SilverLining

A Time for Every Season Under Heaven

2012-01-18T22:38:00.001-05:00

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

2011-09-02T07:30:00.000-04:00

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

2011-09-01T07:30:00.000-04:00

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

2011-08-29T10:30:00.001-04:00

Barn Swallow Re-do

2011-08-22T10:30:00.030-04:00

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...

2011-08-17T10:30:00.014-04:00

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.

The Turning Point

2011-08-02T11:30:00.002-04:00

Dragonflies

2011-07-07T11:30:00.001-04:00

Except for the Elisa Skimmer (red dragonfly two photos below) I took these photos in the course of one walk. The swift long-winged skimmer (above) is almost a perfect dragonfly photo. Click on it to enlarge and enjoy the detail.

I don't think I've taken a photo before of the widow dragonfly (above). A gentle breeze was whipping her around on that thin branch. Of the five or so photos I took of her, this was the only one with focus good enough for the post. The expression "summer breeze" has come to mind often in the past few weeks. The Baltimore oriole's nests sway in a gentle breeze and the dragonflies struggle to hold on as unseen power pushes at their wings and sets them fluttering. The dragonfly will get blown off its perch and return again, over and over. Sometimes, it comes and goes at will it seems. Often, I just focus the camera on the bare branch or leaf and wait a few seconds, as happened while I shot the photo below. Voila!

Along the path was a reminder of the delicate structure of these insects. I don't know if wind or bird left this widow's wing behind.

Cloudy Days

2011-07-06T11:30:00.001-04:00

At the end of last week, we had two days when the sky couldn't have put on more flamboyant display of billowing clouds - huge, puffy mountains of rolling white.

The grandness of the plume above may not be immediately evident in this photo. But if you study the multiple layers of clouds types in the foreground, you might be able to imagine the size of this rising mass.

This long stretch above the treeline was like a painter's stroke,
just a touch of "notice me here".

Ah, and below - well, I found the missing puzzle piece...!

The Fairest of Them All

2011-07-05T11:30:00.013-04:00

I don't recall seeing this plant before. The colors are sweet and inviting. I don't know if they are blossoms or berries. Mother nature was thoughtful when creating this palette of cream, deep orange, and yellow on a field of green. She even added a bit of delicate straw-colored grass to the bouquet.

Bee Season

2011-07-04T11:30:00.002-04:00

I could hear the hum of these frenetic bees as they swarmed around the common milkweed blossoms. I'm happy when the shutter times it just right and the bee's tongue can be seen reaching for the pollen or nectar.

This activity, when within our food supply gardens, is essential to our survival.

Another well timed shot below!

I think the flower and bee in this last photo have matching presentation -
not too fancy, petite, sturdy, calm.

Torrents of Rain At the Pond

2011-06-26T11:30:00.002-04:00

I think it's been five days now that it's been raining here. That's not necessarily a bad thing since the ground had become fairly dry and the inlets to the pond had not even a trickle of water. The juvenile red-winged blackbird (above) seems to wonder into what sort of world he's landed as the water falls in sheets.

On the pond's surface, in the photos above and below, you can see the intensity of the rain. I wasn't yet a quarter of the way around the pond when I could feel that the rain had soaked through my sneakers and socks!

In the photo of the pond's surface above, on the left-hand side of the image, nearly at the mid-line, you can see a water droplet suspended above rings of a splash. I don't know if the camera caught a falling raindrop, or if the droplet resulted after a drop of rain hit the water. To the upper right of the droplet, you can see a water bubble. I've cropped the image below to help you see both. There's a macro and a micro world always in action at the pond. And, all things being relative, numerous layers within each, and between each.

I don't know what filament on the back side of these leaves holds the raindrops in place. But its composition seems to like holding the drops along the main vein.

It's been an odd spring this year and the summer's off to an equally unseasonable start. It's been colder than other years, especially the nights. I'm hoping soon we'll be rewarded for this with bright, warm, and dry days.

Spheres in Nature

2011-06-22T11:00:00.016-04:00

It seemed as if I were seeing spheres in everything today.
The prettiest is above - a globe of blossoms - of the common (hardly!) milkweed.

It began when I looked up from my computer
and, through a skylight, saw the orb above in a pine.
The late afternoon light gave it a golden glow.
I went outside to try and figure out what it was and took the photo below.
I think it is some sort of web nest, about five inches in diameter.

Even the shrub below, which looks as if it did not survive winter,
has the round shape that my mind seemed to be focused on today.
I have walked by this bush scores of times and not noticed its bulbous shape.

Blueberries now fill their shrubs -
clusters of round fruit the birds will soon enjoy.

While the star shaped center of the blossom below caught my eye,
as I looked through the camera lens, I thought I was seeing a water droplet.
But at closer look, it's a small green ball, a pod perhaps.

I've written before about the round shape of things at the pond.

Naiad Perhaps?

2011-06-22T09:30:00.003-04:00

Here is ... something. I saw it today on a lily pad. It was about an inch and a quarter long, perhaps a bit more. (I much prefer to look at and photograph birds.) Most yucky about finding this was, later on, looking through my reference book about insects to try to determine what it is. I think it's a naiad (of a dragonfly perhaps), except that the head shape doesn't quite match the photos I saw in my book. And, as well, naiads seem to have antlers coming off their rear end, which this thing does not. When I first saw it, I actually wondered if it were a tiny reptile. Its skin seemed more reptilian than insect like. Feel free to comment with your identification ideas.

Happy Father's Day...

2011-06-19T09:30:00.006-04:00

...to all you dads who have been as attentive and supportive to your fledglings as this Baltimore oriole dad was this weekend to his...

More Photos from My New Nikon 55 - 300mm lens!

2011-06-18T11:00:00.001-04:00

Here are more photos I took this week with my new Nikon 55 - 300 mm lens. The chipping sparrow is a small bird. It's so petite, I always think it's a baby bird. This one landed and posed on a branch for me yesterday. It showed me its profile, displaying its eye color and markings and its beak shape and size (above), its wing stripes (below), and (below still) its crown view, as well as the cut of its tail feathers! It seemed to know just what the bird books are looking for!

The common grackle is a menacing bird. It has a raucous call, an imposing look, and it perches at the tops of trees as if to declare itself king of the neighborhood. But it has a unique beauty in its iridescent hood of deep blue.

I find its eyes, which are yellow, to be scary looking.

Nikon's Nikkor 55-300mm lens

2011-06-17T22:41:00.000-04:00

When I began this blog more than four years ago, my camera was the Canon PowerShot80. About a year into blogging, I bought a Nikon D40 that came with an 18 - 35mm lens. After a year of frustration - just not having the ability to zoom close enough, I bought a used 35 - 200mm Nikkor for $100. A year into using that lens (which I love), the auto feature broke. So, for the past year I've been manually focusing all my photos. The truth is, being forced to manually focus has taught me a lot about my camera and photography and myself. I am very comfortable with manual focus now.
This year, with a little extra money that came in a tax return, I decided to buy the new Nikon 55 - 300mm lens about which I've been reading great things. The biggest plus is that it works with auto focus on the D40 - something many of the better lenses don't do. I hope you'll see the difference in my photos. I am already thrilled with this lens. I feel as if the emotion I feel when I'm at the pond, is finally coming through in the images. Have a look at the heron in the photo at the top of this post. Click on it to enlarge and see where the wing almost touches the water. This is the drama of nature. When I write in this blog, I don't know the words to convey that kind of moment, that spacial event. Is it tension? Or emotion? Or exhilaration? So, I hope the photos say it for me. Now, I think they will.

Anyone who watches red-winged blackbirds will recognize the quintessential look of this photo - the black wings with the brilliant red markings, against a background of green grasses. This bird lives in the marshes. When I see this image for real, at the pond, my whole self goes still. It is a feast of beauty to my eyes and spirit. I think how wonderful this place earth is. I experience joy.
This time of year, I can hear the juvenile red-winged blackbirds in their nests at the base of tall reeds in one corner of the pond. They fly in and out, and I am able to take their pictures as they get used to walking in the grass or balancing near the tip of a reed. But never, till the photo below, have I seen a juvenile in the darkness of the lower reeds. Using the full 300mm power of my new lens, I was able to get this shot, as evening light filtered through and illuminated the bird just enough. And it was so easy to get this photo of the Elisa skimmer.

The Great Blue Heron Thru the Nikkor 300mm lens

2011-06-17T21:30:00.000-04:00

Like the phoenix rising...

A lot of fan fare...

Cruising...

Barn Swallow's Time of the Season

2011-06-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

In the photo above, a barn swallow plucks from the surface of the water a tasty bug treat. Please click on the image and have a good look at it. (Use your back arrow to return to the post.) See the drag of the corner of the tail, for a couple of feet, as this bird dips its beak and skims the water's surface as it flies at a ridiculously fast pace. The speed at which this bird constantly flies is hinted at in the image below.

This post is a mix of photos from the second week of June last year and yesterday.

I love when the bird's reflection is caught on the water's surface. I'm not conscious of this in real time as the bird's flying too fast for me to process it. So, it's something I can appreciate through the digital image when I'm back at my computer.

The photo below is of the water's surface as I took yesterday's pictures. It shows the banquet of bugs that I believe the swallow is dipping for at its leisure - hardly a difficult hunt.In a recent conversation with photographer Frank Winters, without using exact quotes he told me a bit about Henri Cartier-Bresson's thought that we get too hung up on perfect focus in photography. With that idea in mind, I share some photos here of the barn swallow that are a bit fuzzy around the edges! But I hope this gives you a sense of the speed of this bird.

