

misty morning hop

2009-09-24T19:26:00.016-04:00

another early weekend morning venture, but this time mist enveloped everything. it was so thick that the sun resembled the moon when it plays hide and seek with the clouds. it choked off the sound of the birds, their chirpy morning songs suffocated by the dense fog. nothing moved. nothing stirred, flitted, or twittered. it was as if the weight of the low-lying clouds could be felt by all of the little woodland creatures, and it pressed them down into their burrows, hidey-holes, and other nooks and crannies. no starlings on the baseball field. no crows doing their usual fly-bys. no cardinals, wrens, or finches chirping away from the tops of trees. nothing...

except for the spiders and their amazing webs.

this guy was hanging out between the slats in a wood fence, and the mist being as heavy as it was, darkening the sky as though it were 5 o'clock in the morning instead of 9, i had to break out my flash for this shot. 400 ISO, f/6.3, 1/250 shutter speed at 500mm added a lot of noise to the photos, but then i wasn't out to shake the wildlife photography world by the collar, and because of the mist, i had already resigned myself to just enjoy the walk.

then i saw this:

and this:

and it became clear to me that this would be the theme of my little weekend morning photo-walk. in fact, it couldn't really be called a walk, as i was only about 150 yards from my house and all i really had to was turn in a circle. they were all over the place; i was surrounded by these things. they were on every tree, and most trees had more than one; some had five or six.

the challenge was framing a decent shot with the zoom telephoto, so i did my best.

if you're wondering where all of this dramatic mist is — the one i carried on about in the opening paragraph — i color-corrected the heck out of these shots. all of the photos from that morning were muted and drab.

here's a shot of the sun i mentioned earlier, untouched by photoshop.

next up: great blue heron flight shots. taken on a very non-misty day at the lake.

morning on the observation deck

2009-09-22T20:58:00.028-04:00

sometimes i like to get up early on the weekend and set out on a walk. no breakfast (though a mountain dew of some sort is necessary); just get up, get dressed, grab the camera, and see where i'm led. it's strange…i never really have a set destination in mind. i just walk out the door and feel. one morning about a week or so ago, i started my walk out by visiting a couple of my usual haunts, one of which had previously turned up some great belted kingfisher action; the other, a green heron patiently stalking his breakfast (pictures of which are forthcoming).

but on that day, those locales were dry, so i just pointed myself up the road and walked, on toward the greenway. i stopped walking when i reached the observation deck—not because i was lazy, but because it felt right. so i turned, walked to the end of the deck, and waited. and watched. and listened. and waited some more.

just when i was drawing the disappointing conclusion that i either got up too early or got here too late, i spotted the green heron.

not sure how long he had been there, watching me while i waited for something to watch, but there he was, and in a couple of seconds he was in my viewfinder. i got a lot of pictures of him—stretching his neck and body, contracting back to his little compact shape, scratching his neck and chin with his formidable-looking claws (reminding me briefly of my cat), switching positions so that i got his good side(?), then back again—but unfortunately, i don't have the fastest lens, so those shots (and really, almost of my shots that morning) were between 200 and 400 ISO with the lens as wide open as it could get (6.3), and a shutter speed that needed to strike a balance between slow enough to let the right amount of light in and fast enough to take care of camera shake (i handhold everything for now...a tripod is a distant dream of mine). that combination did not really serve me well—inordinate amounts of noise resulted—but, as i've said before, it's not always about the picture. i caught a lot of birds that morning, and it was cool just to observe them.

ruby-throated hummingbird (female?)

downy woodpecker

great blue heron (vignetted through a very small opening between the leaves)

and a couple of things that birds like to eat:

more than a few of them need IDing (as i'm still a birding newbie), and they are as follows:

i saw this one on my way to the deck:

(a juvie red-winged blackbird? he was small...3 to 4 inches head-to-tail, at the most. my little arrows are pointing to some significant distinguishing features: the little mustache things; the red stripe on his neck; the buff-colored underbelly; the red streaks under his tail.)

and these on the way back:

here are a couple of flycatchers (or maybe the same one...):

(eastern wood-pewee? that's my best guess.)

