Sometimes I feel a bit constrained and out of sorts with
This feeling hits me especially hard when I find myself
in social gatherings of kind folk I hardly know. Social graces expect little
more than polite small talk.Seems I’ve
never mastered that critical skill.
I’ll try to find a quiet corner, not conspicuously
alone.But most large gatherings of folk,
especially inside stick houses, will leave me feeling a bit claustrophobic.Claustrophobic
and looking like a duck out of water:
But then I’ll sneak away to my beloved Brazos Bend:
I’ll walk the park and look outward.I stumble upon a quiet gathering of Mother
Nature’s creation, where communal silence seems to replace small talk.
Would I fit in I wonder?Or do even these quiet societies have those that need a quiet away, to
look beyond their own one life?And
without realizing it, do we quiet ones seek solitude in places that remind us
of our own kind?
And then Mother Nature tells me that it’s not about
the group gatherings or the one alone. It’s about looking out and beyond my own
It’s about finding that place, and that way of living, that
is so much more than I am, alone.
Believe it or not, when I’m out in the field, I don’t
just look at birds.I’m just incredibly
ignorant about most biology; almost all botany; and definitely all geology.
But my ignorance doesn’t mean that I don’t stop, look
and wonder.And sometimes I’ll even snap
a photo or two. But researching these complex sciences seems to fall off this
girl’s to-do list.It’s so much easier spending
my evenings looking at birding field guides!
While birding in field and wood these last few
months, I’ve found myself drawn to a number of beautiful native fruits.As a local Gulf
Coastie, I should be able to tell you all about them, but I can’t.I just think they are lovely.
I decided to share a few fruit-filled photos as my way
of saying thank you to those folks that don’t even know me, and yet leave
wonderfully encouraging and funny comments to my blog posts.
I confess that I’ve had more than a few days where I’ve
almost convinced myself to stop blogging, as I’m not sure anyone is reading.
And then boom!I’ll get the best of
encouragement:a thoughtful or funny
I’ve long thought that the expression bearing fruit is
one that is overused; or polarizing; or presumptive about a capability of some one person.But this lovely
expression can also mean gifting another to be successful.The gift is not about the one.It is about the giving and lifting up of
And so I want to thank each one of you for your
insightful, funny, and encouraging comments to my blog.Your comments bear fruit for me, nudging me
to keep at it.
I’ll claim you are
gifting me with the tenacity tocontinue my work on photography and writing;
continuing to post my own little stories and photos; and continuing to look forward
to sharing my next day in the field.
Special thanks to Patty (Two Greyhound Town), Judy
(Travels with Emma) and Hazel (Class A Greyhounds). Your comments to my blog, and
your own great blog stories and photos, bring a great deal of joy and laughter
to my life. Not to mention a good bit of
wonder over some of your adventures!
A wonderful day of woodland birding doesn’t always promise
great photographs.The wooded ones rarely
sit still for the camera.Photographing
these beauties is kind of like photographing a toddler that’s just started
crawling, and at Superman-fast speed. There’s just no stopping them!
But photos or not, a wooded walk is just about perfect
when the leaves are mostly down, and the Gulf-Coast mosquitoes are chased away
by the December cold.
Yesterday’s three hour walk made for a relaxing
afternoon.The recent dry conditions
created a thick carpet of leaves that were unusually dry, crunching loudly
underneath each booted step.This loud
crunch delighted the kid in me.But the
birder in me was finding it just about impossible to sneak up on the shyest of
the feathered ones:
I photographed vireos and warblers; sapsuckers and
woodpeckers.I listened to Carolina and House
Wrens fuss at me, sticking out their heads from cover and scolding my leaf crunching
(as if I were eating cereal with my mouth partly open). Large groups of Robins moved about me, staggering
about as if my crunching awakened them from an afternoon nap. The wooded walk was delightful; the
photographs, not so much.
But every birder loves to catch a photo of a Brown
Creeper, good quality picture or not.This
perfectly named bird can be hard to spot; and harder to photograph. They are
expert tree-huggers, silently creeping up and around mature tree trunks. Their wood-bark
camouflaged feathering makes them difficult to spot.Their non-stop upward motion makes them
more difficult to photograph.
I love to watch Brown Creepers because their
tree-hugging movement reminds me of watching my grandmother’s knitting:upward stitch, upward stitch, upward stitch,
and on up the tree they go; and then a quick flight down to the base of a nearby
tree (as quickly as an expert knitter will pick up the next row of stitches);
and upward stitch, upward stitch, upward stitch, and on up this tree they go.