Maternal Instinct

2011-06-12T14:00:00.000-04:00

A month ago, the Canada goslings huddled together and stayed close to their parents at all times. To see the goslings was to see the parents, and vice versa. Under the watchful eye of their mother, they'd graze in the grass (above). And below, as their father kept a watchful eye for their safety, they had grooming and other lessons from their mother.
This is simply the way it is for weeks as the young are raised.
So, imagine my surprise one day when on my second lap around the pond, the parents sat in complete contentment, not a babe in sight! I could not imagine that (though I wondered if) a hawk had swooped down and carried the six fluffy goslings away in the ten minutes it took me to walk around the pond and return to where I'd just watched them all graze in the grass.
I thought they might be over the embankment, but I looked and they weren't. I thought perhaps this was another pair of Canada geese, that the little family was undercover elsewhere. But the area was wide open and no other geese, large or small, were in sight.
Then I noticed the wing of the female was at an odd angle. Again, I wondered if there had been a battle with a marauding large bird and that the mother had been injured in the fray.
But I soon became aware that there was activity under her wing and lo -
here were the babes! Were they beneath her wings for a nap? For protection? For a time-out?
Whatever the reason, their frisky natures kept revealing bits of their sweet baby yellow fluff.
A couple of days ago, there was a violent thunderstorm late in the afternoon. As I passed by a window in my house, out on my lawn I saw the image below - a wild turkey sitting stock still in the open, with a chick under its wing. Lightning and cracks of thunder raged overhead, but the parent stayed perfectly still, with its wing protectively around its young.
Looking out the window at this wild turkey, I remembered what I'd seen a month earlier - the behavior of the mother Canada goose, which at the time made no sense to me. Then, from my childhood, I remembered occasions on summer afternoons when my mother would call us in from the yard. She'd say that we were going to practice a fire drill. She'd send us to our beds and ask us to lie still, as if it were nighttime and we were asleep. We'd obey. Then she'd do the same, lie on her bed as if it were nighttime. From her room she'd call, "Children, there's a fire!" Following the instructions she'd given us, we'd orderly march from our rooms, down the hall, through the kitchen and out the front door. We'd cross the lawn and meet under the designated lamp post for a head count.
..under the shelter of her wing...

Pond Images - June in New England

2011-06-09T13:30:00.000-04:00

As I walked the dog today, in twenty minutes I took these photos as I circled the pond.
The iris is alongside my driveway.
Female redwinged blackbird with worms in her beak!
(Click to enlarge the photo. Use your back arrow to return to the post.)
Great blue heron on the island shore.
The blue-eyed grass below is a sure sign of the spring-into-summer time of year.
The Elis skimmer has hatched.
And below, a gorgeous dragonfly I don't recall ever seeing before. I can't find it in my books so will name it Tiffany for the beautiful stained glass look on its wings, close to the body.

Mating Snapping Turtles?

2011-05-27T00:29:00.001-04:00

I don't know how to begin to describe the scene I saw this evening at the pond, and I'm at a loss to find a way to explain how it impacted me mentally and emotionally. I think the photo above might capture the unsettling feeling I still have, hours later.
(Please click on any of the photos to enlarge for better viewing. Use your back arrow key to return to the post.)

Chronologically: I saw something in the water that I couldn't identify. I stayed behind a shrub (hence the green in the foreground of the photo above) and took a picture. All I could think of was an stingray. But there couldn't be a stingray in this pond. I could see that there were two parts to it, and it looked as if it were torn almost in half. It was moving in shallow water, about two feet deep. I came from around the shrub just as it broke through the surface of the water. I thought it must be the muskrat. But I couldn't understand why the water was churning in a six-foot diameter fury all around it. I worried a snapper had it by the tail.
It fell back into the water.
More bubbling and churning followed - below. I was mesmerized, confused, a little scared, and worried for what might be being harmed. There was something intense happening under the water. It quieted - photo below - and I struggled to make out what was under the still surface. I couldn't.
It riled up again and
the nose of a turtle came through the surface. I was overcome with sadness. I knew it was injured and must be dying. I felt guilty taking photos, and kept moving the camera away from my eye. I'd watch it a bit, feel sad, then take pictures again.There was further struggle and I imagined it suffocating under water, unable to surface again for air. But it did surface again, and it made a loud, deep, bellowing, belching noise. I was overcome, caught in a moment of death, as I witnessed the dying struggle for a breath.
Like something out of the Odyssey, this enormous turtle, or enormous two turtles, came up out of the water to its/their shoulders. The telltale clawed paw I've seen on the big snappers was visible. But my mind was stuck on the size of the head - which had to be eight inches, nose to shell. (O.K. it's just come to me that this head looks like something out of the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies. An Orc?)
My eyes have never seen this site in real life. And my brain had no place to put the information. I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. I will admit, I was wigged out, totally. And I know that's not scientific observation terminology. But I'm not a trained naturalist. I lost my power of pure observation and wigged!
Click on either of the two images above, and you might get a sense of all the unfamiliar things I was trying to interpret and understand. At this point, I had decided that something was trying to kill something and (if there were in fact two things) one was going to die. See that claw? It/they splashed back down and submerged. All went still till some part of something surfaced slowly. Again, see the claw, just under the water?
Then, as if nothing at all were amiss, in a moment, two huge turtles swam off along the shoreline, one trailing the other. I wanted to throttle the pair of them for the scare they gave me. I'd never seen the wiles of May's mating below the surface of the water, though I've seen plenty above the surface - with the birds and the insects. When all was done, I looked around for anyone who might have seen this too. I wanted to ask, "Did that really just happen?" But no-one was there!

Red-winged Blackbird Chases Heron From Pond

2011-05-26T16:45:00.000-04:00

This post is photo heavy, so I'll go light on the words.

Often, as I walk around the pond, I'll chat with neighbors who will tell me what I missed that morning, or the day before, or the week before. The truth is, I'm well aware that there are things going on at the pond that I missing constantly, even when I'm there shooting photos of something else. My biggest regret is that a neighbor saw a snowy owl, which I would love to see.

Today, I went out the door with my dog on the leash. I didn't intend to walk around the pond but he tugged in that direction. I told him, "Fine, but let me go back for the camera." I can't imagine the regret I'd feel if I'd seen the sights below and not had the camera with me! Right away, I spied the heron, looking exactly as above, an "s" shape in the reeds about half way down the length of the shoreline. Something made the heron decide to take to the air. I started snapping shots of it as it passed over me. The heron circled back over where it had been. And at some point, a red-winged blackbird began to tail the heron.

The camera picked up the blackbird for the first time in the shot below. The heron circled again and cut across the pond at the midpoint. It seemed to not yet plan on leaving.So,the red-winged blackbird became more aggressive.In the photo below, if you click on it and enlarge it, you'll see the blackbird, like a bullet heading straight for the heron's back.Below, you see what astounds me about this small bird's attack of such a larger bird. The blackbird sets down on and strikes the heron's back, I presume with claws and beak.

The birds separate but the blackbird continues the pursuit.

It moves in closer,

and strikes again. (Click to enlarge photo below - you'll see the blackbird on the heron's back.)

For good measure, it attacks once more.The heron seems to get the message and heads to my end of the pond where it makes its final circle, then exits over the treeline above where I first saw it in the reeds.

Last week I took the photos below. Again, it's a red-winged blackbird - but this time it's after a red-tailed hawk!

Who gets the Father of the Year Award? The red-winged blackbird.

Tadpoles

2011-05-26T01:39:00.001-04:00

For three days, there has been a "running of the tadpoles" occurring at one fifteen-foot span of water along the shoreline. On the first day, it was like a swarm - a dark cloud of them covering an area the size of a trash can lid, as the image below shows.
I don't know if I've mentioned this here before, but the first pet I had was a tadpole. When I was young, neighborhood friends gave me a tadpole to take home from their fish bowl of tadpoles. However, the parents didn't equip me with a proper receptacle and my little four year old hand carried the tadpole in a tiny pool of water in my cupped palm.
It was a short walk, about forty yards, and I walked ever so carefully, attentive to the little life-form in my hand. By the time I came through the back door, and showed my mother the drying tadpole, it was probably too late. But my mother made every effort to hurry it into water. I watched, but it didn't squiggle as it had in my friend's fish bowl. I was heartbroken and disappointed.
But I can still remember what it felt like as I carried it and cared for it and felt its life in connection with mine.

Snake in the Grass

2011-05-26T01:30:00.000-04:00

As I cautiously approached the robins nest (in the post below) I nearly stepped on the head of this snake! I caught it out of the corner of my eye and did a two-step, missing it by inches.
We had a stare-down, both wondering if the other were scared or dangerous.
In time, the snake got a hold of its instinct and posed its most threatening pose.
But it didn't slither away I think because it had just eaten something. See in the image above the distict bulge in the body of the snake, not quite half way between head and tail.

(Remember, all photos can be clicked on to enlarge. Use the back arrow to return to the posts!)

American Robin Hatchlings!

2011-05-26T00:36:00.000-04:00

Native Americans would refer to particular years by events that marked them. In the four years that I've written about the pond, there are times (seasons and years) that I have become interested...or perhaps...obsessed...with a particular thing at the pond. Those of you who have been with me through the years, must remember The Year of the Turtles. For some time plants were all I could write about. There was The Two Year Span of the Great Blue Heron and a never-ending supply of photos and posts about it. The Year of the Red-winged Blackbird may not yet be over...

And now, much to my dismay, the most common of birds, the American robin, has captured me in a way I cannot believe. It may as well be that I've become struck by the presence of squirrels! How can this ever-present bird have finally be compelling to me after decades of taking it for granted. I believe this is The Year of the American Robin!

Guess what? Come to find out, it is the American robin that has built the nests that astound me by their sturdiness and design - donuts of mud stacked atop one another and held together by straw. You might remember me referring to them as the Guggenheim in my post Architectural Feats, because they are so like that NYC museum in design. Yes, the American robin built the Guggenheim! I am stunned! But in this post is the evidence!

When I took the photo above, I had no idea there were hatchlings in it. I only realized when the next day I was taking more photos of the nest and what did my wondering eyes see? Fluffy white down and new pink skin and sweet baby bird beaks. Then, on closer look at the photo taken the day before, I can see the evidence of the hatchlings in the nest - which I'd completely missed as I marveled at the nest itself.

Here now is the mastermind of the nest, sitting atop her babes, keeping them safe and warm.

In the course of three days, I can see how they've grown and how the details of their wings are taking shape. See how it appears that one egg didn't hatch. I don't know that it will still.
I try not to get too close to the nest but with the 200 lens there is enough detail in these photos to make out the forming birds. I hope I am able to see those hungry beaks fed!
As I made my final loop around the pond this afternoon, there was a robin pecking away at the soil and carry what looks to be three worms at a time. I imagine these are going to be delivered to a nest.