this one made the aforementioned observation of the birds that morning very rewarding. seeing him launch into the air, performing his acrobatics while trying to catch the bugs, then landing again, making it all look so easy.

and this is a before picture (the arrow points to a little flying bug...no, it's not a spot on my lens!):

i'm sure if i looked through the succeeding pictures, the little flying bug would not be present...

birds i heard but didn't see: some sort of jay (blue jay maybe?); red-shouldered hawk; some crazy, amazon jungle-sounding thing that i would love to ID; chickadee; and a few more i'm failing to recall at the moment.

so all in all, despite the lack of "keepers," it was a good morning out on the observation deck.

prepare for landing

2009-08-20T22:50:00.002-04:00

i'm after the eastern pondhawk next. this is not an eastern pondhawk. it's another blue dasher, i believe. no, i didn't get a picture of the eastern pondhawk because — are you ready for this — it was always too close.

that's right. usually you can't get close enough for a shot; the 30,000 moving images of you registered through those large, bulbous eyes are an immediate dead giveaway that something larger than it is coming and that it would be prudent to leave. like, now. and, voila!, you missed your shot. then you end up stumbling around like frankenstein's monster, crashing through bushes, tripping over rocks and branches while you follow it, no match for its agility, hoping it will land again soon and give you another chance.

well, this one was either blind or somehow knew my 200-500mm lens would never pick it up. so instead of running away, it stayed close — just under the minimum focus distance of my lens.

not only are they cool looking; they're smart, too.

anyway, i'm kind of obsessed with these things. they're beautiful. i happened upon it while out looking for my elusive-but-sometimes-cooperative green heron (see my previous post in which he was playing the cooperative card). no bird, but then, this, in all its gleaming, metallic green glory. it soon became obvious that i wasn't coming home with a picture of this guy (for the reason mentioned earlier), so i just watched him through my other lenses; lenses of the prescription variety, the ones that hook around my ears and rest on my nose.

so the hunt is on. i will get you, you little green bandit. you can't stay close to me forever. no, one of these days you'll stray far enough away and into 200mm range, and then...snap!...you're mine.

mute monday [no words, just pictures]

2009-08-17T20:24:00.004-04:00

[ all were spotted w/in a 40 minute window (my lunch break) and a 50 yd. radius. ]

[ what the heck happened to my rounded corners?!? well, so much for mute monday... ]

a hard goodbye

2009-08-15T08:22:00.002-04:00

i'm on autopilot this morning. my finger clicked the mouse while the cursor hovered over the "new post" button, and my hands typed in a title. a press of the "tab" key, and here i am, wondering what in the world my hands and fingers are up to.

my facebook post this morning was "one just flew the cuckoo's nest." into the big unknown. out of the safety net, though it will always be there. a world of opportunity awaits; another chapter of life ready to be penned. empty bedroom; a vacuum. a lot of stuff packed and gone leaves more space for memories. entering that room is an almost tangible experience — the void has a weight to it, a mass of it's own. it envelops the heart and constricts breathing for a time.

time.

time always heals and softens the blow, but requires payment in the form of patience. the hole is deep, but the laughter and joy of two more cuckoos will help fill it for a time.

until they, too, fly the nest.

and then...

...i don't know.

don't let the puppy-dog eyes fool you...

2009-08-03T21:43:00.005-04:00

aren't these just the cutest darned things? i just wanted to jump into the little creek where this guy was and grab his little face and scrunch it up.

however, he would most likely not have appreciated that, and would have returned my intended gesture of affection with one of his own. one that involved his wolf-like teeth and long, razor-sharp claws. and he probably would have slapped me around a bit with his tail for good measure. oh...and don't forget the rabies.

ok. so, i guess i'm content to watch and admire from a distance. for now.

order in the chaos

2009-08-02T21:58:00.006-04:00

hello, fellow americans. i'm short on words and short on time, so i'm just going to post a picture. of a dragonfly. a blue dasher, if i'm not mistaken. (but please, somebody correct me if i'm wrong. i like to know what i'm talking about...)