A side-view of the Brown Creeper, exposing her bright-white belly as contrasted to her tree-bark backside:
And then my camera caught this pose that made me burst
out laughing; a creeper appearing to hang on for dear life:
I wasn’t the only one watching this quietly busy
tree-hugger.I turned toward the hoarse
barking sound of a Red-bellied Woodpecker. I think these loud ones sound just like
a dog that has barked so long that their bark has gone hoarse.
This Red-bellied seemed to want to give the creeper a
few tips for elegant tree walking:
The last few days I’ll call quiet and slow.I don’t voice complaint; just the circumstances
of my lifestyle that would bore if I shared.But Mother Nature is readily sharing the best that December’s weather
can offer on the Upper Gulf Coast of Texas.
And where would you find me on these lovely days?Outdoors, exploring, hiking and birding?Mostly not; my birding and blogging have
taken second fiddle to multiple days of working on my dulcimer.
I’m not very good on my sweet mountain dulcimer.I come to it readily equipped with almost zero
musical talent.But days of practice
have created an upward step-function toward cross-picking melody notes,
mandolin style; but much, much slower than any mandolin you'll ever hear.I like to
believe that the ladies of the 1800s, in their long dresses and ill-fitting shoes,
would welcome a dance to my slow Irish jigs.At
least that is what I tell myself.Regardless, I have fun with my dulcimer.And that’s all that really matters.
But today, I finally pushed myself outdoors and drove
to a local nature preserve with binoculars and camera in hand.Mother Nature provided another stellar day
for Gulf Coasties; and even with my slow start, a wonderfully birdy afternoon
brought me joy.
I watched warblers and vireos. I photographed a Brown
Creeper and multiple woodpeckers.A few
good photos, for tomorrow’s post, but nothing I would claim as amazing.
But it was while I was in the field that I framed what
I thought would be today’s blog post, with a title:“When a Mocker Poses.”For in fact, the only bird that flew in
close, and stayed, was a Mocking Bird.
Few birders photograph mockers.But this Mocker’s proximity, and frozen
posture, begged the camera to give it attention.And so I did.In the field, this Mocker looked normal and lovely.I was confident I’d simply post a story about
a quiet day of birding and a Mocker that posed for the camera.
But when I got home, and downloaded and reviewed today’s
images, I realized this was no normal Mocker.This lovely specimen revealed the broken bill and abnormal toes of a
hard knock life.
I don’t know how long this mocker will fly this world. The broken bill will make gleaning its daily
bread more challenging, if not soon impossible.Only this Mocker knows if the broken bill is from a warring battle, or
a bad choice of food, or unforeseen circumstance, or brittle genetics.Only this Mocker knows the pain of her hard
And when I developed the photo, I almost missed the
abnormal growth on her toe.Would an
ornithologist recognize a cancerous growth or other genetic dysfunction,
possibly linked to a brittle bill?I do
not know.But I do know that her toe is
And so my light-hearted post of “When a Mocker Poses”
turned into a “Hard Knock Life” photograph with unknown story.And why do I share it?
Because this beautiful mocker is like so many humans;
scarred from war; damaged from accident; victim of circumstance; or challenged
by the worst throw of the dice that genetics can offer.And we should never look away.
But mostly, this photo captures a friendly Mocker.A Mocker that is both beautiful and alive, on
this lovely day.
I recently met a friend of a friend who owns a
greyhound dog, and not her first.I met
Pam for lunch and listened to the joy that flowed from her stories about her
beloved canine family member.“Jesus
eyes” was one of the physical traits that she loved.
Now I must confess that I’ve only stood in the close-by
presence of five different greyhounds.Only five greyhounds have stared back at me as I knelt closely, staring quietly
into their eyes.And I have to tell you,
I think that Pam may be right.Compassion,
love and forgiveness stare back at me each time I make close-encounter eye
contact with a well-cared-for greyhound.
In contrast to greyhounds, I’ve stood quietly in the
presence of hundreds if not thousands of Orange-crowned (OC) Warblers, mostly one at a
time.My first identification of an OC Warbler
was at Pedernales Falls State Park.It
was a cold and rainy winter day.I was
huddled in one of the bird blinds with Joan and Don, two experienced birders
that volunteered for many years at this beautiful park.“Look” Joan quietly called out, “because of
the rain, this OC Warbler is dripping wet and showing its orange crown!”