Not all of the bird stories come to a happy endings. A few posts back I showed a robin sitting on her nest in a pine tree. She's no longer sitting on the nest and no hatchlings are there. About 20 yards from the nest I saw this. There's no telling from which nest it was taken and dropped.

I feel so sorry each time I walk by the empty nest.

The Beautiful Baltimore Oriole

2011-05-23T00:53:00.001-04:00

As the rain fell in torrents the past week, the orioles must have been busy despite the wind and rain. Two of their nests are on the far side of the pond. I'm excited about the nest above as it affords great visibility for the camera and me to potentially capture great photos.
We'll see!

The picture above has visceral impact on me. While the photo is not a prize winner, the image shows me what I often see in and among the leaves and branches in springtime. This female Baltimore oriole is dancing the dance of nature, attracting her partner who is a few branches above. Her color tones blend with the not fully unfurled leaves of this tree. She is colored like her world, yet stands out to a watchful eye who can't help but see the beauty of her open wings and fanned tail. This picture hits me in the chest with an emotional wave of "it's springtime and the earth is in renewal."

But while she dances for her mate, she also is busy preparing her nest. Above, you can see her and the work she's instinctively done for her children, with her mates help.

This year there are more Baltimore orioles than I've ever seen before at the pond. I don't know the reason why, what's drawn them to the pond. But they can be seen almost constantly. The image above is typical. The male bright and lively in the foreground, the female not quite so obvious in the background. I am excited, anticipating the new generation, which will come along soon!

Enough About the Red-winged blackbird!

2011-05-23T00:43:00.001-04:00

I can't help myself - this bird has a hold on me! Humor me a bit as this post is actually educational. I have never before seen the red in the wings of the female (both photos below). I wonder if it's only evident this time of year. The photos are a bit blurry but if you click to enlarge, you can see the red, which looks more like a rust color than the brilliant red of the male (first photo above.) Okay, class dismissed!

Random Displays of Spring in New England

2011-05-23T00:25:00.000-04:00

This post is one of five that shows a variety of pictures I took on May 20th. The posts are all dated May 22, which is today -the day I'm posting.

Above is a mud and straw nest. Last year I found one on the other side of the pond. I think I'm going to do a little research and find out just what bird it is that creates this amazing structure. It is about six inches deep, rounded edged mud patty upon mud patty. The mud is held together with straw. And the cup of the nest is only a couple of inches deep.

Below is a red-bellied woodpecker. The woodpecker surprises me with its size. This bird is about nine inches long! I don't know why my impression had always been that woodpeckers were petite birds.

Canada geese leave a trail of poop wherever they go. This reality bothers a lot of people. Where I live, their poop is on our walks, in the lawn, on and in the water of the pond. But I never complain because I love the goslings - whether it's one little one taking a break from its eating and pooping or the whole gang under a parent's watchful eye.

A Hummingbird!

2011-05-23T00:16:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure I've ever put a picture of a humming bird in this blog! (I know I've posted with disappointment about a moth I took a picture of that looked like a tiny hummingbird and is named for the hummingbird but was not a hummingbird!)

I don't know what this variety is but I hope I see it again and get better photos of its details. I'll be watching the blueberry blossoms with hope that it returns.

Sunny Springtime Day

2011-05-23T00:04:00.000-04:00

It rained for six days straight, the sun finally shining again on Friday. Everything had a new look about it as spring had continued to unfold through the downpours and claps of thunder.

This time of year, the leaves look perfect to me. They are not wilting with thirst, nor chewed around the edges by bugs, nor diminishing in color as the fall comes on. In meditation, I will think about the color green, the color of healing, when I'm not feeling well. The image above is exactly as I see green in those moments.

Even the camera was happy to see the blue, and captured it just as it looked to me.

I was surprised to see the delicate flowers and smell the heavenly scent of honeysuckle so soon. Maybe it's the right time but it seems to me that generally it's further along in the season before it's sweet scent fills the air.

Springtime Birds in New England

2011-05-17T20:53:00.000-04:00

The Baltimore orioles arrived two weeks ago. Their lovely songs fill the trees and thicket on the far side of the pond. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of their brilliant orange, as above, while other times they sit long enough for a portrait, as below. Both photos are of a male.The female (below) is not as brilliant an orange color, but she fans her tail feathers and calls to the male in their spring mating rituals. I don't know what the sweet thing pictured below is! A friend is going to look at this picture and try to tell me. It's such an ordinary looking bird that I should be able to identify it. But sometimes it's the less ordinary that is easy to distinguish. I love the quality of this photo - the lines of the branches, the blue of the sky, the calm posture of the bird.
One day in early May, a female common grackle was singing her heart out, apparently to get the attention of a male, which she did. He arrived as she postured like a tea cup and stood perfectly still. He approached her and put her beak in his. I'm not sure if this is his way to claim her as his, or if he was simply silencing her!
The red-winged blackbird is fast at work, establishing relationships and nesting areas. It passes back and forth over the pond, stopping in favorite places - in the pond reeds, at the top of trees, or on an outer branch of a tree. Often, the image below is how the bird presents - a darting black bird with striking red at its shoulders.

I was caught by surprise one day in early May when six goslings paddled alongside a pair of Canada geese. But as it is May, the birthing season is upon us. Perhaps it's the chilly and rainy weather that has me not quite believing we are this far into this phase of the season.To convince me, an American robin sits patiently on her nest whenever I walk by. I am anxious to see her hatchlings. Already, I anticipate much frustration as I try to capture their picture against that milky sky behind the nest! I'll be hoping for deep blue skies once they arrive!

Great Blue Heron - May, 2011

2011-05-03T21:14:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was the first day this season that I saw the heron at the pond, though I did see it fly overhead about two weeks ago. I was standing a little more than ten feet from it when I took the photo at the top of the post. When I moved closer, it flew behind the scrub along the shoreline. Later, a man pushing a baby stroller came along near the heron and startled it. It flew across the pond, allowing me these photos, which might end up being the best of the season!

March's Cold, Wind and Snow = Blue Skies!

2011-04-04T22:37:00.000-04:00

The only consolation about March's chilly temperatures was the beautiful blue of the sky that came with each frigid day. I suspect, too, that the rain and snow that fell from the skies through March cleared out dust and dirt, leaving a clean view through the atmosphere. The sky was a silvery blue and, one day, had a touch of lavender in it.

The picture at the top of this post clearly shows the gradation of blues that spanned from the horizon to straight overhead. In the series of pictures below, I moved the camera - in increments - from the horizon at the treeline to directly overhead in five shots. Enjoy the ever deepening blues!

Wood ducks

2011-03-26T14:43:00.000-04:00

A couple of posts back I mentioned the wood ducks that visited the pond. I'd like to look at them again in this article. I'd never seen this duck before. I was taken aback by the male's colorful and almost comical look. But like a clown face, there was something kind of eerie about the overall patchwork of disguise. And the red eyes of this bird topped it off.
The duller female swam ahead of the male. The male stayed between the female and me. Her eyes had the same painted shape around them, but in white.

These ducks are smaller than the mallards which are much smaller still than the Canada geese, with whom they all amicably share water.I've observed the disposition, specific to timidness, that birds exhibit. A Canada goose, for instance, is not bothered by me in the slightest. In fact, if I wander too close to one, say within four feet, it will hiss a warning at me, its beak open as its pink tongue vibrates. I know I could startle it away if I needed to, but it stands its ground confidently otherwise.

The mallards keep a cool distance. They use to full advantage the fact that I can't walk on water and they paddle twenty or more feet from the shoreline and me.

The wood ducks were neurotic in their uneasiness about me. I suppose it actually could be my four legged companion that has them more upset. In any event, they became frantic, noticeably agitated, as we walked along the path within thirty feet of them. They swam quickly to the ice and tried desperately to climb onto it. The ice was slushy and simply broke beneath their webbed feet. It was sad to watch their fear so I hurried us along and past them.

At the far end of the pond I was able to again get some photos but with the sun in front of me, the photos are not as clear. The photo above was the best I could get of the female. In my effort to do better with a picture of her, I walked one step too close and in a flash they were airborne. I'd scared them off, much to my sympathetic disappointment.

I don't know if they'll return or if I happened upon a chance stopover.

The First Day of Spring

2011-03-21T22:29:00.001-04:00

A keen observer for many years of the weather on the first day of spring (my birthday), I can conclusively attest that it's officially a crap shoot. I've experienced snow storms, a light accumulation of snow (like today's inch), icy rain (which came later in the day today), cold rain, dismal fog, intermittent blue sky, gorgeous blue sky over a snowy landscape, gorgeous blue sky over a spring budding landscape, freezing winter temps like today's 31 degrees, warm temps in the 60s, and summer-like weather with temps in the mid-70s.

Pictured here are scenes from my pond walk today, the first day of spring. In the post below, there are pictures (of the mallards and the wood duck) that I took yesterday. What a difference a day makes in New England.

I was puzzled by the snake-like path (above) that weaved its way through the slush on top of the pond and along its edge.

Then I spied the newly arrived mallards paddling along the shoreline, making the most of their start of the new season. It'll be a story for the grandchildren, they tell each other.

I'd forgotten how timid these ducks are. They get a bit panicky as I pass by and try to move away from me by going toward and attempting to step up onto the soft ice, which breaks apart beneath their paddle feet. I was glad that for the stretch pictured above, my favorite grove of birch trees gave them a sense of shelter. Please click on this photo to enlarge it and look at the beautiful eye of the female. I have referred to her "Cleopatra eyes" in past posts. They are beautiful and I wonder if nature influenced the black lined make-up of Egyptian women.

Despite the frigid temperature today and the falling snow, the birds were busy singing and perching and chasing one another. Above, a bluejay sits contentedly, as if all were sunny, warm and bright. And the robin below, as well as the dozen others in the same row of trees seemed to not mind the blast of winter that descended on the day.

