A Little Girl for a Puppy

       Don brought an abandoned puppy to Lucy Park, hoping a potential owner would come to get her. She lay on the concrete, half asleep, half forlorn-looking. I leaned down, scooped her up in my arms, and held her in my lap, but clearly, this did not comfort the dog. She lay her muzzle across my arm and sighed. After a while, a little girl came walking up.
        I said, "Are you the new owner of this puppy?"
        She said, "Well, if my Mom lets me have it."
        I handed her the puppy. The little girl sat on the concrete with the pup.
        It happened rather quickly. The pup began to whine and lick the little girl's cheeks. The little girl giggled. Then the mom appeared and saw her daughter with the puppy.
        Groan. "We have four dogs already," she said with an entonation that gave me the sense she would be taking home a fifth. After an hour at Lucy Park, the mom, the little girl, and the puppy got into their van and drove home.

Donation for Missi, Avian Ambassador

          BirdManBob introduced Missi, Wild Bird Rescue's Avian Ambassador, to one of her most generous supporters, a primary school student. For his birthday, the student asked his friends to donate funds to Wild Bird Rescue instead of buying gifts. Missi felt, as usual, comfortable before a camera and interested in her visitors. Missi's Mom felt proud of her. I saw her preening as she watched Missi visiting humans with great avian aplomb.

BirdManBob placed Missi on the student's hand.

Freedom for Owl

          BirdManBob asked MyMrMallory and me to release a Great Horned Owl. Just recuperated at the Wild Bird Center from head trauma, the fantastic bird can now live on its own in the wild. Here he is sitting just inside the opening of his carrier, looking wide-eyed (pardon the pun) at the forest spreading before him. After a few minutes of studying the wind, the temperatures, density, and dew point, he stepped out and took flight into the large trees along Holiday Creek.

Toward the End of Flowers

          By now, mid-May, flowers have pollinated and seeded. Some still bloom with great flourish, such as the Basket flower and the Indian Blanket framing the Black Angus and the Cattle Egrets in the photo above. Poisoned Mesquite plants stick up incongrously in the background.

Ocean

I was walking around in Archer County through late spring flowers and early blooms of Prickly Pear cacti when an unknown dog appeared to make my acquaintance. He approached me determinedly and stopped at about five meters from me, then looked up at me, panting, ears perked up. I said, "Hi! How are ya?" His ears lay a bit and he continued toward me. I stretched my hand to him, palm down, he sniffed it, and right then and there, in the midst of a flowery field, the dog and I became friends. He remained with me all morning, walking the hills, avoiding potential snake dens, plunking the tripod down for photographs, and chasing lizards and rabbits. After we returned to the old cabin, I called him over, "Husky! Husky!" He ran toward me and at my feet, he sat down. I reached to his collar, and working my way through his furr, found the tags on his collar: "Ocean" it said, and his address, Rattlesnake Road. "Ocean," I said, "I loved being with you. See you next time."

Cattle Egret and Cow. Fancy that.

If only I'd had a tripod, but still, I enjoy looking at this image, for it shows some of the flowers -- still all over the countryside, while a Cattle Egret benefits from the tumbling of insects from around the muzzle of the Black Angus.

American Robin

MyMrMallory and I watched this fellow for a while, and he watched us until his mate appeared with a beak full of nesting material. Away they flew into the top of a nearby tree.

I Brake for Birds

There he sat on a fence, calmly yet alert for insects, a scant ten yards away from the side of the road. I pressed the brakes on MyJalopy, put it in reverse, and stopped to aim my long lens. I brake for birds when I can.

Scissortail Flycatcher summering in Texas. 

Startling Snake

Impressive frog, I thought, for the size of its head, until I came home and did some post processing in the digital darkroom to enhance the colors of the image I took at Martin Park. The image revealed an adult Diamond-backed Water Snake with amazing yellow eyes. Another snake of this species I saw shortly after this one seemed about three feet long.

