Can I call it intent to not blog for almost a month? Can I call on that age-old phrase that our grandmothers gifted us? “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all.”
I’ve traveled a good bit this month, in the Winnebago View. I returned to the valley for furnace repair; I visited Port Lavaca and drove about the back roads of the coastal bend, sadly seeing more roadside trash than birds. I spent several days at Brazos Bend, thankful to stay in the park rather than daytrip back and forth to my stick house.
I’ve taken a good number of bird photos, which I plan to develop and share. But I haven’t had the best of times. The “I’ll say nothing at all” phrase has to do with the continuing saga of this View’s manufactured problems.
OK—I’ll say one thing, because this one makes me really mad as it seems a safety hazard. Neither the outside nor the inside LP shut-off switches work. As best the furnace repairman could tell, the shut-off switches aren’t connected in anyway. OK. NO more RV talk today.
I’ve been back at my stick house for awhile, debating my next steps. But with the holiday season, there is no place I enjoy more than the Upper Gulf Coast of Texas. And so I spent Christmas Day driving about Galveston and the Texas City Dike.
My feathered friends did not disappoint. And as usual, the common winter Ones gave me the best gifts.
This Great Blue Heron seemed most interested in my truck, allowing me to get ever so close. We visited a good long time, and I took more pictures than any grandmother would. I don’t know why, but Great Blues always remind me of the Three Wise Men.
I never grow tired of Galveston’s winter Texans, the Sandhill Cranes. I have so MANY blurry photos from afar, taken over several years. But this Christmas Day, a small family of three allowed me to get out of my truck and stand surprisingly close. I was on a remote road, with no traffic; these three were watchful of me, but did not turn their backs and walk away.
But my favorite feathered friend of Christmas 2014 is the good ol’ Mocker. I was at Lafitte’s Cove, with not a soul around. Walking the boardwalk back to my truck, I noted a Mocker doing what Mocker’s do: perched in the very top of a shrubby tree, and calling out to all who would listen—“This is my little corner of the world! Look at me! I am the center of the Universe!”
And so I stopped and listened. How human-like is a Mocker’s behavior. And after giving him my full attention for a good several minutes (sans taking photos), I turned and walked the thirty yards back to my truck.
And would you believe it! That same Mocker flew toward me, perching on the post at the front of my truck! And there he stayed, allowing me to get back out of my truck, ever-so-quietly, and stand behind the shielding of my driver’s door to take about a million pictures. He would look at me and turn this way and that, posing for the camera in the same way three-year-old humans pose for the iphones of their adoring grandmothers.
And only when a stranger came calling did the Mocker leave me. But I believe he would be pleased with these attentive photos:
And then two text messages came my way, from human friends. One hoped I was having a peaceful Christmas. And the other, from a friend who knows me well, gave me the best words to close out this post:
Hoping for comfort and joy among the birds and nature and nature’s Creator.
And with this blog post I want to give my thanks to those bloggers who read my blog, and who gift my life with their blog stories.