Sunshine or not, nature has beauty. I've learned to accept whatever she chooses to display on my birthday. And really, what's not to love in the scene below. Here is our planet and its offerings of water, land, vegetation and the myriad life forms that are hunkered down within this colorless winter scene.

Let the snow fall, let the temperature drop. It's just a day, one day only, on the cusp of spring. The pine needles did not stop their thawing for this day. And the earth did not cease to move closer to spring. Heck, it could be here tomorrow!

Worm Moon, Birthday Moon

2011-03-21T01:44:00.000-04:00

I was born on March 21st. For all of my childhood, I understood the day to be the first day of spring. As I entered my adult life (perhaps mankind became more informed), some claimed the 20th of March to be the first day of spring. I choose to ignore the enlightenment and to continue to think of my birthday as the first day of spring.

Some Native American tribes called the March moon "Worm Moon" because the ground softened and the worms wriggled their way to the surface - where a lucky American Robin might find a few for lunch, as the above photo, which I took this weekend, will attest.

Spring is in full action as the snow continues to melt away and the thaw saturates the soil and water seeps and flows and floods in an urgent rush. The water above is coming into the pond from a stream.

This past winter was unusually cold. The most remarkable thing I noticed along with the cold was the absolute silence in the air when I'd walk near the pond. Not even the crow was sending a call. But now all has changed and the crow is again posturing, holding authority, ruling the sky.

The natural environment does not make it easy to see all that's happening. Under the cover of thicket, this cardinal pair alights for the joy of my eye and the capturing of them with my camera. What has come to signal the official start of spring for me (besides my birthday), is the arrival of the mallard pair. I've noticed that shortly after the ice along the shorline melts, the mallards arrive. Yesterday, I saw them for the first time. Here's the male, skirting the edge of the ice.

Below is the female.

And at the same time, a pair of Canada geese have returned. In the photo below, goose and ducks paddle in harmony.

Today I had the wonderful treat of seeing a type of duck I'd never seen before. Pictured below is the Wood duck, the striking male in the foreground, the female, with her white eye shadow, in the background.

On cue, the red-winged blackbird returned this week and the territorial activity is underway.

In the last steps of my hour-long walk yesterday, the Great Blue Heron flew overhead but did not stop. I smiled. This bird is nobody's fool and will alight in its own time.

Except for the first photo in this post, which was taken about two weeks ago (and is titled "Best in Show"), each photo in this post was taken in the past few days.
All is in renewal at the pond.
Happy first day of spring.
Happy birthday.

(Click on any photo in this blog to enlarge it for better viewing. Use your back arrow to return to the post.)

Before Winter Melts to Spring - Pond Skating

2011-03-16T20:58:00.000-04:00

For all of my childhood, there was a pond behind my home. In the winter, though not every winter, we skated - my brothers, sister, the neighborhood kids and I. Hockey sticks, pucks, and ice skates were common Christmas gift in my home. In that day, it was unusual, most unusual, for a girl to have a hockey stick. But I did - though briefly, since an older brother broke his own and in desperation borrowed my small sized stick and then had a brief time of play with it before it broke under his much stronger play.

A New England winter alone does not make a season of good outdoor skating. There needs to be an orderly confluence of nature's elements to create a smooth ice surface. If snow falls on a thin layer of ice, the season can be ruined. Or if a thaw comes along and softens the ice, then rain or snow falls, the surface can be ruined.

Long freezing periods under a blue sky early in the season is best. In the recent years that I've lived by this pond, I have seen just one good skating season. And it was this past year.

We really did not have any snow to speak of till January. But we had lots of cold weather through December. So, when the snow finally came - in storm after storm after storm, it dropped onto a solid and smooth ice. Shoveling was required - but for those eager to skate, the shoveling is not an unpleasant warm-up exercise.

These photos show young men in a pick-up game of hockey. I'd forgotten the sound of the sticks clacking on the ice and the crack of a slap-shot (my specialty as a child) and the skate blades' scratchy shushing sound. All these noises echo off the stark cold trees, creating a sound ambiance unique to outdoor skating that's broken only by the whoop and holler of the players.

A few posts back I wrote about my own trudge across the pond. This year's cold, which is finally leaving, did offer the advantage of winter on the ice.

Above, the winter sun sets on the frozen pond.

The Red-tailed Hawk

2011-03-04T21:25:00.000-05:00

The labeling of birds confounds me. Come to find out, this late in life for me, not only do birds' colors and markings differ with age (juvenile to adult) and gender, but they differ by season, and within species. The red-tailed hawk is one of the easiest birds to identify - when the red tail is apparent, as in the photo above. But the bird can also present as a ghostly white, as in the photo below, which shows the adult light morph.

All the photos in this post were taken within a ten minute time frame and of two birds that were occupying the same sky space (along with two others that were at a higher altitude.) One of the birds, the one pictured below, was significantly larger than the other and arrived on the scene flying low over the line of tree tops on the far side of the pond.

Please click on the image above to see the gorgeous posture and attitude of this bird. (Use your back arrow to return to the post.)

This winter, the absence of birds has been remarkable. There has been an eerie silence in the air, day after day. But this afternoon, I saw these hawks (and the stoic and reliable American robin - click to visit my photo site, The Ripest Pics, where I shared a wonderful photo of an American robin that I took today.) It was a thrill to see these birds and to think that maybe spring is finally coming.

My hope is that these photos foretell of wonderful season of bird sightings and great shots. I felt today as if my camera, nature, and I were in sync.

This red-tailed hawk even maneuvered in a way to show me its back-side, which is quite a contrast to its light underbelly.

Twilight

2011-02-20T21:30:00.001-05:00

Twilight occurs every day - twice. By definition it's the time between daylight and nighttime or nighttime and daylight - the time when the sun is not visible but its light is refracting off particles in the air. In my life, "twilight," in common usage, applied only to the evening. To my eyes and other sensibilities, twilight lasts about ten to fifteen minutes. Most often it goes unnoticed. But there are twilight times when I feel suspended in a magical realm, where all is familiar but nothing is as it is during the other times of the day.

Twilight stopped me in my tracks one day this week. The sky (above) offered a dramatic and pleasant show of colored striations. Milky pinks and blues filled the sky.

The pond's surface (above), a combination of smooth ice and crusted snow received the light and presented it back in a black and pink metallic flowing through blue and white. I am most struck by twilight when the air itself turns blue or pink or orange. In the photos I took this past week - all was blue. It was quickly too dark for the camera to work on its own. So, for the picture above, I used the auto exposure lock - focusing first on the treeline, then having the camera register the brightest lighting on the snow - the mound of white snow left of center near the bottom of the photo. Giving the camera that light setting, I was able to capture what I was actually seeing.

By the time I took the photo below, it was so dark the camera did its own reading and gave me this shot which was not far off the blacker blue I was seeing.

As for the moon high above at the top of this post as it sat low on the horizon - well, I had about two minutes of that lighting to work with. I made some adjustments (of both the aperture and shutter speed) while taking about twenty shots to get the camera to read the true color I was seeing - a gorgeous orange moon, with its surface markings astoundingly clear, suspended in a pool of blue just over a ridge of black treetops.

I can't really describe in words or photographs what happens to me when I am within twilight. Certainly, I know it's a treat. And I appreciate it, in fact I am thrilled by it and I feel fully alive, keenly alive. But there's something else in it too - I am a tiny bit unnerved, as if something has changed in my environment and I wonder if it will return to what is fully familiar. Am I where I think I am, or have I passed through to another world?

Winter Debris

2011-02-19T16:25:00.000-05:00

The January thaw seems late this year. Maybe this year's just been so cold the lateness is a perception I have. Finally, this week, some snow melted while the temperature fluctuated from 42 to 52 degrees Fahrenheit. Visibly, the depth of the snow diminished. Encouraged by the warm air, sun, and reduced amount of snow, I ventured a walk around the pond yesterday. While the paved path has been easy going (since it's plowed) the far side has been impossible to reach if just trudging along in boots. (Snowshoes would make it accessible and I'm thinking now of maybe buying a pair during the summer when L.L. Bean has a sale so I'm better prepared next year!)

I had attempted a pass along the back path last week and found myself sinking the full length of my legs with nearly every step. I estimated it would take me a couple of days to get fully around at the rate it was taking me to pull my legs from the snow. Sometimes, it was a bootless foot that finally emerged.

But yesterday's passage proved much easier. About seventy percent of my steps stayed solidly on the surface of the snow. Periodically, and unexpectedly, my foot would sometimes sink to my knees with a step. As long as I kept at a slow pace, no harm was done. But I did fear a sprained or broken ankle as my balance was set off each time this happened and the foot deep in the snow was on uneven terrain. If I fell, I was sure I'd be hurt!

At the pace I was forced to travel I was able to see clearly the myriad debris that covered the snow as it melted. With each layer of dissipating snow, a layer of decomposing stuff is revealed. With the many inches of snow that has melted, there is much debris accumulating over the snow's surface.

All the vines I photograph and the bittersweet dilemma I've posed in this blog is shown in the curly cue above.

As the leaves decay, the intricacies of their structure become clear, as if viewed through a microscope. I love this affect. And in the first photo at the start of this post, the reflecting sunlight passing through the snow enhances the image's detail. Please click on the image to fully appreciate it. Return to the post with your back arrow.

Like the iceman found some years ago, this bittersweet berry's shell has remained intact through the crushing layers of snow that have covered it and now melted. This to me is an amazing find. Even if it has fallen recently and just sat upon the upper layer of snow, it is so delicate I can't imaging that winter wind hasn't blown it around and damaged it.

The junk above, resting atop the snow, is spring's coming fertilization! Is there a grand scheme in this or is it random chance? This is what I wonder as I walk around the pond.

Winter Pond

2011-01-28T20:23:00.000-05:00

It's the view above, that I see as I enter the the path around the pond, that makes my senses come alive and I think, I'll never tire of this pond. This winter shot, taken yesterday, is one of the prettiest I've taken of the pond. It's winter beautiful.

