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, April 7, 2010

Expecting Injured Birds

Spring's storms knock nests out of the trees. Humans bring to Wild Bird Rescue baby birds. Here is a collection of images I took last year of baby birds raised and then released by Wild Bird Rescue.

Chimney Swifts.


Kingbirds.


Mockingbird (at left) and Robin (at right).


A baby dove? 


Hawk, but which one? 


Inca Dove.


Nightjar.


Pied-billed Grebe.


American Robin.


Empidonax Flycatcher. Behind him, blurred by the boque, is a Scissortail Flycatcher.


Wild Bird Rescue and BirdManBob save adult birds, too, such as the Red-tailed Hawk pictured above. (Image post-processed in the digital darkroom to emphasize colors.)


Fortunately for birds, Missi's Mom is there with BirdManBob to help save wild birds. Missi's Mom holds the same hawk that David Farabee released shortly after I took this picture.



Little Birds Attacking Big Birds

In the until recently forgotten and dusty archives of my computer, I found an interesting sequence of photographs documenting a Mockingbird and a Kingbird attacking a Red-tailed Hawk.

A Mockingbird begins an attack that lasts several minutes. 

Along comes an Eastern Kingbird to relieve the Mockingbird.


Note the Purple Martin arriving to assess the attacks on the hawk.


The Eastern Kingbird seems relentless. Obviously the stratagem of the little birds consists of constant attack, and take turns to accomplish their mission. Exhausted, the Mockingbird strikes out to a nearby tree to rest, leaving the Kingbird to the task. The Purple Martin made a fly-by then returned to headquarters with pertinent information and input for study on future attacking.

I took these images last spring. At the same tree, a Red-tailed Hawk now roosts. I watch her every weekend lying in her nest wondering if she is the same one I photographed last year, or if she is a new generation of hawks. Here she is landing again in a photograph I donated to Wild Bird Rescue's fundraiser in honor of my flight instructor. I titled the photograph "Looking Good While Landing."

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Need Cup of Cowboy Coffee

MyMrMallory and I were invited by a real live cattle foreman to watch and photograph real live cowboys round up, brand, and medicate cattle. To enjoy more photographs, please click at left the link to my Pbase site, and go to  the album entitled "Cowboys Branding in Archer County."
Cattle ranching requires miles of fencing and their maintenance. Here, the fencers arrive to repair the fence, unaware of the foreman's plans to brand cattle at these pens.


A fencer's truck carries a huge number of things (including beer).


In the distance, I spot a cowboy in the middle of Mesquite plants herding cattle toward the pens. Cowboys don't like Mesquite. It has thorns, grows in thick bushes, and hides cows. This land was once covered in grasslands, before the Mesquite plants migrated north. Behind him we can see oil pumps.


Each calf is lassoed, wrestled to the ground, branded, and medicated within seconds. 


Taking a break.


Cowboy pictures, including boots and the obligatory cute heinie.


Cowboys + Camera = Group Photo.
These guys rounded, lassoed, branded, and medicated approximately sixty head of cattle in three hours. In comparison, at one time, the Wagoner Ranch would do the same with 1200 head of cattle per day (I hear, so please confirm and let me know).


After work, off the cowboys go to the cafe in Archer County, with hunger and trailers and horses.


I am a cowboy in my dreams, tells Hodge, because I can't rise as early as they do. Bring me a cup of cowboy coffee, would you? 


Monday, April 5, 2010

Hermann's Book Released

Link to the Time Record News article about JoAnn's book by Richard Carter:
http://www.timesrecordnews.com/news/2010/apr/04/crites-writes-the-story-of-oil-boom-artist/