Flying Foggy Five Miles

            For some weeks now, I've wanted my mechanic, "Bone," to fix a few little things in the Scissortail. The HSI does not "slave up" to the magnetic compass, the VOR radio needs a new battery, the right strut is leaking, and while he's in there, replace the battery to the ELT, if needed. But recent stormy weather and strong winds, seemingly unending, have kept me on the ground, and the Scissortail safe and dry inside Hangar 84, portside strut lopsided.
            Today, though, we had an opportunity to fly from Kickapoo to Municipal Airport, only five miles apart, to take the Scissortail to Bone, one of the world's greatest airplane mechanics. The ceiling above held at 4500 feet above the ground, and all I needed was 2400 feet. So MyMrMallory agreed to fly in the right seat with me into Municipal Airport.
            The flight seemed to proceed as expected in every way. I took off on runway 17 for a southwest heading over Lake Wichita, and then northwest, around the television towers and clear of Shepard Air Force Base's Class D airspace until their tower gave me permission to enter. At 1600 feet above the lake, I radioed the tower.
            "Good morning, Shepard. Cherokee Four Seven Romeo over Lake Wichita with information Delta inbound for 15."
            Tower's response, "Four Seven Romeo maintain clear of Class Delta airspace," indicated that while the tower acknowledged us, they had greater concerns at the moment, undoubtedly consisting of the wing returning from a two-hour training period over the Military Operations Area to the north. So we knew we'd fly for a while before they allowed us to land, which we often do while the tower fits us in with other traffic, both military fighters and commercial airlines arriving from the D/FW area. No biggy, as Meda would say, and we flew at 120 mph over the lake, around the towers, and north to the VOR.
            Two unexpected things occurred once we passed the VOR. Tower asked us to fly seven miles to the north, which would put us in Oklahoma, but still not of any concern. But the T-38's were streaming in to runways 15L and 15R, both on either side of runway 15C (15 Center), and between which we intended to land. MyMrMallory and I would frequently glance in the direction of the Air Force Base, looking for the runway, parallel to our heading, but we could not see it with the increasing fog.
           Looking ahead at the low clouds, the sun at my right penetrating through them, I said to MyMrMallory, "I hope that this is the nuttiest thing I do in my airplane."
           The fighters, unable to see through the low clouds, arrived on instruments. One of the fighters had experienced difficulty finding his intended runway, in spite the aide of computerized instruments and the tower's instructions. Finally, the clouds became thin enough for him to see the runway almost underneath him, and he radioed the tower to say he would land while he had the runway in sight. This put us next in line to land in the center runway, so tower instructed us to change our heading southward for a five-mile final into 15C.
           The position of the sun, though, reflected on the fog and mist before us, and we could not see more than a dark wall over where we knew lay Shepard Air Force Base. We chose not to land there, and to return to our original point of departure.
           "You tell them," I said, "because I don't know how to say it."
           "Turn left," said MyMrMallory, "and return to Kickapoo, if we can make it back."
           As I turned left, tower came on the radio.
           "Negative, Four Seven Romeo! Maintain one eight zero heading." The tone, urgent, made me realize that, indeed, turning our aircraft left would put us into the path of arriving fighters into runway 15L. Interestingly, though I felt then a high level of anxiety, I felt no fear, for I knew we would all work our way out this situation, and Golly was I too busy flying to feel fear. It seems, I've noted many times, imperative to talk, to be chatty on the radio, stating your position and intention at every turn, and to explain to the tower to whom you've given yourself and your aircraft, your situation. At this point, MyMrMallory took over the radio and told tower that we could not see the runway at five miles and that we would return to our point of origin.
           "Four Seven Romeo head for two one zero," the tower told us, and further instructed us that once out of their airspace, Class D, to remain clear of it.
            Over the VOR on our return, we began to wonder if we would have to land on runway 13 at Wichita Valley, for the fog and cloud cover seemed to descend and darken over the city and the area of our intended airport. But yonder the tall towers I could see the white, round roof of MSU's coliseum, always a welcome sight, so I turned the Scissortail toward it.
             MyMrMallory asked me to ascend from 1600 feet to 1800 feet to clear the towers, and just to remind me of the quality of the radars employed by the Air Force and of their constant vigilance, just barely before ascending 100 feet, tower radioed us.
             "Four Seven Romeo verify your intentions to land at Kickapoo!" MyMrMallory replied affirmative, and that we had Kickapoo in sight.
             Sometimes I cannot tell whether towers feel any emotion about saying good-bye to airplanes they've guided along the way. I wondered today if our tower felt relieved that our little aircraft left its airspace, and consternation about our little aircraft having made a fuss in the middle of all those jets.
             Now past the towers and heading toward the landing strip at which I've landed so many times, joyfully, I resumed control of the radio to announce my position to the local traffic, which, for the conditions, seemed fairly busy. The odd flyer in the Eagle who landed on the 17 from the right, rather from the left, took off as we approached at one mile. We could see him and watched him carefully, lest he do again something unpredictable that would jeopardize our safety. As I flew mid-field above pattern altitude to loop around and enter the downwind at an angle, I spotted a Mooney sitting on the run-up area, silent on his radios, and remained there, silent also on its engine, waiting, perhaps for clearance from tower, a long wait on such a cloudy day, when likely tower diverted aircraft away from bad weather.
             In my pilot's log book, I wrote point six as my time (forty-eight minutes) -- the time it took me to fly five miles north, and five miles south.
         