I'm lucky this year. We have an awesome grounds crew at this condo association and they have been great about running the snow blower along the paved portion of the pond's path. We've had one storm on top of another all month and the pathway is always ready when I head out for a walk. At this point, the sides must be close to four feet high. How inviting is the photo below - winter wonderland, with a convenient pass.

I study the shadows of winter. Looking at the scene in the photos below I think about the sun, and the winter tilt of the earth, and the angle that causes these mid-afternoon shadows to elongate to double the actual height of the growth. And I wonder how people interpreted these seasonal changes before there was scientific understanding.

Yesterday, the sky was spectacular. In fact, it occupied my thoughts for much of the walk. I think the falling snow has cleaned the air and the whisp of clouds and blue of the sky nearly sparkled with vibrancy.

I wish I had the skill to paint the look of the sky in these photos.

By contrast, the sky today was a dull white-gray. But as a backdrop in the photo of the tree below, it allows the tree to dominate the image and the tree's perfect shape, in contrast to the vine damaged trees that surround it, is an artistic spray of branches.

I love coming upon art inspiration around the pond, like the tree above. The picture below has great texture in the speckles in the bark of the tree in the forground, and interesting, blurred, horizontal lines in the background - all a mixture of branches, snow, and pine needles.

Again, the dismal sky lets these trees catch the attention of the eye. Lower to the ground the various characteristics of the bark can be seen as well as a depth through the trunks, as if a path has been cut through.

The birds' nests all have a covering of snow. Below, the Guggenheim nest is beginning to crumble. The lower levels have dropped off...

And speaking of birds. At the start of my walk today, I listened carefully and could not hear one bird, not even a crow. The silence was odd. It lasted a full thirty minutes. Not one bird call. Then, as I was about five minutes from home, I heard one lone call. Determined to find the bird in the tangle of branches, I scanned the trees for nearly ten minutes. The photos below are the best I could do! The red-bellied woodpecker was about a hundred yards from me.

Click on these pictures to get a little better view, especially for the photo below. Use your back arrow to return to the post.

On the Pond

2011-01-25T23:28:00.000-05:00

There are several times each summer that I'm tempted to go into the pond - literally into the water. And usually, it's not the heat of the day pushing me in as much as the clear water enticing me. I've never mustered the nerve. I think the lingering memory of goose poop and other pond muck floating on the spring surface, as well as the fear of snapping turtles and water snakes, kills the enticement.

I'm not sure how I've walked around the pond for nearly five full winters and today, for the first time, I had the urge to walk across it, through snow and on ice. Until today, the winter pond had not enticed me to step out onto it.

The photo above is a portrait of me and my faithful, if erratic, walking companion. This photo is marking the time and place of our arrival at the middle of the pond. The dog's name is Sprite. He's an eleven year-old cockerpoo and is still very much like a puppy. I've mentioned him before in this blog and a couple of times included his picture. Generally, our walks around the pond are filled with frustrating fits and starts -- as I have a fit when he won't get started again after an instinctive impulse to stop and sniff, which occurs about every four paces.
But today we got a good groove going once we were out on the pond. As you see above, Sprite is blazing the trail. Perhaps that's the key, to take him where there is precious little to sniff.

Still, he did enough burrowing that his fur was matted with snow by the time we got home nearly an hour after we left the house.

The picture above shows our carefree, wandering fun. We'd stop for a photo, or to, as the photo below shows, dig a little in the snow to see how deep it was and to get a photo of the surface of the ice.

Of course to curious Sprite, my foot clearing the ice was a curious thing, something to investigate, as you see below.

And, it appears that he surmised I'd cleared a perfectly sized place for him to stand.

Other animals cross the pond and leave a more practiced path than Sprite and I.

Once back on shore, it was nice to look back as the long low shadows of winter streaked the snow-covered pond behind the tips of shore scrub.

Below, cattails somehow stay upright through winter winds.

A wide trail of snowshoeing tracks mark the pond where weekend visitors passed through.

I can't speak for Sprite but I know the new perspective I have on the winter pond will give me fresh thoughts and, I hope, pleasant dreams.

2010 - It's a Wrap

2010-12-31T23:12:00.000-05:00

I enjoyed nearly two hours of walking around the pond today. It was mild - 42 degrees - and sunny. It felt more like spring than mid-winter.

I've made a slide-show of about thirty pictures I took this afternoon. The focus of the assembled photos are textures, colors, and shapes.

Happy New Year!

Lunar-like Landscape

2010-12-29T20:15:00.001-05:00

This year's snow arrived with Christmas. In the weeks before, I realized that I could tolerate the New England winter cold quite well without snow. Now that snow and slush and ice and salt cover every walking surface, I am less content.

Yesterday, I took the photos in this post. I took many other photos - long-shots of the whole pond, the stark tree-line along the far side (that frame I just can't seem to take enough photos of as the seasons roll by) with the pond's surface of ice and snow in the foreground, and the now thinning and blond-colored reeds where the red-winged blackbird played all summer long.

Not satisfied with those shots, I found myself on my hands and knees, awkwardly framing pictures of miniature "snow-scapes." It seems that each winter I fill photo files with snow-scapes - images of expanses of snow with varying surfaces. Invariably, these fascinating scenes make me think of the surface of the moon.

In the first photo, above, can you not imagine that this is an overexposed shot of the moon? Or, perhaps, a photo taken when the sun's light is in full force and a telescope on Earth has zoomed-in for a close-up of the lunar surface?

A lunar sandstorm blew in as I crouched down and held steady against the blowing wind. It swept horizontally across the mountain peaks, shearing mass from the pointed tips as it pelted them. (Click on the picture above to see the storm raging over the landscape.) In the foreground (above) was a lone boulder, casting a sliver of a shadow.

And as I knelt and leaned low, looking through the lens, something passed between the sun and the moon, casting a long shadow in the foreground (above).

In a moment (below) the shadow-object moved, putting the lunar boulder in full shadow - a beautiful blue cast upon it.

And a moment later, the object moved farther, the shadow now behind the boulder. A total eclipse of the boulder.

A tug on the leash around my left wrist brought me back to my real world. And while saying, "Good boy," I gave my dog the assurance that we'd soon be on our way. As I stood, my naked eyes studied the half-inch in diameter "boulder" of snow that I'd transposed into an imaginary lunar world. And looking at the "good boy" by my side, I realized the source of the passing lunar shadow, my restless dog.

Winter's Coming On

2010-12-04T23:19:00.001-05:00

The daytime temperature has dropped to the thirties. I can't complain. November was mild - no snow, many warm days (in the fifties), and little rain. Today, I walked four laps around the pond in mid-afternoon, as the sun began to set. It was quiet as I walked. I heard few bird calls. But in the stark branches I saw what I thought to be "winter birds" - birds I don't know from my warm season sightings or that I don't recognize in their winter feathers.
The bird in the two photos above and the three below was loving the abundance of bittersweet. It would peck at a berry and eat the fleck that peeled off in its beak. Its snow-white belly showed off the red of the berries and its tail feathers had beautiful, rounded ends. I invite readers to help me with the identification of the birds in this post. My Stokes Field Guide has helped with the blue jay below. But the others remain a mystery to me.

I think the photo below shows a different bird. I did not forget to rotate this photo - the bird pecked away at something in this upside-down position. It's slate blue with pale orange tuft changing to white down its breast just inside the wings. It's about five inches long.
With the phot below I become a little confused with identification. Though the soft orange I mention above is on the birds chest, the head seems to be black and white, not the slate blue of the bird above. The size is the same. Again, look at the lovely rounded tail feathers. (P.S. It's not lost on me that the photo below is a bit silly looking. But - and there's a pun - I take whatever shot I can get! And there is wonderful detail in this image.)
In this next photo of the same bird as above, you can see the distinctive color variation on the head. I imagine it's enjoying the sweetness of sap from this cut branch.
And the image below is cropped from the lower right corner of a much larger photo. The bird above dropped down from its perch and flew off. I love this photo. My camera caught what my eye did not see. I often try to time a shutter release with a bird's take off. I watch for, or more exactly, my senses anticipate, the telltale curtsy that a bird does before it launches. And sometimes I do catch the bird taking flight. But this shot was a pleasant surprise to me and a dismounting technique I don't think I've seen before! (Imagine my frustration with the obstructed view of the bird's face. I've become used to this kind of disappointment in my nature shots.)
I was stumped with identifying the bird below. It's nearly a foot long. The Stokes book came to my rescue. It's a blue jay - that's not blue. It's gray and white. I think it's a juvenile.
I think the bird below is the same as the upside-down bird in the photo above. What I like about this picture is how the bird is nestled in the weave of protective branches.

I encourage readers to click on the photos in this post to enlarge the photos for better viewing. Use your back arrow to return to the post.

Mystical Moment

2010-11-22T14:23:00.001-05:00

I need to mark this time. Yesterday, for the first time in my life - of many decades - I saw an American bald eagle. It was a mystical moment for me and the mysticism lingers still. The eagle's visit to me did not occur at the pond. But I think it came to me because of the pond. So, I'll write about it here.

My whole life, I've had the understanding that there is Native American blood in my veins, that I have Black Foot tribe ancestry, from perhaps eight generations ago. Though the lineage is not exact in the family tree, the lore of it has been with my family for generations. Throughout my childhood, seeing my sister's coarse, straight black hair and one brother's ability to run or swim with astounding endurance seemed to confirm the genetic trail to native roots. And I have been drawn to Native American study since I was young.

Last week, as I packed for a weekend visit with a friend who has a home on an island that is bridged to Maine's mainland (a place I have visited many times over the past many years), I kept thinking about the American bald eagle. The thought was persistent, as if it were instinctive - I needed to see an eagle. Specifically, I was thinking that I wanted my friend to show me an eagle. I thought I would ask her to take me out in her boat. My friend has shown me amazing pictures she's taken of the bird and told me about the locations of their nests, which she sees from her boat during the summer months.

When I arrived in Maine, the thought was still with me, but I had realized even as I packed that the boating season was over and my friend could not show me an eagle. But thoughts of the bird were in my mind.

