One of those photos where I miss something in the process. Busy finding the right combination of moss and light filtering through to the forest floor, I didn’t see the avian impression of this raspberry danish alighting upon green moss at the Cummins Creek trailhead.
An unfortunate conjunction of a leak in the tent… er… I mean roof… and my notebook computer caused me to lose the use of the widescreen external monitor. I’ve been squinting in vain trying to edit photos, hence my lack of recent posts. I commend myself for having the courage to open up the computer and dry it all out, and am grateful it went back together intact and still works.
On the most recent beach excursion I saw my first grey whale cruising just off the rocks near Cape Perpetua. Sadly the high humidity of recent days had caused the SD card to develop it’s own case of minor corrosion, and there are no photos…
Days and often nights have been filled with the raucous noise of Canada geese as they go about the business of territorial dispute, nesting and defending their new families. A lot of honking, flapping and swaying branches drew me down to the estuary to find one perched in a riverside spruce.
Something I had never seen before, a goose perching in a tree, it began an excited conversation with its fellow flockers down on the tide flat. Perhaps it had assumed the role of lookout…
A lone coyote had been seen earlier, cruising through the marsh grasses looking for vulnerable birds on the nest; the neighborhood flock gaggled on the mud flat spied it as well and promptly marched after it en mass. Faced with an approaching horde of 18 irate wing flailing parents, the coyote loped away.
Determining the coast to be clear, or maybe realizing it was simply being a silly goose; the honker gave a final bellow and sprang off back to the flats.
The full moon drew low tides out far enough to allow access to offshore rocks where the neighborhood guillemots gather.
Found on a favored perch over a narrow channel through the lava formations; they were engaged in a pattern of flying out to alight in the ocean just beyond the surf line, then returning to the same gathering spot about every 20 minutes.
The red legs are in striking contrast to the formal black and white of their attire.
They sit at ease on the ragged basalt much more comfortably than I, by now my legs are going to sleep from rock pinched nerves.
The interior of the mouth is the same scarlet hue as their feet. A soft high pitched “creeet” barely loud enough to be heard above the noise of the surf is all that emits as they hold their confab.
Red Willow buds along Treasure Creek in the San Juan Mts. of southwestern Colorado. Taken in early June a couple of years ago, ice cold snow runoff made for a frigid and fruitless trout fishing trip. Spray from the rushing creek collects on the twigs and freezes in the nightime, by mid afternoon the ice coating had melted away, only to repeat the cycle again, day after day.
In mid April the gravel road up into this area is likely still under 4 or 5 feet of snow, and the trout sleep their still slow dreams.
As often happens I headed to the beach on a mission and found an unexpected treat; a pair of guillemots newly arrived from the sea. Playing in the surf, lounging on the rocks and doing the things all cute couples in love do to enjoy the morning sun.