Joan and Don went on to explain that I might never again see
this warbler's orange crown because under nominal conditions, their orange-crown
patch is rarely seen. They were mostly correct.One other more recent sighting, when quietly walking and birding in the
rain at Brazos Bend, I again spotted the orange crown of this beautiful little warbler,
again when it was dripping wet.
This rarely sighted orange-crown is not why this little
bird is my favorite.It has more to do
with the character of Christ.The OC
Warbler does not have Jesus eyes.But it
does seem to model the best of Christ-like behavior.Or maybe the behavior of my grandmothers;
sometimes I get the two confused.
Birding field guides frequently refer to the
OC Warbler as drab; as plain; as unremarkable in its
plumage.I don’t think these published
birders know what they are talking about.
OC Warblers are quietly active in their day’s
work.They don’t seek high up places;
they don’t chatter; they don’t get into squabbles when surrounded by other Aves
that appear and act quite differently.They seem at peace with solitude.And they quietly mind their own business when in an Aves crowd.
This Christmas season the only gift I offer, and the
only gift I wish to receive, is to stand silently in the presence of an OC Warbler.This beautifully plain bird needs no ornate
plumage.It will never call out “Look at
me!Look at me!”And when not mating, this little warbler
works quietly and alone, gleaning a day’s harvest that appears to be more about
needs than wants.
The OC Warbler's gift is its reminder of what life can look like
when modeled on the behavior and character of Jesus; not modeled on the rule
books that can be derived from cherry-picking quotes from religious texts.
I frequently hear people bemoan that the story of Christ’s
birth seems lost in the commercial business of Christmas. I don’t so often hear
good folks bemoan this loss of focus due to the current traditions that focus
on the giving and receiving of man-made stuff.
But the Christ-like character story is not really lost;
it’s just mostly hidden.And it seems we
humans mostly seek out this Christ-like character when our life is undergoing
off-nominal conditions; kind of like sighting the orange-crown on a rainy day.
But it is on the nominal day, during an ordinary
day-in-the-life, that the Christ-like character of the OC Warbler is modeled. And there is nothing plain about it.
my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and
you will find rest for your soul.”Matthew 11:29
Not too long ago I watched a first year Cooper’s Hawk take
down a squirrel.The hunt was
purposeful; a needed meal.I stood very still,
some forty-five minutes, before I turned away.
The hawk’s process of living, and the squirrel’s process
of dying, came more slowly than my inexperienced judgment would have guessed.My watch was a meaningful learning experience.I won’t pretend that my watch was easy; but
it became a critical memory that changed my understanding of life and
death.This watch began my understanding
that few of Mother Nature’s creation ever die quickly.
Whether this young Cooper’s Hawk relied solely on innate
skills or came equipped from parental guidance, she was a skilled hunter:
Much of the time she kept her wings flared, hiding her
prey from other predator’s view.On
occasion her focus included a quieting of her wings:
I was caught by surprise by her constant backward and
upward looks.This skilled hunter
understood that she was most vulnerable to other predators while focused on her
I choose not to detail what I watched; what I learned;
what were the sounds of life and death.I am not an ornithologist.I
cannot tell you the percentage of instinct; the percentage of training that
brought her to this day.
But I can tell you that when this hawk stopped, and
looked me in the eye, I saw the intelligence of a wild thing.The intelligence of Mother Nature’s creation
that surpasses human understanding:
This past summer I got serious about adding a dog to my family.I love the RVing lifestyle.I love dogs.And when I’m traveling, I meet so many other RVers with dogs—so why wasn’t
I one of them?
Well, my favorite dog may surprise you; it is the
Greyhound.I fell in love with greyhounds
when I was thirteen.But that story isn’t
important.What is important is what
happened this past summer.I turned to
Google to learn more about greyhounds.Specifically, I Googled:“RVing
And guess what popped up?The most amazing website titled “Two
Greyhound Town”—a blog not just about RVing with greyhounds—but a blog written by a greyhound, Joey, as he travels
around the U.S. (with his greyhound sister and human Mama and Dad, in their RV).
I started reading; and reading. I laughed until I cried.I became an avid follower of Mr. Joey’s (the
greyhound) stories (and pictures!) that detail his RVing adventures with his
sister, Miss Scout (the greyhound) and human Mama and Dad.
And you really won’t believe what happened today.I got to go visit Joey and his family! They’ve
traveled to Texas as part of the Winter Texan migration that occurs each year (when
RVers from the great north head south, to escape the harsh northern winters).