Yesterday, when my visit came to an end, I followed my friend - her car ahead of mine - off the island and south on Route 1 to Bath where we planned to shop in two stores. We'd driven about thirty minutes. As we drove up an incline just before the bridge into Bath, I saw something pass across the road ahead of us, where the road met the sky. In retrospect, I'm sure I would have missed this bit of action had my eye not been trained by my pond walks.

My mind followed the logic of the setting. In less than a second, the tips of sky-high work cranes of the Bath ship yard came into view - again, where the road met the sky. So, my mind attributed the action I'd glimpsed to those tips. And just as I began to marvel at the height of the cranes, a large bird glided low in the sky to the right of the road. As it arched back to the road I could see it clearly against the sky. Its wings were large, like a heron (again, my mind's only association to the wondrous wing-span) but the shape of the wings was not the distinctive shape of the heron's. And the body was not the elongated stretch of the heron.

As my mind categorized the bird as a hawk and a scavenger, the tail lights of my friend's car came on and she pulled over. She's a lover of nature so I knew she was stopping to see the bird. And because she was stopping I knew we were seeing something unusual. With her car off the road and mine at a stop, I could clearly see the bird's graceful dip to the road just before me. In this instant, my mind attached to the bird. I knew an eagle had come to me.

The eagle landed on the road less than thirty feet ahead of me, and it pecked a couple of times at a small dead animal. With the sunlight behind it, I could see the silhouette of the scraps of food it tugged at. Cars came from the other side of the road and the bird lifted off with no effort, and with full command of the air its wings pushed against. It flew straight at me and then passed alongside me just fifteen feet or so from the car. It was high enough that the sky was behind it, allowing me a clear and close view of it. I looked first at its face and in it I saw an animal fully confident, and totally at ease. Its yellow beak and golden eyes were clear to see as well as its white smooth head. And the sun illuminated its fanned tail, the beauty of which caused me to be overwhelmed and to marvel - with every fiber of my being - of this life we live.

Interestingly, I can't recall getting a calculated measure of its size. Simply, an impression of incomprehensible size was all my mind could muster. I know my mind did not have an exact point of reference for this bird to fit into. A new category, a single slot category, was created in my mind for the eagle. There is nothing else like it in my knowledge.

I spent the rest of yesterday and today working at trying to reconcile that by my wanting to see an eagle, one came to me. I am certain this was not a coincidence. In fact, I think the bird chose the last possible moment of my visit to its habitat to come to me. Just before we crossed the bridge into a small city, it humbled to picking at road kill to fulfil my need for its presence. And I believe the depth of my need is what drew it to me.

Several years ago, life took me by the tail and began thrashing me around. Had I known what I was in for, I think I would have checked out. I am tired and I have almost lost the sense of who I am. The pilings of my life have been removed one by one. Nothing is in order. Nothing sits on the structures I presumed would stay with me till the end of my life. I am now at a point of transition for which I don't feel I have strength. I think this is why, instinctively, I felt the need to be in the presence of an eagle. In my study today I have learned that the eagle symbolizes opportunity, guardianship, and power to the Native American. What I've been witnessing at the pond has sustained me. But the eagle now in my heart will carry me and guide me to where I will live again.

I'm Stoked

2010-11-03T22:21:00.000-04:00

Today, someone who is more than dear to me gave me a gift that sets my heart singing - bird songs! I have been admiring The Stokes Field Guide to the Birds of North America, by Donald and Lillian Stokes, for weeks. And in fact, had added it to my Christmas wish list. Actually, it was the only thing on my list so far.

When I began this blog, I knew next to nothing about nature. And I still know very little. At first, through the first year or so, I had no desire to do anything but observe what I saw. Little by little, I began to look things up, generally through a google search. Then, at some point in the second year, I purchased or borrowed pocket guides to the birds. Now, four years later, I am thrilled to have the Stokes book as a resource.

From here on, when you visit my blog, you can have better confidence that I am labeling the birds more accurately! But you'd best move on to a real naturalist's site if you need 100% assurance of identification!

WYSIWYG

2010-11-02T23:47:00.000-04:00

Today, I saw all of this at the pond. I'm going to let the photos show you everything that was before me in about an hour and a half's time.
Pileated Woodpecker

Snow Bunting - note white wing patches

Snow Bunting - see beautiful tail feathers
White-throated Sparrow
Tractor in adjacent field

Spider on leaves

Red berries

Bee in nest
(click on photo to enlarge)

Mushrooms on a birch tree

Bittersweet
Going to seed

There were lots of birds - this group of about two hundred (really) causing a cacophony.
It made me think of Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds."

Not sure what the bird is but perhaps a reader will know it by this silhouette.

Not much a formation here...a haphazard group!
Perhaps another clue to what bird this is.

At least five trees around me were stocked with birds in the quantity shown below. They had been far out of sight - I could only hear them, till I got to within about 200 yards of them. Then they flew out of the woods and filled the trees just above me....eerie...

Below is how I often see birds (in this case a male cardinal) - through a maze of branches. But this is what I like about what I see on my walks. And it is this that inspired the title of this post. What You See Is What You Get when you shoot photos at the pond. There's no set-up, no lights, no posing, not the enticement of a feeder nor the constraints of fencing.

Berries gone by...

American goldfinch showing molting fall colors?

Or perhaps a tanager molting.

I hope you enjoyed what I saw in a day at the pond.

Architectural Feats

2010-10-31T19:48:00.000-04:00

Nearly all the leaves are down now. The stark look and cold feeling of winter is coming on. Through the bare branches of the trees, birds' nests are visible in random spots all around the pond. It is amazing to see the sizes, shapes, architectural design, and materials of the nests. Above is a photo of what I call the Guggenheim Museum (a Frank Lloyd Wright design) nest, as seen from 5th Avenue. Below is the E 89th Street side. I can't imagine the amount of work that went into this solidly built, clay nest. About six inches (or stories) tall, it is donuts of mud stacked upon each other.
Unlike the Guggenheim Museum, an interior view of this nest is free.
The Baltimore oriole nest from which the dear little fledgling nervously departed is below, in bare contrast to the cover of green leaves in which it was hatched and grew.

Farther along the path, at the far end of the pond, is a second oriole nest -- the distinctive, dangling cradle that gives the appearance of hanging tenuously though I've seen it weather strong winds and pelting rain, going completely horizontal with the hatchlings inside!

This next nest makes me question that we question the intelligence of birds. There is some serious knot tying evident in this structure, as there is in the orioles' nests' points-of-contact with the branches.

The close-up below shows a wrapping/tying technique.

This next nest I call the "junk art" nest. It has bits of curly tendrils (from bittersweet vine, I think) as well as strips of plastic (lower left) as well as randomly sized out-shoots - for better protection, I wonder?

And the nest below is the "less is more" nest. I believe this is a catbird's nest. It is located exactly where I often saw the catbird.

This final nest is the "debris" nest. I'm going to give the former inhabitants the benefit of the doubt and allow that an inordinate amount of leaves landed in their home...not that they were neglectful of nestwork. After all, my nest can look like this after a busy week of us not having time to pick up after ourselves.

Most of the images in this post were shot from three to four feet away because of lots and lots of branch interference. I contemplate the "thought" that went into picking the perfectly sheltered location of each of these nests. And I think of the parent birds determining on which branches to fasten the structures - for maximum stability through wind and rain, and maximum shelter from other preying animals. And I think about how they are fastened to the branches.

To my mind, instinct is two dimensional and reactive by nature. These nests are three dimensional and required an intelligence that I propose is something a bit more than instinct, if somewhat shy of actual intelligence.

Red-tailed Hawk, I think...

2010-10-26T19:31:00.000-04:00

When I was out today shooting more foliage pictures at the pond, I saw a large bird land in a nearby tree. I'll guess it was eighteen inches from crown to tail tip. It sat for twenty minutes. Though there was much interference, primarily from branches, between my camera and the bird, here are two shots that are pretty good. I'm almost certain this is a red-tailed hawk as I see them often soaring above the pond. But if you know better, please comment!
I'll share more of the foliage photos soon.

Bonus Fall Photos

2010-10-21T23:27:00.000-04:00

I last wrote about an impending rain/wind storm that was expected to down all the foliage and perhaps branches and trees as well. But where I live, though there was much rain, there was very little wind. So, the leaves stayed put and those of us who love to watch the colors of fall had a few bonus days.

In the image below, the red of the low growth is reflected in the water. The ripples of the water in the foreground give that "watercolor" effect - the look of a watercolor painting - which you can see in the next image.

Canada geese enjoy the sun's warmth in an otherwise chilly setting.

Is the natural beauty of their world lost on them? Do they have the capacity of mind to see and appreciate it? Are they desensitized to it, as we might be if we lived in it always? Or, like a human heart, does a sublime setting like this bring peace to their sensibilities.

While the wind did not disturb the leaves, the rainfall caused the pond to rise several inches - a change I'd hoped for all summer long, as, for months, the pond has been more shallow than I'd ever seen it. Gladly now, what I'd come to call Turtle Rock, shown in an image that I shot within the last two weeks, is fully submerged.

Fall Farewell

2010-10-14T21:22:00.000-04:00

Today's temp was in the low 50's and a covering of thick cloud hung low and gray. Rain is coming, along with wind through the night and all day tomorrow and into the weekend. I'm guessing that by Sunday, much of this season's foliage will have have been washed or blown away.

So, with a very moody sky overhead, I took my wide-angle lens out for some final foliage shots. These images capture the gloomy feel of the warm season's end at the pond.

The picture above is taken from the back side of the island. This winding view is one of my favorites - it gives a momentary sense of a river flowing when I glimpse it.

With the camera sitting on the bank, I clicked this critter's view. It's a big place, this pond world.

A final glance back as I leave the pond, it sends a chilly farewell and lets me know that winter is well on its way. It won't be long before this water has a thin ice on it.

Raccoons swim?

2010-10-13T22:18:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, a raccoon came out in daylight. It swam across the pond (who knew raccoons could swim!), for all the world looking as if nothing were amiss. And, it's possible that nothing was -- that it was simply taking advantage of the lovely day to stock up on supplies for its babies or for the winter. Or, perhaps it was rabid.

I kept a good distance from it as it lumbered out of the water and up onto the shore and across the walk and over the sprawling lawn, before it went out of sight.

