"Today, I'll Buy No Sorrows"

Last week, I walked up to a park about two kilometers (about a mile and a bit) from home. As I approached the pond, I could hear seagulls distressed about something. Amid their calls, I could discern another, less familiar cry. Seconds before the vocal birds came into view, I realized that I was hearing a hawk. The gulls were chasing the hawk from their territory.

By the time I was in an open enough area to focus, the hawk had climbed the sky and was soaring amongst the sun-tinged clouds. This was among the best I could get. I had a 100 mm macro lens on me and nothing zoomier. Beautiful creature, isn't it?

Hide yourself, little guy.

This tree clearly received a serious injury at one time. Its bark is gaping and growing away from the trunk, and looks a bit like a hinged door. Does anyone else hear an old Creedence Clearwater Revival song? Doo, doo, doo, looking out my bark door. (The post title was also lifted from this song.)

I love how the golden sunlight warms this fluff. The lake behind it was still frozen on that day. I like the contrast between the two.

And the sunshine on these evergreen needles warmed me.

Fly free, my beauty.


I'll fly by with some more photos in a few days.

Wings and Other Things

Wings...

I've always loved animals of (almost) all kinds and thought birds to be beautiful creatures, but until I got my camera a couple of years ago, I can't say that I've always noticed them the way I do now.

Sure, if one landed nearby, I'd acknowledge their unexpected company with a smile and a note to myself about how lovely it was, but I wouldn't have realized how really wonderful they are. How so many make eye contact. How they cluster in a particular berry-yielding tree. How some of them make that sound with their wings and not their voice.

They've taught me to walk slowly and softly in their presence, to wait and watch and follow their movements and to be grateful for their visit to my day, whether I manage to get a semi-decent photograph of one or not.




When Frank was busy looking down at some of the many salmon in the creek, I happened to notice this fine creature standing just across the water from us. He became skittish when he heard click of my camera... (please click to enlarge)




.. and flew off to a better spot where all of its inhabitants had fins and tails instead of arms and legs. (please click to enlarge)




A wander around my lake revealed three Cormorants perched on a log in the middle of the pond. Their eyes were fixed at some point straight ahead and above them, as if they expected fish to fly. (please click to enlarge)




Far less nervous than the heron, as soon as they heard the click of my camera, they all turned to glare at me. Sooorry! (please click to enlarge)




This timid little robin peeked out at me from the safety of a tree branch. (please click to enlarge)




Spotted from the car, I snapped this photo of this beauty just before it disappeared beyond the edge of view. The darker blue spot on the upper left is the windshield's shaded glass. (please click to enlarge)

... and other things.

On our recent trip up to the cottage, there were so many sights for which I would have loved to stop and take a few shots. But every time the car slows down, Benny starts his whimpering, whiny "Woe is me - we're in the car and I don't know where we're going. We're all gonna die!" routine, so we have to plan our stops to be as few as possible - like the grocery store, the liquor store and the place where Frank gets worms. Anything more than that and we'd have to kill Benny.

So I tried to take a few photos on the move.




This old barn looks like it's in need of a face lift - all tilted over to one side like that. I don't even think I'd realized that when I took the shot through my window. All I thought at the moment was "charming old barn.. click!" (please click to enlarge)




Likewise for this rusty old graffiti-covered train car. Hmmm, it too, looks like it's on a tilt. Could it be me? Maybe taking photos through the car window is not such a good idea. (please click to enlarge)




Back in July, Frank and I had lunch out at the marina near his place. On our way out, I noticed this sign on their outdoor bar. It made me laugh - not that I could ever relate to it. I mean really, who in the world could be cuter than Frank? (hic!) (please click to enlarge)




When visiting my sister a while back, she showed me her new electric bike. Rarely have I seen a bicycle so new and shiny, and it just demanded a photo. (please click to enlarge)




Frank's been doing some renovations at his house - some of which included a new back deck (shown in part in the last photo of the previous post). Since this deck is larger than the old one, some decorative stones had to be moved out of its way. I just liked the way they looked with a pitchfork laying on top of them. (please click to enlarge)




Benny usually gets walked twice a day - early morning and late afternoon or early evening - depending on the season. On the latter walk, there's a spot along the creek where we'll stop to look, listen and think for a moment or two. Benny is usually off sniffing around for the last bit of trouble he can find before heading home. At this time, the sun is setting behind us, creating long shadows everywhere. I took this photo of our own two shadows which stretched across the opposite shore while we said "Goodnight" the creek. (please click to enlarge)

Now it's time to head on back home. Thanks for joining me.

Sky High

On Monday morning I thought about a nearby area which a neighbour mentioned to me just days before. She told me of how she crosses one of the main parkways bordering our park, and enters into the valley on the opposite side. She warned that passage was difficult with newly-fallen snow because very few people seem to know about the area. Hers are the only human footprints she usually sees on her regular strolls. I decide to add mine to them that day.

I tend not to be terribly adventurous on my own. I'm the kind of person that prefers to explore and share new finds with somebody else, so I considered waiting for the next weekend when I could probably convince Frank to come along with me. But that annoying voice in the back of my head kept telling me to scout it out first. "It might turn out to be a boring trek and I don't want to be dragged all over Hell's half-acre and back for nothing." Yes, that voice belongs to Frank. So, with my camera slung over my shoulder, I made the nerve-wracking traverse up and over the snowbanks and across our area's busiest road, into the valley of the creek which runs away from our pond.