this is why i love photographing nature. look at the detail. these things are amazing. i mean, they're cool enough when observed with the naked eye, but when you get in close, you see order in the chaos. seemingly random patterns are actually, upon closer inspection, deliberately organized. take the veins in his wings (or is it a female? is this reverse sexual dimorphism? i don't know too much about dragonflies...). if they were patterned differently, or spaced differently — or not there at all — would the wings still function as effectively? if the eyes weren't so BUGGY, would there be a lot less dragonflies in the world due to the fact that their vision did not allow them to detect the approach of their natural enemies?

and then there are the questions of the other patterns, like that honey-bee, tiger-stripe thing going on with his abdomen. what purpose does that serve? camouflage/protection? identification? or is it the dragonfly equivalent of a six-pack...designed to attract the ladies?

doesn't matter, really. what matters is that it exists at all, these patterns. that they provoke thought; curiosity; wonder...and an awareness of this complex, yet simple thing called nature.

my head is spinning

2009-08-01T19:56:00.006-04:00

there is so much going on with our country lately: rights being trampled and obliterated, freedoms slipping through our fingers, moral lines being blurred beyond recognition, God being erased from our country's history, so many injustices being signed into law...with more on their way and no end in sight — it makes my head spin. so much going through my mind at any given time, so much emotional turmoil, so much anger and sadness. i can't process it all. it's information overload. my inner voice is screaming for outlet... but i don't even know where to begin.

that's why i'm going to post a picture of a belted kingfisher or two, instead.

because the belted kingfisher is part of nature, and nature has a way of taking the edge off and reminding us that there are forces at work in this world that are far bigger than us, and that long after we're gone, nature will still be alive and kickin', and indifferent to the fact that we're not even around anymore. nature has a way of sustaining itself, despite the many obstacles thrown in its path; it always finds a way.

like this kingfisher, for instance. it always finds a way to elude me. now, you may be thinking, "it eludes you, yet you got a picture of it?" well, yes. i did get a picture of it. HOWEVER, i'm after the perfect picture. and it knows this. therefore it roosts in a tree on the other side of the lake. there are trees everywhere, and i'm sitting stock still, but it knows. it knows i know it knows, too, and it mocks me with its rapid-fire chatter. see? his mouth's open. he's saying, "i bet you wish you had a 1.7x teleconverter in front of that 500mm lens, don't you chump? oh well, you win some, you lose some. in your case, its just 'lose some.'" he then follows that up with, "hahahahahahahaha!" as he flies off to an even more remotely located perch from which to watch me amusedly.

then...i got this.

you might say, "well that looks mighty good to me. mission accomplished." to which i would reply, "thanks for the compliment on my photoshop work." lotta post necessary on this one, i'm afraid. though, i did track him pretty well. it's just that the background wasn't very appealing — didn't have quite the right amount of motion blur — and the bird wasn't as sharp and colorful as i would have liked.

and mr. kingfisher knows this, too.

but that's ok. he's part of nature, and a failure to capture the perfect shot is actually a win for me, as, either way, i get to witness its beauty and wonder, and, for a time at least, the raging storm inside is pacified.

to gripe or not to gripe

2009-07-27T20:00:00.007-04:00

i was going to spout off about the demise of personal responsibility and the movement of selfishness that has taken over the minds of today's youth, but i realized that 1) it's not just the younger generation that's been infected, and 2) i'd rather post a picture of a northern water snake i spotted while out on a leisurely stroll one weekend.

actually, my strolls are never leisurely. they are always driven by a purpose, and that purpose is to capture the often overlooked inner workings of nature. there is a whole universe of existence alongside our own that goes largely unnoticed, what with humans being so self-absorbed and locked into their oh-so-important daily routines...but i wasn't going to talk about that, was i? ok...need to get back on track...

ah, yes...nature.

i love nature. when the chaos of the world is erupting all around you, driving you out of your skull with aggravation, despondency, frustration, et al, nature is always there to soothe. the smell, the sight, the sounds...all of it serves to transport you out of the confusion of your world and into the order and rightness of its world. in nature, everything has its place. certain laws are inherent, and understood by all inhabitants of that world. it's simple in its complexity, and it is this truth that i wish to capture.

didn't really capture it here, though. at least, this masterpiece is not revealing anything to me. so maybe this will be a journey, the prize being the capture of the aforementioned truth that lies within nature — and this blog serving as documentation along the way.