In the four years I've lived here, I've never seen a raccoon. I never expected to see one in daylight. Just when I think I've got the rhythm of nature, it scrambles what I've come to think of the order of things.

Betwixt and Between

2010-09-29T22:20:00.000-04:00

A heat wave came through last week. Just as it often is in mid-August, the temperature was in the mid-eighties and the air was humid, uncomfortably humid. Unlike mid-August, though, I loved it. It was one final blast of summer before winter closes in.

All the while, summer waned as dragonflies with damaged wings clung to fall berries and wilting, drying plants.

Color mixes of red and green, and yellow and green, were the backdrop to the Indian summer.

Shrubs rich with berries promised the return of warm seasons.

While the richness of some of summer's greens hung on a bit longer...

...vivid hues told there was no turning back.

Before the winter claims them, bees and butterflies carried on in their work.

The last of summer's blossoms - the aster - offered a final flowering.

Hunter, Gatherer...Photographer

2010-09-15T23:10:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when I'm out walking, I think that if I were a hunter and my camera were my hunting tool, there would be days when my family would be starving and there would be days when they would feast.
Yesterday, I would have brought home a reptile feast. The little snake shown above and below was an easy catch. I'm guessing it's young because of its size, and because it so innocently looked right into the camera. I could tell it didn't quite have its instincts in full working order.
I think though, that if I did bring this little thing home, it would have become a pet, it was so cute. Although it was about two feet long, it was thin, and its head not much bigger than the tip of my pinkie. Please click on the image above to see a close-up of the sweetest snake face ever!

The summer was so dry that the water level in the pond is low. Many more rocks are visible this year than any other year I've been observing it. So, when I saw the sight below, I thought it was a new rock surface. But then I spotted the turtle head to the left. The murky water in the lower right is from where I imagine the turtle startled as I came by. The shell was perhaps a foot or more in length.

Then look what caught my eye - a big snake! At first I thought it was dead. It was half in, half out of the water and didn't move at all, no matter how close I got. In retrospect, I suppose I shouldn't have pushed my luck! I don't know enough yet about the wild - for all I know this snake might have given me a poisonous bite.

If you look at the neck of this snake, it looks kind of thin when compared to the fat body that follows...

Could a third reptile, a frog perhaps, be hidden in this image also?

Finally, the snake slithered off, underwater.

Below, you can't really see it in the photo, but the snake actually burrows into the floor of the pond. Seeing that squelches any impulse I might sometimes have to wade into the water.

So, if yesterday's photo catch were actually the catch of a hunt, last night's dinner menu might have been: turtle soup, garter snake salad, big snake steak, and for dessert...

...berries!

Still Hot From the Noon-day Sun

2010-08-30T14:04:00.001-04:00

I walked the dog mid-day and shot these photos. Summer's coming to an end. You can smell it in the air, see it in the dying and dull foliage, and hear it - the busy bird calls have gone still. Enjoy these images of summer's lingering.

Twelve-spot skimmer

Painted turtle on rock

Half-banded Toper - (I think...)

Salute

2010-08-27T21:00:00.000-04:00

Earlier today I posted about the Heron fledgeling and I finished off with warm fuzzy feelings for the baby bird. Then I went out for a walk. It has been a gorgeous day, the sort of day when people say, "Sure wish we could bottle this!" In that frame of mind, I began my walk around the pond. I took a couple of photos of berries, I looked for the Lesser Yellowlegs that has kept just beyond my focal range for two weeks.

As I came around a corner, there on the far lawn was a Great Blue Heron having what I thought was dinner. As it turns out, it was just an appetizer.The image below is cropped. I must have been 100 feet away. Still, it's a pretty clear shot -Heron/fish.

I hurried around the bend, hoping to get a closer shot.

By the time I came around the corner the big bird had returned to the water's edge, above. I can't really describe the intensity of this bird's focus. This bird was on a mission. It didn't care that I was there. It cared about one thing - hunting and catching.

In the photo below, it's doing some sort of "fluffing up." I don't know why. I don't know if it's saying, "That little fish was delicious!" Or if the fluffing is something like the call of a warrior before battle.

It soon began to creep along the shoreline with deliberate and intimidating steps. Its eyes were hunting for whatever sign it sees in the water that tells it where a fish is. It was unnerving to me.

The frame below caught me by surprise. I was seeing it through the lens. I just kept shooting when I realized the spread of the wings was not related to flying off.

The images that follow are a horrifying display of the Heron piercing a bass and pulling it from the water, marsh weed dangling and dripping from its stunned body.

I hope the picture below will enlarge for you if you click on it. (For some reason that feature didn't work in my last post.) It is a remarkable and horrifying scene - all too real a display of nature's way. There is breathtaking beauty in the fan of the Heron's spread wing. The sun chose to dance on the bird's beak. And the colors of the predator and prey are eerily alike.The faint of heart should skip the image below. I sometimes don't use photos I take. Even images from the animal kingdom can strike me as too personal. I am not sure about posting this image. I see in this shot the word "desperate." The Heron face is frozen in its desperate quest to survive. The wide mouth of the bass is frozen in hopeless, desperate shock.

I don't know why the Heron takes its catch away from the scene of the catch. But it does. Below, it lifts off with what I think had to have been an eight inch bass.

You can see, by the bubbles on the surface of the water as well as the droplets in the air, that this all happened rapidly - a total of eight seconds passed on the camera's clock from the time the Heron opened its wings to the last shot below. Nature is harsh.

Above, the effort of the Heron to lift off is clear.

The drama is over. A brief viewing of survival in the life chain is ended. The bird and fish, just barely visible in the photo below, have played their part.

The setting sun catches the lens as one day, just one day, closes.

This post is my salute to the Heron. You mesmerize me, but you'll never have my heart.

Great Blue Heron Fledgling?

2010-08-27T16:56:00.000-04:00

It's an absolute truth to say that I never know what I'll see when I head out for a walk around the pond. Some sights are similar - turtles on a rock; some scenes thematic -plant growth, water life, busy insects, and the call and flight of birds.

But every now and then, something comes into my view that is so unfamiliar, so seemingly out of place, that I am disoriented. Actually, I love the mental sensation when this happens.

Yesterday I saw a bird alight on a branch. I don't even recall how I managed to capture this with my camera. The realization that I was seeing something unusual occured in a nano-second. It wasn't till I was home and uploaded the shots to my computer that I saw that I actually had a photo of whatever-it-was that I saw.

I think I was about 150 feet from the bird. So the photo above is a lucky shot.

Once the bird landed, a summer breeze kept branches moving - obscuring it from my lens' view. But I kept shooting, catching glimpses of it when the air current moved the leaves and branches in just the right way to allow me to see some of the bird's neck and head. As I took these pictures, I had no idea what I was seeing. I joked later that I thought I had seen the Froot Loops bird. And when I downloaded the photos and saw them on the computer screen, the joke didn't seem so far-fetched!
Now, after a bit of research, I think I can suggest that this bird, which was about eighteen inches tall, is a Great Blue Heron fledgling! I am so excited! If you've followed this blog, you know my initial distain for this predatory bird, then my love/hate phase with it, and now that I marvel at its beauty, which is prehistorically bizarre while also being fluid and elegant. To my eye, it's a pretty pterodactyl. To see this bird lift off and get its huge body in the air never ceases to amaze me.

Welcome to the pond, little big one!

Birds on a Wire

2010-08-08T20:30:00.001-04:00

Today, I saw many birds on a wire that runs along the street that's about two hundred feet from the far end of the pond. I thought it was a small flock passing through town.
But as I watched and took photos, I began to see and hear familiar sounds. I had thought the season of nesting and baby birds had ended. But as I watched this line-up on the wire I began to realize they were all fledglings. And the parents were busily feeding them still. It wasn't till I was home and able to view the photos on my computer that I could identify them as Barn Swallows.
Above, a hungry young is vying for attention. And below, parents fly in, ready to position themselves for feedings.

I can't determine how the parent decides which bird gets the food. Below, two of the young show their hunger with beaks open.
At one point, about four of the birds flew off with one of the adults (image below.) Four others remained on the wire. I have no idea how young birds know who is to go for a trial flight and who is to stay put. But I do know that there is a system of behaviors - sound and motion signals - that dictates these activities, and it's the parent who makes the call, so to speak.
What you won't see is how this scene ended. In the blink of an eye, the final four birds abruptly and simultaneously flew from the wire - without the accompaniment of a parent. I know - not only from what I'd seen already from these birds, but from observing the Red-winged Blackbird - that a parent escorts a group of young.

I was puzzled by this sudden and unexpected flight. So surprised in fact, that I brought the camera down from my eye, and audibly said, "What?" I was really puzzled. I found myself looking around - for the birds, or for meaning in their departure. About forty feet to my left, was the frightening answer. A Red-tailed Hawk was swooping in, having just come over the treeline. I was stunned. It was not more than thirty feet from where the birds had been. By the time I got my camera back up to my eye and was focusing, it had turned back and was just dropping behind the trees, as you can see in this zoomed-in grainy image. The predatory bird is just to the left of the treeline, midway down the image.
It was a treat to upload these images and to see the detail of the activities that had occurred in less than five minutes time.

Red-winged Blackbird, The New Generation

2010-07-03T20:41:00.000-04:00

**********************************
UPDATE: Today, the day after I posted these images and the text below, my thoughts that there were Red-winged Blackbirds fledglings in some of the images below was confirmed. As I walked around the corner where the birds had been yesterday, the male was alone in the lawn. As soon as he saw me, he flew directly toward me and into a thicket of trees to my right. His call was constant. In an instant, the female flew from where he'd entered the trees and she glided down into the reeds along the shore of the pond. The male came along behind her and dropped into the same spot in the reeds. Then the female/mother flew up from the reeds and back into the trees. Immediately, the male/father rose from the nesting area with four fledglings flying alongside him. They flew over a stretch of the pond, and up to where they were against a background of blue sky, then into the trees from where the female called to them.

