A great blue heron takes a break from hunting voles in a meadow on a cold and foggy December morning in 2006.
Author: boolie
Easter Hymns
One of my favorite rites of spring when we lived in the Northwest was listening to the savannah sparrows sing in the meadows. I met this one on an Easter morning 12 years ago, I had to wait a while to get the picture as it spent most of its time facing the other direction, singing to the other sparrows.
A Long Ago Spring
Twelve years ago on a cloudy spring morning at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge I came across this muskrat eating the grasses at the edge of one of the lakes or ponds. I don’t remember where exactly and my notes back then were rather sparse and don’t provide any clues.
A Bird in the Palm But Not in the Hand
A mourning dove perches in a palm tree in the backyard of our rental house. We have a couple of dwarf palms in the backyard of the new house but they don’t allow full-size palms (there are native trees in front and back).
Joy & Mourning
One of the joys of our rental house has been the abundance of doves, from the larger white-winged doves to the little Inca doves. After the white-wings migrated out it was the mourning doves who were the dominant bird we saw all winter, providing endless entertainment for the cats who watched them from the windows.
The Orange Boy
Sam from a couple of years ago when I was playing around with a new camera. The old couch was a favorite of the pets but not in good enough shape to make the move to Arizona. I’d like to get something similar (but nicer) for the new house.
Early to Rise
In December I arrived when the Tom’s Thumb trailhead opened so I could hoof it out as quickly as possible to photograph this bank of chain fruit cholla before sunrise, with my beloved Guardian looking out over the desert in the background. At that time of year I can hike as fast as I can without worrying about surprising a rattlesnake as they are still hibernating. My favorite shot turned out to be the first one of the desert bathed in the soft blue light before the sun rose above the mountains behind me, but I also like the one below of the same scene bathed in the red light of sunrise.
I’m Flying!
Almost, little one, almost.
Peek-a-boo
I see you, you see me, mockingbird atop the tree.
In My Broken Arms I Will Carry You
A male gilded flicker looks out over McDowell Sonoran Preserve from the broken arms of a dead saguaro.
Boolie 