At My Window
In April, 2011, I posted a simple shot of a yellow daffodil. It has since become one of the most visited photographs on this site.
The daffy in the earlier photo was classically posed. This one is almost identical in appearance, being from the same planting of bulbs, but photographed more dramatically, with the low, late afternoon sun lighting it up from behind.
The sunlight was so bright, in fact, that it “blew out” some highlight detail. OK, so it’s not the perfect photo, but we can still enjoy it.
The image was recorded on April 17, 2013 at 5:47 pm. For spectacular impact, click to enlarge it.
See related posts: Yellow Daffodil*, Bicolored Daffodil*. Click image to enlarge it, and browser’s back arrow to close. Comments are welcome.
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This is a common sight on the pond: a cormorant spreading its wings after diving for a meal. Lacking oil glands to waterproof its plumage, the cormorant must rely on this method to dry off. The late morning sun has painted a golden patina over the scene.
This is a Double-crested Cormorant, easily distinguishable from other cormorants by its coloring, and the shape and size of its head and neck. The “crests” are two small, whitish head plumes that appear on adults during the breeding season (March–May). This individual lacks the overall black-and-gray plumage of the adult, marking it as a juvenile.
The shot was taken at great distance and enlarged digitally, so it is slightly fuzzy as a result. The date was May 10, 2013, at 11:35 am.
Click image to enlarge it, and browser’s back arrow to close. Comments are welcome.
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The delicacy and expectancy of the scene caught my attention, subtle though it was. The morning had broken cloudless, the cool fog of the night still lingered over the pond, awaiting a hot sun to burn it off, while a soft glow to the east foretold a perfect day.
The graduated glow, brightest in the east, lit the delicate fingers of fog and the water, imparting a subtle, three-dimensional quality to the photo, most apparent when it is viewed in dim light.
Sunrise occurred at 5:45 am that day, but as usual the sun’s appearance was delayed another twenty minutes by the high ridge on the eastern shore. The date was April 27, 2013, the time 5:53 am, and the view towards east-southeast.
See related posts: Fog at First Light* (poem), Foggy Dawn II*, Foggy Dawn*. Click image to enlarge it, and browser’s back arrow to close. Comments are welcome.
Every April the ritual is repeated: the female swan (pen) goes on the nest, and the male swan (cob) goes, well, kinda nuts. He engages in all kinds of neurotic behavior. Chasing geese is a favorite pastime. (Ever hear of a “wild goose chase”? Well, swans invented it.)
This year, I saw the cob chasing a goose in the air. In the air, mind you!
Compulsive eating is another. This cob spent untold hours off our shore with his head in the water, gorging himself on edibles from the shallow bottom.
One day, I saw him rocket through the air from the south end to the north end of the pond — and I mean, “rocket;” it was fast! What he was up to, I have no idea.
From time to time, the pen comes off the nest to eat, but only briefly.
This pair have been our resident swans for the past three or four years, but they’ve yet to produce a family, sadly failing again this year. This is not unusual. An earlier pair, here when we arrived, took four or five years to pull it off.
One fine day in April, seeing the cob alone in the pond, I ran into the yard to see if he would come to me. As soon as he heard my call, he came at flank speed. I know from experience that he was hoping not only for a handout (bread, perhaps), but also some company, some emotional consolation. This may sound like “personification,” that is, naively attributing human traits to wildlife — but believe me, dear reader, it is not. I talked to him for awhile, then took these photographs.
These detailed, luminous photos were taken on April 21, 2013. They are especially grand when viewed full screen. Just click on any one of them, and wait for the slide show to load.
See related post: Fighting Swans*.
Click thumbnails or use keyboard arrows to view slides on this page. Click any image to open full-screen slide show. Use keyboard arrows to move among slides. Press “Esc” key to return.
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They were far off when I spotted them. At first, I dismissed them as more of the Ring-necked Ducks I had seen in March. But a tingle along my spine told me to look again. Yes, indeed, they were ducks I hadn’t seen before. Excitedly, I began leafing through the bird book, binoculars in hand — but that was a big mistake! The ducks were already moving further away.
By the time I grabbed the camera, they were mere specks in the viewfinder. The photo reveals two drakes and a hen in breeding plumage — fuzzy from massive digital enlargement.
The shape of the head suggests they were Lesser Scaups, not the slightly larger Greater Scaups. Seen close up, they are finely feathered, with distinctive blue bills. These are small diving ducks, distantly related to Ring-necked Ducks. They winter as far away as Central America.
I took the photo on April 18, 2013 at 2:10 pm, and sadly never saw them again. Lesson learned: next time, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.
See related post: Ring-necked Ducks. Click image to enlarge it, and browser’s back arrow to close. Comments are welcome.