It was perhaps the most beautiful sequence of images I've ever seen at the pond. I knew there was not time for me to capture any of it with my camera. So, I calmly watched the thrilling family scene that played out before my eyes, in a matter of perhaps 45 seconds.
*********************************

If you've read this blog before, you know that I am both an amateur photographer and an amateur naturalist. So, at any time, anything I articulate about my observations in nature, could be inaccurate. I give that forewarning as you read this post. I'm not 100% sure that the birds I talk about and show pictures of above and below, are female adult Red-winged Blackbirds or fledgling Red-winged Blackbirds. Their markings and color and size are similar. Nonetheless, the images are captivating (to me anyway).

For the past few days, there's been a scuttle of activity on the lawn at the far end of the pond. At first I thought it was a convention of female Red-winged Blackbirds. But because the birds are a bit more petite than the female, and a bit goofier in their flying skills, I've decided they must be fledglings. Although, it's likely the mother, whose markings are almost the same, is still among them and may actually be in some of the photos here.

I insult them by using the word "goofier," because, in fact, their flying skills have been remarkable for their age. It's just that there seemed to be an awful lot of hop/flying going on, as well as some roll and tumble landings. (Or, this could be the mating postures of the female...)

As the photos below show, whether female adults or fledglings, the wings are impressive.

And if these are the offspring, these birds are showing the same prowess as their dad...

...who is never far from them...and always heading swiftly through my lens' field.
This new generation is looking for all the world, right at home in its habitat.

Summertime

2010-07-02T21:38:00.001-04:00

This is my fourth summer at the pond. But some things I see as new. Maybe it's a faulty memory, but I had to look up both living things in the photo above. The colors of the Great Golden Digger Wasp and the Common Milkweed are so vivid and pretty together. Setting up a photo shoot is never an option when photographing wildlife. So it took some dexterity on my part to get this shot - a Skimmer on not yet ripe blueberries - through a frame of plant growth.

Purple loosetrife is cropping up everywhere, as it's wont to do... Its shade varies with lighting - here a soft lavender, which seems reflected in the water's surface in the image's depth of field.

The Common Milkweed is attracting all manner of flying things - a Pearl Crescent butterfly above and a Monarch butterfly below.

I suggest clicking on the dragonfly below to fully appreciate the iridescent quality of its wings. When photographing dragonflies, though they will sit quite cooperatively for a spell, it can be nearly impossible to get all body parts in focus. A good example is in the photo above of the dragonfly on the blueberries. See how the closer wings are in focus and the farther set are out of focus. This occurs with the length of the body as well. The key is to position the camera so that it captures as much of the body as possible in the same line of focus. My efforts worked pretty well with the shot below, even while allowing for a natural tilt to the body.

It will be a while yet before the birds feast on these blueberries. I intend to enjoy their everchanging color in the meantime.

Baltimore Oriole Fledgling - First Day Out

2010-06-21T16:47:00.000-04:00

I found the Baltimore Oriole's nest empty today when I went out for a walk. But in the thicket of trees alongside where the nest is, I heard much Oriole calling. It was dark in the thick tangle of branches, so at first I thought it was the parents celebrating their freedom.

But after setting my camera's exposure compensation to 0.03, the photo above is what I saw - the father Oriole with a fledgling, mouth wide open begging for food or to be returned to the nest. Note its little claw gripping the twig.

Between visits from its father it would hop from branch to close branch, sometimes with a little flutter of its wings.

It's astonishing to me that its markings are so vivid so soon. I'm guessing this is a female based on her duller color. Though this might simply be the color of a new Oriole.

The father Oriole continues to bring food to the young. And what you see above, I observed toward the end of the babies' stay in the nest. It seems the parents stand back from the young, encouraging them to step out, or flap their wings to move closer to the parent. There were times yesterday and the day before when I would be concerned that the young would tumble right out of the nest. The parent stayed so far away as it offered food, the young would come right up out of the nest, wings open and then the parent would put the food in the young's beak. I think it's all part of the preparation for independence.

In the image above, you can almost hear the young say, "You are coming back, right Dad? Right?"

And as the father flies off, the young stands solidly on a perch.

The Baltimore Oriole Nesting

2010-06-20T22:36:00.000-04:00

I've spent many hours during the last month taking pictures of two Baltimore Oriole nests. I've monitored the behaviors of the mother, the father, and the babies. I've learned a little and speculated a lot. And my psyche has been tweaked.

I look at the image above and I don't know if the look in the mother's eye is dumb instinct or a multi-tasking intelligence that hunts, feeds, protects, monitors, instructs, and prepares her hatchlings for their world.

I watch the fathers, not a dead-beat dad to be found, hustling to and from the nest, sharing equal responsibility to feed and care for the young.

There are times the mother sounds a trill for two to three minutes before she approaches the nest. The young stay perfectly still, no tell-tale jiggle of the nest giving away their whereabouts.

Then, another call from her or the father and all babes pop up, and make a racket as they open their hungry beaks and vie for the treats the parent has lined up in his or her beak. I can't tell yet the pecking order - who gets fed first - the strongest, or the weakest, the loudest or the quietest.

There is a system or a favoritism or a readiness factor, that causes some one-on-one attention. In the image above, why is this little one the only one to be indulged with the mother's attention? Is this a lesson or a feeding?

Perhaps it's my imagination, but the young seem to display more enthusiasm when their father arrives to feed them. Perhaps he brings them sweeter treats while the mother keeps their food nutritious.

In the photo above, the little ones wings are seen, showing that the time for leaving the nest is coming soon. I have come to see this week that survival is hardly guaranteed. This photo was taken sometime in the last two days. This evening, one of the fledglings from this nest lay dead on the ground, while a baby Robin lies dead in the flowerbed outside my front door.

Such care is given to baby birds. During prime feeding season (which seems to go on for two weeks for the Baltimore Oriole based on my observation this June), the mother and father frequent the nest with food every six to ten minutes. Sometimes both parents arrive, back to back.
My grandmother's mother left her and her father when she was seven. My grandmother, a bird lover, would observe the behavior I describe here, and her whole life long would ask, "Even a mother bird returns to the nest. Why did my mother never come back for me?"
Parenting is busy work, tiring work, non-stop work. I puzzled for two weeks wondering why I often saw a male leave the nest with something in his beak - as is evident in the photo above, as the bird flies away from the nest which hangs in the upper right of the photo. A neighbor tells me that the father is removing droppings from the nest.

Nature is harsh. My affection for the little loud mouth that first brought my attention to the nest from which the images in this post were taken, is very likely the little dead bird that lay lifeless on the ground at my feet today. Was it not ready for the world? Did it not quite have its wings? Did it simply fall out too soon - a fall caused by it own over-exuberance when the parents arrived? Or did a predator take it from the nest and drop it as the parents came to its rescue?

Thoughts of life and death, beauty, fragility, hostility, love, attentiveness - fill my mind.

Visions of The Red-winged Blackbird

2010-05-15T20:14:00.000-04:00

Click on image above and spend a couple of minutes viewing a 68 image slide-show on YouTube. You'll see male Red-winged Blackbirds displaying their skills - to establish territories and to win the attention of a female. Use your back arrow to return to read the post. The slide-show includes The Beatles instrumental "Flying."

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Can it really be that when my eyes are closed I clearly see a tiny Red-winged Blackbird, like an image on a screen, on the back of my eyelids? I'm not talking about my mind's eye. I'm talking about a phenomenon that occurred this week after hours of - over the course of two afternoons - shooting pictures of a pair of male Red-winged Blackbirds as they soared and stalled, tumbled and rolled, sped and spun, sparring their way to the approval of the female, who sat hidden in the pond's reeds below them.

Each night as I closed my eyes to sleep, there was the bird, a tiny fleck of a thing, red marks in the crook of its wings, visually real in the darkness of my shut eyes. I wondered if I'd concentrated so hard on following the bird in my camera lens, that I'd burned the image into the retina of my eye. And from there, it reflected onto the back of my eyelids.

The picture taking was the most intense exercise I'd ever done with my camera. It is not a cliche to say that I communed with nature during those photo sessions. The best shots came when I'd remember to breathe, to relax, to follow the chi of the seconds and moments that played out before my eyes.

Since I was using a 200 lens, the frame area was small and the birds were often close to me - closer than fifteen feet in fact. And it's not a tall tale to say that on the second day they came into my space, buzzing me a mere four feet from my head. I laughed at their bold play with me, and I think they laughed at me stumbling, literally, as I tried to keep them in focus in the camera's lens. Impossible. And they knew it.

Humans like to think of themselves as separate from nature. We're not. We are in the weave of earth's life. And if we avail ourselves to the feathered ones, to the four-legged ones, if we prove to them that they can trust us again, they come to us. In fact, at the pond about which I write in this blog, I have seen time and again that they are waiting for us, watching us, looking for a sign that we want to know them.

When I was a child, a younger brother and I got a notion to feed birds from our hands. For several summer mornings, we rose early - with the birds - and climbed a tree and sat perfectly still and silent as we held out our bird food filled palms. In time, chickadees came within feet of us. And on the third day, a bird sat on my brother's hand and ate from it.

Two years ago, at the end of a season and just before it left its summer habitat, a Heron, who had incrementally become less shy of me, stood on the path I walked around the pond and let me come within ten feet of it and take many photos of it. I had no bird food with me.

With 68 images, an instrumental by the most popular band ever, and a couple of hundred words in this blog, I don't come close to what Wallace Stevens says in his poem "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird."

I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?

VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

Today's Catch - Heron, Red-winged Blackbird, Cardinal

2010-05-07T21:12:00.000-04:00

Today was a picture perfect day. As I walked around the pond, with the intention of getting exercise, one bird after another caught my eye. And though it didn't make a stop at the pond, a Great Blue Heron flew directly overhead.
Above is a single shot of the bird. And here is a Picasa slide show of the same bird. You can click on this slide show image to see it nearly full screen.

I think this will be the year I am able to post with pride photos of the Red-winged Blackbird. Here is today's assembly of shots. (Remember that you can click on any image to enlarge. Then use your back arrow to return to the post.) And posing for my pleasure, a male Cardinal enjoys the sun.
With today's distractions, I'll try again tomorrow to exercise.