Longhorns and Spring Flowers

Cavanaugh Flight Museum

Doug Graves at Abilene Regional Airport

Doug Graves thought about everything when he soldered the sculpture of three Longhorns. One holds a yellow rose -- and look at how cleverly he added the only color on the sculpture, other than oxidation -- in addition to a brand on its haunch of an capital A within a circle, plus his moniker on the other haunch. The sculpture shows dynamism and joy in the inanimate objects. Below, the sun's rays enhance the Longhorn's eyelashes by placing shadows beneath its eye. For an impressive photo of the whole sculpture (I ask you to go there because my own photo was dismal) visit the City of Abilene's web site at www.abilenetx.com. 

Herons and Baby Geese

Seabees Matt and Cory planned with BirdManBob the new aviary built specifically for Missi, Wild Bird Rescue's Avian Ambassador. Blind in one eye, Missi would die in the wild, so Lila requested the state to keep Missi alive at Wild Bird Rescue. See the link to Missi's blog at right for a glimpse into her every day life as an educational bird. 

Redwinged Blackbirds continue to visit the feeders at the center.

Female and male Cardinals, Redwinged and Yellow-headed Blackbirds share the seed with White-winged and Eurasian Collared Doves. 

The Great Blue Heron in the cove finally allowed me to walk close. I appreciated this because normally my photos of this heron look like the ones below.

After MyMrMallory cooked fish, chips, and Hush Puppies at the Kiowa Kooks cook-out for MSU's basketball supporters, I slipped away to watch the fledgling Canada Geese.

The sun had begun to set, but with strong rays.

Power Lines

MyrMrMallory came upon one of the parent Red-tailed Hawks this afternoon, lying dead underneath a power line, clutching a dead mouse. He looked upward toward the nest, and perceived no movement from the hatchling whose fuzzy white head we had seen peering over the edge a week ago. Power companies rectify this situation to prevent bird deaths.

Cloudy Skies and White Balance

Nice to have a morning sprinkle of rain. The clouds stayed overhead at 10,000 feet above ground level and looked beautiful enough to embellish some of the photographs I took yesterday. I set my white balance to 5000 K and then forgot about it until the sun began to shine in the late afternoon.

Bell tower of Midwestern State University framed by new foliage and awesome clouds.

Driving by Stevens' sculpture of the mustangs I had to grab this shot. The cloudy sky softened the lighting on the sculpture while the sprinkler system created a haziness that added interest to the landscaping.

May is Motorcycle Awareness Month. I wish every month was Motorcycle Awareness Month. Motorists, do look out for an increasing number of motorcycles sharing the roads with you. Motorcyclists, wear your helmets and ride safely.

Very difficult to see in this photo, but I know you'll believe me when I write that on the grass are two Yellow-headed Blackbirds. They are finally in town, and I was delighted to show MyMrMallory the beauty of their color. 

Speaking of color, Texas is still covered in great color. Several species of flowers grow and look gorgeous within a square foot. Here, Indian Blanket show off among Verbena and Coreopsis, among other species.

Plains Blackfoot -- the white bunch -- and is that a Bluebells plant standing behind it? 

Texas Bluebonnet, Indian Paintbrush, and the yellow flowers are Lemon Paintbrush.

Note the seed pods on the stem of the Texas Bluebonnet. 

The grass has grown tall and fast after a winter with abundant moisture, concealing cacti blooms. 

Josetta.