Eastern Bluebird

The first steps of my walk around the pond today gave me no hope of finding much to photograph. It seemed for some time that it would be more of a workout than an opportunity to capture anything of interest with my camera.

But then I saw a flitting motion at the far end of the pond, the only motion in sight. A little flock of little birds was flying short distances and alighting on fence-top and low branches. I hurried, in a sneaky sort of way, not wanting to scare them off before I got a few pictures.

I was delighted when I realized they were eastern bluebirds! I followed them and stood under a tree where for a couple of minutes they let me take their pictures - one (above) even looked me in the eye. "Hold still while I take your picture," I thought and it did.

I still carry a great sadness that my mother is not part of this life any longer. Today as I started my walk, I hoped it was a time of reconnecting with my habit of frequent walks around the pond, which has been interrupted since last August - mostly because of my mother's need for my care, her death, and the sorting out of things that follows.

As I began my walk, I felt myself begin to cry. Were I to get a good picture of anything, my habit of giving her a sneak preview before posting to this site would not be happening as it always had in the past.

My mother knew my thrill one time at seeing the eastern bluebird, several years ago, at the pond. Today, I couldn't help but think she gave me a bit of cheer, a "chin-up" message, with the presentation of those beautiful birds in an otherwise stark winter setting.

Who knows if those on the other side come to us, or if we attach to them meaning in the things we see on this side. I know my mother knew that I've been waiting to see the eastern bluebird again.

A Time for Every Season Under Heaven

I've been distracted from blogging for the past several months but hope to return to it now. 2011 brought unexpected sorrow for me. Though my mother was 89, her death in November caught me by surprise. Throughout all of last year, my care for her increased and took me from my usual schedule. I'm so grateful I was able to attend to her. But her loss still has me so sad. She was a great person in addition to being a wonderful mother to my siblings and me. I wrote about her at my blog sublimedays.com.

As the new year gets underway, I am committed to advancing my photography and writing. You'll find many of the images within SilverLining for sale at my site at FineArtAmerica. In particular, you can view some of my great blue heron photos images (and purchase if interested) at the site as well. Scroll down the page a bit and you'll see some images taken here at the pond!
Many of my pond life photos are available at FineArtAmerica.

I look forward to sharing more about the pond with you soon. In the meantime, enjoy the slideshow above, created by Fine Art America to showcase my work.

Northern Flicker

I thought I was on to something unusual when I came upon this pair of birds yesterday. Such distinct markings - the flecks of black on the brown body, the black mark on the chest, the stroke of red on the head, the mustache, the long beak. I have no memory of having seen it before.

 I couldn't wait to consult my Stokes Field Guide to the Birds of North America.

The Stokes book features a wonderful and helpful map of North America on each new bird page. It color codes the location of the bird during various seasons. Well, this bird is so common, the whole of North America is filled with color.

 So, I'd come upon none other than the very usual northern flicker, a large woodpecker.

Pictured here are two males, though I wonder if one might be older than the other, as one is darker.

As one took to the air, a streak of yellow could be seen. And just beginning to show is the tell-tail large white blotch of the rear end which distinguishes this bird in flight.

Summer's Winding Down to Fall

The expression should be "busy as a fall bee". Each year I watch the single focus of bees as they hum and hover and choose the right blossoms and make the most of each precious moment. Their bodies laden with pollen they hang in the air like blimps, lugging a heavy load as they making their way up and in, over and around, under and back again. 

The intensity is sometimes sad to me. It's a frenzy of activity. It's desperate.

At the same time, dragonflies fill the air. They blend with the end-of-summer blossoms and the start-of-fall blossoms.

The long-winged skimmer below coordinates with the blue-gray berries of a shrub that's showing signs of the season's change.

As pasture thistle blossoms turn to seed and mark the end of the summer, likewise the ragged edges of the wings of dragonflies and butterflies show the weary end to the active season.

I can't believe the aster is here already, a welcome stopping place for the pearl crescent.

Fall's in the Backdrop

Barn Swallow Re-do

Last year I wrote a similar post about barn swallows. In fact, the photos here are much the same - and likewise are taken about 200 feet from the far end of the pond where cables run along and above a street.

As I took these photos, over the course of an hour, about eleven fledglings were lined up and huddled at various points along a 60 foot stretch of wire. Without any signal I could discern, a small group of four or five would simultaneously launch from the line and confidently fly off, returning ten or fifteen minutes later. The reason for the groupings or their knowledge of when to take off (or the others knowing not to) remains a mystery to me.

That the camera can freeze these fractions of seconds of feeding time is remarkable. The parent birds are going at a good clip, and their "stop" in mid air to feed can't be more than a quarter of a second.

There is an elegance I see in these images - at the confluence of time and space and motion, when the wings of the adult gracefully hold the air that keeps it aloft and the fledgling strains to present its beak with eagerness and trust.

All young should have such faithful, strong and committed parents as I've seen birds present.

If you click on the image below to enlarge it, you'll see that lunch for this fledgling is a dragonfly.

And below, see the young bird's difficulty with the mouthful of food.

Though an hour of taking these photos may seem a long time holding the camera and aiming it over my head, the truth is the little birds help me out. They sit perfectly contently between feeding passes by the parent, which might be every ten minutes or so. But long before I know from where a parent will come, the fledglings go into a frenzy of wing flapping and raucous call, as something makes them aware the parent is about to arrive. That's when I raise the camera, which is pre-focused on the birds on the wire, and start shooting. Though I see it, the action through the lens is too quick for my mind to sort out. So, a few seconds later, when all has quieted I review the shots and hope they will be as good as they seem to be on my small viewing screen on the camera when I download them to my computer. Here are shots of the frenzy, though they don't do justice to the true action.

A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall, on a Cormorant...

For a few weeks it looked as if we might have a dry summer to rival last year's. But then the skies opened and there have now been several days of rain, sometimes torrential downpours for hours on end.

I like "weather" - when the elements of nature flex power. So, at the height of a downpour on Monday, I was enticed by Mother Nature to visit her world at the pond. I hemmed and hawed about bringing the camera in the rain. I knew I'd be drenched no matter how I dressed. I wasn't sure I wanted to risk the camera getting soaked. I started out the door and walked across the driveway without it, and then, as if by an undeniable instinct, turned back for the camera. I put it under my jacket, promising myself to only take it out for a one in a million shot...

I noticed something floating in the water at the far end. At first I thought it was a duck - not a specific kind necessarily, just a yellow beaked duck. To support the duck idea, was its seeming delight in the water - the water above it and below it and splashing all around it.

But my theory switched to identifying it as perhaps a heron, a regular heron, not a great blue, when I got too close and it took off for the other side of the pond.

(Above is the one in a million shot...)

I share this obstructed view (above) to help any of you identify the bird, perhaps by its wing feathers. Click on any of these photos to enlarge. Use your back arrow to return to the post.

As I looked at the photos after uploading them, I could see that this bird has a distinct hook at the end of its beak (or "bill"), leading me to think it must be a cormorant. In fact, it might be a double-crested cormorant.
And as cormorants do, this bird would dive and then resurface, as it is below.

All in all, it was a remarkable forty minutes in the rain, not just for the photos, but for the grounding of my spirit, which occurs whenever I partake in strong weather.

Here is a photo of berries in the rain.

And here am I (photo courtesy of my daughter and her Canon PowerShot) returning with the treasures of my walk hidden, and not quite as drenched as I,  while held close to me and beneath my jacket. My walking shoes were filled with rain, my jeans were soaked through, and rain had made its way through my jacket - but I couldn't have been more content.