Joey is a really handsome “all boy” greyhound.He is full of curious energy and loves
adventure. Joey is incredibly well
mannered and was a perfect gentleman today when I got to walk with him and hold his leash.And even better, he was especially happy that I walked him
beside his mama—it’s not everyone that so easily shows their love for their
mama. He is his mama's boy in the best kind of way. I think that makes Joey pretty
And speaking of pretty—that would be Scout!She is a big beautiful “all girl”
greyhound.She is a lovely lady with the
most gentile of manners.She gave me a
warm, friendly greeting on arrival.She
walked beside me and would occasionally stop and look at me as if to say “I’m glad to meet
you.”And Scout shows her contentment when receiving a good back massage—what discerning lady doesn’t?
But my manners would be remiss if I didn’t mention Mrs.
Patty, their mama.Mrs. Patty has that
rare gift, not seen so often these days:the gift for hospitality.Look it
up; it is one of the “greatest gifts” and she has it.
I could write and write about today’s wonderful visit—but
I won’t because pictures are worth a thousand words.And did I take any pictures?No, because I was too busy visiting.But Joey’s mama took some great photos and
posted them today on Joey’s blog page.You must take a look!I’m
attaching the link to Joey’s post for today, so that no matter when you read
this story, you’ll go to that post:
These last few days have found me visiting people
rather than birds; a special category of people:old friends.The first visit was planned.The
second visit was on a lark.
One friend I’ve known since the age of thirteen.The other friend I’ve known some fifteen
years.Both visits were slow and relaxed
and filled with laughter and tears and the type of conversations that sisters
We each three women are in the traveling phases of our
lives; two of us by RV; one by plane.Our
paths do not cross often enough, but when they do, good conversation never
fails to join us.
When a good friend shares their life with me, I no
longer feel alone and covered in the muck of life’s harder days:
When a good friend shares their life with me, I no
longer feel lost in the crowd:
And when a good friend shares their life with me, my
life is made special.I better
understand what it means to be a Lark Sparrow.A Lark Sparrow is described by ornithologists with this one phrase: a
sparrow like no other sparrow.
If I’m not careful, I can get a wee bit down during the
“holiday” season. Yes, I love the Gulf
Coast winters; and yes I especially love winter birding. But December pre-holiday
weeks can cause me to feel a bit misplaced.
I’m especially vulnerable if I’m staying in my stick
house rather than in my RV. It’s far too easy to look out a stick-house window,
see a sunless drab-gray sky (with 50 degree damp temperatures) and stay
indoors. And staying indoors never
chases away my blues.
And so today, late morning, I pushed myself outdoors
(with 3 of my 5 layers) and drove to a wooded nature center. I realized I was in need of a binocular-only birding
day, leaving the camera at home.
The result? A wonderfully birdy day, and a reminder that
looking outward toward Mother Nature, instead of inward on my one life, is a
reliable method for brushing off my blues.
The gloomy indoor day turned into a glorious outdoor day
in the field. Overcast skies are perfect for wooded walks and binocular
birding. The bird of the day? One of my favorite Winter Texans: the Yellow-rumped Warbler.
Since I was sans camera today, I wanted to share some
YR Warbler photos that I shot last February (from Brazos Bend), and never
posted. These photos are a bit special
to me; I hope they will bring a little warmth and joy to you. I easily saw 500 of these beautiful warblers
The Yellow-rumps were everywhere. They flocked in large trees, moving in-and-about
as if they were Goldfinch. They congregated on the ground, feeding in groups
like Pipits. They moved in and around brush piles, pretending to be wrens. They
even perched on barb-wire fencing, daring me to mistake them for sparrows.
And when these lovely warblers paused and filled my binocular
view with their artful expressions, they brought me tidings of comfort and joy:
Today’s wooded walk gave me a bounty of other birds to
sight. I stood quietly in this muddy
spot, watching and listening to a beautiful Pileated Woodpecker, not thirty yards away:
Some of the other birds from my two-hour, wooded walk:
(multiple, seems I woke one up from a nap—hilarious!)
Pelican (Oh, to be in heavy woods and see these fly over!)
hope these Yellow-rumped Warbler photos bring you a bit of the comfort and joy that
I found, when watching these beauties today.
I don’t know if birds remind me of people, or people
remind me of birds.But I do know that I
tend to learn a bit about both, when watching one or the other.
I’ve never had a bird remind me of a specific actress,
playing a specific role, in a specific scene from a movie.But that’s exactly what happened when I
recently birded Brazos Bend State Park.
