Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Quacking Around, Mallard-like

Every day, a Mallard couple ambles through the grass toward the feed that BirdManBob tosses outside his window. Having promised myself not to return to the Wild Bird Rescue Center without my camera, I held it ready for whatever species came around, from Great Blue Herons, to Cooper's Hawks, to warblers. In addition, having learned from Ben to rely on a tripod, I had it available, too. The use of a tripod improves sharpness, and so I prove it again today.
I first spotted the couple coming through the weeds. The male, leading, stopped short when he saw me. The female, hungry and bold, decided I looked harmless, and so overtook her mate and lead the way toward the WBR Center.

The volunteer mower, thankfully for this image, has not mowed the grass yet. Color is lovely in photography, but see the image below. . . 

Let us play "spot the female Mallard."

They stopped for a few moments and looked up at the doorway of the center, as if expecting to see BirdManBob or Missi's Mom.
 
Male Mallard.

Female Mallard.

Here he reveals his blue wing bar.


Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.