This purple martin was a little camera shy. He was sitting, nicely poised, atop the roof of this multi-family bird commune. As soon as I lifted my lens–POOF–away he flew.
I guess that officially qualifies me as paparazzi, eh? 🙂
Did you ever wish you could fly?
When I was little, I often dreamt of flying. Truth be told, I actually used to run up and down our long dirt driveway on warm summer days, thinking that if I just ran fast enough, I could catch some air and take off. Never worked–but I kept at it anyway. And just a few hours ago, I glanced out my window to see several turkey vultures gliding through the air with the greatest of ease, catching the air waves and looking oh-so-very graceful. There it was again, that wonderment and childlike wishing.
Wouldn’t it be great, just for a few minutes?
While traipsing through the woods behind our home this weekend, enjoying the sights and fresh air, I glanced up. High in the treetops sat the penthouse, pictured to the right. I don’t have wings, so I could not be the peeping tom I wanted to be. I do, however, have a sneaking suspicion this might be the humble abode for a family of great horned owls. Several evenings a week since late January, I have been privileged to overhear the unmistakable hooting of the great horned owl. I know they are nesting somewhere nearby, and my research of nest images tells me this may, in fact, be their nest.
And even if its not, it never hurts to dream.
If I had to eat like this every morning, I don’t think I could do it!
I watched these mallards and several others for quite awhile this morning. They bobbed up and down like true Olympic synchronized swimmers (I might be dating myself with that…do they still have synchronized swimmers?). At one point, there were at least six bottoms up at the same time. I spent more time laughing than shooting. A great way to start the day.
I was experimenting with shutter speeds and capturing motion. I spent close to an hour watching these magnificent steelhead jumping upstream toward their next destination. Literally hundreds of them were gathered at the mouth of a stream feeding into the Great Lake. Every few moments, one would gather enough energy and jump to the next level. Some made it, stopping to rest with the others who charged forward, while others fell and plunged backward with the force of the rapids. Not one of the fish who fell back was deterred. Not one I observed returned to the calmer waters of the lake, instinct and perserverance driving them forward. Who would have thought it more admirable to be a fish rather than me in one of my darker moments? I find lessons everywhere.