I’m not a movie buff.I’m a bit embarrassed to say I can’t remember the last time I went to a
movie theater.And until Friday’s really
cold snap, I hadn’t curled up on the sofa and watched an old DVD movie in forever.But last Friday afternoon I intentionally dug
through my small stash of DVDs and picked out a specific movie to watch; all because
of what happened a couple of weeks ago when birding in the field.
To set the stage, my birding style involves a lot more
standing still than giving chase.I seek
out a quiet place that gives promise of a birdy spot.I look for shadow to stand within; wide tree-trunk
shadows are especially good.I quietly wait,
avoiding movement, and hope for birds to appear.
If I’m lucky, a bird or more comes into close view, not
noticing my shadow stance.I’m rewarded
with the lovely day-in-the life of birds, going about their world’s work.
Usually, within a too short time, these highly
observant birds note my presence.One of
two events always occurs:1) the bird immediately flies (or swims) away;
or 2) the bird turns its back to me; intentionally
turns its back to me.The back-turn
is what I “view” as the “If I-Bird can’t see You-Human, then You-Human can’t
see Me-Bird” behavior.
It is both humorous and frustrating to get the back-turn
from a bird.If I’m attempting
identification, I admit to the frustration creeping in.If I know the bird, I find this cold-shoulder a bit funny, especially because of
what ALWAYS happens next (if I stay standing ever so still).
Keeping a frozen backside posture to me, the bird will
slowly turn its head to one side, looking toward me over its shoulder; she is
checking to see if I’m still in frame.
I’ve watched in wonder this sudden awareness of my
presence, followed by an immediate back-turn toward me, followed by a frozen
cold-shouldered wait a bit, and then, and only then, turning of head toward me.This amazing bird behavior almost always reminds
me of human behavior, including my own.But this Brazos Bend day, something extraordinary happened: a Whistling
Duck became the actress Helen Hunt!
I don’t remember how many years it’s been since I
watched the movie AS GOOD AS IT GETS, with Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt and Greg
Kinnear. I rummaged around in my stick-house DVD drawer, and confirmed I did
own the movie.I was surprised to note
this academy award-winning movie was from 1997—how time does fly!
I couch-potatoed and watched the movie.And sure enough, the famous scene unfolded of
Helen Hunt sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with her towel-wrapped back
toward the artist, Greg Kinnear’s character (and movie audience). There it was!
She quietly and elegantly turned her head, to see if the artist was watching!
I had not thought of that scene since I don’t know
when; but this beautiful Black-bellied Whistling-Duck’s behavior, and head-turn
to see if I was watching, became Helen Hunt, in the feather:
If you haven't seen this movie, I’d offer opinion that it is worth your time;
I’m guessing Santa can get the old DVD pretty cheaply.I should probably stop writing at this point,
but another thought has been on my mind since Friday’s movie time.
It’s not that I hesitate to continue writing for fear
of giving away the movie’s story, because my thoughts will not.But I do hesitate because my thoughts involve
sharing my opinion; I’d forgotten this 1997 movie so wonderfully addressed my
opinion on one of today’s hot topics: medical insurance.
We could question and debate the actions of the movie’s
fictional characters, starting with the actions of the artist’s (Greg Kinnear’s
character) mother and father, as told from his childhood memories. His
childhood is victimized by both parents, in my opinion.
We can easily question the action of the grown artist’s
agent in selecting an unknown human, quite literally off the street, to serve
as the artist’s model.This current
event (in the movie) definitely resulted in the artist’s victimization.
Opinions on actions and resulting behaviors can be
debated.But I believe that all would
agree:the fact that the self-employed
artist did not hold medical insurance resulted in an immediate stoppage in his
productivity and his financial livelihood.He stopped work.
And then there is Helen Hunt’s character, the very
likeable and empathetic waitress.I’d
remembered that Jack Nicholson’s character had helped her with her son’s
illness.But I’d forgotten the why. Turns out this working-waitress had poor medical
insurance that did not cover the needs of her son’s health condition.The pattern became familiar: sick days for
mother and son, with trips to the Emergency Room, where solutions were missing,
but the ER cost would be covered by her medical insurance.Sound familiar?
