Showing posts with label Birds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birds. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2021
Fort De Soto
Labels:
Beaches,
Birds,
Gardens and Parks,
Photography,
Sky
Saturday, January 2, 2021
Abercrombie Park
Labels:
Birds,
Gardens and Parks,
Photography,
Sky,
Wildlife
Friday, December 4, 2020
Thursday, July 2, 2020
Kestrel
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
Sunken Gardens
Labels:
Birds,
Gardens and Parks,
Photography,
Plants,
Wildlife
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Little Birdie
I walked outside on my break and this little birdie was just sitting on the ground in front of the glass doors. Poor thing had probably flown into a window.
She let me pick her up and hold her until she felt well enough to fly away.
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Monday, October 8, 2018
The Crow’s Soul Weighs Heavy
Growing up I had my favorite yard birds. The cardinal and the blue jay were obvious favorites because of their bright colors, but the crow was appreciated for reasons that were different and far more profound.
The backyard of our first house was large and square-shaped. Several old trees peppered the back yards throughout the neighborhood. I loved playing outside. At a very young age I caught a small black racer with my bare hands, fed peanuts to the squirrels, and learned how to trap and release frogs. My father always had a few bird feeders overflowing with seeds and took it upon himself to feed the local stray cats. The yard was always buzzing with activity.
One day when I was about six years old I was standing in the dining room when my father came in from the back yard. The heavy wooden door creaked as he pushed through. Annoyed but not surprised he said “One of the cats caught a crow” as he walked past me.
Curious, I ventured outside.
I never saw the cat or the crow she caught, but I was taken aback by what I heard.
A chorus of crows, all coming from the same tree. Loud and panicky, yet unmistakably focused. The sun was low in the afternoon sky behind the tree. Beams of light poking through the leaves illuminated the silhouettes of fluttering wings and open beaks. I had never seen so many crows in one tree. I had never heard such collective chaos. I was used to the typical calls of crows, but this was entirely different.
“They’re saying goodbye” I whispered to myself in astonishment.
I stood there for several minutes, watching, listening. Right on the edge of the concrete slab; I never crossed into the grass. As intrigued as I was moving in to get a closer look felt like intrusion. This was a ritual.
They were experiencing sorrow.
They understood what they had lost.
They gathered to mourn the dead.
Young as I was, I knew about death. A short time prior to this my mother’s dog got hit by a car. Patches was older and had been a part of the family long before I was born. My parents had friends over and it was dark out when they left. We were all in the driveway and everyone was exchanging small talk when patches got out and ran into the street. A young man driving by hit her. I remember the commotion as everyone rushed down to the street. The young man felt terrible. He said he didn’t see her until it was too late and apologized. My parents held no grudge. They knew she was old and it was dark out. They moved her up the driveway closer to the house.
She was completely still. A small trickle of blood was slowly moving from behind her head. My mother, crying, knelt down beside her gently petting the soft, curly fur around her shoulder. She was already gone, but my mother still wanted to say goodbye.
I had watched my mother perform the ritual of letting go. I could recognize it when I saw the crows do it. What I found so compelling about the crows was that it was the first time I witnessed a group of animals expressing grief.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Flight of The Crows
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Christmas on the Beach
Given the inherent craziness of the holiday season, my sister Jenny and I usually make it point to go to the beach whenever we visit home. We broke away an spent a few moments together forgetting the city behind us.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Oceanside
Growing up in Florida I had seen the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean many times. It wasn't until my 33rd year that I got to see the Pacific for the first time at Oceanside, California. It was simply astonishing.
The Oceanside pier. |
The farthest end of the pier. |
A California Brown Pelican drying off its feathers in the afternoon sun. |
Oceanside gift shop. |
A mother and daughter watching surfers trying to catch a wave. |
Labels:
Beaches,
Birds,
California,
Photography,
Travel,
Wildlife
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