At first I saw footprints, and I followed them knowing I was probably in the right place. They stopped abruptly though, and I realized that someone had determined that the snow was too deep to continue. This person had likely turned around and retreated by matching his or her own steps. I decided to continue onward. Several times, I thought it might be best to return another day, but my feet kept taking one sinking step after the other. I stopped occasionally to look up and around, or to unzip my jacket and remove my gloves, or snow from my boots. The sun was reflecting strongly, reminding me that despite the knee-deep fluff, spring truly was around the corner.

I trudged amid rabbit and other animal tracks for about a half-kilometer, noting the strange combination of nature and industrial surroundings. To my right was the creek, fed from the lake in our park, and which runs into the Credit River and ultimately Lake Ontario. To my left was a large car dealership with outdoor loudspeaker which occasionally blared announcements of incoming phone calls for one employee or another. Despite these interruptions, I could easily focus on the beauty around me.

On my right, the creek babbled as it wound its way toward open water.

A mini waterfall sang loudly.


This beautiful old tree on the far side of the creek seems barely rooted to the lower part of the slope.

Looking up, I could see various birds in flight. Two hawks soared together just outside of my camera's range. They appeared to be weaving toward and away from each other, in a majestic dance across the sky.

Occasionally, one or the other would veer in closer to me and I was able to take a couple of shots (Please click on each image for a slightly larger view).

This one traveled from tree to tree, in search of a better vantage point from which to assess his surroundings.

Eventually I was able to focus on a couple of different hawks as they landed briefly in the branches above.

My wishes alternated between a closer landing and a better zoom.

As I continued walking, a hawk landed on a tree branch almost directly across the creek from me. I focused my camera and captured several shots. This noble creature reacted to every subtle sound a split-second before it became audible to me, and it watched my every movement as I waited for it to tire of sitting still.

I was being watched closely.

Alert to every sound, he would turn toward the direction of the loud speaker an instant before I could hear its announcement. I surmised that the hawk might hear a crackle from the speaker which was not within my own hearing range.

I had hoped to capture its departing flight but it proved to be more patient than I was. I continued onward after at least fifteen minutes of vigilant observation. A few more steps and I'd focus again but he wouldn't budge. Finally, I decided to explore just a bit further along the bank of the creek, a bit fearful of stepping too close to the slope, lest there be a sudden drop that I couldn't detect beneath the blanket of snow. A moment later, the snow was getting deeper and more difficult to navigate, so I decided to return, only to find that the bird had departed silently while my back was to him.

I can only hope that winter takes leave as quickly.

Uncaptured Capture

On Sunday morning, we were sipping coffee while watching as various birds discovered and pecked at the suet, peanuts and seed from the freshly-filled feeder. We'd had a 30 cm (one foot) snowfall over the previous few days and the temperatures were now plummeting to uncomfortable levels. I felt grateful to be sheltered from the biting wind, and marveled at how these tiny creatures just continue their routine regardless of the cold.

Sparrows are always out in full force, but we noticed that this group seemed hesitant to settle into their usual pushy roles at and beneath the feeder, opting to remain cloistered within the bushes at the back of the yard instead. We surmised that they might be trying to keep warm by basking in the only streak of sunlight to make its way into the yard at this hour.

A few moments later, we realized that the birds had probably sensed impending danger. Something large landed right in the open, toward the back of the yard. Its alert, vigilant profile told us it was a hawk (seemingly a Northern Harrier), and its stance indicated that it might have caught its prey. Frank could see that it did indeed have something in its grasp - probably a sparrow. I did not have my camera handy, but a small pair of binoculars revealed a sight I won't soon forget.

Just before it caught our attention, the hawk must have swooped down and snatched the hapless sparrow. I could see the little critter lying on its back, the raptor's talons dug deeply into its breast. Its little mouth was opening and closing rapidly. I was torn between continuing to view this moment in nature, and hoping to capture the image on camera. I opted for the latter. Passing the binoculars over to Frank, I slowly eased myself out of the chair to grab my camera from the other room. Frank stood to get a better view, and I suppose that our activity level was too much for the hawk. It flew off with its prey before I could make my way back to the window. A missed photo, but the mental image remains.

Part of me felt guilty for having provided the lure that brought these small birds into the yard. Without the bounty of seeds, they would not be here, allowing themselves to be easy prey for predatory creatures. I reminded myself that this natural ritual happens constantly, but we're rarely privy to witnessing it firsthand, especially in our own suburban back yards. Guilt began to ease its way into honour for having the privilege to observe.

I hope the sparrow had a quick end.

Below are some photos that were taken during and after our recent snowfall. Please click on them to see them enlarged.


Last week, we had hoped to explore a new (to us) conservation area called Stephen's Gulch, north of where Frank lives. It was the day after the main snowfall and we headed up there only to discover that there weren't any clear paths for us to follow. Since we had no idea where we could wander, and the snow was too deep for an easy amble, we thought it would be wise to return another time, once the paths were made visible by those more familiar with the area. Before we left, we snapped a few photos of the creek that runs under the bridge.




Some of the trees' branches hang low to gracefully touch the water.




Closer to Frank's place, we took Benny for his usual tour of the nearby wooded area. The snow continued to fall lightly and cling to the branches as we entered this enchanting grove.





The walking area also takes us along this creek. The cold water sounds lovely as it rushes along the shore.




The creek gurgles as it trips over snow-covered rocks along its path. Here, listen...

Night time brought more snow. This backyard shot was taken without flash. The snow appears more like rain.




Seconds later, with flash, individual snowflakes are more apparent.




Back at my place, Benny is busy making his own snow. The stuffing of his brand new squeaky football was strewn all over the living room floor. Now he's ready for a real game of tug-o-war. You can read more about Benny's antics over at Frank's blog.