Opinions on actions and resulting behavior by this
waitress can be debated.But I believe that
all would agree:her poor-quality
medical insurance resulted in an immediate stoppage of her productivity; in her
livelihood; in her work as a waitress.She stopped productive work because her medical insurance did not cover her
I’d forgotten this specific medical insurance storyline
of the movie.I’m not going to take
these fictional examples and get on a soapbox and spew my personal beliefs.But the movie does frame two very different
human stories; two very different forms of victimization.The movie makes premise: good medical insurance is readily tied to
If you haven’t watched AS GOOD AS IT GETS recently (or
ever), give it a try.The third human
story detailed, weaving the two other stories together, is Jack Nicholson’s
character.He is so awful he is
The extreme diversity in opinion of these three main
characters makes today’s political polarization seem mild.And look at what these three difficult people
did?They built a community between
them.How?They started listening to each other; they asked
for a pausing of judgment toward each other; they began lifting each other up
and helping each other.
Community can be a beautiful thing, especially when it
is healthy, safe and productive:
After two indoor days, noon-time today brought on a bad
case of cabin fever.So I did what I
do:bundled up and set out birding.
I learned several years ago that for me, wearing a
heavy winter coat does not work well when birding.The coat constrains my arms in a way that
makes raising binoculars and camera uncomfortable.So I came up with my own mix of 5 layers,
with layer 5 a light-weight windbreaker.Layers 1-4 include a big-armed fleece sweater and a heavy sleeveless vest.
I don’t don all five layers very often, but at high noon
today my outdoor thermometer read thirty-eight degrees. (Yes, a new record cold for this day.) But cabin fever trumped cold temperatures, so I grabbed my camera, binoculars and layers,
and off I went.
With no sunshine and a dark-grey sky trying to hold
back drizzle, I knew today would not be great for photography.So I decided to have a bit of fun and
attempted a “selfie” with my phone’s camera. I look like one cold big-bird, all fluffed up
to keep warm in my five layers (not to mention my windbreaker hood pulled up over
my funniest warm hat:
The lighting was terrible.The photos would be terrible, but still I had
A male Lesser Scaup:
A female Lesser Scaup:
And after seeing so many Royal Terns at the Texas City
Dike, I was delighted with sighting this Caspian Tern, whose deep-red bill
over-saturated my camera sensor on this greyt day:
It took less than two hours out in the cold to send me
back inside, ready to sip hot tea and warm my hands by tapping on the keyboard.
Before closing this post I thought
I’d include a few pictures from this past week's sunny, warm day on the Texas City dike.
American Oystercatchers won’t let you get close, but I happened
on these as I was watching distant Common Loons, from the gulf-facing side of
the dike. I find Oystercatchers especially difficult to photograph. The bills and eyes are a challenge, often looking plastic or digitally manipulated. But the lighting for these gave me my best Oystercatcher photos to date:
And a couple photos of Royal Terns:
How’s that to brighten your day?The warm tea was good but I’m ready for some
hot chicken soup…
Today I could easily write about the cold weather.But it would seem pretense because this corner of the Texas coast is in
the 40’s. Not to mention that I’m in a stick house with well-insulated walls and natural gas furnace,
unlike some quarter million folks in the Dallas area, suffering from an ice storm that took
away their electricity.
I have friends in Dallas; I have friends in RVs; and I
have friends traveling in not so good travel conditions.So rather than write about the weather, I
thought I’d post a couple of photos that might bring some warm laughter, or at
least a warming smile.
This past Tuesday, while birding the
Texas City dike, I donned rubber boots and slowly walked out onto a sand bar. “Walking” in my infamous squatting, rubber-boot duck
walk, I slowly approached a Brown Pelican, surrounded by a group of gulls and
I paused and stayed low to the ground, hoping for a good photo.The pelican seemed delighted by my interest,
posing for the camera and graciously turning her head to one side, allowing for
that sought after eye reflection.
I was thrilled to get this one fairly crisp photo of a juvenile
(first year) Brown Pelican, on land, exposing her soft white underbelly:
Suddenly, a Herring Gull, just out of frame of the
first photo, made her move, flying low, and dangling pink legs with freshly
painted black toe-nail polish.She stole
the scene, “Look at me, look at me, look at me!”
And as you can tell from the photo, pretty much everyone
turned their gaze to the Herring:the
young Brown Pelican, the Royal Terns, and this tickled birding photographer.I especially like the facial expression of
the Brown Pelican, as if to say “Excuse me, but this is my photo shoot!”
I fell backwards from my squatting view, and of course the Brown
took her cue:she was gone with the
wind.I left the area, knowing the
juvenile would want to return to her spot.
I hope my Dallas friends and RVing friends have
electricity, heat and a warm cup of tea.And maybe a good warm chuckle…especially over the missing photos of my squatting
in rubber boots (before the Brown) and my falling over backwards (before the
Herring), who upstaged the photo shoot.