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 . . .

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Sneaking Up on Sandhill Cranes

     On a desperately windy day, the Sandhill Cranes could neither see me or hear me as I, in my characteristic finesse, stomped my way across the wheat field toward them. Hiding myself behind the bern of a pond, I crawled toward the cranes. I could hear their delightful banter, that low guttural sound that one hears and recognizes right away, even from miles away.



From my position behind the bern, I watched the flock of about one thousand through dormant sunflower and other plants. They chatted, ate, and danced.


Then, one of them became quite suspicious.


A couple of them decided to fly over me, the interloper whose hat and lens peer over the bern.



They sounded the alarm.



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.