When JoAnn Jenne Crites met painter Emil Hermann in 1957 at a Hungarian relief fundraiser, she was 23 and he was 87.
“He still thought of himself as a lady’s man,” Crites laughed, “though it didn’t surprise me because he was a European who also was an artist.”
Despite being familiar with his best-known painting locally — the 70-foot Alma Mater mural over the stage at Wichita Falls High School (1924-25) — she doesn’t remember asking him “one intelligent question about his life or art.
“Had I known I was going to write his biography, I would have asked him a million questions.”
Crites began researching and writing the painter’s biography 11 years ago. Her book release party for “Emil Hermann His Life and Art” will be at the Museum of North Texas History from 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. April 11.
Hermann was a landscape and portrait painter born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire in June 1869. He moved to Wichita Falls in 1919 and split time between here and studios in Dayton, Ohio, and New York City before settling in Wichita Falls permanently in 1932 until his death in April 1966.
Hermann moved to America in 1892 and also had studios in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Tulsa. He probably created more than 2,000 paintings, and 1,000 or more are likely floating around the country, Crites said.
“Little is known about his life in Hungary,” she said. “He had been in Tulsa and was following the new oil money doing portraits of the oil barons. He came to Wichita Falls and Burkburnett because of the oil boom. People paid big money for portraits then,” she said,
Most of his work was commissioned. “Some of his early portraits are beautiful, but I feel his landscapes are much better.”
Shortly after Crites met Hermann in 1957, she married her geologist husband, Bill, in 1958 and soon after began a 32-year trek that went through West Texas, California, the Middle East and Africa before the couple returned here in 1990.
Crites began volunteering at the Wichita County Archives in 1992 and still volunteers at the North Texas History Museum four days a week.
While working on the massive Louise Kelly collection of 50 years of articles on Wichita County, Crites found articles on Hermann. Her aunt, who knew the artist, gave her a Hermann landscape from the 1920s, which further developed her interest in the painter and collecting his work. Crites now owns 17 of his paintings.
She worked on the Kelly collection for nine years until she discovered a column by Glenn Shelton that mentioned a box of Hermann letters. That reference led Crites on a quest that ended in a law firm’s warehouse in Dallas.
Once she found the images in the box and newspaper clippings from around the country, she decided to write a book on Hermann.
“I thought people needed to see his work and the information that Hermann had not told people or had hidden.”
She traveled to the cities where Hermann had lived and then began filling in the huge biographical holes and documenting his paintings as best she could.
“He was a news prima donna,” she laughed, “and there are hundreds of stories I probably overlooked.
“I never thought it would take that long to research and write.” Last year, she met Elizabeth Bourland Hawley, an area photographer and editor, who helped Crites get the biography published.
Crites was born in Friberg-Cooper community north of Wichita Falls.
She and her husband have two daughters, Kathleen and Cynthia, who are married and live in England.
Growing up, she studied ballet with Frank and Irina Pal. She also studied piano, French and German when she and her husband lived overseas.
The Museum of North Texas History will have copies of the book that contains more than 100 pictures of the artist, his family and his art. Books will be sold for $33. The public is welcome to the opening at the museum.
“I am hoping more people will want to send images of his work once they have read the book. Many folks have inherited his paintings and may not even know.” Written by Richard Carter for the Times Record News.

Great Horned Owl: Fledgling and Adult

Photo of a baby Great Horned Owl, held by BirdManBob, raised and released a couple of years ago by Wild Bird Rescue. Below, I show a photograph of an adult Great Horned Owl. 

Friday, April 2, 2010

Nothing Happening (Yet)

Sitting in BirdManBob's office while Missi's Mom wrote up a request for a grant for funding a mew for Missi, I looked outside and saw a few Brown Headed Cowbirds. One sat on a branch huddling against the winds.
Soon BirdManBob breezed through the door of the Wild Bird Rescue Center. He had driven from the Humaine Society to meet with the TV lady for an interview. "Why?" asked Missi's Mom, looking up from her computer. "Because of baby bird season," replied BirdManBob. "But we don't have any baby birds yet." Indeed, though a storm downed trees and power lines last night, no nests were found. BirdManBob's theory might show this season as our least busy, after the unusually cold and damp winter we have endured, delaying the migration period. 

The TV lady visited with Missi, then had a glowing report on the six o'clock news. 

They showed Missi on the television, not only sitting on the TV Lady's hand, but eating one of her fave snacks, a worm. "Thanks, BirdManBob. Yum."

All things, like the wisteria, look gorgeous during springtime. 

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.